This Ain't Your Mother's Baby Shower

When I heard the news at the OB-GYN´s office that I would receive a daughter in 4 to 6 months, I never imagined a journey to Pinksville and beyond, but the wife did. Everything was pink in her kaleidoscope eyes. The baby registry told the story: pink stroller, pink car seat, pink socks, shoes, dresses, pacifier, etc. Try to tell a hormonal pregnant woman that she might be going over board is quite the feat. Caution and care is advised. I have nothing against pink, and at one time in my life I owned a pink shirt, granted Miami Vice was all the rage in the 80´s. We would stroll down the aisles of "Here comes a huge financial drain on your wallet baby store" finding pink straw and twigs to fill the pink nest. This process was clearly a girl thing just smile and wave boys, smile and wave. Systematic thinking and logic takes a back seat to the registry process. Consider yourself warned. Not sure why they gave us two scan guns for the baby registry. Every time I scanned an item I would get over ruled by the Pink Princess and informed these were unauthorized registry items.

Before the registry adventure was complete, we wondered over to a wall of letters to decorate the nursery. The wife had visions of spelling out our daughters name on the nursery wall at the head of the crib. As she was scanning away, I noticed the letters and the bar codes were not clearly labeled. So, I said, "Hey Hon, maybe we should double check the letters after we scan it." It was met with an all too familiar pregnancy stare. Our daughter´s name would be Sophia, but for a brief period of time it was displayed out to friends and family on our registry as Mophia. Not that there´s anything wrong with the name Mophia. It just isn´t the name that we had selected for our daughter and we weren't going to be parents to the newest muppet. This was followed up with an awkward email by the Pink Princess that our daughters name would not be Mophia, and she had to endure the smirk of "I told you so" from her loving husband.

The registry was filled with pink all around and not a trace of blue could be found. I with my wallet and the wife with her pink hat couldn´t wait for the shower to check out the stash. Then along came the question that arose with quite a clatter. Do we invite Mr. Man to the baby shower? The verdict that flung out the shutter without care was that baby showers are for women etiquette and protocol must be there. Then a cold truth surfaced that night, why should an involved and excited father to be, be put out of sight.

So, I had a little thought...maybe a little itsy bitsy evil thought but not nearly on the magnitude of the Grinch that stole Christmas. Why should I sit on the top of mount Whoville by myself? She got to pick all the gifts and would have the party too! So, I deployed guilt upon the Pink Princess with the religion card. With a straight face said "I got invited and went to a Bar Mitzvah when I was 13 and I´m not Jewish." Like the dawn of a new day the bans, blockades, and sanctions were removed and a Co-Ed baby shower was underway.

We arrived at the party, and I was encircled by several women explaining to me my favorite beer was in the fridge as well as 3 other kinds were at my disposal. The flock of attention disappeared as quickly as it came. The gesture of make me feel welcome was fulfilled. Then along came the presents. The waves of pink had hit shore. I enjoyed watching the wife ohhh and ahhh over the gifts after all she is my Pink Princess, but it was very reminiscent of watching a brother or sister opening Christmas gifts, exciting but not for you.

Next, the pregnancy games started. It was fun watching the expressions and hearing the reactions of the wife and all her friends inspecting melted Baby Ruth bars in diapers and blind-folded baby food tasting. Then, it was time for the diaper changing races. Now, this was going to be fun. This was my moment in the sun, my time to shine and soak up the rays of fun in celebration of our bundle of joy that was about to come. I couldn´t help but start to daydream about what my daughter would be like. I couldn´t stop thinking about the day that I would hear her sweet little voice say, "I love you Daddy". Like the chords of a harp, I could hear those words playing in my mind. She would be the gift wrapped in pink just for me.