well, it's not a grubletta

So right here is where a picture of my belly should be. But in the chaos that has been moving and cleaning recently, I seem to have misplaced my camera cord. So my pictures are stuck indefinitely on my camera. They may never be seen again.

But I will share these with you! On Tuesday night we had our ultrasound. If you can get past the creepiness, than he's actually quite cute.


You heard me right, HE.

I would show you the proof, but I always find those pictures a little, well, disturbing. Poor kid. Do we really need to start the embarrassment this early on? We have, like, 18 whole years for that.

And if you can get past the creepy thing, than do I have the picture for you:
As is natural, everyone has started to ask about names. To which I roll my eyes and give one of these three answers:

1. "When we do pick a name, we won't tell anyone because, among other reasons, then we can change it last minute if we decide to."
2. "Yes, we've talked about names, but it always starts a fight."
3. "On the way home from the ultrasound, Jim and I couldn't even agree on a nickname for the embryo."

And since this is a blog and you guys always get the rest of the story, here it is.

To set the scene: Jim and Karen drive home from the ultrasound reminiscing about the last 40 minutes and how we finally got to see this little guy that I've been incubating. It all seems so surreal. Miraculous, even. Then Jim says this:

• Jim: So I've been thinking about nicknames for the kid and I think we should call him "Jefe". (pronounced: hef-ay)
  
• Karen: What?! Where the heck did you get that name?
• Jim: Well, we live in El Paso, and Jefe is Spanish for Chief.
• Karen: (blank stare)
• Jim: What do you think?
• Karen: I think that sounds kinda stupid. Jefe? Chief? It reminds me of Heifeweisen. (a German beer)
• Jim: That's even cooler!
• Karen: Well, I was thinking I'd start calling him Skelator.
• Jim: (blank stare)
  

Neither of us won. So for now it's still Grublet and you can often find me standing in front of my refrigerator looking at the ultrasound the nice technician printed out for us. I should say that the picture doesn't do him justice, because when the tech used his thingy-mabob to slather all that jelly around my stomach, I distinctly saw an expression on my little boy's face. And it was sweet. And he was cute. And he didn't look anything like Skelator.