Shower Time

Having ducked the whole up the spout business, I’ve never had a baby shower. In fact, I’ve been to just three in my whole long life. I’ve had a shit-ton of male friends who’ve dropped a sprog or 3 but not so many women friends.

Gal pals of the husband don’t often (ever?) get invited to baby showers. Huh. Maybe that custom's gone the way of the dodo, saddle shoes and poodle skirts by now.

Believe me, after that first shower, attended at the tender, goth/punk age of 25, I was magnificently happy about my baby party invite dearth. Warum?

The games. I get it -- really I do. It's all let’s get silly and have some fun because, pretty soon, there’ll be nothing but poop, puke, tears and, perhaps, the feeling that you’re just a bovine in need of milking.

So, feature this: It was 1983 -- I was listening to Dead Kennedys, The Clash, Talking Heads, Joy Division and Human Sexual Response. When not at work I could be found at The Rat or painting in my closet of an apartment (I was big into corpses that year. Sketching them, that is).  Mind you, I wasn’t a very catholic punk -- I was mad for Paul Simon, Arlo and Dylan. But still. There I was, at a baby shower of all things, held at my work friend’s mother’s very posh Arlington home. Me in ripped jeans and Chuck Taylors -- the other guests all in high heels and pearls.

I thought, ‘the fuck? There was a dress code? No one told me! HOW did I even get invited to this?’

 I was SO What Doesn’t Belong In This Picture.

Flash forward 30 years to the next shower -- last summer's splash for Saint Erin and P.J.’s boy, Patrick. Jen organized the gala so I knew there wouldn’t be any dweeby, sorority sister-esque foolishness. And there wasn’t. The party was more swank cocktail affair than sprog soiree. The food was fabulous, apritifs outrageous and, swear to Bast, the place was filled with brainy, leggy super model types. Uh, so yeah, once again I was What Doesn’t Belong In This Picture BUT this was Jen’s baby sister Erin. All the guests were wonderfully warm AND there was a onesie painting contest. Painting! Fun!

And six months later, yesterday in point of fact, was my third baby shower. This one was for The Green Miles and Bethanie. Baby Girl Grant is due on the scene next month.

The shower was much like Erin’s -- a big ol’ party. Everyone was happy and chilled out, there was great people watching and tremendous cake. It was awesome! Of course it was.

Miles and Bethanie asked me what I want to be called. Eh, what are my choices? Grandma? Gram? Nana?

Hows ‘bout she calls me Donna? Yup, that’ll do me up fine.