Kids are Faux Fabulous...for now...

Because part of my professional job description entails constructing and executing FABULOUS, LUXURIOUS opening receptions and soirees, my friends usually call on me to help them turn ordinary events into fabulous events worthy of them. Here's my most recent work:





You likey? Thanks!

Anyway, this weekend, on the heels of pulling off one of the biggest and most important events of my professional career thus far, I was called upon to orchestrate (ugh) a baby shower.

I must admit that I was excited at first. I love what I do. It excites me to set up a theme, pick colors, scout venues and work with vendors. In this case, it excited me to dress up a room at the William Pitt Union at the University of Pittsburgh.

The rush of the event hit me, as it always does, at about 9 in morning. I had two hours to set everything up. I got to the venue about 15 minutes late, adrenaline pumping, pick up the food, set white table clothes on the table, sprinkle it with baby-pin confetti, put up gift table, blow up balloons, put up streamers, etc.

Then, in walks Serayah Marie Leech. Better known as the 2 year-old phenom who ruined my decorations.

She proceeds to rip down my streamers, pop my balloons, rip the sign in sheet of the wall, and smear the hand she smashed into a Boston crème donut onto my freshly tag-popped Gap Jeans.

GAP JEANS!

Then, Kyree, her partner-in-making-me-lose-my-mind, STORMS into the room, straight to the crepe embellished pole, runs into it and falls, taking the streamer down with him.

Sigh.

I spent the duration of the shower anxious and nervous, wishing the windows would open more than their pre-set limits so that I could jump out, shimmy down the drainage pipe onto the front awning's ledge. I told myself I'd take it from there. Maybe the fire department would arrive and set out that big ladder so that I could get off the ledge.

But, in that moment, I had to get out of that sweatbox of a room infested with these little creatures known as children before they crept their way through my new H&M sweater under my skin like ticks and infested me with their leaky faucets of mucus and dirty hands and induced perspiration that was already invading my brow to seep down to my arm pits and give me those gosh awful sweat stains that would make everyone ask me if I was feeling ok and I just can't BREATHE!

Even though I live the pseudo fab life, there are certain things that I refuse to let into my life at this point.

Kids are at the top of that list.