Warning: Rogue Hairs Ahead

My on-line pregnancy calendar warned this week of rogue chin hairs sprouting thickly and stubbornly. It also compared the baby to a large banana, but  my vanity eclipsed an interest in fetal development and I armed myself with tweezers at the ready.

What joyful expectancy for week "Twenty-One" - forecasting a fledging (baby) beard to be accompanied by possible acid reflux, probable abnormal flatulents and if you're lucky, skin as greasy as a KFC Original Recipe bucket!  Pregnancy, while a sacred gift, remains a physical assault on the body with which you were once acquainted.

As luck would have it,  this past week I happened to be slowly elliptical-ing away alone at the gym, when THE cutest pregnant girl ever waltzed in with a 3rd trimester belly and a 3rd grade thigh width.  (What are the chances?) Clearly -I consoled myself- this must be her first baby.  Nevertheless, there she situated herself on the treadill like a gestational Adonis with her tiny booty shorts (that actually looked good), not breaking a sweat as her spider-veinless, cellulite-free legs belied any pregnancy at all.  And as one whose shorts have ALL become "booty" shorts  in that way that earns you pity stares not cat calls, I was reminded again what a labor of love is the act of child-bearing even before you actually labor.  She was glowing and I was perspiring, hoping that should we share a conspiratorial "and look we're both pregnant" smile, she wouldn't espy any Twenty-One week rogue facial hairs. 

In the meantime, when I am not doing re-con on my chin,  I invest my maternal efforts in more important tasks like acquiring a cheery diaper caddy (that almost make you forget the stinky task at hand) and divining a name that will not emasculate or become the moniker for a favorite food (e.g. "Graham").   

As I discovered, one common particular pitfall of the name-game is the parental presumption that your unborn child will be indisputably (1) attractive and/or (2) not a nerd. Basing name selection upon these colloquial conjectures is risky at best and damning at worst.  What if baby boy "Blaze" turns out to be diminutive in size and personality or baby girl "Bella" resembles a horse? Confidence in this imagined idyllic child can sabotage the entire process which is why I recommend cautious optimism when proceeding.

It is not all bad though, I now qualify for premium parking at Babys R Us and with the stellar job performance of our president (*snicker*), it appears baby boy Frank will be (blessedly) born under a Romney victory and that tall drink of water has hair that even pregnant women envy.

Savoring Princesses before Testosterone Takeover

These kids practically raise themselves

We're going with the "blue" one