The Baby Party
Saturday afternoon was The Baby Party. I’ve been getting laughed at for calling it “The Baby Party.” But to my defense, I picture a Baby Shower as white girls having brunch surrounded by those giant balloon letters and pretentiously wrapped presents. This was not that. My sister isn’t the brunch type. Backyard BBQ comes to mind. A Baby BBQ. But I can’t have people thinking we’re roasting up a baby. So Baby Party it is.
Saturday morning, my parents picked me up from the Lincoln airport. I was delayed a half hour in Chicago, so when I arrived in Lincoln, they were inside the airport, rather than waiting in the car. It didn’t matter, though. The parking lot of the Lincoln airport is smaller than the parking lot of the small ad agency I work for. We used a credit card to pay the parking clerk two dollars as we exited minutes after I landed.
This was one of two times I was reminded of how cheap things are in Nebraska within my 24-hour trip. The second time was when Kevin and I slipped away to a bar to take one shot before The Baby Party began. We opted for Herradura Reposado Tequila. Partly because they’re associated with one of my clients. Partly because it tastes good.
Kevin snatched the black billfold when the server dropped it off. She wasn’t happy. But to our defense, she gave us the chips and salsa before we had the chance to make our single-shot-then-leave plan clear.
“Oh,” Kevin said.
“Twelve dollars a piece?” I predicted.
“Total,” he chuckled. “Welcome home, buddy.”
I sat in the back of my Dad’s car as my parents caught me up on everything I had missed. I hadn’t been home in six months. Since Christmas.
“You remember Ray Ward from high school.” It wasn’t a question, which is how my Mom asks questions. She just states them and continues.
“Well, we saw him at the Old People Wendy’s. You know the one up North in town. He asked about you,” she said.
There’s really no way of me knowing this, but anyone who has ever brought me up around my Mom or Dad gets reported to me. It’s endearing, really. I like it. The simplicity of someone thinking about me and asking about me, yet they don’t want anything from me. Nor I them. I like the fluidity of Midwest relationships. That’s not how it works elsewhere.
We went through a few more updates like this. Then, we shifted our focus to Alli and Kevin’s party. Alli is my sister and Kevin her husband. They’re having the baby, and it’s the first baby in our family since me.
“Alli said Kevin had a real debate this morning about whether or not to mow a notch down,” Mom said. “Usually, he cuts it a little higher, so they don’t kill any of the yard. It’s been so hot here. We’ve already started watering. Sounds like he did go with a notch down today, though. For the party.”
“Okay,” I said. “I get it.”
I really did get it. I had the same internal dialogue last weekend when Kaitlyn and I hosted a party. If anything, I marvel at his comfortability to vocalize it to my sister. I don’t think either of them have any secrets. Seriously.
“I wonder if Kevin knows. Do you think he does?” I posed to the front seats.
My presence was supposed to be a surprise to Kevin. One time, I flew in for a wedding, and we surprised Alli. She got pissed. So I figured this time she should be the one I’m in cahoots with. Also, I think I remember reading somewhere that you should never surprise a pregnant woman.
“I don’t know!” My parents exclaimed in unison.
“We’ve been wondering, too,” Mom said. “I hope Alli didn’t tell him.”
I’m still not sure if he knew.
When we showed up to their house, Kevin was wandering around the backyard trying to decide where the tent should go. He was shirtless. The grass was freshly cut, but before I could comment on it, Kevin informed me about his diagonal strategy.
“Honestly, it didn’t even need it. I just wanted to get fresh lines, ya know?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “ Good call.”
I played it cool. Like I didn’t know a thing about the whole notch down debacle this morning.
The party started an hour or two later. Picture young suburban parents doing young suburban parent things.
After the non-essential crowd left, we sparked up a fire. I only brought one pair of pants on this trip, and I wondered if I’d get any side-eyes on my flight the next day for smelling like ash. Fuck it, I thought, I’m putting my legs near this fire.
We drank more light beer than I’ve drank since college. But we’re all fairly varsity when it comes to drinking. Sitting around this fire, late at night, with my family and their close friends. It almost felt like home. But it didn’t. The vibe was right. But we were still at my sister and brother-in-law’s house, two hours away from the house I grew up in. Lately when I make it back to Nebraska, I don’t make it all the way home. Only to the couple of towns that have airports.
It’s funny being twenty-something. Somewhere between young and old. You can feel that things are at the start of being forever. But you’re never quite sure when you’ve reached the starting line. And it makes home difficult to define. Like a compass that keeps swirling just as you think you’ve found North. I kind of like that feeling.
I woke up the next morning on a mattress on the guest-room floor. I slipped out of the room toward the bathroom across the hall.
“Hey,” it was Kevin from the living room.
“Are there any babies out here?” I asked covering the front side of my underwear with one hand and my eyes with the other. Kevin’s friends and their baby stayed the night.
“Just your baby dick,” Kevin said.
I showered and went down to the basement, where my parents, Alli and Kevin, and their friends and friends’ baby were occupying the big sectional. Except the baby. She was running around like a crazy person, grabbing things off shelves, hiding them in places I’m sure Alli and Kevin will find a month from now. That’s going to be their life soon, I thought. Jesus.
After saying goodbye to the friends, we spent the day cleaning up The Baby Party. Kevin’s dad brought a bluetooth speaker for the party. And for Kevin to keep.
“He’s a real audio nerd,” Kevin informed me when I asked to connect my phone for the cleanup party. “Spent like two grand on the system in his basement. Sound bar and everything.”
That’s how conversations with Kevin go. He doesn’t half ass giving you the details. I like having him around. He keeps things interesting.
I queued up my playlist as we started to unload coolers and rearrange chairs. It was a stark contrast to the family-friendly tunes Kevin had put together for The Baby Party.
“Two hundred and fifteen songs. Seven hours of music,” Kevin told me not long after I arrived the day before.
“I like tuh make money and get turnt!” Blared from the kitchen now.
“What. Is. This?” Dad asked as his shoulders started to bounce. Broom in hand.
“I got the white girls twerkin’ like the work!” The song continued.
“This song slaps,” Kevin approved.
Alli looked at Kevin like she passed him the ball and he whiffed.
“That’s a thing,” Kevin got defensive. “Lanny, back me up. People say that now.”
“Confirmed,” I yelled through the open door as I tried to carry eight Coors Lights from the deck to the kitchen.
“Boom!” Dad pelvic-thrusted towards Alli.
“Stop it,” Mom chimed in.
That’s her role in all of this. Giggling along until she feels like it’s her duty to step in. Because we all know no one else ever will.
And that’s how the day went. More of that for five hours. Talking about nothing. Laughing about everything.
We went to Sonic for a pop. That’s what my parents like to do, bait us with treats to get us in the car. Then, they just continue driving around. Who does that?
“What if we just drive through your neighborhood?” Mom and Dad pleaded as we crept through the Sonic drive-thru line.
“Oh my god! We should’ve known,” my sister protested.
“My balls are on fire,” I yelled. “Small twist cone, please.”
I wanted to throw my empty Coke can away, but I was riding bitch, between Alli and Kevin. So Kevin did the honors. As he returned from the nearby trashcan, I asked the car, “Should I fuck with him?”
“Yup,” Alli said.
I locked his door. He threw his hands up and started walking away. All the way out of the parking lot. We died in the car as he stayed committed to his grand finale. We picked him up from the side of the road. But not before speeding past him with our windows down, pops and cones in hand.
“You’re a little fat girl! Say it!” I screamed as we zoomed past.
We didn’t stop laughing until we got back to Alli and Kevin’s place, after driving around the neighborhood, of course.
After airport goodbyes and awkward hugs with a backpack on, I found myself feeling sad about leaving home. But excited to be going home.