Just kidding with that title.
Yesterday I co-threw a baby shower for my friend Kate. You want some baby shower-related life lessons?
One, the adage "better too much food than not enough" applies to everyone but the person whose fridge will be stuffed with leftovers until this kid is walking.
Two, you can have the cutest, sweetest, cleanest (really, he got a tubby right before the party) puppy ever, but as soon as a guest puts her baby down on the rug, you're going to have to go cable your dog outside. (Sorry fella.)
Three, food processors are a mystery that are beyond my abilities to comprehend or fix. Much related to life lesson three -- if you don't have a garbage disposal, let people know that before they start washing veggie peels down the sink. (Sorry sink.)
But here's the thing -- once we had gotten the (way too large amount of) food on the table and everyone had a chance to eat and chat, this thought struck me. (I apologize in advance for trying to get deep.)
Roughly twenty women (and three baby girls, plus one more in utero) from Kate's elementary school, high school, sorority and family came to wish her new baby girl the best possible start in life. That's not too shabby of a support system to have from Day One.
We all vaguely know who the people were that there for us when we were growing up. Teachers, neighbors, folks from church and extended relatives blend together at some point, and you just sort of know that if your parents hadn't been around, some hand would have yanked you back to the sidewalk before you stepped into traffic.
But it's strange and nice to think that once upon a time, your mom probably attended a baby shower for you, and twenty of her best friends came and dropped off onesies. Maybe you know who they were. Maybe you don't.
All the same, you had friends who loved you before you were even born.