This weekend was rad-tastic.
I had the best baby shower in the history of baby showers.
Special shout-outs to The Coalition of Teters, Johnsons and Prestons who joined forces to plan the best baby shower in the history of baby showers. Approximately 1,457 women were in attendance Saturday, when an ordinary Westervillian neighborhood was infiltrated and transformed into:
FYI: If you ever find yourself knocked up, please enlist the services of the following women:
I’m still trying to figure out the inner-workings of The Coalition’s complex strategy, but I think they had something to do with facilitating the millions of little moments that made me feel loved and nurtured and basically set for life. And all the people who drove and drove to be there, and the gifts for Molly Mae and I and the notes and the thought that went into it all and the messages from people who couldn’t be there and everything and all the things.
Showers are one of those times you are slammed in the face over and over again with all your blessings. But in a good way. Because the thought of raising a baby — let alone a girl — is TERRIFYING. But a room full of femmes who will be a part of her life? It really takes the pressure off. Maybe we can do this after all. We certainly will be well equipped.
Anyway, women from as far as Toledo, Ohio were looking a little worn down from the intense gaming competition by The Portion of The Show Where I Open 1,000 presents.
Three cheers for everyone who stayed awake while I unwrapped all of this:
Now all we need are some closets. And probably a bit more storage.
And a BABY!
You know what’s going to be really hilarious?
When Tot Two turns out to be a boy.
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