Ok, I didn’t mean to leave the downer post up for that long, so let’s move along. Some people asked me why my fetus’ has been dubbed Spatula. Not just Spatula, even, but Spatula II. Well, what had happened was, a long time ago (200..5?), I was having dinner with my parents, my brother, and his fiance. Somehow, the subject of offspring came up, and my brother and I made a bet on who would procreate first. Seems like a dumb bet – obviously he’d win, since he was about to get married. BUT WAIT. The winner was actually the one who remained child free the longest. The stakes? If J lost (the obvious outcome!), he’d have to be my financial planner for life, free of charge or whining. If I somehow lost, he could name my kid. I was pretty confident that was impossible, considering I was dating a jerk and planning on having kids approximately never in my life. I thought little of the potential names we all laughed over that evening, and even served up my own suggestion to illustrate how fine I was with the stakes: Spatula.
Well, I did win the bet – my nephew Hank was born in 2009 – but I lost the war. Johnny totally whined about helping me with my first ever investments, AND when I got pregnant in 2011, Spatula was the first name on everyone’s minds. Ok, that’s not exactly fair. I actually announced the pregnancy to my family by texting a picture of a spatula with no explanation. I even have a little spatula necklace (that I never wear, but I have it!). Also, my nephew was dubbed Broccoli in utero, so I guess we are even. J’s second kiddo was also announced through a picture of some broccoli florets, so this joke will evidently continue for some time, and I’m totally fine with that.