Sometimes Baby Showers Surprise You

My baby shower was a couple weeks ago. I was torn. Baby showers have cupcakes, and I wanted cupcakes.

But baby showers also have games, and I didn’t want to play any games. No tasting baby food, no guessing which candy bar is meltily smeared in each diaper (Dear Lord, why would anyone waste a candy bar like that?), and no baby bingo.

Know how to avoid games at a baby shower?

Make it man-friendly. Nobody expects guys to diaper balloons or pin the pacifier on the baby.

However, I did allow a few baby-related decorations, like diaper pins on the cupcakes and rubber duckies in the punch.

My rubber ducky punch was supposed to look like this.

Instead, the rubber ducky punch looked like this:

Rubber Ducky Punch Fail.

At least it still tasted good.

I was also hoping to avoid opening presents in front of everyone. I didn’t want that much attention, and nobody wants to sit through presents of wipes and butt paste.

Then a couple friends asked me to open their presents so they could explain them. So I quickly opened theirs, thanked them, and then looked up to see a crowd gathering.

Noooooo….

So I opened more presents. With the sun beating down on my back and eyes on my tummy, I started perspiring. Misty and Hippie will tell you it was a pregnancy glow because they’re nice. It was sweat.

That’s when I began wondering if it would be rude to spill water all over my lap, yell “My water broke,” and leave my own shower.

Then I got this:

All Mommy Wanted Was a Back Rub

And everyone laughed. And I felt like a jerk. Sure I didn’t want everyone staring at me, but people got me some really cool gifts, and I’m glad that everyone else got to see them…even if they were displayed by a perspiring glowing—just go with it—me.

Mommy’s Little Zombie Hunter, Does This Diaper Make My Butt Look Big?, and The Babe With the Power

It’s Raining, It’s Pouring, But There Will Be No Showering

I thought I’d change it up from all the baby posts and write a wedding post since Kiefer and I are getting married in less than 2 weeks.

Kiefer: A friend wants to know if anyone is throwing us a shower.

Thoughtsy: No. Because I don’t want a bridal shower.

Kiefer: Why not?

Thoughtsy:  Why not? Dear God, man, what did you say? Please tell me you didn’t give someone permission to throw us a shower. If you did, YOU can play all the stupid games and open all the presents while everyone stares at you and wear all the bows and ribbons on your head.

I’ll just sit back and eat cake. That’s the only good part about showers.

When would we even have time for a shower? We just moved. We just got back from Greece. Our wedding is in less than a month.

Plus showers are just an excuse to get extra gifts. And we didn’t even register for anything because we already combined two households and we’d rather have money or gift cards for new home improvements.

And I’m totally having a baby shower…minus the games. I feel bad getting gifts at a bridal shower, getting wedding gifts, and then getting baby gifts in a 6-month span. It seems greedy.

Kiefer: You’re making my head hurt.

Thoughtsy: Then I think I’ve made my point.

A friend ended up throwing us a small weddding shower this weekend. It was nice. And most importantly, there were no games.

Airplane Safety: I Didn’t Need to Know That

I’ve been spending a lot of time on planes lately. And I hate it. All of it.

I hate…

• Being crammed next to complete strangers.
• Losing all feeling in my butt.
• Standing in all of the lines. That’s all airports are. Lots and lots of lines.
• Paying an arm and a leg for a pack of gum.
• Imagining monsters on the wing of the plane….

Ahhhhhhh!

As if that’s not bad enough…there’s also that whole plane crashing thing.

Sometimes I fly into Reagan National Airport. And I recently read this:

Pilots flying into Reagan National Airport have to dodge several no-fly zones located over our nation’s capital just to land. Most of central Washington is prohibited airspace up to 18,000 feet, so pilots are forced to follow the Potomac River in the “River Visual” approach, according to the FAA. While following the Potomac River pilots have to perform a 30- to 40-degree turn while close to the river to line up with the runway. This maneuver is what has caused some to place the airport on their scariest airports lists.

Grrrrrrreat….

After I finished my cupcake answered Kiefer’s proposal, we stopped by a park near Reagan where we watched the planes land. It was scary stuff.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “…You should have your guests toss sprinkles at the wedding exit.”—Angelia Sims

The Way to My Heart. Yes, It Involves a Pop-Tart.

After Kiefer proposed, I made him wait for an answer. To get a taste of his own medicine. Don’t worry though. I’m not making you wait any longer.

For weeks, I grilled him with my questions, concerns, and every possible scenario I could think of. Kiefer was my heart’s choice, but my head needed reassurance.

Then one weekend Kiefer and I headed down to DC’s Ted’s Bulletin for homemade Pop-Tarts.

Blueberry Cheesecake Pop-Tart

After walking around the Eastern Market for a while, he suggested we eat cupcakes from Buzz Bakery.

Cookie Monster, Carrot Cake, The 9:30 Club, and Coconut

As we ate cupcakes, I knew. I knew that any man who feed me Pop-Tarts and cupcakes in the same day was the guy for me.

We could have Pop-Tarts and cupcakes every day. We’d eat so many that our little babies would have sprinkles for dimples and icing for hair.

Kiefer: Hey do you hear what those women are talking about?

The women at the next table were planning a wedding. I didn’t hear them because I was busy deciding what was more important: accepting Kiefer’s proposal or eating the last bite of cupcake.

Thoughtsy: YES! I mean, no. I don’t know what they’re talking about.

Marriage Proposal Acceptance Fail.

Kiefer: Then why did you just say, “Yes?” Wait…. Yes?

Thoughtsy: Yes.

Kiefer: Yes!

Favorite Comment From Last Post: ALL OF THEM!

Me No Share Cookies…or Cupcakes…or Anything

When I first started dating the Cupcake Dangler, I had to come out of the blog-closet to him:

CD: How long have you been blogging for?

Thoughtsy: About 3 years.

CD: Wow! So I have a lot of reading to do.

Thoughtsy: Awww…. That’s so cute that you want to read it. But you can’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.

To soften the blow, I offered to let CD pick his name. That was a mistake.

CD: I’ve always liked the name “David.”

Thoughtsy: That’s…so…boring. (Author’s Note: No offense to people named “David.”)

CD: How about Lance?

Thoughtsy: Isn’t that a Backstreet Boy? I mean, NSync. You’re not allowed to pick your blog name anymore. You can’t be trusted.

How could I be with a guy who possibly secretly liked boy bands?

Then…he bought me this cupcake. (Translation: I snuck it into his grocery cart, and he pretended not to notice.)

A cookie and a cupcake!

Two desserts. In one dessert! I thought the tables had turned in his favor.

Then he suggested we split it. Split. It.

Which is pretty much the same thing as…

1. Calling me “fat.”
2. Questioning my dessert-eating ability.
3. Taking food right out of my mouth.

That’s when I first realized I made a horrible mistake. It was the beginning of the end for him.