Funny things and pictures of the inside of my uterus

I recently received this fortune in a fortune cookie, and I must give the people what they ask for:

I have so much to say regarding the world cup. If any of you know me, you probably know that if there is anything in this world that I love and am an expert on, it is all things SPORTS. Ha! That's just some of that abundant humor you can expect. When it comes to sports, this is generally how I feel on the matter:

So yeah, Go USA! Win the points! Sports your very hardest and sports better than the other team!
The husband is feeling a bit under the weather today, and in the interest of solidarity, I have bravely decided to lounge around in bed with him while he watches movies and occasionally whimpers about how no one on this great earth has ever had a stuffier nose than he does right now. Speaking of that wonderful guy, a lethal combinations of genetics, a stressful job, and a life long attendance at the School of Hard Knocks, that handsome dude of mine is waging a war between his forehead and his hairline. His forehead is currently involved in a hostile takeover bid for all cranium space, and his hairline seems to be powerless to the takeover. This makes him quite sad, so in order to be sensitive and kind, I have decided to order these post-it notes for him to make him feel better:

Cary does not find these as funny as I do... An indication of a medical diagnosis of a broken funny bone.

And for the record, I think he is hot stuff regardless of his hair status. I read recently on the world wide web that baldness can be caused by an excess of testosterone, so I maintain that his awesome manliness can't be contained and has to be released via the top of his head. So hair or no hair, I think he's like totally dreamy. Obviously, since I let him knock me up and all.

You guys, I lasted as long as I could. But it's time to talk about life as the most interesting gestating person to ever live. Sure I'm only baking 1 child, who so far appears to be remarkably average, but I still maintain that everyone should be completely fascinated by every little thing my adorable pregnant mouth has to say. Or rather, my adorable pregnant fingers have to type. I'm joking of course, but I think every pregnant woman does feel a bit this way. WHY isn't everyone as fascinated with my baby's fingerprints as I am??

Look at his little arm... Just the cutest little arm I ever did see.

We found out this week that our little baby is a BOY! We are thrilled! The ultrasound was fantastic, except for the fact that little boy Reeves was being a major stinker. He was super comfy in there and absolutely would not change positions to get the views the ultrasound technician needed. The ultrasound tech had me drink juice, walk up and down the halls, shake my belly, prod the baby with the ultrasound probe, lay on my sides, and just anything we could think of to get that little turkey to move, but he would have none of it. Whenever she poked him and shook him, he would bat his arms and legs in protest, and then snuggle right back in to go back to sleep. It was eerily reminiscent of waking up his father from a nap.... I have to go in next month for an ultrasound to get a few more measurements because the stinker just would not show his cute face. And of course as I type this, I can feel him kicking the lap top and just having a jolly good time in there. Oh goodness, the affection I feel for this little guy is already a little dizzying.

Hey little man... We sure are glad you stuck around.

This is the position from which he absolutely would not budge. Can you believe there is a little person inside of me??

Hopefully the only photo of our son's wiener that will ever be on the internet.

Whenever I pictured the baby, I always pictured a girl. Not because I really thought it was a girl, but because I am most familiar with baby girls. So I am slightly in mourning of a little baby girl with the perfect baby girl name that I was imagining, but I have no doubt that this little boy is going to be just perfect to me. The only trouble is that we absolutely can not agree on a boy name.

Let's just tell it how it is. If genetics are any indication, our kiddo will be on the short side, very white and freckly, bad at sports, have an affinity for being a know-it-all, and all around just pretty nerdy. You just can not in good conscience name your child Kenneth or Randall (actual names Cary has suggested), knowing what they are up against. That is a child that will spend a lot of time being held up by their underwear by bullies. It is our responsibility as parents to give this poor kid a name that will hopefully minimize the number of swirlies he is given during his lifetime.

You can not name a child with these genes Stanley. It's just mean.

We have a list of names that neither of us hates, but so far nothing that I actually love. Cary is quite particular when it comes to naming babies. All names of any boy I have ever even thought about dating are out. If he has ever met a person with that name that he didn't like, it's out. If it's too trendy or sounds girly (ironic coming from a guy named Cary...) it's out. While I am not nearly as picky as he is, I don't really like extremely common names and I don't like names that don't fit for their whole life. I mean, can you picture a little tiny baby named Walter? It just doesn't work unless he is born as a 70 year old man. Boy, this is heading down a strange path. The point is, naming babies is hard. Please give me all of your best boy names, and also permission to reject them all if I feel like it.

In a week, I will be 20 weeks, so I will do a proper update with a belly picture and that fun little questionnaire that I've been doing. Try to contain your excitement until then. For now I am off to kick my husband's cute fanny at Mario Kart. Princess Peach 4 Lyfe.

P.S. I'm serious about name suggestions. Lemme have 'em.