When I got married way back when, my mother planned the whole affair. Oh, I told her what kind of flowers I wanted and I picked out the blue bridesmaids dresses from a catalog, but other than that, the event squarely fell in her corner.

That wasn’t unusual. Back in the old days (in my case, the late 1980s), mothers were still the purveyors of wedding wisdom. They knew the rules of etiquette, knew whom to invite, and how to find a venue and hash out a menu. What they basically did was bring your proverbial village together to shower you, celebrate you and then send you off to adulthood.

Who else was there for you if not your mother?

We didn’t have computers back then — no Pinterest pictures to sift through, no Instagram weddings to copy, no Facebook photos to inform you of the current trends, no wedding planners or coordinators.

No, we just had our mothers, and so mothers and daughters would put their heads together and create a wedding together, bonded in that sacred task of creating a legal union. They made lists, took measurements, considered fabrics and place settings and created the balance between sensibility and extravagance.

My daughter announced her engagement more than 18 months ago. I knew it would be our family’s first complex gathering and I figured we’d be up to our eyeballs in lists one week into the planning. I pictured us bickering, laughing, deciding, picking and creating for the entire 18 months.

But that’s not what happened.

“All of my friends planned their own weddings,” I was told. That was the first clue.

The next clue was that my phone didn’t ring for months. I’d call her once in a while and ask, “Are you still getting married, or…?” And she’d reassure me, that yes, wedding plans were coming along just fine, thank you. I’ll let you know when I need you.

It took me a while to figure out what the silence was about — ladies and gentleman — mothers have been replaced by Pinterest.

Who needs a mother when you have 6.2 million wedding photos to look through, 200 venues with menus and prices online, and millions of brides, who, as you plan to do, got married in a barn and can tell you the pros and the cons of rustic bliss, and what to plan and look for in a country setting?

Who needs a mother when you can design your invitations online, listen to potential bands on YouTube, and browse a list of ministers, complete with past weddings they have officiated and a video of the ceremony?

Wisdom has been replaced by the Internet. You can find vows there, your wedding gown, your flowers-even your fiance. In two minutes you can be hooked up with a linen supplier in San Francisco, a designer in Paris or a band in New York. And trust me, they’re all waiting for you to call.

So, naturally, I’m worried about the wedding. There’s a big guest list, a weekend of events to carry out, and then there’s the “rain” word.

But I recall reading a story about our present Queen Elizabeth on the occasion of her wedding day. I imagine that there’s no wedding in the world that is more calculated, over planned and tended to than the marriage of a future queen. If that wedding can’t go off without a hitch, then what hope do the rest of us have?

The hours before the Queen’s wedding were fraught with drama. A short time before the ceremony, the official wedding tiara-handed down to her from Queen Mary and made of priceless diamonds and pearls-broke in half. I can just see the minutemen running around like chickens with their heads cut off looking for a glue gun.

Someone quickly found someone to repair it, but then it was discovered that Elizabeth’s bouquet was missing. It was undeniably nowhere to be found. That’s what happens when a butler sees it and thoughtfully puts it in the fridge to keep it fresh and forgets to tell anyone.

With tiara and bouquet in place, all was not yet smooth sailing for the bride: she also realized that morning that she had left an antique two-strand pearl necklace-given to her by her parents as a wedding gift-at St. James Place, where over 2,500 wedding gifts sent to her and her groom Prince Philip, from around the world, were displayed.

And yet, despite the mini earthquakes, she was married that day. Like every bride who’d ever gone before her, and for all the brides that would be married after her, she walked down that aisle in her freshly-welded tiara, no worse for the wear.

My family, too, will weather whatever little mishaps we may encounter on July 20th. But these days mothers must have faith that their daughters, with the help of Pinterest, have done a lovely, but thorough job, of making that shindig work.