I’m waiting for dinner to arrive. I’m not sure what dinner will be tonight, but I know that it will be prepared by someone who cared enough about the Monkey family to offer to bring it over and to hold the baby so I can eat it.
We’ve been blessed (there really isn’t a better word) by the kindness of our friends in the days since baby E. was born. We had friends watch the kiddo while we were in the hospital, friends bring us dinner and groceries and snacks and even one mystery friend who came over and mowed our not insignificant yard (we assume it was a friend but maybe it was a neighbor who just thinks we don’t mow often enough…either way, thanks mystery mower!).
There is something sort of pleasantly old-fashioned feeling about friends showing up at the front door with something wrapped in tinfoil or warm in Tupperware. We are not really a culture of ritual here in the United States but this feels like something close to that, this way that generations of women have taken care of each other in the wake of a new baby arriving.
It makes me want a friend to have a baby soon so I can make some lasagna and return the favor.