We were going to wait until the first trimester was over, but we couldn't. I'm sure Paul could have, but he's not the one with the kid growing in his belly. I've wanted to tell people as soon as I peed on the stick.
And now the family knows, and my friends, and most of the hiker community... and in another week I'll be back at work and they'll know. And hopefully my assistant teachers will forgive me for all the times I somehow got out of changing the poopy diaper because it was going to make me barf. Hopefully...
This morning, Paul & I talked about the Belchigator's personality. We both agreed that the Belchigator will be a pain in the ass smart ass like us (whether it's genetic or learned, we'll probably never know). I said "smart, caring, & considerate." Paul said "evil."
"Why evil?" I asked.
"Because it has to be that way," he replied. He's very eastern in his thoughts sometimes. There has to be balance.
"Well-behaved," I suggested. And then uproarious laughter from my husband. For two minutes. He lauged so hard, he cried.
"Well, maybe for everyone else, but not for us," he managed to squeeze out between guffaws.
"I can live with that."
What I can't live with is the idea that the Belchigator might have Paul's toes. That would be a travesty.