We were in San Antonio this weekend, for my little sister’s baby shower which was much fun! I had checked out my sister’s baby registry earlier in the week and then promptly called her to see if she wanted me to add any of our wishlist items since, of course, we expect the hand-me-overs when we get knocked up. We met she and her husband for Greek food on Friday evening upon our arrival and I was glad to see, once again, my sister was wearing a really cute outfit. I most definitely approve of my future maternity wardrobe — certainly better things than I would have acquired for myself.
Our niece, Emily, smelling the roses from inside Aunt Belly.
In most proper shower etiquette circles, the 60 invitations for the mama's-side-of-the-family family baby shower might have probably been over the top. (Unless you are over-the-top, which would have made 60 quite a small gathering). But all those etiquette books were certainly never written by, or for, Catholicly-raised Hispanics. There must have been forty people there, at least ten of which had not made the invitation list, but showed for the grand times and the food (see the spread in photo in this post) or because they were related to someone or other.
Mmmmm…the baby shower food.
It’s like Hispanic weddings: you send the invitation to Mr. & Mrs. So-and-So-endez and you believe that they’ll understand that they should return an RSVP for 1 or 2 or zero attendees. Instead, you don’t get any RSVP, and the way Mr. & Mrs. So-and-So-endez read it is that they have to limit their attendance — to their immediate 6 member family, three of which are under the age of 5. If you put “The So-and-So-endez Family” on the invitation, expecting the six members, what you really get is their immediate family plus abuelo, abuelita, maybe a couple tia’s from the sister’s husband’s side, and a couple third cousins who can’t be left alone at home for the evening lest they get into typical teenage shenanigans. Oh, and they only come to the reception. And there’s no RSVP. Yep, that’s how we roll.
After the shower was over (a good 2 hours after the time it was supposed to be over), it was just me, my beloved, my mom, my sister, my brother, and our future sister-in-law, Martha, sitting around the dining room table. Eating and Talking. A thing we do very well, I might add. (Martha is not her real name, but like Ms. Martha Stewart, she knows all the ‘rules’ of entertaining and being proper guests and hostesses — although she’s Hispanic, she’s more evolved than the rest of us.) So at a negligible lull in conversation, Martha seeks out my pregnant sister’s attention, and instead of calling her by her given name beginning with a “B”, accidently calls her “Belly”. Eruption of laughter followed. Partly for the name, and partly because Martha works so hard at doing things the right way. It was a hoot! I do believe my sister has a name for when our little one not-yet-conceived comes into the world. It will be “Aunt Belly”.