Rejoice, All Ye Who Enter Here

For my son, the fruit of my womb, has done a miraculous deed. He peed. Not only did he pee (which, let's face it, lost it's excitement for us a good 34 months ago or so), but he did it in the toilet. For the first time EVER. We thought it was never going to happen. I had visions of myself going to Target and buying Depends for my kid. The urination celebration was long and boisterous at our house last night, I tell you. I think Eric and I were more excited than Tate was. Actually, I'd be willing to bet on it. Amazing how a little stream of wee-wee can completely brighten your outlook on life. Ain't nothing stopping us now, baby.

I'm choosing to ignore the fact that so far today, Tate has refused to even say the word potty. Because, really, that's neither here nor there. And yeah, so what if he acts like I'm asking to tear him apart limb by limb every time I ask if he needs to go potty. Because he WENT! ON THE POTTY!!! Next up, differential geometry. The world is at our feet.

So I got back last night from my girls weekend. It was exhausting. We sat. For 12 hours straight on Saturday. In the middle of all the sitting, my friend Tricia managed to cause a Pyrex casserole dish to explode. We stopped sitting, cleaned it up and then went back to the living room and sat some more. Well, sat and contemplated how on earth Tricia managed to not get her face completely sliced open and her eyeballs gashed out. Then we went and sang karaoke and made fools of ourselves, as the tradition dictates whenever I go out of town with girlfriends. Let me just say that 6 30-something women trying to sing Eninem is not a pleasant sight. Or sound.

So basically, the weekend can be summed up in two photos.

This one:

And uh...this one:

I know. I'm hot. No need to say it.