the hostess

I have been planning a friend's baby shower. I am happy to do it. I love my friend. I can't even remember if she asked me to do it or I offered. She probably asked me which embarrasses me somewhat, I should have offered first. Here's the thing, I have never felt like the hostess with the mostest.  All the details of planning an affair for a large group of people stress me out. Remember, I am someone who gets antsy if I am not 5 minutes early for an event, a quirk that I am trying to work on. And I don't love being the center of attention. Though in this case, I won't be, I am not the one having the baby.

So my answer to these woes is to keep it really simple, which is a good mantra anyway, right? The invitations are correct, I quadruple checked them, the second time they went out. The pavilion in the park has been reserved. Food, drink and tableware has been taken care of. But, shouldn't there be something else?  I will not make a grown women eat a melange of melted candy bar out of a freaking diaper. Nor will I make women play baby name bingo. And this is not going to be the spiritual blessingway event either, my friend has another friend planning that event for her, (an organic farmer from Ithaca no less).

I am not one for ironic or cutesy decorations and neither, I think,  is my friend. Decorations will be flowers, in jars. Probably mason jars. But decoration ideas abound on the interweb. Check these out.

Is this a reference to the stork or is this telling us that now that we are having babies we will become old maids. UGLY. And not just a tiny bit terrifying. 

no comment.

This is a diaper cake. non edible. Made of diaper paraphernilia. I am sure the women/woman who made it did it with love. And I feel like a party pooper. But, come on.