Baby Talk (aka Baby Fish Mouth*)
So this weekend mostly sucked. As I predicted, my pregnant friend (J.) heaved herself around, complaining constantly. She heaved and complained only moderately more than when she's not 7.5 months pregnant, so I deem her behavior par for the pregnancy course, especially since the temperature hovered over 95 humid degrees.
J.'s mother, however, is not pregnant at all, and thus has no excuse for her over-the-top sighing, whining, fanning, ranting, and worrying. Among other things (such as the scheduling of the bris, the risk of birth complications, and the cost of college), she fixated on the steps in J.'s 2-level house. She wondered (aloud and often) how J. will manage to carry the baby and assorted baby gear up and down the single flight of stairs. We all pointed out that most of us survived infancy on multiple floors, but J.'s mother was uncomforted. It's not the same, she objected in a grating, hysterical tone; J. doesn't have a husband to help.
The baby shower itself was held in a pink ticky-tacky stucco house in an Agrestic-like gated community. The 22 guests consumed bagels and played games including "Guess the Baby Food Flavor", "Fill in the Nursery Rhyme" and "Don't Say 'Baby'." For the latter, we all wore blue ribbons around our necks with baby diaper pins on them, and if we caught someone saying the word 'baby', we were supposed to claim their pins, until the guest with the most collected pins won a prize. I am proud to say that while I instantly lost this game, and only guessed 7/12 baby food flavors, I correctly guessed the circumference of J.'s belly, and won a $5 Starbucks gift certificate.
J. lives in a similarly ticky-tacky complex, so I swam every day in her pool, which was a nice respite from the talk about the hazards of motherhood (and the equally scary hazards of putting off motherhood, which many shower guests and well-meaning relatives mentioned pointedly), the complaints, and the overkill air conditioning.
I returned last night and reveled in the fact that my home is a different color than the other homes on my street, that I can open the windows and walk around outside without suffocating, and that my mother has a reasonable vision of the challenges of parenthood, as do most of my friends.
*Remember? From the pictionary scene in When Harry Met Sally?
Posted by Dori at 11:39 AM
6 Comments
Baby fish mouth: sweeping the nation.
I have a strong aversion to those kinds of baby shower games, you are a better woman than I.
(From where the air is also unbreathable outside the house.)
Ugh, that is why when my friends and planned our friend's shower, the only game we did was the match the celebrity mom to her kid, and then we painted onesies. The onesie painting was a huge hit, and so many guests were relieved they didn't have to taste babyfood.
Oh my god! I am so excited you reminded me where Baby Fish Mouth is from, as it is the name of a dog I walk and I have been wondering where they came up with that name!
We also had onesie painting at the shower I hosted. It was very cool.
You just described hell. You are a good friend, you know.
Looooved the baby fish mouth reference. I think it's my single favorite lines from a movie full of good ones. (Runner up, paraphrased: "The next thing you know you're singing Surrey With the Fringe On Top--in front of Ira!")
Well, to be fair, the games provided a nice diversion from the awkward milling around. They do serve a purpose.
Also: WHMS in general is so smart. Though it freaks me out that Sally is 32. She always seemed so old and her problems so far removed from mine ...
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