We have reached a happy consensus about the ultrasound. Sometimes we can be so incredibly stinking diplomatic it makes me sick, but I must admit that is one thing I love about our marriage. After a month or so of me nagging about the ultrasound (which is, as everyone knows, a very necessary component of diplomacy) we finally settled on an agreement over lunch today. We have decided that we will NOT find out the sex (I have been informed by a fellow editor that "gender" is not the appropriate word to use here, as it has some cultural connotations...not sure what that means, but will take their word for it). So I won. :) HOWEVER. We will do so on one condition, and that is that I make a strong effort to not call Furoshiki only "she" as I have been doing so for 4-5 months now. This will be difficult for me, as I am still convinced that he/she is of the female persuasion, but I am willing to at least give the double pronoun thing a shot. I am apparently allowed to slip up once, maybe twice before 11/3 (U-day), and must make a valiant effort to maintain the double pronoun usage until 3/21 (D-day) or thereabouts. So for those of you who wanted to start shopping in the 'pink section', you'll just have to wait. I promise you will survive. :)

On a completely different note, I must tell you a few dirty tales. Tonight when we were shopping at Wegman's (our favorite store ever), I started to smell something. Not surprising, as it had been a while since we left the house. However, while I managed to snag the birthday present, get dressed nicely, and grab Isaiah's backpack stocked with several diapers when we went to his first birthday party ever (more about that later), I forgot to take it to Wegman's. (yes, that's correct, I didn't need the diapers at the birthday party). Anyway, as you all know, a smell is something that can be indicative of something, and it was pretty clear what that was. However, without any diapers, we just decided to do our shopping anyway and hope for the best. At one point Isaiah wanted to be picked up, and as Dan hefted him out of the grocery cart, I could see leakage coming through his pants. We quickly grabbed some paper towels (we were in the produce section) and stuffed them between Isaiah's rear and Dan's arm so that not everything would get contaminated, grabbed some wipes and diapers from the baby section, and Dan headed out to the van while I paid for the rest of the groceries. That is the better story, and luckily the van will have ample time to air out before we need to use it again. The other story occurred a few weeks ago, when Isaiah would not fall asleep. We put him down at the usual time, and although he seemed quite content and happy, he kept waking up and talking--to himself, to us, to Jerry and Lammy (his two crib stuffed animals--Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations), and this went on until we went to bed around 11:30. When I went in to tuck him in, he pulled out his pacifier (nuk), beamed at me, and declared, "Akkun!" (nuk). I wasn't sure what to think, but he kept waking up every hour or so throughout the rest of the night. Dan got his nuk for him, gave him a hug, gave him a glass of water, tried to give the beaming toddler a stern warning (yeah, right), but the kid WOULD NOT SLEEP. The next morning, we all staggered downstairs for breakfast, groggy from the previous night's events. Dan had to leave for school early that day, so Isaiah was making oatmeal with me. I picked him up and smelled something (common theme with him), and as I shifted him in my arms, I also felt something. I turned off the stove (best decision I made that day), and headed back up to the changing table to get him into dry clothes. I unzipped him and was horrified to see chunks all down one of his legs, even into the toes/foot of his sleeper. Apologizing profusely, I tried to undo his onesie so that I wouldn't smear it all over him. At this point I thought it had just leaked out of one side. I carefully and oh-so-gently removed the onesie, thinking that only his legs were dirty, but as he sat up, I was horrified once more to see chunks on his back and up to his neck. In a similar manner to how most men would die from labor pains, I think most men would have thrown up to see this. (I was actually very happy that I was over morning sickness at the time). I attempted to take his diaper off, but could not do so without it getting everywhere. Isaiah was beaming this whole time, by the way. Not sure why. After removing all of the chunky clothing off, I decided that a bath was in order, so I set him down on the floor so that we could head to the bathroom. I was still trying to wipe my hands off and not get too many chunks all over the place, when Isaiah took off with glee and headed to our bedroom, squealing "Again???" (translation: "please hurl me through the air onto the feather top mattress as it is my favorite thing to do 'again' and 'again'") and trying to climb up on our beautiful quilt bedspread that Dan's Mom made us several years ago. That was my third and most horrifying moment of the morning. I grabbed the soiled child and took him into the bathtub where I spent the next few minutes hosing him down. ...then we made oatmeal. I'd rather not repeat that kind of a waking up experience. We're still not sure how we completely missed the fact that he might need a diaper change all of the times he kept waking up that night. So much for our 'parents of the year' award. Maybe next year. (ha)

Well, it's Saturday night, and I'm done with work, and we have a few more minutes of awake and alert time, so I think we're going to hang out for a bit. Dan has just informed me that "I am trying to be patient" and is poking me now, so I am going to close. Good night.