The women in my family don’t kid around when it comes to baby showers, this I can tell you. Mine was on Sunday and it was awesome: a ginghamy, flowery, meatbally, nursery rhymey, pink lemonadey, oohy and aahy spectacle. 31 women representing four generations jammed into every downstairs room of my parents’ home. Friends and relatives mingling in weirdo combinations everywhere I looked. A room full of pastel-wrapped gifts. A hand-assembled four-tier diaper cake (non-edible). And six dozen pink cupcakes (edible!).
That kind of attention and love is overwhelming in a way that doesn’t really hit you until it’s over. While it’s going on you feel like you’re at any party, but then you realize it’s YOUR party, people have come from out of town to be there, and suddenly you’re flooded with attention that you can’t graciously handle and gratitude that you can’t adequately express. So you hug everybody and chat with as many people as you can, read every card and hold up every gift, and stuff piles up and you still can’t quite grasp that everyone there has chipped in to help cushion the next phase of your life.
So, I was extremely touched by people's generosity, and I’m very grateful to my mom, sister and aunts for their tireless planning and effort, and also to everybody who came, because I know showers are not usually people’s idea of a good time. You all who read this – thank you so much for being there and putting up with so many strangers and being stuffed into the family room like sardines for the 2-hour gift bonanza. I’ll remember it.
When the shower ended, men began arriving to eat leftover lasagna, meatballs, calzones, and sandwiches. We kept going into the family room and ogling at the volume of gifts. We sorted through everything and organized it into categories: clothes, blankets, keepsakes, bibs and burp cloths, bath accessories, socks, and functional items. We figured out how to collapse the stroller and lock and unlock the carseat. We opened the Boppy to feel how soft it was. Then we moved everything upstairs into my parents’ guest room, and we probably won’t see any of it again until we move…
…in three weeks. Moving at 36 weeks pregnant is a daunting thing, but we can pull it off with help. We’re going to start this weekend by throwing away junk, donating clothes and books, and filling the boxes we have from our last move. Fortunately we did a purge when we put the house on the market, so there isn’t a ton of excess crap, but we still own a lot of stuff. Should be fun. Be on the lookout for a packing party invite!
That kind of attention and love is overwhelming in a way that doesn’t really hit you until it’s over. While it’s going on you feel like you’re at any party, but then you realize it’s YOUR party, people have come from out of town to be there, and suddenly you’re flooded with attention that you can’t graciously handle and gratitude that you can’t adequately express. So you hug everybody and chat with as many people as you can, read every card and hold up every gift, and stuff piles up and you still can’t quite grasp that everyone there has chipped in to help cushion the next phase of your life.
So, I was extremely touched by people's generosity, and I’m very grateful to my mom, sister and aunts for their tireless planning and effort, and also to everybody who came, because I know showers are not usually people’s idea of a good time. You all who read this – thank you so much for being there and putting up with so many strangers and being stuffed into the family room like sardines for the 2-hour gift bonanza. I’ll remember it.
When the shower ended, men began arriving to eat leftover lasagna, meatballs, calzones, and sandwiches. We kept going into the family room and ogling at the volume of gifts. We sorted through everything and organized it into categories: clothes, blankets, keepsakes, bibs and burp cloths, bath accessories, socks, and functional items. We figured out how to collapse the stroller and lock and unlock the carseat. We opened the Boppy to feel how soft it was. Then we moved everything upstairs into my parents’ guest room, and we probably won’t see any of it again until we move…
…in three weeks. Moving at 36 weeks pregnant is a daunting thing, but we can pull it off with help. We’re going to start this weekend by throwing away junk, donating clothes and books, and filling the boxes we have from our last move. Fortunately we did a purge when we put the house on the market, so there isn’t a ton of excess crap, but we still own a lot of stuff. Should be fun. Be on the lookout for a packing party invite!
2 Comments:
We didn't go because we HAD to go, we went because we WANTED to go! I had a lot of fun, and even though I feel like I'm fighting off pregnant women like you're a bunch of zombies who might "spread" the disease to me, I found it to be a very educational experience. Sarah kept sending me looks like, "Are you taking notes?" whenever you opened something that I'd never seen before, like the boppy. Ok, let's face it, I hadn't heard of most of the stuff (hey look! more little of those little PJs!), but really, who the hell has ever heard of a boppy?)
But anyway, my point is, don't think that we endured the event as a courtesy. I for one was glad to be a part of it! And the cupcakes weren't a bad perk either :)
I somehow have a feeling that when I hold Olivia, my neck will be her burp cloth.
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