I've never much bought the logic employed by some folks that, as a rule, they don't like surprise parties. There's something too absolutist about a policy prohibiting something so inherently nice, and potentially fun.
I get that some people aren't comfortable being the center of attention and I've seen first hand how some folks don't like their age being spotlighted, so a birthday party is out of the question for them. But a random surprise party for you in honor of soon becoming a parent? Sure, why not?
I've never been the recipient of a surprise party (Whah! Whah! Whah!) so I've never had any reason to have a much of an opinion on the matter. That was until last week.
In our neverending quest to be the most exciting couple in the region, Mrs. Blackwell and I were sitting at home last Friday evening. In all candor, I was enjoying some wine and reruns on TV and she was folding baby clothes so, a good time was indeed being had.
Amidst this revelry, our doorbell rang. This in and of itself is an event. We don't get popbys at our house and, for the most part, that's fine by me. This time however, the ringers of our bell were two of Mrs. Blackwell's close friends bearing an armload of gifts, a cake, champagne and, my personal favorite, beer.
This little impromptu party was, in part, for yours truly. A small party delivered to our doorstep it turns out.
It was an unexpected, welcomed and appreciated gesture
and an excuse to have another glass of wine or two. So we hung out, played some music and chatted.
It was yet another example of how pregnancy brings out the best in some folks.
Through the bumps, the laughs, and the tears we have had the good fortune of being surrounded by some genuinely generous, selfless folks who do good, just because.
|Parents know what's in store for new parents and they laugh. But
they also care so, it evens out I suppose.
What do these people know that inspires such niceties?
What awaits us?
What haven't we been told?
Why do they empathize so emphatically when I say I'm worried about sleeping once he's born?
What's with the level of genuine sympathy people express when we talk about dealing with diapers?
And what do they mean when they say cryptic things like "You'll see," or "You watch what happens"?
Contemplating these questions is enough to make an expectant parent reach for a beer. Thankfully, I've got some.