When Girlfriends Step Up (27 page)

And I slowly drifted back to sleep, dreaming not of fantasies of Bobby as Tarzan, and I as Jane, or some other flighty fantasy. But of the possible reality that Bobby could be that Mr. Right that Lara and I were always talking about. Life had thrown me stranger things; why couldn’t that be a possibility? Even a probability?

***

“Hey, Lara,” I said, turning off the blow dryer. I was in the middle of getting ready for my baby shower. My long morning nap and bath afterward had left me feeling refreshed.

“What’s up, babe?” she answered from my bedroom. She’d been scurrying about gathering all sorts of things and reorganizing furniture, I gathered from the sounds coming from her hitting the walls with God knows what. She insisted that I see my completed bedroom/nursery before we headed to Claire’s for the baby shower.

“You want to be my Lamaze partner?” I asked.

I read in
You’re Going to Be a Mother
that all first-time moms should sign up for a Lamaze training class so they’d be as prepared as possible for labor. There were a lot of natural child labor instructional classes around town, led by people called doulas, who were these really cool childbirth coaches—very popular all over Seattle, apparently. I’d seen a couple of advertisements at coffee shops and grocery stores recently. There was a four-week-long Lamaze workshop offered throughout the month of October at one of labor centers next door in Fremont.

“Oh my gosh, I totally forgot about Lamaze,” Lara said, passing by my bathroom on her way back out to the living room. “Of course I’ll be your partner.” She dashed by again, carrying something into my room.

“Classes are every Saturday in October, nine to noon. Can you make it?”

“Definitely!” She popped her head around the corner. “All right. You can come in now.”

“
Oooh
. I’m finally allowed to enter my bedroom. After, like, three days?”

Lara impatiently grabbed hold of my arm and led me into my bedroom, instructing me to close my eyes until she said I could open them.

“Mmm. It doesn’t smell like paint. That’s good.”

“Okay. One…two…three…open!”

The bedroom’s walls were the daintiest shade of soft pink—not overdone as I was afraid it might be with wall-to-wall paint. The intricate crown molding up top separated the pink nicely from the white ceiling, easing the transition of color. And the new chair rail molding that was recently installed looked beautiful. And! Oh! The darker shade of pink right below the white molding! Lara and Jackie really outdid themselves.

“It’s beautiful!” I cried, clasping my hands to my mouth. “It really is beautiful.”

“You like it?”

“Are you kidding? Lara, I
love
it.”

I walked towards the crib, which had been set up in the corner opposite my bed, adorned with the cutest pink and cream bedding that I picked up at Pottery Barn recently, not caring one iota about the steep price tag. It was exactly what I imagined my baby girl sleeping in the day I brought her home.

“And the rocking chair! Oh it looks perfect in the corner.” I took a seat in the vintage rocking chair that I had refurbished a soft cream color, then distressed slightly. It may not have matched the rest of the very modern furniture all that well, but I saw a version of it one day when I was wasting time on Pinterest and knew I had to have something just like it for my nursery. It seemed like the ideal piece you could hand down to your children some day, something you’d keep in the family and always find a use for.

“Lara, you girls really outdid yourselves.”

“Jackie did nearly all the chair rail molding herself,” Lara said, impressed.

“Wow! Who would have thought our little Jack was a carpenter?”

I didn’t want to tear myself from the room; it was so breathtaking, and more than I could have ever wished for. All of the furniture was assembled, the paint was on the walls, the decorative touches were up—and it had my girlfriends written all over it. We’d all come together to help make Baby’s room positively perfect. Now all we needed was for Baby to arrive!

“Come on, we don’t want to miss out on your special day.” Lara ushered me to the bathroom, assisting with the finishing touches of makeup and helping me put on my shoes since I was pretty much helpless in that department now. Bending over was a thing of the past.

“You look fan-damn-tastic, girl!” Lara said, spritzing me one time with a quick shot of Ralph Lauren’s Romance, my signature scent since sophomore year in college.

“I feel fan-damn-tastic!” I looked at myself in the mirror, feeling like a genuine princess.

Since the theme was “sugar and spice and everything nice,” and pink would no doubt be
the
color of the afternoon, I picked out (with the girls’ help, naturally) the most beautiful pink dress. It was more of a hot pink or a watermelon pink than the typical pastel baby shade. It was a long and flowing chiffon dress, with thin spaghetti straps and an adorable ruche in the bra area where the folds of the fabric came together in a twist, then splayed out to the back of the dress. A loose bow draped from below the back waist and spilled on downward. Sophie had found the most befitting walnut-colored gladiator-style sandals with small gold snaps. September was still seeing some very warm weather, so I jumped at the opportunity to wear one more fabulous summer ensemble before my baby arrived.

“Let’s get the woman of the hour to her party already!” Lara said, grabbing our handbags and leading the way to her car.

Everything about the baby shower was absolute perfection. The girls outdid themselves, transforming Claire’s backyard into a paradise of pink. There were pink balloons, streamers, and a banner over the deck reading “Congratulations! It’s a Girl!” One long picnic table covered in lace and a pink tablecloth was set up in the yard, leaving an expanse of freshly cut grass set up for a round of croquette. Small table and chair groupings were arranged around the yard, too, all decorated to match the pretty-in-pink-style decor. It was all so very shabby-chic, like something you’d see in one of those design or DIY craft magazines. It had the handiwork of Claire written all over it, especially the miniature cloth diapers, no bigger than the size of coasters, which were embroidered with the guests’ names and used as place settings. As it turned out, Claire had made those herself, insisting the hankies-disguised-as-diapers were the cutest take-me-home gifts for everyone. Right on theme, of course.

It was, in every sense of the words, “sugar and spice and everything nice.” Pieces of assorted pink candies and treats were arranged in tea cups. Heart-shaped confetti and glitter littered the buffet table, on which, per my wishes, was a three-tier cupcake stand, holding miniature marzipan and strawberry cupcakes.

“Girls!” I cried. I was so overjoyed and touched. “This is all amazing!”

Lara gave me a big squeeze before taking my handbag and wrap from me.

“So happy you love it,” Claire said, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Her Jack Russell Terrier mix, Schnickerdoodle, jumped repeatedly in excitement up against her, wanting in on the festivities and fun, too.

“Congratulations!” Sophie said. She started passing around pink lemonade, served in mason jars that were tied at the lip with pink ribbons.
 

“You look
great
, sis,” Kaitlyn said, giving me a hug. “Congratulations.”

“Mom,” I said, as my mother came up from behind Kaitlyn, lemonade in-hand, her arms loosely crossed. “Mom, I’m so glad you could come.”

“Congratulations, Robin,” she said timidly, her face telling me she didn’t want to impose.

“This is going to be a
fun
time!” I said aloud, although more as a warning to my mother than as an exclamation. I wanted to make it clear to her that there was to be no drama at this party, although I was sure she wouldn’t pull any wayward antics or razz me in front of everyone. She nodded her head obligingly and took a long pull on her drink.
 

“So,” Claire said, once everyone had greeted each other and was working on their second helpings of lemonade. “Buffet-style finger foods for lunch. Cupcakes for dessert. For starters, though, we have some fun games planned. The first one you’ve all probably heard of. It’s kind of gross, but it’s really fun.”

Jackie came out onto the deck from inside the house balancing two TV trays holding what looked like baby diapers.

“You have to guess the melted candy bars that are in the diapers,” Claire said. “Most correct guesses wins a prize!”

Laughter and whispering commenced; it was the classic (and rather disgusting) baby shower game of candy bar baby poo.

The game, and the similar and equally entertaining ones that followed, were great icebreakers for my mom and Kaitlyn. Get me and all my friends together and we could start up a party like nothing. The games were a smooth and cute way to get things going, get everyone comfortable, and get into the spirit of the baby-themed party.

Then came gift time, and, I won’t lie, I was
really
looking forward to it. I’d already received so many baby and maternity clothes from the girls, not to mention help with a dreamy nursery, but let’s face it—who doesn’t adore the gift-giving that comes with birthdays and Christmases and anniversaries, and now, for me, baby showers? When I caught sight of the table covered in pink bags and boxes, I couldn’t wait to find out what my little girl was getting!

“This one’s from the both of us. A together, team-effort gift,” Sophie said, motioning to her and Claire and handing me an envelope.

“A day at the spa!” I exclaimed, reading quickly over the pamphlet that accompanied the gift certificate, which was made out to “Robin, the Mom-to-Be.” My eyes scanned over the words:
Full-body prenatal massage…Aromatherapy…Paraffin treatment…Mani and Pedi…Facial…

“Girls,” I exclaimed. “This is
amazing!
Thank you.”

“And I don’t know if it says it on there or not, or if you saw it,” Sophie said, “but a chauffeured town car will pick you up and take you home, too. It’s a full-on relaxation treatment. All about the mom-to-be.”

“Thank you, girls.” I gave them each a hug, then passed the pamphlet around for everyone to see.

I reached over to the next gift, a very large box wrapped in solid, bright pink paper, with a gigantic bow on top. Terribly curious what surprise lay in wait, I ripped apart the paper rapaciously.

“Oh my God!” I shrieked, bouncing in my chair. “I can’t believe you got this! Who got this?”

It was the mechanical and musical baby swing that I wanted the moment I’d laid eyes on it in this really chic and high-priced boutique over in Belltown.

“It was my pleasure,” Jackie said, grinning shyly.

“Jack!” I gasped. “You didn’t need to get me
this
expensive thing. This
exact
one. Any swing would have been fine.” I knew the price tag of this deluxe swing. The tag was the very reason I didn’t snatch it up the day I’d seen it in the store during one afternoon when Sophie, Jackie and I had been doing some window-shopping.

“
Now
you tell me,” Jackie kidded. “No, honestly, it was my pleasure. You and your baby deserve that awesome swing.”

“Did—”

“No!” she retorted, knowing at exactly what I was hinting. “Andrew did
not
buy it. I actually bought this with my
own
cash.”

“Robin,” Lara said to me in a scolding tone. I suppose I’d forgotten it wasn’t our usual group of girls together. When it was just us, we’d casually poke fun and joked with one another—really no topic was off-limits. I could imagine what my mother must have been thinking.
 

“Sorry, Jackie. I didn’t mean anything by—”

“Forget it. Andrew may wine and dine me and buy me, well, everything I want. But when it comes to my friends
I’m
the one doing the shopping.” I pulled her into a hug and whispered in her ear that I loved her.

Jackie and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, that was obvious. It was no secret to me that she wasn’t always fond of the way Lara and I palled around together, especially now that Lara and I were roommates. Jackie was bigger than the petty things, though, even if I sometimes thought she wanted to catfight with me when she heard that Lara and I had gone out for dinner together, or that we had decided to check out the newest romcom on our own. Our friendship was bigger than the tiniest, and the heaviest, of problems.

“I love ya, too, Robin,” Jackie whispered back. She gave me a light spank. “Now get back to opening the rest of your gifts already!”

The girls spoiled me and my little one rotten. By the time I was finished unwrapping all of the presents, I was up a deluxe baby swing, a Baby Bjorn carrier, dozens of baby clothes in all sorts of colors, with different patterns, and some Winnie the Pooh characters—onesies, dresses, tiny t-shirts, even blue jeans and overalls. I’d gained more socks in sizes from newborn to twenty-four months than I thought I’d ever need, and plenty of burp rags, pacifiers, newborn baby bottles, one-year-old baby bottles, even two-year-old baby bottles, and some sippy-cups. I’d gotten everything from rattles and teething trinkets, to
Baby Einstein
DVDs, teddy bears, and chunky cardboard books teaching Baby the 1-2-3s and A-B-Cs. Claire even knitted me a baby blanket, saying she tried to match the yarn to the pink shade of my crib decor as best she could. And, I couldn’t forget the all-inclusive prenatal spa day. Make out like a bandit? I think so!

“I don’t know what to say.” I looked at the gifts that littered the table and spilled all around it. “You girls all rock. Thank you. And thank you for coming! This party is more…much more…than I imagined!”

“And, that’s not all,” Kaitlyn said, walking towards the deck and disappearing into the house, my mom hot on her heels.

I looked around at everyone, asking if they knew what was going on.
 

More gifts? Some extra surprise?

No one said a word; they smiled and waited.

“Surprise!” Kaitlyn shouted, my mom pushing a grey Schwinn jogger stroller out onto the deck. “Something for you
and
the baby.”