Showering Hut with Brunches & 7th Graders

Pregnancy, week 37:

A man tried to start a conversation with me recently with, “My daughter has the same thing you do.” (“Thing”, I think, being the miracle of life growing within my womb. I believe this is commonly referred to as “pregnancy”.)

Another lady let me skip ahead of everyone in a bathroom. She said, “The handicap stall is open. You can use that one because of your handicap.”

And then the old man at church who looked at my belly and said, “How are those twins doin?!”

So. Don’t ask me how I’m feeling, but rather ask me if I need help dumping any bodies.

Brunch Style

A week ago Saturday, 4 of my dearest mentors and friends threw a Saturday morning brunchy baby shower for our sweet Hutton. (He’s sweet for right now, but I may change my mind depending how long he decides to stay in my womb.)

It was delicious and humbling and wonderful all at the same time.

The first pregnancy is so different. You are PREGNANT and the WHOLE WORLD REVOLVES AROUND YOU AND YOUR BABY. Of course people give you gifts and throw showers. They’d better. You’ve reproduced and everyone needs to share in your excitement, dangit. Amiright?!

…and then a few months in you begin to realize that you and your husband (and your mom) are really the only ones who think your kid is as cool as you do. Everyone has kids. And everyone’s kids are the best things ever.

The second pregnancy is so much more…practical. My excitement level over a gift bag full of diapers, wipes, and creams is cause for alarm. Nursery decor? It’s cute, I guess. Whatever. But a waterproof crib sheet?! SCORE!!

But as I looked around the room last Saturday at the shower and saw all the faces who came to show their love to me and my boy(s), I felt more gratitude than I’ve ever experienced in my life.

On the far left was an old coworker from Dallas who has become one of my closest friends. Sitting beside her were my 2 next door neighbors from either side of our old house. And then there was my friend from the birthing class at the hospital 3 years ago, and the mom we met at library time when Beckett was an infant, and my neighbor’s friend who became my friend, and on and on. That’s not even mentioning the sea of faces from our church. The young moms from our Sunday morning class, the women from my Wednesday morning Bible study, the friends from our multi-generational small group, the parents of the middle-school kids we work with… Women of all backgrounds and ages.

It was absolutely, ridiculously humbling.

Not only am I stupid excited about waterproof crib sheets this time around, I am forever thankful for the community God has given our family. So much more thankful than the first time around, not by choice, but because I now understand the importance of the village-child-rearing thing. I am a sub-par mom at best, but I can look around a room and see face after face of much better women than myself – better moms, better wives, better friends – that God has put in my life. Women I get to laugh with, cry with, learn from, and hit up for free babysitting.

It makes me all gooey inside.

We are blessed beyond measure…

….and I haven’t even gotten to the surprise shower by the 7th graders that happened the next day.

7th grade style

Kylie (my dear friend who accompanied me to New Orleans and who is my husband’s ex-girlfriend) is pregnant with a boy, also, and is due 3 months after me. She and her husband volunteer with us in the middle school ministry.

Last Sunday the 7th graders (with the help of their moms…ok, mostly their moms…) threw us a surprise shower, complete with games. It was just as awesome as it sounds.

1. 7th graders are the greatest things on earth.
2. There is something hilarious about 12 year old boys playing baby shower bingo yelling things like, “CALL BURP CLOTHS NEXT.” and “Did she say ‘bib’ or ‘crib’?!”
3. Letting middle-schoolers guess your belly circumference with yarn is either horribly depressing or absolutely hysterical, depending how you view it. (And never underestimate the 9 year old younger brother. His guess for me was spot on.)

I can’t wait to bring our Hut man into the crazy world of 12 and 13 year olds. I’m also taking bets on how long it’ll take one of them to feed Hutton a Cheeto. I give it 4 months tops.

Anyway, here’s some pictorial evidence.