Okay, Okay

Lisa says I have to stop playing around. Our little one is Patrick Ross Ruchti. We will call him Rick for short after Lisa's dad. And he's a hoot already. He likes to make me puke at inopportune times, just for kicks and giggles. And very cooperative when it comes to working with technicians and mid-wives, but not so cooperative when it comes to working around my teaching schedule. He also likes banana milk shakes--of course he doesn't care that his carrying mom is lactose intolerant--and pickles--no, he doesn't care that he is turning his carrying mom into a raging stereotype.... I mean, a different raging stereotype than the stereotype she already is.

Speaking of raging stereotypes... How am I supposed to find maternity wear--oh, and that is day is soon upon us--when everyone's idea of masculine maternity wear boils down to anything in denim or without lace! My next important blog must be on the perils of maternity clothes shopping for the masculinely inclined expectant mom. (With all the old men with sagging bellies out there, one would think there would be readily accessible butch maternity wear, but alas...)