The Friday night plans look gooooooooood, though. I'm going to his house, he's cooking me dinner, my mom will be with the kids so I can stay as long as I want . . . I suspect that the Date #4b update will not be boring like this one.
So, about talking on the phone. Mr. Coffee, he is a phone talker. He is not a writer. Me, I am a writer. I am not a phone talker. In fact, if the friend that set me up with John had not warned him just how bad I am on the phone, I'm not sure we would ever have gone out on our first date. To me, the phone exists for logistical purposes. It's great for confirming meeting times, letting someone know you're running late, making dinner reservations, those kinds of things. Just for talking? I don't know. I like to talk to my mom and dad on the phone, and I can tolerate talking to my best friend and my sister-in-law. There are a few other people who I feel OK about chatting with, but most of them are folks I've known for years. The concept of getting to know someone over the phone just seems strange. Is it just me or do other people feel that way?
That said, I'm trying. Between his work and kids and my work and kids and the fact that we are not exactly next-door neighbors, Mr. Coffee and I have to work pretty hard to get the face-to-face meetings to happen. So we've been talking on the phone for 30 minutes or so almost every night. I'm starting to see the merits. It's nice to talk to a grown-up about my day. And Mr. Coffee is a really interesting guy and I like to learn more about him. So it's not all bad, but it's a little outside my comfort zone. I'd prefer a little more e-mail and a little less phone. So far the compromise is that I e-mail and he calls, i.e., we're each responsible for initiating our preferred mode of communication. Thus far, it works.
You all had many helpful things to say to me about birth control. I knew you would. I actually talked to my doctor today, and between your comments and her input, I'm going to give the Mirena a try. Just in case, you know, you care about my birth control choice.
Yesterday, Maddie got up from her nap and said, "Maddie make a wee-wee on the big girl potty."
OK! Fine by me! I stripped her pants and diaper off and put her on the potty. Mind you, this has happened many, many times before. The usual pattern is that she sits on the potty, looks around, talks about peeing, sings a song or two, gets bored, and gets off without making the wee-wee. No biggie, and I expected more of the same yesterday.
Well, did she ever surprise me. She not only peed on the potty, but proceeded to go diaper free for the rest of the afternoon and pee and poop on the potty until bedtime, when I diapered her. This morning, she was wet when she got up, but she peed on the potty as soon as I got her out of her crib, then again when we got to daycare. Go, Maddie! She's so freakin' proud of herself.
I guess I need to get her some underwear. I've been the most unmotivated potty-training parent alive.
Riley, on the other hand, is happy to rock the diaper and act as Chief Sanitation Engineer (aka Toiler Flusher). Teamwork.