Would you like a slice of diaper cake? I made it myself!

On Saturday, I co-hosted a couples' baby shower for some of my best friends, Sherri and her husband Jesse.

The shower had been months in the making. We'd selected a color scheme, a basic theme, some games, and even some decorations.

We were ready.

And by "we," I totally mean me and two other lovely women who agreed to help me host this little baby-honoring shindig, one of which was one of my other best friends, Melissa.

Melissa, a woman who can handle basic arts-and-crafts projects and not make them look like a toddler's random scribbling.

Unlike me.

I can't paint; I can't knit; I can barely sew. I'm a decent cook, but a horrible baker. And when I bake, I sure as heck don't decorate the cakes/cookies/pastry-like blobs I produce. I'm not an excellent photographer; I don't do my own nails. Puffy paint eludes me. I burn myself with hot-glue guns. I break standard sewing machines. To be honest, I can barely do my own hair.

Are you getting the picture here?

I'm not crafty. At all.

I wish was, but I'm not.

So imagine my elation and glee when my arts-and-crafts-gifted friend Melissa offered to fashion a diaper cake for Sherri's shower.

I was overjoyed; I was relieved; I was ready to help buy supplies for games that required me to melt candy bars in disposable diapers. Because that kind of gross activity is right up my Easy-Street alley.

Thank you and good night. Case closed.

Until poor Melissa couldn't come to the shower.

Case open, my friends. Case open.

It was understandable on her part; I was really sad she wasn't going to be there, but Sherri, and I, and our other co-host totally understood she had more pressing obligations.

Until I realized that I was left alone without a diaper cake in sight.

Gulp.

Due to process of elimination, I had become the De-Facto Diaper-Cake Maker.

Oh, Lordy be, I was in trouble.

So, I did what any panicked, non-crafty woman would in this situation.

I pleaded with Melissa to send me any and all photos and directions she had of diaper cakes in her arsenal.

I scoured how-to Web sites for directions.

And I even debated selling my first unborn child to pay for a pre-made version of the thing.

But then I buckled down. Or, rather, sucked it up.

And I bought my weight in cloth diapers, binkies, bottles, baby spoons, pacis, chew toys and stick pins.

"Bring it on!" I said to the pile of baby stuff sitting in my living room.

Then I ran away and hid from it for about an hour.

But finally, with the assistance of a friend and with the distraction of LOST playing on the T.V., I dove in.

I was wrapping diapers; I was pinning them together; I was actually measuring and tacking ribbon in place.

We were throwing around artistic phrases like, "Do you think this binky looks too boob-like here?" and "What happens if I tie these bottles' nipples together?"

All things I'm sure Michelango pondered when painting the Sistine Chapel.

And after only a few small finger pricks and one severed cloth diaper, we managed to do it.

We finished my masterpiece.

I now present you with...

My First Diaper Cake
Melissa, I hope I did you proud. (And please, don't zoom in too closely and examine it. You'll see how homemade it actually looks!)

I conquered the Diaper Cake, my friends.

I lived to see the day I'd be able to create a crafty masterpiece all my own. (I also lived to see the day where I used that white cake stand my mother forced upon me one Christmas, which, I believe, I swore I'd never actually need because, hello! My attempts at cakes are never pretty enough to display. But it turns out, Mom, you were right. I used it. But to hold a poop-load of diapers. No pun intended.)

And now, just to prove that I did, indeed, make the diaper cake (and didn't steal the photo off the Internet,) I'm going to show you the rest of the shower. For credibility's sake, you see.

The expectant parents opening gifts...
Some decorations...
And just to prove that I was indeed at this alleged shower where I made the alleged diaper cake, here's the lone photo taken of me, scooping (non-home-made) ice cream...
Oh, and here's one of my hands. Holding creepy, ice-cube-frozen babies. Which we added to people's drinks to see which baby "could be born the fastest."
What? Just because I made a diaper cake doesn't mean I've lost my flavor for the silly and ridiculous.

And for the record, I froze those babies in those ice cubes all by myself.

I guess you could even say they were home-made.

***

Melissa, we missed you so much this weekend! I really hope we did you proud! But trust me, it definitely wasn't the same without you! Love you, my dear friend!

Hope everyone had a wonderful weekend! Happy Monday!