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August 19, 2016
I stand in front of the mirror in my childhood bathroom, adjusting the fabric on my dress. It's crazy to be back here where I grew up, now as a soon to be mother myself.
The clinking of plates and the hum of conversation can be heard, filtering down from the kitchen I've been banned from entering since breakfast. My mom is definitely going all out for this shower she insisted on throwing me.
Soon enough, the timer on my phone is going off, signaling the end of my banishment to the basement. I take a deep breath, shutting off the bathroom light and ascending the stairs. The entire main floor is decked out with pink ribbon and flowers everywhere and the scent of freshly baked goods is making me hungry.
"Mom, you've really outdone yourself," I remark, sidling up next to her at the island and sneaking a strawberry from the bowl. All of her friends are already milling around and chatting.
My mom turns to me with a beaming smile, hands covered in flour. "Sweetheart, you look absolutely radiant! Come help me with these cookies."
Together, we work on the final touches for the dessert table, arranging and then rearranging cookie platters until my mom is satisfied.
"Mom, are you sure we need this many cookies?" I can't help but question when we've stepped back to admire our work.
"Oh, darling, it's a celebration! We want everyone to leave with a smile and a full stomach," She grins, playfully patting my baby bump.
"Mom, you didn't have to do all this. Harry and I are more than capable of providing her everything she needs." I say.
"Absolutely not! You're my only daughter, and the first grandbaby deserves a grand celebration! I've got to spoil her rotten while I can." She protests, and I can't argue with that.
I'm then approached, by our longtime family friend, Mrs. Jenkins. "Sweetie, your mother's been going on and on about this shower." She says.
I laugh, "Yeah, she's been more excited than me."
And by the time we're finished with small talk, a whole new slew of guests have arrived and I'm bombarded with well-wishers.
As the ladies begin exchanging stories of motherhood and giving unwarranted advice, my eyes catch on the extravagant spread of desserts my mom is still adding to.
"Mom, did you invite the entire neighborhood?" I whisper, eyeing the crowd continuing to pour in.
"Oh, just a few friends. It's important to celebrate life, darling!" She replies with a mischievous grin.
I'm just left to roll my eyes and plaster in a smile for the crowd of older women. As the morning wears on and the guests continue to arrive, I start feeling a bit overwhelmed by the crowd. "Mom," I whisper, leaning closer to her, "can we get started? I already feel like I need a nap."
