Where I Confess That I Am A Raging Competitive Freak.

Today, my cousin’s adorable wife had her baby shower. Actually, my aunt and her daughters, another aunt and a friend of the family hosted the thing (whew – love not being a part of the whole hostessing experience – I have enough other hooey going on right now).

I have been so excited about this pregnancy for my cousin and his wife because he REALLY wants to be a dad (how awesome is that, right?) and because they’re having a boy (which is cool because I have two girls… so… a little variety, right?).

We ended up getting a very practical gift for them much to my mom’s dismay. She wanted to buy toys and stuff, and I kind of politely, in my own special way, put my foot down saying, “Yeah, toys are cool and all but um, without a carseat base? They can’t go anywhere. Let’s be practical here.”

And, anyone with kids knows: toys find their way into your house one way or another. You don’t have to ask for that crap. It just shows up. And it brings twelve of its friends. And then they multiply.

For my wedding and baby showers (ooh, that sounded kind of icky. NOTE: Those were two separate events that took place in TWO separate years), one of my criteria was no games. I don’t love shower games. I don’t love the game where you have to guess from an unlabeled jar of baby food what is in the jar. Or even more gross, which melted candy bar in the diaper is which (Gross. Whoever thought of that? Probably a man).

However, I kick ass at word games.

No lie. I’m not exaggerating. It’s pretty much a given – when the hostess goes around handing out a paper and a pen, I pretty much know that I am going to own that game. And I will get a prize. Oh yes, victory WILL be mine.

Sigh.

Like it was today. My sister almost won. Someone beat her by one safety pin. But when the game was all over, my mom said, “Sarah, really, it’s not that easy. The pins and rice feel exactly the same and you really can’t tell what’s what. Here, cover your eyes and YOU TRY.”

So I did.
And I got a ton of safety pins in the first ten seconds before my mom stopped me by saying, “Alright alright, whatever, just stop.”
Aw yeah.
Baby shower games. If it was an Olympic sport, I’d be like Michael Phelps. Watch your backs, ladies.