Last weekend, my wonderful friends Alison and Sherry threw me a baby shower. Now, since baby showers aren't something we really do in the UK and most of my American friends with kids had had their kids before I met them, I'd only ever been to one baby shower prior to my own. The large bulk of my knowledge of baby showers, therefore, came from the same place most of my knowledge of US-based traditions comes from: sitcoms of the 1990s and the Babysitters Club books.
I was slightly worried I would have to peer inside a diaper and determine what kind of brown sticky chocolate bar had been melted into it, is what I'm saying. Or confess my total pregnancy weight gain so that someone could go home with a $10 gift card to the Cheesecake Factory for guessing correctly.
Alison and Sherry, however, were like "yeah, no, we're not doing that" and instead chose to focus their energies exclusively on making everything as adorable as possible. Like, for example, the invitations.
I mean, come on. Those are perfect. They even have a stripey back!
I don't know much about baby showers, as I mentioned, but I did know that attending my own was probably a decent enough excuse for a cute new dress.
Is that part of the tradition? I hope that's part of the tradition. I now have to have another baby just so I can actually wear it again. Or maybe I'll keep wearing it after I have Hamish but just stuff a pillow up there to accommodate for the extra material. Wait, no, best idea of all: DESIGNATED EATING DRESS. Perfect for holidays and family get-togethers!
Speaking of eating, we did a lot of it at my baby shower. Alison and Sherry outdid themselves in the food department, whipping up a spread that included an arugula, goat cheese and pomegranate salad, nutella and mascarpone sandwiches on french bread, a Southern lemon meringue pie, macarons from the best macaron place in San Francisco, a fabulous cheese plate (all pasteurized, of course!), bacon-wrapped dates, a fresh fruit salad, and homemade cheese straws.
My absolute favorite thing of all however, were the egg salad sandwiches on white buns, a nod to my very specific first-trimester craving and, as Alison said, an homage to my mother, who provided me with a steady stream of them during the first fifteen weeks when I could eat little else.
For favors, everyone took home cute little boxes of cherries, which have been one of my third-trimester cravings. My goodness, these girls and their attention to detail!
And while we're on the subject of details, check out this adorable banner that greeted guests when they walked in.
I also got such a kick out of so many of the lovely cards and presents being made out to "Hamish," which I am beginning to think we are now actually going to need to call him for real, so that he doesn't end up having some sort of debilitating identity crisis when he's old enough to read.
In the event that people got bored of eating, drinking, chatting and watching me open lots of gifts and sigh over the cuteness of them, Alison had a fun little game on hand. Wait, you thought I said there were no games? Correction: there were no games that people were a little reluctant to play. This game was a major hit, not least because you could do it quietly in a corner by yourself, just you, a Sharpie, and your imagination. It was basically Mad Libs: Holly and Sean's Baby Edition.
Some of the responses made me laugh, some of them made me cry—mostly in a good way, apart from that person who predicted that my baby would come NEXT WEEK and weigh eleven pounds—and all of them made me want to take these little cards and make them into one of those photobooks that Hamish could look through every couple of years for the rest of his life.
Do I have the best friends ever or what? I feel super, super lucky to have been feted so wonderfully, and I can't wait to introduce my kid to the sixteen new aunties who are so excited to meet him. I won't make any of them look in his diaper to guess what's in it.