By Emily Harrington
Outside of my own busy little bubble is an entire social media universe providing more things to do, more people to stalk, more articles to read, more recipes to make and more tidbits to absorb.
We are completely inundated by social media—including, but not limited to, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Google+ and my absolute favorite timewaster, Pinterest. Oh, dear Pinterest. You give me so many items to add to my mushrooming to-do lists—thank you.
My friends give me a lot of material to write and think about, but so does Pinterest. Often, I hear about something new, so I’ll research it further and see that I’m actually the last to know. This is exactly how I came to learn about the music phenomenon Dub step, the thousands of uses for chalkboard paint and an increasingly popular party concept—gender-reveal parties.
A lot of my college girlfriends are from Chicago, so I’m not sure this has trickled down to C-U yet, but they are all the rage in the Windy City and surrounding suburbia. I have yet to be invited to one or heard of anyone throwing one in our area. Most people I know either have a strong aversion for them or think they are charming.
The concept is simple. When a pregnant woman and her partner have the sonogram that tells the sex of the baby, the ultrasound tech slips the sex of their baby into an envelope instead of telling the parents, “Congrats, it’s a ____.” The couple then takes the sealed envelope to a bakery where a cake is baked with either blue or pink batter. The thick layer of frosting conceals the color inside.
So, now you’ve got the baked goods— time to throw a party. You invite your friends and family over. There are a million ways to do it (per Pinterest) but my pal did a “Team Boy” and “Team Girl” theme.
Upon entering the party you pick what you thought the sex of the baby would be. When you slice into the cake in front of the guests—big moment—applause and cheers from the partygoers! The worst part is when you see a shadow fall upon one of the parents’ faces, as they were really hoping for the opposite of what the cake revealed.
In the world of Pampered Chefs, bridal and baby showers, cotillions, even first-period parties—do we need to add another item to our calendar? What’s next? Party in the delivery room?
Can’t there be some special, sacred moments just left between the mom and the dad—not with Facebook friends or Twitter followers or even friends and family? With so few surprises in life, isn’t this a moment you want to first cherish with the one that helped you create it?
Emily Harrington is a 28-year-old townie on the cusp of full-blown adulthood. She’s a wife still in the honeymoon stage and a mom of a borderline psychotic mini-Australian Shepherd. She has a full-time job in communications/marketing and a full-time life outside of work.