Functionally ReTodded

It seems that, despite several verses in the Bible that speak out strongly against it, I have managed to once again impregnate my beloved wife. She is currently “in the family way” and will be so until somtime around Thanksgiving or so.

Ever since about five seconds after Lauren was born on that delightfully unexpected day in April of 2002, many of you have been asking “when are you gonna have another one?” As if having and raising a kid is no more difficult a decision than say, how would you like your steak?

(For the record, I like mine medium rare. My steaks, not my children).

Anyway, we talked about it, didn’t talk about it, talked about it some more and I figured “sure. We can ‘try’ to get pregnant. I’ll just drag ass and do it all wrong or accidentally wear a condom or something, and we can stretch this out a ways.”

No such luck. I have a successful fertilization average that any softball player would kill for. I’ve got a .667 average, for Christ sake. I may not hit for power, but I sure can put the ball in play, as it were. I have actually considered hiring myself out for couples in need. Especially couples where the wife is really REALLY hot. Who’s to say that this isn’t my gift? You know, my one true purpose?

So now, we’ve got a roller coaster partner on the way for Lauren. (sidenote here. I’d like to thank Brian, my cousin Sarah’s husband, for coming up with that term. It’s the main reason he said that they had a fourth child in seven years, and I typed that sentence with a cold sweat developing on my forehead).

We told Lauren a couple of days ago, and she was quite excited. She said “I’m going to have a baby?”

“No honey. Mommy’s going to have a baby.”

“What it be?” she asked…

“We don’t know yet honey, but we know you’re going to be a great big sister.”

“No, I be a big brother,” she replied.

“Umm, no honey. Technically, no matter what happens, you’re gonna be a big sister.”

“I’m a big kid, so I’ll be a big brother.”

Sigh. What the hell. I’ve got about six or seven months to break her of that. Well, that and one more thing. As God as my witness, she will be out of her crib before the new blessing arrives.

Why, you might ask? Simple. There’s no fucking way I’m buying another crib just so Lauren can switch to a real bed seven hours after the new urchin comes home. Not. Gonna. Happen.

So now, we’re telling everyone. Neighbors are happy for us, as are many of our friends. I am looking forward to this a lot more than I was last time. Last time, I wanted to tell everyone so they could be all excited and happy in hopes that I would pick up some of that too.

This time, I didn’t care when we told people, because I was excited for us. Now, don’t take that to mean that I’m not scared, because of course I am. But I am far more ready for this one than I was the last one, and that’s gotta count for something.

Anyway, part of the reason I announced this here is that I’d like to begin making daily submission of name suggestions here. You know, sometimes you’re just walking or driving around and you see or hear a great name, and you want to write it down somewhere? Well, I am going to write it down here.

First off, we asked Lauren if she thought the baby was going to be a boy or a girl. She said “both.”

“What honey? “

“I want both. A sister AND a brother.”

“Ummm, no thanks honey. We’ll just take the one for now. But thanks anyway.”

So we asked Lauren what she’d like us to name the baby, and she said “Maisy.”

“But what if it’s a boy, honey?”

“Maisy.”

Great.

For those of you that don’t have kids under five or don’t watch Noggin 23 hours a day, THIS is Maisy. She’s a cartoon mouse created by communists to teach our kids (subconsciously) to become communists. Sure, they mask the message with good stuff like sharing and helping others, but the mouse and her friends are communal farmers!! I mean, who does that anymore?

So that’s the first suggestion. My other suggestion came from the news story that got Tennessee QB Brent Schaeffer kicked out of school. (or to agree to a mutual seperation in which he’d leave Knoxville).

It seems that Brent had a run-in with a fellow that had “disrespected” Schaeffer’s girlfriend and her cellphone, so Brent decided the best way to handle that was to pop the guy in the mouth.

Nice.

Anyway, the first time I read the story, I thought the name was magic. That name is:

Quantavios.

So that’s it for today. I welcome any and all submissions and suggestions for naming what we currently affectionately refer to as “The Plumolive.”