First off: Here are the pics from Roxanne’s wedding to a mythical giant named Mark. Seriously, I’m five-foot-seven. Her husband is enormous. The other people in these photos are my adorable little sister, my longtime friend Marc, and his fiancee Michelle.
On Saturday, we did Trisha’s baby shower! Thank you for all your baby shower game suggestions on Twitter and Facebook. What we ended up playing: the baby-food tasting game (everyone always does worse than they expect to do, and it’s hilarious!), a game where you have to name all the songs you can think of with “Baby” in the title (that was really, really hard — probably the only one of the games that didn’t go so well), and a celebrity baby-name-matching game that I made up (typical of me, but I thought it went really well).
Natacha made two INCREDIBLE casseroles — one a French toast casserole, and the other a vegetarian breakfast casserole. I’m going to hound her for the recipes and post them here. They were positively sinful. I made pink cupcakes with white frosting and the baby-to-be’s initials in pink icing. It is HARD to write three initials on one cupcake in icing. It was cute, though. As a gift from all of us, we got a copy of the baby’s ultrasound and put it in a simple Target frame with a bunch of white canvas around it. Then we had all the girls in the shower sign the canvas, put it back in the frame, and gave it to her to hang in the baby’s room or wherever she wants to put it to be reminded how much she and the baby are loved.
It was just so wonderful to sit around with all the girls and chat about life and babies and pregnancy. NOT THAT I WILL EVER BE PREGNANT. Trisha told me to watch this Ricki Lake documentary called The Business of Being Born, about maternity care in the U.S. I watched it, and it was brilliant and amazing and everyone should see it. It’s all about the beauty and importance (and relative safety) of a natural labor, without pitocin or epidurals or hospitals. It’s very moving and insightful and wonderful, and I will recommend it to everyone I know who gets pregnant, and then maybe one day I will watch it with the children I am going to adopt, because nothing that large is coming out of my vagina — not in a hospital, not in a bath tub, not anywhere, not in a million years.
