Why I Maybe Perhaps Need to Stop Throwing Baby Parties

2010 has been the year of the baby party.  My friend Amy and I have thrown three baby parties this year.  Our church has been unofficially renamed "Our Lady of Perpetual Conception" for good reason.  Luckily, I have been drinking bottled water around there, so Scott and I are safe. 

The first baby party, a shower for a little boy, went off without a hitch.  The parents-to-be are very sensitive to environmental issues, so we had a "green" shower, complete with no plastic utensils or paper plates and we recycled the wrapping paper, bags, etc.  It was really fun event and it had a nice message, too. 

The second baby party was at my house.  We were having the house painted and it was a close call to have it finished before the shower date, but it was done.  Some of the paint might have been wet, but nobody noticed.  The only problem with that party was that the honoree went into labor the day of the shower, and her doctor called us as we were finishing cake and champagne to tell us the baby's name, weight, and amount of hair.  So we showered her in absentia, cranked up the stereo, and celebrated her birth.

The third baby party is tomorrow at my house.  Earlier this week, Davis ripped a curtain rod out of the wall, leaving a huge hole above the back door in the family room.  It has been repaired, but only after two days of work by my favorite painter.  More tragic, Amy (the aforementioned partner in baby-shower-hosting duties) had a horrific knife accident the night before Halloween and nearly took off her finger, requiring surgery today.  She will be at home tomorrow, recovering.

Left to my own devices, I have burned two menu items for tomorrow, my kitchen is a nightmare, and I was out in front of my house ripping dead flowers out of my flower beds at 8pm tonight.  (Blank mulch is better than over-the-hill marigolds, right?)  Mandy, my other co-host for tomorrow, has had to endure numerous phone calls from me because if I can't cook on a normal day, when I'm stressed it's just that much worse.  If I make it through tomorrow with no major crisis, I plan to take a bottle of champagne and drink a toast to me, Amy's poor finger, Mandy's ham and swiss biscuits, and Mike the Painter.  And to all my other pregnant friends, if I offer to host a party for you, run far, far away.  I'm the Calamity Jane of baby parties!