I’m a little teary as a write this post, overwhelmed with sentimentality and gratitude; humbled by the love of friends; and excited about the new baby soon joining our family in a few weeks.
Throughout this pregnancy, my friends have made me feel so special. They’ve done things like bring me my favorite pad thai and homemade biscuits and jelly for no reason. They’ve driven me around (I hate driving). They’ve given me maternity clothes. (I’d given everything away after two pregnancies, and I’ve refused to buy anything this time around. My wardrobe is sad. Very sad). They’ve watched my boys while I went to the doctor. They’ve filled the late afternoon and evening hours that are always so tough for me when Eric is out of town. Sometimes, they’ve come up here for pizza and a movie and then headed home just when it was time to tuck the kids in for bed. Other times, they’ve cooked dinner for us, helped me bathe the boys, and then sent us home in borrowed pajamas so that I could put them straight in bed when we got home. They’ve listened to my crazy hormonal breakdowns and have then promptly forgotten them, as only true friends will do. They’ve visited despite the mess that my house is right now because I’m in fierce nesting mode and have too many decor projects going on at once.
Like the Beatles, I’ve thought several times to myself lately “I get by with a little help from my friends” (but not high, it seems prudent to note especially when I’m expecting).
And today, they gave me the sweetest baby shower. I told them it wasn’t necessary, that I didn’t want anyone to spend more money on me, and that this was, after all, my third pregnancy. But they insisted, scheduling the loveliest brunch (my favorite meal), bringing the cutest monogrammed cookie favors (which my boys devoured before I could snap a picture), setting the table with a gorgeous arrangement of hydrangeas, and showering me with gifts anyway.
To show them how grateful I was, and feeling crafty, I thought I would whip up a little hostess gift. But, after a couple of failed DIY attempts, I decided to go the safe route, opting instead to dress up a bottle of wine.
With fall in mind (despite 90 degree temps), I focused on deep, rich reds as a color palette. I selected a Malbec with a dark cherry foil wrapper, added a fiery pincushion and some purple-red leaves, and then wrapped them up with craft paper and twine.
Since the hostesses are also mothers, I thought “a little wine to cope with the whine” was appropriate to scribble on craft paper tags left over from the Bow or Beau shower I cohosted a couple weeks ago.
I thought this hostess gift turned out cute, certainly much better than the failed DIY, and it was a reminder that simple, classic gifts are often the best.
However, this bottle of wine still seems so paltry compared to overwhelming sense of gratitude I have for my girls.
I feel so blessed to call this group of women my friends. I’ve written about this before, and it only becomes truer with time; they really are like family to me. And, because I don’t have any family in town, I cherish their friendships that much more. In fact, as the shower wrapped up, they were already planning who will watch the boys when I deliver and how and when they will bring us meals once the new baby arrives.
I’m not sure how I got so lucky. I love you all so much! Xoxo