I Don' Know Nothin' 'Bout Birthin' No Babies! *THWAP!*

A few weekends ago, I attended a baby shower.

This shower was a little different from your traditional baby shower: it was hosted by a gay male couple who adopted a newborn child in an "open adoption" system out of Washington state. If you've read Dan Savage's The Kid, that's the adoption system I'm talking about. (Otherwise, check out this link for more information on open adoptions.)

Obviously, then, this shower was different because the baby in question was already there, unlike traditional showers which involve a pregnant lady preparing for her soon-to-be-born. This made gift shopping a little more difficult. The baby was 17 days old at the time of the party. Normally I would have gotten something like little baby towels, or baby bath sets, or stuff like that, but then I figured that since they've had the child for some 7 days now, they probably already have that stuff. I mean, I presume they've already started to wash her.

So I opted for the insanely practical. My gift got no "ooohs" and "aaaahs" when it was opened. My gift was two bottles of Dreft laundry detergent (specially formulated for washing newborns' clothes).

(PS: If people sitting around going "aaaaaw" over how cute certain gifts are makes you nauseated, a baby shower is not the place to be. Yikes.)

Of course, I was the only person at this place who was (1) single, and (2) without child. Or at least it felt like it. Dammit, do couples ever have single friends? My guess is not. And at the rate my "coupled" friends have stopped talking to me, maybe I can see how that ends up being the case.

As a punctuation mark to my utter cluelessness when it comes to children (which punctuation mark would have to be the interrobang), I walked into the room (alone and just a little intimidated, because I'm just antisocial that way) and started walking around until I could work my way to one of the dads to express my congratulations. Along the way, I saw one man holding a baby, so I said hi (to the baby first) and asked, "So is this Rose?"

His response: "Uh, no. She's over there. Rose is 17 days old. This one's Anna, and she's 18 months."

Uh, oops. Yes, yes, no need to rub it in, I am a clueless early 30s 28-year-old single male who can't tell the difference between a 17-day old and an 18-month old. Hell, as long as they're still in the diapers, it's all the same to me.

The party also featured a large stack of plain white onesies and some tools with which we were expected to decorate some clothes for young Rose (age: 17 days; have I mentioned this yet?). I knew what I wanted to do, but I had to wait a bit to feel out the crowd. After a few hours of eavesdropping on conversations, I finally created my onesie. In block letters, it read:

ALREADY SMARTER THAN MOST REPUBLICANS.

Then I took my leave, just in case there might actually be one or two Republicans in the room. On the way out, I suggested that the happy couple should feel free to call on me if they needed anything that I could help with. One daddy (jokingly) said, "Uh, yeah, as if we'd trust you with her!" I responded, "I know! I was just doing the polite thing in offering! I'd be pretty damn worried if you actually took me up on it!"

Thing is, I do like kids. I just can't possibly take care of them on my own.