Category: Sharing the News


La Vida Solo


Yeah, I know, that’s not even remotely proper Spanish.  I suck at titles.  Sorry.

Basically I’ve been enjoying my weekend home alone, just me and the cats.  Who have taken blatant advantage of the fact that I’ve been a lazy bum by jumping (literally) on every opportunity to use me for a pillow or cat bed.

Other than that, I’ve done a whole lot of nothing other than thinking and reading this weekend.  Oh, and watching football.  I love college football.  As far as the thinking goes, I’ve realized that it’s probably about time for me to start letting friends in on the secret of the Munchkin.  Most of them who don’t live near us don’t know, and I figure it would be a bit of a shock to just present them with photos of the baby as something of a fait accompli.

So, what I think I’m going to do is use this photo that Southern Honey took of me and the bump this week:

Say cheese!

Cheese!

I’m going to caption it in Paint or something a voice bubble that says “Say Cheese!” and a thought bubble from the bump that says “Cheese!”  Then I’ll send it to the friends, probably over either Facebook or email (probably Facebook; they all check it frequently).  These are people who have seen pretty much every stage of our relationship so far, including coming to our wedding, so letting them in on the Munchkin secret needs to be done.  It’s strange to think I haven’t done it yet.

Therefore, off to Paint!

Share the Wealth


So, today being Grandparents’ Day and us being in the right geographic location, I decided to tell my dad the good news.  (Thanks, Hallmark, for making up a holiday that I could actually use to my advantage!  Never let it be said you didn’t do anything good for me.)

We almost had to cancel lunch, as my grandparents had something of an emergency (my dad and his siblings who live locally swap taking care of them, and today was part of my dad’s coverage), but it all worked out nicely in the end, even if it did take longer to get food than anticipated.  I’m a dork and wasn’t sure what to say, so when he came around the corner and I gave him a hug hello, I just said, “Happy Grandfather’s Day!”  He was like, “Oh, is it… Wait, does that mean…?”  I just grinned and nodded.

I think it made pretty much everybody’s day.

It was a nice ending to a long but fun weekend of mostly pretending I’m still a normal human being who just temporarily doesn’t like things like alcohol and naturally needs to eat every couple of hours to avoid turning into Godzilla.  *rolls eyes*  Don’t let it be said I didn’t go the distance for my friends, either.  😛

In all seriousness, the wedding was great.  The officiant went off the rails a bit at a couple of points on the whole September 11th thing, but it was otherwise a really lovely ceremony.  I spent the whole first half trying not to cry at how wonderful it all was and the second half trying not to cry over how much my feet hurt.  Stupid high heels…  I haven’t worn any for any appreciable length of time since I got pregnant, and I totally paid for it.  Even with Dr. Scholls inserts.

And what better way to cap off a great weekend than with a doctor’s appointment first thing Monday morning?  I normally wouldn’t say such a thing, but I’m really excited about it, and I’m not ill, so yay!


I think I’m going to take Your Pregnancy Week by Week back to B&N.  I like the format, but I’m not digging the content that much.  Today, for instance, I really didn’t need to read that women who don’t suffer from morning sickness have a much higher rate of miscarriages — and where’s the statistical analysis to back it up?  You can’t throw out a statement like that and not back it up somehow!

Instead, I’ll muddle through with Pregnancy for Dummies and The Girlfriend’s Guide once the former comes in.

I broke the news to my boss this morning, since he’s the one who approves all my leave for doc’s appointments and stuff.  He is extremely supportive — we’ve talked about kids before — and was really excited.  It was kinda hilarious.  I’ve got a massive caseload right now, so he told me if it gets to be too much to let him know.  I don’t see any reason why it would get out of hand right now (sort of an “if I could survive the last month, I don’t think there’s anything the job could throw at me that would be worse [except child porn]” thing), but it is nice to know that he’s aware of the fact that my stress level may go through the roof.  (Although I keep going back to the whole “if I could survive July” thing… I don’t know how we managed to find time to see each other, much less make a baby, I was at the office so much.)

And in completely unrelated news, Tesla is SuperKitty.  He’s our insect hunter, the fierce one, which is ironic given the way he runs and hides when strangers visit.  Anyway, tonight he was bouncing around on the climbing tower, which is less than four feet high.  The next thing I know, he’s done this flying leap up to the ceiling in search of a bug and fallen back down to the floor.  A ten-foot drop.  From which he recovered nicely and bounded right back up to the top of the tower, determined to catch his prey.  I wish I’d been video taping the whole thing, but it caught me completely off guard.  (He’s still hunting as I type; at least he’s stopped with the Siamese/Burmese chattering, yowling vocalizations!)

Breaking the news


How does one go about telling the father-to-be that he’s now a father-to-be?  I recently read a thread on a forum about nifty ways to break the news, from balloons to cards to a candlelight dinner.  It all sounded so nice and sweet and sentimental.  I wanted to do something creative like that!

In reality what happened is that Southern Honey came home from work yesterday morning and I pretty much shoved the peestick in his face (poor guy!), at which point he uttered the previously memorialized line, “Is that one and a half?”  *laughs*  Then we both went back to bed.  Somewhat anticlimactic, no?  He wasn’t even that excited — heck, I wasn’t even that excited because I was still trying to figure out whether there really was a second line on the darned thing.

The really cool moment came yesterday afternoon in the car on the way to Barnes & Noble when I shared with him my newfound (thanks, Wallydraigle) knowledge of how home pregnancy tests work and the mystery of that barely-there line.  “So, um,” I said, “we’re probably going to have a baby.”  No balloons, no “Welcome home, Dad!” cards, no fuss.  Clearly my sense of the flamboyant reveal needs retooling.

His reaction was pure Southern Honey: He squeezed my hand and said, “Well, all right!” with a big grin on his face.  The next thing from both of us was a heartfelt, “Man, it’s a good thing we never totally went off BC while we were in college; we’d have like five kids by now!”

And when we got into the bookstore, the man I married who hates to read immediately started looking at father-to-be books while I mourned the fact that The Idiot’s Guide to Pregnancy and 4,000 copies of What to Expect When You’re Expecting made B&N’s cut, but Pregnancy for Dummies didn’t.  I picked up a copy of Your Pregnancy Week by Week instead and came home to order the Dummies book.

Southern Honey ended up with The Caveman’s Pregnancy Companion: A Survival Guide for Expectant Fathers.  I’ve only skimmed the first two chapters, but it looks hilarious.  Any book that compares the size of a fetus to such diverse objects as ladybugs, softballs, trout, a pot roast, and (really) a baby is fine by me.

As far as telling other people, we’ve mostly decided to wait at least until after I get a blood test at the doctor’s office.  While this morning’s HPT also revealed two lines, I’ll be more comfortable after I’ve talked with my doc.  I did reach out to my two closest girl friends yesterday because not telling anyone was driving me nuts, but that’s as far as the news is going for a bit.  We’ll tell close friends and family (and my boss) after the doctor’s visit, but my plan is that other people won’t find out until after the twelve week mark (obviously, aside from anyone reading this).

Even though I know I’m not, I feel like I’m wandering around with a big, goofy grin on my face.  I’m horrible at keeping secrets for precisely this reason.  The next few weeks are going to be loooooong.

Baby Drive-Bys


I know how weird that sounds, but I haven’t found another way to describe the random, completely out-of-place comments that people somehow feel free to make to you when you’re a relative, friend, or acquaintance (or stranger, really) of child-bearing age.  The non sequitur that throws off a conversation or the bomb of a question that nukes a peaceful discussion.  I’ve started referring to one as a drive-by babying, and they’ve been popping up in my life a lot lately.

For example, we recently invested in a new — to us — car, which I posted about on Facebook.  Several of my friends posted congratulations and some humorous comments.  Then, out of nowhere: “congratulations on your new vehicle. Nothing like that new car smell (except nice clean baby smells)”   What do babies and new cars have in common?  Nothing except that one served as the vehicle (ha!) for the mention of the other.

Back when I was still in college, I was at a holiday celebration with family when someone asked me, apropos of nothing in the middle of a conversation about… clearly nothing important since I can’t remember now, when I was going to give the family a great-grandchild.  I was nineteen.

I feel as though I shouldn’t find these comments as annoying as I do, given that we are hoping for a munchkin (that makes a baby sound like a really cool Christmas present or something…), but I just can’t help myself.  We’re primarily keeping that decision to ourselves — I’ve told my closest friends because we’re all in a wedding together and I want them to know why I’m not drinking, my mom, and a coworker last week, again to explain why I wasn’t drinking after-hours in a job that seems nearly to require it sometimes; Southern Honey told his best friend, who promptly told his entire family, apparently.

I haven’t made a secret of it in some online forums — and this blog, obviously — but those are places I don’t share with family and friends, and my personal identifiers are kept minimal on purpose.  Someone could dig it out if they were determined, but I don’t flatter myself into thinking anybody’s that interested in me.

Maybe I’m just trying to justify my annoyance, when I really don’t have a leg to stand on.  But where does this idea that it’s perfectly acceptable to push people of childbearing age about their reproductive choices come from?  Especially coming out of left field with no bearing on the rest of a discussion.  It’s a conversation-killer, not to mention none of their business!

Clearly I need sleep…