“What in the hell is that?” Jeff asks as we pull into our driveway. I take my eyes off of our daughter for the first time during the entire drive home and look up at our porch.

Happily perched on the top step and blocking our front door is a giant eight-foot plush teddy bear that I recall seeing at Costco with Tara a few days ago. It is taller than any human I know, even in the seated position. A bright ribbon is tied around the bear’s neck in a perfect oversized bow, and it’s holding a banner that says “Welcome Home Baby Who is Not a Boy!” with “Sorry, Jeff!” scribbled in parenthesis underneath.

“No way,” I squawk at the unwelcome guest and try to contain my laughter. Visions of Lily sitting next to this fluffy beast flood my mind and the thought is downright adorable.

“Who on earth would actually buy one of those things?” he asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

I raise my eyebrows at him. Really? He’s really questioning who’s responsible for this little stunt? Does he not know who my best friend is?

“Okay, let me rephrase that. Why on earth would Tara buy one of those? And more importantly, how did she get it here without the assistance of a moving truck or forklift? That thing is fucking ginormous!”

“Shhh …” I remind him that we’re in the presence of impressionable ears.

Jeff pulls into our driveway and kills the ignition before turning toward me in the back seat. “Well, either way, your folks should be here shortly. I’ll have your dad help me haul it inside. But consider yourself warned, if I can’t get it through the doorway, I’m going to pull the stuffing out and wear it as a teddy bear suit and scare the crap out of unsuspecting people—including you.”

I snort at the thought. Deranged? Maybe a little. Hilarious? Most definitely. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Deal, but only if I can record it.”

Maybe with our luck, we’ll have another viral video on our hands.

Less than an hour later, my parents arrive with bags upon bags of clothes covered in little pink polka dots and sparkly tutus with the exception of a single green and orange cartoon dinosaur onesie that my dad picked out—you know, just in case everyone was wrong and Lily really is harboring a penis inside her diaper. But I don’t care. It’s so cute that I still plan on dressing her in it — screw gender norms!

By some divine intervention, my mom wasn’t pissed that I didn’t call her the instant I went into labor. As it turns out, she didn’t call her parents either until the day after I was born.

Like mother, like daughter.

I watch my mom make sweet faces and baby sounds at Lillian for no less than an hour. She even jumped right in and changed a dirty diaper, letting me relax on the couch for a bit. I guess there’s something about holding a newborn baby that turns you into a softie.

“So now that the baby is here, does this mean I get to plan a wedding?” my mother asks with a little too much hope in her eyes as she holds a sleeping Lily in her arms.

Jeff sits down next to me on the couch, and I subtly shake my head at him. Please don’t tell her. Not now. She’s in a good mood, and if we tell her that we sorta-kinda-not-technically got married without her there, I’m never going to hear the end of it.

“About that …” He glances at me cautiously. “Henley and I have started talking about dates that would work with the school’s schedule, and as soon as she’s feeling up to it, we’re going to take a look at some venues during her maternity leave.”

Damn. He’s good.

I reach out and squeeze his hand appreciatively.

My mom smiles brightly. “That’s so wonderful. I’ll call up to the country club and get you an appointment when you’re ready. There’s a new event coordinator who is just amazing, and the photos of recent weddings on the golf course have been breathtaking.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you, Mom, but I’m not sure the country club is what we have envisioned for our wedding,” I say. We haven’t done a lick of planning, but I already know that there’s no way in hell we’re getting married at my parents’ country club. I’m sure it would be nice and all, but that would be celebrating their way. Not ours.

“But I think it could be good to explore all of our options,” Jeff interjects, nodding at me and clearly trying to appease my folks. Which is probably smart because I have no patience or filter with her antics ever since the baby shower.

I smile politely. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look at the place,” I say as my mom’s face beams happily.

After a fair amount of doting and small talk, Jeff and my dad excuse themselves to haul the oversized teddy bear inside the house. I have no idea where we’re going to put this monstrosity of a gift.

They’re barely out of earshot when my mom turns to me. “You know, Henley, I was serious about my advice at the baby shower. You really should keep up with appearances. You don’t want Jeff to lose interest before you even get married, do you?”

Um, what?

“I know you just gave birth, but look at yourself. You came home in your maternity clothes, and I can’t remember the last time I saw you wearing any makeup.”

Seriously. What?

“I’m just saying that you need to be mindful of yourself. That’s all.”

That’s all? Oh, hell no!

“Mom,” I scold, clenching my hands into fists to keep my arms from shaking. “I came home in my maternity clothes because even though I pushed out an eight pound, ten-ounce baby, I still look like I could be six months pregnant. And that’s okay. Jeff loves me for being me in all of my ridiculous glory. He doesn’t care if my makeup is fresh when he comes home every night, and he certainly doesn’t care if I have a hot meal waiting for him on the dinner table. Lord knows that if I did, it would probably be burned to a crisp. This isn’t the 1950s, Mom. He knows how to handle my neuroses and meltdowns. He knows exactly how to calm my fears. But best of all he’s capable of loving me at my worst, which is probably more than I deserve at times.”

A soft clearing of the throat comes from the doorway, and we both turn our heads. My dad is looking in at us.

“Lisa,” my dad chides in a semi-loving tone from the doorway, “give the poor girl a break, will ya? It’s been an emotional few days. Besides, I recall you staying in your pajamas for a week straight when we first got home from the hospital with Henley.”

My dad gives me a sly, knowing smile. As an only child, I was often on the receiving end of her antics, and he understands how my mom can be a bit much sometimes. Overall, he does what he can to rein her in when she goes rogue. I appreciate the backup, for sure. But you’d think at this age she’d simply know better.

“Graham!” she gasps, but my father ignores her and redirects his attention to me.

“Um, we can’t get it through the door,” he confesses.

Of course you can’t.

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. It looks like we’re the proud new owners of a giant teddy bear suit. “Let me guess, you need scissors and a trash bag?” I ask, standing up.

“Yeah, but you better make it a couple of trash bags. Have you seen the size of that thing?”

I nod. As I head down the hallway and into the kitchen, I hear my dad say, “I never would’ve guessed that when I came over today, I’d be murdering my granddaughter’s first teddy bear.”