Oh come on, we all do it. We judge others. We just people who judge others. We judge ourselves and then we judge ourselves for judging.
(I’ve discovered that if you write that word enough it starts to lose all meaning. Which may actually be a good thing…)
In any case, I’m writing about judging others at Just.Be.Enough today and why I think it’s silly to suggest that we shouldn’t do it.
Comments here closed.
I’m a bit stuck for words right now for some reason. Too much thinking in my head and not enough thinking with my fingers.
In the absence of being able to give you big thoughts, I will give you small ones. Things I appreciate when I take time to notice them. Last week’s reflections were helpful.
What have you noticed lately?
Waging a battle against embitterment and taking part in Grace in Small Things.
We went for the 18-week ultrasound yesterday. (Except it was 20 weeks, but whatever.) Card and envelope in hand, we went in planning to ask the tech to write down baby’s gender and seal the card for us to open later if we chose to. Apparently, though, the clinic has a policy about not writing anything down. (Previous issues with handwriting? Who knows.) In any case, she said she’d note it on one of the pictures so we could find out that way.
This was great in theory.
We picked up the pictures from the front desk and didn’t peek. We went out for brunch and didn’t peek. We got home, put the envelope on the counter and didn’t peek.
I was so very tempted to. My husband would have opened it up right away, but I was still wavering about whether or not I wanted to know. I did but I didn’t. I wanted to know but didn’t want to lose the possibility of one or the other.
And then my sister dropped by on her way home from work right as my husband was about to leave for a class.
Oh screw it, I said. Let’s open it.
I peered down into the 8.5×11 envelope, still not really wanting to look. My husband, bless his heart, didn’t rip it out of my hands.
But I couldn’t do it, so I handed it to them. You look!
I held my breath while my husband took the page of pictures out of the envelope. He and my sister scanned it in silence for a moment while I waited for some sign on their faces that they knew. But none came.
They scanned again. Hands, feet, spine, ankles – all kinds of body parts were labelled but not the one we were looking for. I came around and looked with them. All the pictures were the ones we’d already seen, and none looked like one that might have been taken when the tech turned our screen off. There was no label – no GIRL or BOY – that gave us we were looking for. And believe me, we looked.
So much for that.
My husband intends to call the clinic today to see if he can find out, but I’m less optimistic that they’ll tell him anything over the phone. So maybe we will get to find out, and maybe we won’t.
Do you think this is a sign that we’re not supposed to know?
Still a cute little peanut, isn't s/he?
We’re “home” for a few days, visiting family and friends (and attempting to help my parents clean out their basement). This is the first time I’ve been back since we moved and the perspective it provides is interesting, and useful.
I’m not having a lot of success with my gratitude journal, so instead am going to join Schmutzie for Grace in Small Things.
1. Green. Green trees, green grass. Green is in the air and green is life.
2. Afternoon naps.
3. Food, forgotten and remembered.
4. The voices of generations.
5. Finding the piece of yourself you can only see in the eyes of friends who know you well.
I pulled out the baby name book the other day and discovered something stuck inside it. It was a list of boy names my husband had made when we were expecting Connor.
I haven’t looked at the list since, but there are some names on there I will never forget. Like Milton. Or Hector.
For a while now he has denied that he ever put certain names on the list, but I have proof – in his own handwriting.
I had forgotten about Edgar though.
With a thousand pardons to anyone who happens to have (or love) one of these three names, I submit this photographic evidence as Exhibit A. I think this is proof that not only should I have ultimate veto power, but I really should be allowed to just name the baby myself.*
Some of these names are potentially still on the table for this baby (should it be a boy, though today I had a further hint that it might be a girl), while others have been tossed aside (for less offensive reasons than that they immediately bring to mind the horribly nerdy character from Office Space).
What “interesting” names has your partner in parenthood suggested?
*Just kidding, honey. Maybe.
