Sweet Yet Sour

Mike and I headed up to Nate and Laura’s yesterday for their annual Christmas Party.  It was a beautiful drive, with all the snow, and Mike’s Element did just fine on the snow covered road up to the house.  (On the way down the snowy road he tried a few a manuevers on the snow, I think to see if I would car sick on him, but otherwise, he’s a good driver.)

I took up some Chocolate Hazelnut Truffles, the recipe for which I have put up on the RRC website. I finally figured out how to get my truffles to be nice round balls instead of little oblong objects that could be mistaken for moose poop.  They seemed to go over well with the party crowd.

It was a nice party, the house looks great all decorated for Christmas, and I’m really glad that Nate and Laura have the party every year, since there are people that come to the party that we don’t normally see throughout the year. 

We took up a few of Mike’s photos that Nate and Laura wanted to hang on their walls.  Hopefully we generated some interest in his photos with people that Mike might actually consider charging.  We laid all of the photos out in the office and there were a few people who wanted the address to his photography website (www.mikemunhall.com/photography). I tried my best to sell his photos, but I’m just not enough of a people person to ever really be in sales, but I do really well saying “I really like that one”.

Anyway, despite the fact that there were lots of nice people there, the conversation is a little boring when you’re pregnant.  Here’s how almost all of the conversations went:

Other: “Congratulations! When are you due?”

Me: “Thanks. April 21st.”

Other: “Do you know what it is?”

Me: “Yes.”

Other: “What is it?”

Me: “We’re not telling anyone.”

Other: “Why? Can’t you tell me?”

And from there, the conversation pretty much ends.  People really want to know the sex of the baby and are a little frustrated when they don’t get to know.  I’m going to start telling people that we don’t know, just to save myself the looks of “Why aren’t you telling me?” that I am getting.   

Frankly, Mike and I decided that we did want to know for ourselves, but that there were enough people who already (before we even got pregnant) had ideas as to what the baby should be named, that we are going to keep the sex to ourselves.  If we told those people with opinions what the sex is, we would be setting ourselves up for having to say “no” to a lot of suggestions from people who really don’t have any business suggesting the name of a child that they are not going to raise themselves. 

The other uncomfortable part about going to a party when you’re slightly pregnant (at this point I have a slight bump) is that people stare at your belly a lot during conversation.  I’ve never had much up top; the boob fairy skipped my house when I was a teenager, so this thing where people stare at anything but your head during the conversation is a little new to me.  It makes me want to hook up some sort of motor or something so that I can hit a button in my pocket and a little fake baby arm will flail underneath my shirt.  Oh that sounds like fun…