Charlotte
On reflection, it’s a good thing I didn’t go for the stork ice sculpture.
I mean, it would’ve set off the peony wall beautifully, and the balloon arch, but it definitely would’ve melted, and that’s not a good sign, is it? A stork perishing slowly at a baby shower? So, no stork. Good call. It’s still going to be perfect. Perfect.
I’ve been up since dawn, counting everything to go into the pastel goody bags. The article I bookmarked – ‘How to Throw the Perfect Baby Shower’ – was very clear the host should give something back. Nicki shouldn’t have to worry about that, so I’ve ordered lip balms and luxury popcorn online, as well as some cute personalised bottles of shower gel that say Thank you for showering with us. How funny is that? I saw them on a ‘Quirky Baby Shower Favours’ listicle. Once everything’s counted, I head to the kitchen and check through the catering. I open the fridge, sighing as cool air hits my skin, and reach in to stir the three jugs of pink lemonade I brewed last night. They’re perfect, ready to pour into the mini glass milk bottles I’ve tied with pastel bows. On the top shelf, the cupcakes are holding up nicely that I baked after school yesterday. Hopefully they won’t taste of fridge. I took everything out and bleached the fridge beforehand, just in case, and now I’m worried the cupcakes will taste of bleach. They look stunning, with their whirls of piped icing and delicate sugar paper hearts. In the bottom fridge drawer, I’ve got the chopped strawberries and blueberries, ready to assemble closer to start time as I don’t want them to get soggy. Then there’s the pink wafer biscuit towers to build. I’ll wait till I get to Nicki’s parents’ house to assemble those. They’ll sit alongside the jars of blue liquorice I ordered online from a speciality US store. I’m so relieved the liquorice arrived in time. Honestly, I’ve been having palpitations . Right. Fab. Now I need to check everything for the games. I head to my organised piles in the living room and start re-counting. Have I printed enough copies of the Famous Babies quiz sheet? Check. Do I have the baby food ready to spread into nappies for Guess the Flavour? Check. I’ve got 30 dummies. Check. They cost more than I thought they would, but they’re going to be great for Hook a Dummy. I check the homemade fishing rods are sturdy enough. Was it wrong to get my Year 5s to make them as our crafts project this week? Probably. But I was running out of time. I can’t wait for that game. The roll-top bath is going to make the best pics. Then there’s the dyed hard-boiled eggs, ready for the spoon race – waiting in the cooler. That’s going to make great pictures too. It’s a shame the hosepipe ban has probably turned their garden to dust, but, still, it will be fun and—
‘Oh, babe,’ Seth’s voice makes my ears tingle. ‘Please tell me you slept some?’
I put down the papier-maché vulva I made for the pinata and smile.
‘Maybe between twelve and four,’ I tell my husband.
‘You need to rest.’ He hugs me from behind, his body almost uncomfortably warm, resting his chin on my head. I seep back into him.
‘Organising is restful to me.’
He laughs. ‘So you keep claiming.’
I stretch my neck up and we share a kiss. Seth tastes of morning, but I’m minty fresh as I always brush first thing. That’s how you’re supposed to brush your teeth, you know? You’re supposed to brush first thing to scrub off the plaque that’s formed overnight. Plus, it coats your teeth with toothpaste and protects them through breakfast. If you eat breakfast and THEN brush your teeth, you’re actually brushing off the enamel as the bacteria is feeding off your food. I read about it when I googled ‘How to Brush Your Teeth Properly’ after reading ‘Can Gum Disease Cause Infertility?’
‘Are you still OK to pick up the doughnut wall this morning?’ I ask him.
He smooths my hair down lovingly. ‘Yes. I’ll collect Matt and head over to the bakery. I’ll keep the air con on so the glazing doesn’t melt.’
I love this man.
‘Make sure they have exactly 29 of blue and 30 of pink.’
‘I know, babe. I’ll count myself if I have to.’
‘I hope people are hungry enough to eat them when you arrive. There’s a two-hour gap between lunch and the surprise.’
‘It’s doughnuts, . People always eat doughnuts when presented with doughnuts.’
I’m picturing Nicki’s face when she realises just how many clues I’ve left for her today, in plain sight, before the big finale. I could almost combust I’m so excited about her surprise. I’ve dug into the very deepest trenches of myself to organise today. I got out my own baby shower mood board – the one I’ve been curating for years – and, one by one, I donated all my ideas to Nicki.
I release this into the world with peace and acceptance , I said, as I ordered the wall of peonies from the florist, my heart literally aching from the effort of truly meaning it.
I release this into the world with peace and acceptance, I said, as I planned which pouches of food to wipe in the nappies to make them look like poo.
I let go of my broken hopes, I said, as I organised the craft corner, where guests can draw pictures of what they think Nicki’s baby will look like. I gift this out into the universe.
I accept this isn ’ t my baby shower , I said, as I ordered a box of teddy bears off eBay to use in the nappy-changing race. It ’ s alright to feel grief but it’s time to release it into the universe and be free.
I’ve sacrificed my own dream baby shower on the altar of personal growth. It’s Nicki’s now. Not mine. One of my oldest friends. A worthy recipient. I might have cried a dozen times, but I’ve done it. I’m free of it. And today’s going to be perfect. Perfect.
Seth tugs me towards the kitchen, a big dopey smile on his face. ‘Can I tempt you away from your chores and at least make you have some breakfast?’ he asks.
‘I’m not hungry. I still feel off.’
‘At least have something. Dry toast is supposed to help?’
He sits me at our breakfast bar, slices some sourdough, and makes me a decaf coffee. He sits opposite me as we eat, stretching his leg out to play footsie.
‘I still have so much to do,’ I say, taking a tentative nibble of my toast, worrying I’ve not left enough time to stuff the goody bags.
‘We’ve been married three years now, . I can say, without a shadow of any doubt, that you had it all sorted a month ago.’
‘Are you sure I shouldn’t have ordered the ice sculpture?’
He laughs. ‘It would be a puddle.’
‘I know, but . . .’
‘Nobody knows you’d planned to have a stork ice sculpture. Nobody will miss it.’
‘But I know.’
‘Please, try and relax. You’ve planned the most wonderful day for her.’
‘And you’ll arrive at two on the dot? With Matt?’
He takes another sip of his espresso and nuzzles my foot further. ‘We’re going to watch the final on the outside screen at The Wellington first because we have to do Real Men things before coming to a baby shower.’
‘It’s not technically a baby shower, it’s a gender reveal disguised as a baby shower.’
‘Even more macho then. I better not tell everyone on the trading floor.’
‘You can’t get drunk.’
‘Babe, I know. I’m driving.’
‘I just want it all to be—’
‘Perfect, I know.’
We smile at one another in the pinky glow of our kitchen. His dark hair perfectly offsets the dusty tiles I picked. They suit both our colouring perfectly, in all different lights.
‘I’m so excited to have everyone together,’ I say. ‘I’ve hardly seen Lauren since she had Woody. Only that one time after he was born. And Steffi’s so busy launching this agency.’
‘The Little Women.’ Seth smiles. He finds it hilarious our group is called that when I’m the only one who actually read it at uni.
‘We’re never together anymore. It’s literally like the novel.’
‘Not that the other three would know that.’
‘Steffi read some of the book, I think. And, seriously, I miss us. As a group. It’s not been the same for ages.’
Seth drains his tiny cup and reaches out to rub my stomach gently. Profound bliss blooms through me and I allow myself another ten seconds.
‘Well didn’t they have a falling out?’ he asks, taking our cups straight to the sink and washing them right away, feeling my eyes on him. He uses the special sponge to ensure there’s no coffee residue at the bottom. He knows I’ll creep back and do it myself otherwise.
‘That’s not true,’ I say. ‘We’re still all best friends, we’ve just all got our own stuff going on. You know what it’s like at this age when everyone starts having kids.’
He raises his eyebrows at me. ‘ Everyone, eh? Typical.’
I raise my eyebrows back, and we giggle at one another, and I can’t believe we’re able to joke about this. I allow myself a further ten seconds to be mindful of this feeling of gratitude and then return to planning today.
‘I’m going for a shower,’ Seth says, calling over his shoulder. ‘And don’t worry, I won’t forget to count the doughnuts.’
‘I just want it to be perfect,’ I call after him, and then mutter it one last time to myself.