Some thoughts on baby showers...

How awesome would it be, if our baby showers weren't run like some assembly-line, militaristic event. Your sister sitting beside you, having already written who it's from on the card as your mom snatches the onesie from your grasp. You try desperately to make eye contact, at least, with the person who chose this lovely gift for you, who spent their time, money, and love on you, but nooooo! "We've got to keep things moving, dear. Everyone wants to see these things!" See these things - translation: touch, maul, and awkwardly pass from person to person (who, let's face it, just want to eat) over cherry cheesecake (okay, I do love that part), egg salad sandwiches and coffee, (think, ladies! You're dealing with a pregnant woman who probably, at this point, wants to hurl from the combined food smells), while a kafeklatch of elderly women at the end of the table find sport in identifying those items that may or may not be re-gifted from the last baby shower they attended. The paper flies, you fry, and try desperately not to think of that hot flash commercial where the woman stomps out into the cold to dust the snow off of the air-conditioning unit. Ah, the joys of a baby shower. If you're lucky, your husband is with you, because he probably wouldn't believe you if you told him that these seemingly kind women, who are supposed to have your best interest at heart,  have spent the entire evening replaying their own horrible birth stories with you. "I'm telling you! 200 stitches, if there was one! And then, the doctor dropped the baby!" No-one tells you the information you really need to know; like how to make that little pain-control-squeezy-thing give you more pain meds, or where those sadistic nurses are hiding the ice chips! (I swear, I could hear a marguerita-party forming in the nurse's break room as I gave birth!)