This Is Not A Freakout Post . . .

. . . but only because I am exercising extreme self control.

 

I’m not going to tell you how: the thought of moving to a babysitter-less town is freaking me out; wondering about how on earth we’ll get our house packed in time is freaking me out; wishing I had finished recording the album months ago instead of right now in this busy time is freaking me out; not spending quality time with my kid for days because of other obligations is freaking me out; Not Spending Quality Time with My Kid may be the order of the day now and forever more is freaking me the freak out freak Gah Noooooooo.

 

Instead, we’re going to talk about the baby shower I cohosted this weekend, which amazingly didn’t freak me out in the slightest.  I had a chill co-host.  We agreed to be chill when planning and executing, and chill we were, and it came off beautifully.  We put the Dad to Be in a dunk tank.  This will be the new standard for baby showers from now on, I feel.  (Video below!)

 

We had a great time.  So, let me rewind a bit and say that we planned this baby shower to coincide with a huge annual party that everyone from Patrick’s hometown celebrates in the summer, usually July.  It’s a chance to regress, and regress we do, although this year was the year of babies.  It seems we are getting to be That Age when procreation is prolific and a preponderance of proto-humans is the prescription for – um . . . whatever, I’m done.  There were 5 wee beabs this year, but everyone brought them at lunchtime on Saturday and then put them to bed before the party got rockin’ Saturday night, which was a lovely compromise.  🙂 

 

Anyway, after Jack went to bed the husband and I had a very large time.  We played flip cup, a yearly tradition, girls v. guys with the losers ending up in the lake.  The girls ALWAYS cream the guys, but not this year.  We had a weak link, I feel, a very drunk weak link, but what are you gonna do?  I ended up dripping and sloshing my way home that night, because a deal’s a deal.  **The weak link was not me, may I clarify.  For someone who didn’t drink in college and thus came to the game late in life, I am an excellent flip-cupper.

 

It did turn into something of a Parents v. Non-Parents party.  Someone (my brother in law?) said that the Non-Parents were still thinking in terms of endurance racing, while the parents were running more of a sprint.  From one team, you could hear phrases such as "I’d better slow down if I’m gonna last all night!"  "I’ll take a single instead of a double this time!"  From the other corner came "I gotta get drunk, get sober, and get up with my kid all in the next 8 hours, let’s get rollin’!"  The fact that I was in the latter camp was helpful for the baby shower the next day.  I was tucked into bed by 1am, whereas my lovely and charming cohost was feeling much, much rougher the next day.  You will see her in the video below, and note that she should receive an Oscar for her performance, because she felt like poo but looked completely fabulous and still managed to berate the Dad to Be in a very witty and crushing way, an interaction which we have all come to expect from these two.

 

Anyway, the shower was lovely, the dunk tank was funny, and then we drove home to Freakoutville where I’ve been residing for the past several days.  It’ll all get done, but won’t I be glad when it is.