A Little Bit-A Ding-Ding

Things got a little bit ding-ding at the baby shower I attended today. There is, of course, good ding-ding and bad ding-ding. The good ding-ding was the masseuse. Because, really, who can't use a little 15-minute kneading on a Sunday afternoon?

The bad ding-ding was...the "blessing ceremony." In the invitation to this event, the hostess included a blank card onto which we were supposed to offer up some advice, a quote, a prayer--anything we felt like sharing with our preggy friend (p.f. from here on out). What I didn't understand is that we would sit in a circle, relax our bodies, close our eyes, and take three deep breaths in which we were supposed to envision our p.f. on the inhale, and our collective feminine energy on the exhale.

I didn't understand that we would then be forced to complete the sentence, "If you were my best friend you would know that I..." Or that we would have to expound on the blessing we'd brought (I ended up using a poem by Langston Hughes). Nor did I realize that we would then choose a bead to "infuse" with the blessing. This caused a problem for me. How, exactly, was I supposed to infuse the bead? Hold it to my forehead while reciting the poem? Stick it under my tongue? Run in place for ten minutes and then sweat on it? I opted for running my thumb over it and saying, "Nice bead. Good bead."

We then had to make a necklace for our p.f. using the various beads we'd chosen. In the throes of labor, our p.f. is supposed to hold this necklace in her hand (let us hope it's not the the same hand that grips her husband's throat as she screams, "Why did you do this to me?") and gather strength from the blessings. Which is actually kind of a sweet idea.

But still very ding-ding.