So the other night Matt popped this one on me:
"How would you feel if I got a tattoo?"
Not that there's anything wrong with tats per se (some of my friends have gorgeous ones) but seeing as how my husband is of the geekish persuasion, the image of him sporting a flaming twenty-sided die across his chest didn't exactly warm the wifely loins. Lucky for me he was thinking something a little safer; something to commemorate our upcoming life change. Fear not, no photo-realistic baby faces or anything... He's thinking of getting the baby's name inked on the inside of his forearm.
Is it weird that I find this kind of hot?
I can't help it, there's something about the thought of us both undergoing an intense physical trial that I find really profound. (While I suspect that shoving a pair of shoulders out my Down There kicks getting a tattoo's ass, I hear they're no picnic.) I mean, if I have to have stretch marks for the rest of my life (I sooooo thought I was going to dodge that bullet) it's cool that he'll be sporting our kid's name for all eternity.
Speaking of baby names, until the kid's here we're keeping mum, largely due to the fact that most of the reactions have gone something like this:
Well! (blink, blink) Huh! (blink)
"Do you mean _____? (insert more common version of name) No? Really? You don't mean _____? Well have you thought about _____?"
Sometimes I just get silence. That's my personal fave.
For the record, the name we've chosen is not at all weird. In fact, we chose it largely due to it's strong, classic feel. No Story or Pilot Inspektor here. (No offense, Jenna Elfman* and Jason Lee*.) Still, until it's written in stone we're keeping quiet. (And for the time being, tat-free.) Who knew choosing a name was so tough?
*FYI: According to Those In The Know, Michael Rappaport was the first guest star on My Name Is Earl who is not a Scientologist.