A suggestion for this weekend's festivities: be lazy.
So lazy.
Look, I love making sangria from scratch. Mostly I love how it tastes, but it's also fun customizing your own blends with whatever fruits are in season at the moment. But when you're talking about serving in bulk, sangria transforms from "adorable homemade touch" to "enormous pain in the butt."
Presenting: Lazy Lady Sangria.
Friday afternoon, I invited over a few girlfriends (all of whom have three-year-olds who are some of my son's best friends…as well as infants who I suspect are destined to be some of my daughter's best friends) to meet Goldie, drink some rose sangria (you need this recipe; it's coming up later this week), and eat cupcakes.
Because one of the benefits of being friends with a style writer is that there are generally fun products laying around to test out (drawbacks of said friendship include the fact that there is a decent chance that your feet will end up getting photographed), all the kids got to take home some new shoes to help them get outfitted for the school year. (Because moms deserve new shoes, too, my friends also went home with pairs; these were the most popular pick.)
Alright, so here are my personal rules when it comes to crossing the threshold into somebody else's home, whether for a night, for a weekend, or for more:
Rule #1: Come Bearing Gifts. Never enter someone else's home without something in hand. Anything. (If you totally space on picking something up in advance, stop into a bakery, florist, or wine shop on the way over; food, flowers and alcohol may not be terribly original, but they are always appreciated.)
Here is the thing about having a baby, take two: You’re the same amount of “excited”…but how all that excitement gets expressed is a little different. A little toned-down. Mostly because you just don’t have the time or energy to run around scouting a million different stroller options, picking up a carrier in that exact color you wanted, setting up a nursery straight out of a Pinterest board, and throwing a huge, fancy shower…but also because you realize that honestly, when it comes down to it, those aren’t the things that really matter. They’re fun, of course, and they’re an important part of gearing up for the excitement that is welcoming a new member of your family. But they aren’t everything.
This time around, I wanted to celebrate our little girl, but I didn’t want all the fuss associated with a shower. I didn’t want gifts, I didn’t want to dress up (or make my friends pour themselves into dresses on a Sunday afternoon), and I certainly didn’t want to make it about me; been there, done that, and it was wonderful the first time around…but any more would feel super weird. More than anything, I wanted a celebration of spring and the friendships I’ve made here – friendships that I know are going to carry me through the coming months.
My solution: a Sprinkle.
When I first moved to LA, I found an apartment right off of the Sunset Strip and a job at an upscale-ish pizza place called Cheebo (the phonetic spelling of the Italian word for "food"). It wasn't too bad of a job - the food was pretty reasonably priced and lunchtime-focused, which meant that tips were only okay, but I liked my coworkers and really liked the staff meal that we got at the end of every shift. The part of it that I hated was when my manager asked me to work the brunch shift, because the brunch shift involved fresh-squeezed orange juice…and you know what's a major pain to make?
Fresh-squeezed orange juice. If you have never done this, let me tell you: you have no idea how many pieces of fruit it takes to make your teeny, tiny four-dollar glass of Vitamin C.
I think working at Cheebo gave me a bit of juice-making PTSD, because never since have I been enamored of the idea of fresh-squeezing my own anythings…but pregnancy does weird stuff, like make you all of a sudden need fresh lemonade RIGHT NOW.
