First off, let me say that I have no idea what's going on with the font size below. I tried to fix it. And tried. And tried. Blogger is not listening to me, apparently.
I've got babies on the brain. I'm even dreaming about babies. It's confusing, so I will be asking my uterus in the next few days why it's sending the rest of my body baby signals, seeing as we've decided not to have any more kids.
So, you're pregnant. And you get the same freaking question for hundredth billionth time:
Have you picked a name yet???
Some people just say no, when they really mean, "Yes, but I'm not going to tell you because you won't like it and I really don't care if you like it in the first place, so HA!"
But when I was preggers with Viking Toddler, when Husband and I said, "No, we haven't picked a name yet," what we really meant was, "We've gone through just about every name in the freaking baby books and can't agree on ANYTHING."
I thought picking baby names was supposed to be some kind of awesome? Wasn't it supposed to be on of the most fun things you've ever done?
Well, whoever said this lied. We spent weeks. WEEKS. Finally, out of desperation, we called Husband's Mom. One of the first names that fell out her mouth made us say, "Yes! FINALLY!" Ok, maybe it wasn't quite so dramatic, but still.
But that was the male name that we had selected. We had decided on a girl's name long before that. Elsie. Her (if it turned out to be a her) would be named Elsie.
Until someone pointed out to us that the name sounded like the name of a cow. I don't mean a mean name for a large women. I mean a literal cow. We shortly thereafter changed it to Elise. Close enough.