Huckle Chewy

Many years ago, we may or may not have engaged in a slightly intoxicated conversation over a game of poker. This gradually came around to the topic of children and names and such. I was sure at the time that if Shelby and I were to have children (I don’t even think we were married yet), they would likely be girls. Fat little girls with cake in their pockets. (He has three brothers who have four daughters between them. Not a single wee-wee in the mix.) Based on this sound knowledge, I may have allowed our friend to be convinced that we would one day name our son Huckleberry Chewbacca. I blame the wine for my lack of better judgment, but you should have seen how happy this theoretical child made her.

Jumping ahead a few years to one strange and fuzzy February morning…. We hesitated on being excited, we made a few appointments, we held our breath. The viability ultrasound confirmed “it’s not a tumor” (Kindergarten Cop anyone?) but that it was in fact new life emerging in all the right places with all the right parts. Which is when we became utterly convinced that we were going to have a baby boy. This is why I choose to refer to the fetus as Huckleberry Chewbacca, Huckle Chewy for short. By doing so, I am fulfilling my promise of allowing this child to be “named” Huckleberry Chewbacca and yet not subjecting it to a life of shame and ridicule. At least not because of the name his totally embarrassing parents assigned.

As soon as our announcement was made, the texts began to fly and I have come to realize that not ALL parties involved in the previously mentioned drunken poker game were as inebriated as I thought they were. Our friends have ludicrously good memories.

“Huckle Chewy – you get in here!”

“How’s little Huckleberry?”

“That’s so exciting! When are you expecting Huckle Chewy to arrive?”

Since his somewhat surprising discovery, Huckle Chewy (or Huckle Chuck as my mom says) has continued to throw little surprises at me almost every day.  From the unexpected kick in the gut to the random appearance of morning sickness for one day mid-pregnancy. My energy level waxes and wanes with alarming frequency. Some days I like bananas, some days the thought of another banana or banana flavored thing is enough to send me to the psychiatrist. But the biggest surprise of them all?

Huckle Chewy isn’t a baby boy.



Remember here and here, oh yeah and here and pretty much every post from 2014 (broken record much) where I complained and struggled and wished that life would WAKE THE HELL UP and throw some change at me? Well, life woke up.

In addition to my new job, I’ve made some big decisions and jumps forward in other areas of my life. I’d like to take full credit for this sudden enthusiasm, but alas, I must admit I was stimulated from the outside. Or to put it more accurately, stimulated from the inside. By the ticking time bomb in my womb.

That’s right folks, there’s a bun in my oven. I am halfway through my first pregnancy.

I’d consider you quite lucky that we just jumped right past all the first trimester goodies. What with changing jobs, refinancing, packing and looking for new houses, and the timing of sharing with family, there was simply no time for me to regale you with tales of vomit and sleep deprivation. (Don’t worry, I’m sure there is still plenty of that coming once the wee one arrives.) I’m in what they call the honeymoon period, the time when aches and pains are minor. When morning sickness has subsided. When the cute bump is visible but my body hasn’t completely transformed to Whale out of Water proportions. And I am happy to say this is mostly true for me. I am mostly sitting comfortably in this middle.

But then there are the days when I still feel vaguely first trimesterish. Or when I can’t sleep at night because my restless left leg wakes me up and reminds me that I haven’t been to the restroom yet this hour. Days like today when I am utterly terrified FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON. I mean, other than impending motherhood and passing on the bounds of knowledge from my exhaustive awesome life choices. But you know, no pressure.

I have to keep reminding myself that people do this all the time. People less well equipped, with less money and less people to rely on somehow make it through ALL THIS. That I don’t need to know everything oh my god right now right now. I have (slightly wavering) confidence that this kid will survive us as parents, even if I don’t currently know how to pack for my sister’s upcoming wedding yet.

Cuz oh yeah, my middlest sister is getting married! Thankfully (selfishly) the cosmos worked themselves all magical like. What was originally the anticipated wedding weekend was ALSO the anticipated delivery date. So. That could have been awkward. Instead, I will have an approximately 6 month old when she ties the knot. An infant that can be passed around, is still relatively immobile, and looks more like a baby and less like an alien. Plus, plenty of time for me to get back into “picture being in” shape, and if not, total “just had a baby” excuses!

As you might imagine, our once tiny house is still tiny and is getting smaller and smaller. At least in my mind. I have packed up about a bajillion boxes, broken down the guest bed and turned that room primarily into our storage unit, and contacted various institutions for pre-qualification letters for a new home mortgage. We have a pretty nifty real estate agency selected that can not only help us with the purchase of a new home, but also can manage all the ins and outs of renting our current home if we decide to go that route. Because tiny, but also Newly Renovated Bathrooms! Great Location! Routine Yard Maintenance! Great Starter Home! And if sold, will result in a whirlwind of depression upon realization of just how much money I lost in that stupid investment.

But of course, before we dive any further into ADULTHOOD, we must first take a week vacation to visit our mommy’s. Well, to visit his mommy. To share in family fun time without the benefit of the wine glass ice breaker. To be force fed biscuits and eggs. To listen to my father in law’s gasps at the site of me actually eating meat (cuz pregnant. Failed to sustain myself in anything more than a borderline healthy manner as a vegetarian. Beab deserves better. See, awesome mom choices already.). And so I leave you for now and will check in again. I’m sure to bore you with more pregnancy updates but will hopefully have other things to talk about as well. If not, my sincerest apologies in advance.