So. About the above pictured: I dragged Caleb into Baby Depot yesterday and made him look at baby crap with me–I had to. Activities such as this, or just thoughts about the baby even, must be scheduled and forced upon him; otherwise decisions would never be made and stuff would never get done.
Much to my pleasant surprise, he did not resist (much) and actually got into the whole baby shopping thing. At the end of our session he turned to me and said, and I quote, "It just hit me that we’re having a baby soon." I can’t really get angry with him; he’s not the one lugging around an 80 pound living moving being in his stomach.
Anyway, we did end up deciding on some crib bedding, which does, I guess, determine somewhat of a theme for our closet, or future nursery. You know how some people go nuts with pink lace and ballerinas when they find out they’re having a girl? That’s sort of what we did here, except opposite. This will be the first boy born in my family in almost 30 years, so to say we’re "a little excited" about our son would be the understatement of the century. We want to boy it up in this kid’s room. I searched for dinosaurs playing baseball on firetrucks, but I guess no one’s come up with that design yet, so we went for a six-piece set of navy blues and browns with a hint of football and soccer–I looked online for the same thing sold cheaper somewhere else, but babydepot.com seems to have the better deal so far. I have to say I’m relieved that Caleb hasn’t brought up doing a Florida Gator themed baby’s room. And by the way, Mom, the orange and blue beanbag chair that you so thoughtfully sent up did not help my cause. You are, however, allowed to send Seminole paraphenalia…
Maybe later I’ll get a life-size cardboard cut-out of a slam-dunking Michael Jordan to accent the wicked-rad Monster truck mural I’m currently thinking about painting.
To keep you up to date on the naming situation, I’ve uncovered a secret, dirty, under-handed plan of Caleb’s: He’s going to keep on throwing out horrible names (such as Riddick) right up until the due date, so that when he does come up with any old semi-decent name, I’ll be so happy it wasn’t one of the ones I completely hated, that I’ll actually agree to sign the birth certificate. To be quite honest we have a little of the same tastes when we’re thinking of "real" names, so I don’t really worry so much about it…No bringing the Baby Name Book to the hospital. Come up with at least a short, short list by the time I’m in labor. If that’s the case, then I don’t mind waiting until the last minute, just so long as I know what to call him before I put him on my boob.