My Aunt Jan is down to spend the weekend with my Mom. Do any of you have an Aunt Jan? The lady who called you as a kid to have a "come to Jesus" about the fact that you weren't cleaning the house and you were driving your Mom insane? The lady who let you come to her house one week every summer and showed you the time of your life? The lady you knew would take you into her home and raise you as her own in case your own parents were killed in nuclear fallout or something? That's my Aunt Jan. A totally great lady, and I just don't think I could love her more. So it's fun she's here, especially since she and my Mom go together like peas and carrots (sort of like Jenny and Forrest, but in a sibling kind of way).
The name debate has gone vicious circles in our house, because the Double B has refused to budge on his name of choice and has even gone so far as to get mad at me when I suggest other options for our precious baby girl, as yet unborn and also unnamed. But last night, in a huge victory, I got him to truly consider another option. That's right, folks, we have options! I tried to tell him that his way of trying to take away my name agency is actually satan's plan, but... that didn't soften his heart. I don't know why.
I also admitted to him last night I'm a little nervous about child #3. It's just -- our little family is so perfect right now. Our kids get along great, they entertain us, and are getting rather self-sufficient in many areas. And I'm nervous about this little girl that I don't know yet and don't know how she'll change the dynamic of our family. I'm sure this is a silly concern. I love her already, and I know as soon as she gets here we'll wonder what we ever did without her. But still -- I'm a little nervous.
I've been thinking about my dad lately, and how I'll punch anyone in the jaw who doesn't think he's the greatest thing since swiss cheese. You see, my Dad is a convert to the L.D.S. church, and he grew up in quite a different culture. He gave up everything because of what he believed, and I'm so proud of that. (And so thankful, 'cause if he would have stayed I'm 99.9% positive I would be a dope-smoking granola in Seattle right now.) The thing is, we sometimes go to big functions on his side of the family and some of them kind of look at us like... freaky-deaky's. And at my Grandma's funeral, the speaker guy started talking about my dad and I sat right up in my seat ready to march up to that podium and take him out World Wrestling Federation-style. Luckily for him, he just told stories about my dad in his wild teen years (yes, to my delight, he was a wild teenager). I have since thought about that moment -- there were probably more then a thousand people there, and seriously -- I would have made a scene. 'Cause dangit, I am PROUD of my parents and the sacrifices they have made. And I don't think my parents are weird. I think the other people are weird.
I say these things in the name of the participial phrase, amen.