By The telling. The week of telling everyone. Every conversation was different. Every reaction was the same: tears, joy, the particular happiness that comes from news you've been waiting to hear.
Linda: screamed. Actually screamed. Then cried. Then asked to see the ultrasound photo. Then cried again. Then called Diane at church. Then called her sister. Then called back to ask about the due date. The Kowalski communication network was activated and within four hours, every Polish family in Bay View knew.
Patrick and Colleen: we told them at their house, over dinner. Megan handed Colleen the ultrasound photo. Colleen looked at it and whispered, "Oh, Meggie." Patrick stood up from the table and shook my hand — the firefighter handshake — and said, "I'm proud of you, son." He called me son. Not "the boy." Son. Three letters that changed everything.
Kevin and Sean: Megan called them together. Kevin said, "Finally, a little cousin." Sean said nothing, then texted later: a single heart emoji. From Sean, this is the emotional equivalent of a Shakespearean sonnet.
The head brewer: I told him at the brewery. He said, "Congratulations. Don't let it affect the sours." Then he smiled. The smile was the real response. The words were the costume.
At home that night, Megan and I sat in the nursery. The second bedroom. The room that has been empty and waiting. She said, "We should paint it." I said, "What color?" She said, "Something warm." I said, "Warm." We sat on the floor of the empty room and looked at the walls and the window and the light and we imagined a crib and a mobile and a person so small that the room would dwarf them, and we held each other and the room was empty and full and ours.
After a week of screaming mothers-in-law, firefighter handshakes, and sitting on the floor of an empty nursery imagining everything it would one day hold, I wanted something to make at home that felt as bright and celebratory as we did — something Megan and I could raise a glass to, just the two of us, after all the telling was done. Pink Party Punch was exactly right: pretty enough to feel like a party, simple enough for a quiet night, and the kind of thing you’d set out at every joyful gathering in the weeks ahead when the celebrating keeps going.
Pink Party Punch
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 12
Ingredients
- 2 liters ginger ale, chilled
- 1 (46 oz) can pineapple juice, chilled
- 1 (12 oz) can frozen pink lemonade concentrate, thawed
- 1 (64 oz) bottle cranberry juice cocktail, chilled
- 1 pint raspberry sherbet or pink sherbet
- 1 cup fresh or frozen raspberries, for garnish
- Ice, as needed
Instructions
- Combine the juices. In a large punch bowl, stir together the pineapple juice, pink lemonade concentrate, and cranberry juice cocktail until fully blended.
- Add the ginger ale. Just before serving, slowly pour in the chilled ginger ale, pouring along the side of the bowl to preserve the fizz.
- Add the sherbet. Scoop the raspberry or pink sherbet directly into the punch bowl in large spoonfuls. It will float and slowly melt into the punch, adding creaminess and sweetness.
- Garnish and serve. Add ice to the bowl or individual glasses, scatter fresh or frozen raspberries across the top, and serve immediately while the punch is cold and bubbly.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 35mg