So we’ve been deep in potty training for about a week now. And it actually seems to be going well.
Sort of. I mean, the peeing is going fantastic and from almost the first day Adele’s been going when she needs to go, for the most part. It’s the other thing that’s causing us so much trouble and drama.
There’s screaming and crying and begging for a paci and sitting on the potty for two seconds then getting up then sitting then getting up then sitting then getting up until finally she can’t hold it anymore. And then there is much rejoicing and cheering and giving of chocolate (don’t judge me). And saying “All RIGHT!” which is what she says every time she potties because that’s what I say every time she potties.
So we’re almost there. And it makes me so sad.
I know, I know. I’m insane. But she’s my baby.
Sebastian just started bring his lunch to school and the night before, as I was packing up his peanut and jelly burrito and blueberries and carrots, I got a little teary.
My kids are growing up, guys.
However sad this may make me, it does offer me a minor luxury in the form of hitting up a local karaoke bar with some friends and not feeling too guilty about it.
(Awesome segue, right?) (Also, I had to look up how to spell ‘segue’.)
This weekend we had a girls’ night where we went to a local German restaurant and ate schnitzel and drank beer and watched a karaoke contest. Only one of us was brave enough to actually get up and sing and it wasn’t me. Lauren rocked out to “Kerosene,” which is an awesome song and she did an awesome job.
I was unfortunately unable to karaoke as I was having too much fun monopolizing the conversation, like I tend to do whenever I’m around anyone other than my husband because I see him all the time. So when I see my friends I drink too much and talk too much and generally make an ass of myself.
It’s awesome, is what I’m saying.
But one of the girls is having a baby soon so we sort of mashed up this dinner with a baby shower because nothing says baby shower like beer and karaoke. (No she wasn’t drinking the beer. Mostly that was just me.)
But really, we all brought gifts and I wrapped her chair in streamers and we blew up some balloons and set them on the table.
Anybody need me to plan your party? Cause I got mad skillz. Yo.
Also I may have sort of hit on a 21-year-old bartender that my friend Robin said looked like wolverine. I didn’t actually try to pick him up, I was just friendly. And then he told me his age and I felt vaguely depressed.
God I love those ladies.
(Here are some photos that I stole from my friend. The first one is dinner before karaoke. Notice the balloons. The second one is in the bar that's attached to the restaurant. Notice the beer-reddened cheeks. And my sexy friend, Laura.)