Baby Shower Brings Downpour of Clothes, Food and Reality Checks

I’m baaa-aaack from my East Coast baby shower, a fun and food-filled affair generously organized by my sister-in-law, sister and mom.

I learned not only that people REALLY enjoy buying clothes for baby girls — our daughter will be able to change outfits more often than Diddy changes names (until she’s six months old, at which point she’ll be naked) — but also that I, as the mom, have pretty much nothing to do with my daughter or, well, anything.

Candy ignores the gifts not addressed to her, and the fact that you can almost see up her dress

The official tally:

Number of times my adorable-but-admittedly-sexist grandma told me I looked good, then told Mr. Candy that must be because HE is taking such good care of me:  1

Number of “I love my uncle” photo frames:  1

Number of “If you think I’m cute, you should see my aunt” onesies:  1

Number of “Grandma’s Little Sweetie” outfits:  1

Number of presents from my mother-in-law addressed solely to my husband containing “Daddy’s Little Sweetie” t-shirts:  2

Number of presents acknowledging MY involvement in this whole child creation process:  0

Of course, given that my mother-in-law once displayed no fewer than 20 pictures from our wedding in her house — with none of them featuring ME — the daddy-centric gifts should come as no surprise.

“It’s nothing personal,” Mr. Candy assures me.  “Mom just REALLY loves her sons.”

I’ll try to keep that in mind when I see the hospital pictures of me, Mr. Candy and Baby Girl up on her wall… and my face is “accidentally” chopped off.

“It’s nothing personal, Mr. Candy will assure me.  “You were just disrupting the balance of the pictures, that’s all!”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to shop for the remaining critical items on our baby list.   We still need a car seat, swing, Pack ‘n’ Play, diapers…

Oh, screw that.  Mama needs to buy a “Mommy’s Little Girl” onesie!

Because sharing is caring, as I tell my kids. (Except my wine. Never my wine.)
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Candy Kirby

Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

7 CommentsLeave a comment

  • No worries – your daughter will quickly grow out of these onesies. What she takes after you will prevail well over any claim from the rest of the family.

  • When my son was born, my MIL spent the first several months of his life telling everyone how he looks exactly like my husband, her other sons, her cousins, her parents, her uncle’s next-door-neighbor…pretty much everyone possibly connected with her family and having no relation to me. Note: I am Asian and my husband (and his family) are all very fair-skinned blondes. Somehow, my son got his olive skin, dark hair, and even his dark and almond-shaped eyes from them. In fact, we’re not even sure if I’m the mother. 😉

  • True dat, Rebecca.

    Hilarious, Cowgirl. My MIL was telling people at the shower that, from what she saw on the last ultrasound, our baby has her *other* son’s muscles. (In her defense, at least she was kidding. This time.)

    I guess we are merely the baby vessels!

  • You’d wish you were MY sister. When I found out I was going to have a niece, first thing I bought was an “I :heart: Mommy” ensemble for the wee one.

    Hint: bring Baby Girl over to the MIL and conveniently forget to bring the clothes the MIL gave her. “OOPS!”

  • Candy you are looking good. Not swelling or anything too much. And what a sweet sensible dress.
    I’m guessing that is Mr. Candy all oohing and gooing over that atrocious pink polka dotted long sleeved onesie?

  • Eize — how would you like to be Honorary Aunt Eize?

    Thanks, Dr. L. No, no swelling yet. Just 13 pounds right in my big ol’ belly!