Last Updated on April 17, 2020 by Marybeth
When my youngest daughter called me during an early morning beach walk with my husband and told me she’s pregnant I said “HOLY SH*T!” in a proper grandma-to-be way. It’s not that I’m not old enough for this, nor that she isn’t ready, but what exhilarating (and expletive-causing) news to receive while at my favorite place on earth.
I’m not telling any of you anything you don’t already know. You, or your sister, your daughter (your mom?) has found out a new life is on its way and while it’s just a basic part of humanity going about their daily business, that news filled me with jubilance and bone-deep awe.
And now this tiny girl is going to arrive soon and life will be so different. When I was pregnant with my third child, and my toddler son and 4-year old daughter and I had gotten things under control and life was at its simple best, I would look at our little circle of us and I was genuinely scared of the change that was coming. What was this new arrival going to do to us? Things are great right now! Then Mae was born (she who is carrying my first grandchild now) and I was right to be scared!
Wooo what a whirlwind. But all the colic and sleeplessness and the time I ran away out the front door and the three of them ran out after me (Mae could walk by then) swept by and we figured it out and I wouldn’t change one thing.
Growing up all I ever really wanted to be was a mom. Through college, art school, graphic design and retail management jobs (and so many – sometimes crazy – jobs in between; that could be a whole post on its own) I just wanted to be a mom. And to hear tell of my mothering – from my own cherished, wise mother, to all my supportive friends – I am a pretty good one. Not to brag. So why am I so nervous about being a grandmother?
Perhaps this frightening Covid-19 crisis we’re stuck in the middle of is adding to that angst. I don’t know. What I do know is that Mae and I come from a long line of strong women and we will surround this baby with the fiercest of love. Figuratively (and literally!) our muscly arms – along with Josh’s, his parents’, my other kids’, my husband’s, all of our friends’ – will encircle this baby and keep her safe and happy. Virtually, for a time.
Whew. All this emotive philosophizing is exhausting. Let’s talk about the baby shower I threw.
Mae, being an introvert and not loving the limelight, didn’t want a baby shower. But I plowed through her objections and having it at my house lent it an okay, low-key vibe for her. We had to limit the guest list as our house is small, and the decision to do a “display shower” (a new concept to old, almost-grandma me) solved the problem of not having a room big enough for everyone to sit around and watch her open her gifts. Which most receivers of gifts secretly find horrifying anyway, right? And also, if we’re being honest, being stuck parked in a chair watching a drawn-out package opening isn’t exactly top of the funnest day ever list.
Some cool stuff about the baby shower:
Josh’s mom, Carol, brought most of the food – thankfully – freeing me up ahead of time to paint the master bedroom, make Robert paint the pool deck, weed and trim the back and front yards, spring clean the entire house, obsess over the decorations and table set-ups and if we had enough chairs for everyone and also the party favors. (Who knew people gave party favors for baby showers? Are we all still seven years old??)
Ellis’ nursery has a botanical/woodland theme and so I kept that going here for the shower, displaying her nursery art I found by Vicki Rawlins on Sister Golden, and using palm leaf plates and palm frond printed napkins.
The vegan cupcakes were made by Peace of Cake Vegan Bakery in Palm Bay, and I asked her to keep them plainly decorated. Right before the shower my long time friend Mary – thankfully – added some herbs for color and festivity. Also, yes, botanical looking. I only had one white cake plate but found another at a thrift store that was clear glass with ugly gold decoration for 85¢. Using glass-friendly spray paint I fixed it up, and since the cupcakes came in their paper holders it didn’t matter that they were sitting on paint. (Which, of course, had dried by then. Just sounded weird. Sitting on paint.)
My mother passed away 7 years ago and I sometimes can’t help but just cry that she’s not going to be here to meet Ellis. Wanting a part of her here I brought out, for serving dishes, some of her bird and flower hand-painted china that she rarely used because it might break. Back in the day that kind of collection languished in corner china cabinets. Not here. If it breaks, it breaks. (It didn’t.)
Mae and I hate party games but I found two by googling “Baby shower games for people who hate games” and the article, 12 Baby Shower Games that Won’t Make You Cringe gave us the idea to do a Who’s That Baby? guessing game. Everyone texted or emailed a photo of themselves ahead of time (some were embarrassed that their photo was black and white, only to find out that most of ours were!) and I mounted them on poster board and had a pad of paper and plenty of pens on hand for everyone to ponder and take a guess.
The other wasn’t really a game, but a journal that I created using art I copied from an Ikea lamp shade in the nursery, where people wrote advice to the parents-to-be, and then later Mae can write in it all about Ellis and how she never sleeps at night and how she’s making Mae insane. We had a lot of laughs over the Who’s That Baby, and someone wrote in the journal “I hope the baby gets Josh’s beard.”
The not-cool stuff:
I didn’t take enough photos, and didn’t delegate that task to someone else.
That’s it! Otherwise it was a gorgeous, sunny day, not hot and not cold, and party-throwers that we are not, we pulled it off.
The baby’s nursery decor started – and took off running – after I found the flower art pictured above. I used part of one of the prints for the invitation.
Admittedly this is not our usual style blog post recommending places to visit in Florida. But who is traveling right now? And sharing our ‘journey’ here from our beach house feels right, just now, as we all hunker down and wonder how everyone else is coping.
Bringing a new life into this world during a pandemic seems daunting and surreal. At 3 a.m. when I’m awake worrying about every single thing I can think of to worry about, I have to remind myself of all the things: This too shall pass. Others have lived through quarantines, pandemics, and worse. We are all in this together and will come out more like the people we wanted to be.
And the letter someone found, written by F. Scott Fitzgerald during the Spanish Influenza outbreak (that is now being questioned as possibly fake, but I don’t care who wrote it):
‘And yet, amongst the cracked cloudline of an evening’s cast, I focus on a single strain of light, calling me forth to believe in a better morrow.’
(Also his long list of a month’s worth of necessities, which consists only of 10 types of alcohol!)
