I have joked that women can never be totally free until we give up the practice of the baby/bridal shower. When done badly, they can be a tedious/depressing/possibly enraging 3 hours of your life where you sit around in nice clothes and eat some food that someone decided women must like to eat (#luncheon). Meanwhile, whatever your non-shower partner is doing during that time sounds a lot better.

But I did go to a lovely baby shower this last weekend. There were no embarrassing games that made you pretend chocolate was poo or where you had to work as a team, or you treat the pregnant person like a prop. The weather was good; everyone was happy; the salad was generously loaded with healthy fats.

It’s been a minute since I’ve been to a baby shower— most of the people I’m shower-close with have long since closed up the baby factory. Something else that indicated I’m an old lady now is that I could have had my shower gifts sent right to the couple but I ordered them to my house to give the new mom at the shower. I realized belatedly this was silly: did I do it because I love wrapping? Because I love extra trash? Because I love making a pregnant woman open a gift in front of me and then have her husband carry it to the car? Idk what went through my head. But one of the gifts I got them was the Frida Snotsucker, which I found incredibly effective and satisfying when I had babies around, so I at least got to verbally impart my love for the tool in front of a group of people.

I had my own baby shower back in the summer of 2012 at the same restaurant, sweatily sitting in the same hot seat in the front of the room, trying to open gifts both graciously and quickly. “Ana looks so pretty,” I noted this time over my sorbet and berries, and it’s true, she did, her skin glowing, her hair gleaming, her sapphire maternity dress hugging her 37-weeks-along belly. Then, without considering whether this should have been a silent observation, I followed up with, “I’m so glad I’m not pregnant.” I wasn’t trying to be snarky, but everyone around me laughed. Maybe they just all agreed with me.

There was one activity where guests could write out best wishes for the family/baby, but one of the sheets never came my way. I instead told the soon-to-be mom, “Just be ready that your laundry life as you know it will change forever. You are going to have to do laundry all the time soon. I used to feel ‘caught up’ on laundry before I had kids. Never again. That took me a LONG time to adjust to.”

Ana smiled politely, and I realized after I said it that it was a pretty pointless thing to tell an expectant parent. It’s like telling people who don’t have kids yet to enjoy their sleep. You really can’t tell people shit about parenthood until they’ve been pulled through the portal and are on the other side with you. (But it’s true, that laundry thing was more potent to me than any sort of pablum about love or motherhood or tiny smiles.)

As my mom and I headed home 3 hours later, with portable umbrella party favors in our purses, I thought about those sheets of paper offering the new parents advice and best wishes that Ana would gather up and take home along with her gifts and cards. I wondered about where she’d keep them, how often she’d come across them and if any of them would stick with her or they’d just be a memento she’d forget about and stumble upon someday. I wondered if she’d read the pile with nostalgia, or avoid looking at it because it would remind her of a past self that no longer exists and there’s no point.

If you had a shower or sip-and-see, did anyone try to impart wisdom to you that stuck for good or bad reasons? Is there much you can even tell someone about parenting before they have kids that will help them (aside from the 3 crib sheet trick)? Or do we just wish them luck and keep our mouths shut?

End credits

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BTW: Are you a dad? Do you have a dad in the vicinity that you can ask for me? For an upcoming issue, I have been asking dads to tell me about one good Father’s Day gift they’ve received in the past and what they liked about it (if they are in a gift-giving type of family.) Please reply in the comments or to this email and I’ll share a roundup next week.

One witchy thing

My husband after I showed him how I got our shared Spelling Bee over the hump to Genius by contributing just one word at the very end: