We had a great weekend away. The best part was the uninterrupted sleep we both got. Yes, I still woke up at 4:30 to pee. But somehow it felt better when not instigated by my cat. I won’t bore you with the details. There’s only so much a eight-month-pregnant woman can (or has the energy to) do. Sitting by a bubbling brook with my honey and a book and the mountains in the background was enough.
Now for the big news. This is better late than never, I think. Poor little no-name fetus acquired two nicknames in one weekend!
We got a phone call from my honey’s eighteen-year-old niece who had just been told about her upcoming cousin. (Lame, oh, brother-out-law, lame-o-rama!) She was very excited that he is going to be a boy. Why? Because we can name him Niamaya. Uh. No. Actually, we can’t. But then I told my honey to tell the niecey that she can call him Niamaya until he’s born. She was thrilled. So was I. I called him Niamaya all day.
When we came home to a very happy and thoroughly spoiled by grandma and uncle S son, I told them about the nickname. Apparently my brother and his girlfriend already have a nickname for him: trucker. Why? Because little kids truck around. Ok.
So he has two nicknames. My mom tried to call him “Flipper” today because we want him to flip to be head down, but I told her that that one is already taken.
I’m happy to be home. I have that weird tiredness one does not ever expect, but inevitably gets upon returning home from a vacation.
I need to put some jammy jams on a little boy about now. Later.