I’m copying this gal’s Christmas card idea.
Merry Christmas, from the Heben-Scotts. I hope your home and hearts are filled with as much joy and anticipation as ours are.
He’ll probably try sledding in 20-13.
I’ll continue to leave clean laundry out for days/weeks. And Nate will continue to sit like he owns the place.
We will NOT be adding any new cats to the fam anytime soon.
This isn’t working very well, because we never photograph ourselves. Better luck next year!
I am sickened, and heart broken over the 20 kids and 6 adults that were murdered in Connecticut, AT SCHOOL, on Friday. I can not fathom burring my child/loved one on Christmas, instead of talking about Santa Claus.
I read the story of Jesus’ crucifixion yesterday and realized, this isn’t something new. There have been crazies in the world since the beginning. We are ALL deeply flawed. There’s no comfort in that.
I bought a new brassiere today. 36G. Original size, 32dd.
I don’t know what is scarier.
This is obviously very important (and not in order of importance or hatred).
1) kissing baby/child on the lips. Ian isn’t so weirded out by it (for reasons I won’t document here), but I will slap any offender across the face. I think it’s absolutely vile. Kiss your spouse on the lips, not anyone else.
2) Pictures of the father doing skin-to-skin contact. Gag me right now. I am just not a fan of male nudity (while I am attracted to men…). This also makes me angry, and disgusted. Please, Angel, Kimmy, anyone else that may attend the birth of my child. I will slice your throat (a promise) if you post or email any picture of Ian shirtless w/baby. I honestly don’t even want to see it, but will allow it. Generous, I know.
3) Gender neutral clothing.
4) People asking me a specific due date….the baby comes whenever he/she comes, what does a date matter? For the record, when people ask, I say mid-March.
5) Being referred to as a ‘mother warrior,’ should I get stretch marks or something. I don’t need or care for some dopey title. Mother is sufficient.
I may think of more…
Originally….is in 10-11 weeks ago, Ian & I both wanted a girl. Only a girl.
On Monday night I reminisced about all the wonderful memories I have with Gavin from 9 years ago. Park fun, zoomars, Disneyland, hose play, naps, blocks, visits with Sarah & Mark Chapman. Every single memory brings tears to my eyes and fills my heart with joy. I adore Gav, Bam & Dane. While my mental design for baby’s room is for a daughter, I will be overjoyed to have a son as well. When we do find out I know I will feel like I won the lottery either way.
And that’s a good place to be.
I have been asked a few times about baby’s last name already. I have deja vu where I think I have written about this before (not baby, obviously) but don’t remember, and am not scrolling through archives.
So, as to why I didn’t change my last name when I got married.
- I never wanted to. Before I got married, when I dated others, I always said, I’m not changing my last name.
- I like my last name.
- Why change it? Why do we HAVE to have the same last name? Who gives a flipper?
- I don’t follow the crowds. I don’t do something just because EVERY ONE ELSE DOES IT.
To throw this out there, it is offensive when I get mail, or we get mail that says Mr. & Mrs. Ian Scott, or Mrs. Scott. That is not my name, nor am I Mrs. Ian Scott.
Our child(ren) will have Ian’s last name. I could care less that we don’t share a last name. How will I mail stuff from the 3 of us, probably Ian, Megan & Baby (whatever his/her name is). Bah humbug, we’re not sharing baby’s name with anyone until he/she arrives either.
And, I may name the child my last name as 1 of 2 middle names, because my brother may never reproduce.
*I hope to raise a son or daughter that thinks for themselves, that asks questions, that follows the beat of their own drummer, that respect people’s differences, and is kind to everyone. (regardless of last name designation/choice)
I want to remember the calmness, joy, peace, and happiness in my heart this morning.
I woke up to (or never fully went to sleep), from a dog barking outside ALL NIGHT LONG. ALL NIGHT, ALL MORNING. And then really woke up at 6:32 to a page (work), threw up, got up, etc. Threw my dogs some donut scraps, and cereal scraps, because I actually don’t like this kind of cereal. Got ready for work (this really isn’t an exciting story), chatted with Ian a bit…listened to him butcher both gender baby’s middle names (on purpose or not, I don’t know). Dry heaved a little bit more, and went to work.
But, when I walked out of those house, I was overcome with this is a good day, a great day. I am so thankful for this man I married that brings me cereal at 5, 6, or 7am, cleans my barf bowl, or whatever surface I vomited on. Made me a pb&j today, puts together a dresser for us, cleans up my never ending piles of stuff that I can’t clean up myself, because I can’t stand for that long.
Moral of this story, is that we are so grateful, and so excited to meet this little son/daughter in (on Friday) 29 weeks-ish, obviously. I am so overwhelmed with everything good in my life.