So here's an interesting juxtaposition with which to (belatedly) kick off Y-Banshee 2013...
A photo of me "as" a baby Y-Banshee:
Day 1 |
And a photo of me "with" baby Y-Banshee:
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Day 12,053+ |
But enough about me and my age insecurities, more about Junior! (I agree, far more interesting.)
He/she -- no, we don't want to know beforehand (or rather, I don't want to know and M is going along with it) -- currently clocks in at roughly grapefruit-size on the highly scientific citrus-fruit-to-fetus scale, projected ETA of mid-summer...and (get this!) already has fingerprints. This last point is thus far my absolute favorite weird and wonderful fact of fetal development, because it means Junior's already a singularly identifiable individual. If I think about this too long, it really starts to blow my mind -- not just a daughter or a son (their being in relation to me), but already a little person in his/her own right. Yep. Mind officially blown...
Of course, there are many items of a less philosophical nature to keep an overactive mind busy ahead of the big day. My online stroller research for example, up until a few weeks ago, had reached near-obsessive levels. For the good and sanity of all, I impulse-bought a second-hand Quinny Buzz travel system, which I'm very happy with. But after it spent two weeks parked behind our kitchen table -- for lack of anywhere else to put it -- my attention is now (equally obsessively) focused on where the hell in the house we're going to fit all this extra gear. Beware M and friends-with-vans, major furniture moves ahead. And a serious IKEA trip...
On the names front, we're keeping mum. I'd heard the stories, of course, about those weirdly opinionated souls, who take your preferred name and destroy it in seconds with an inappropriate childhood recollection ("Alan? Alan?! Like 'Underpants Alan' we were school with?!") or celebrity association. ("Ah, yeah, Samantha's alright...like that girl who went mental on 'Emmerdale' last year.") I guess I just didn't realize that those isolated, weirdly opinionated souls were, actually, EVERYONE. And that apparently NO ONE has the same taste in names that M and I do. (Don't worry, we're not saddling it with #Hashtag or anything that might bring the authorities/Twitterverse after us. Not for the moment anyway.) So sorry, Internet, you'll just have to wait and see on this count...

For this, and for so many other experiences in the coming months, I cannot WAIT...