He's All...Higgeldy Piggeldy

I'm supposed to be writing our Italy plans down right now.  You know, like the contact info of our landlords while we're there, and how much cash in Euros we're going to need on hand, that sort of thing.  Important stuffs.  And yet...my brain is in full-blown Procrastinayshe Mode (yes, that's a thing, don't question my spelling).  Brozhy is waffling between grump and crazybones today (I have the scratches to prove it) so it's not like I can concentrate with the clicky-clack of his tiny claws on the wood floor as he runs from room to room, or the dragging of the feather wand (sans feathers a long time ago because he ate them) as he proudly takes his prey to his lair (or to me, if he's feeling generous).  In any case, concentration is not happening, and the Italy plans will have to wait a bit longer.

I know a lot of people who are pregnant right now or who recently had babies-- my sister-in-law and my half-sister for one (two?).  So naturally my brain constantly leaps to babies and the conglomerate features they derived from their parents.  Naturally.  And then I start pitying my unborn progeny.

A Wonderful List of Things My/Our Kids Have to Look Forward to:

1. They will never drink cows milk.  I'm lactose intolerant.  Sam is allergic to the horomones/antibodies/who-knows-what in milk not certified organic.  Or maybe he's just high maintenance.  But that random glass of chocolate milk at a friend's house or ice cream at a festival...probably never happening.

2. All they will ever be able to eat anyway is bread and water.  Combined, Sam and I make one big picky eater.  I can't eat foods high in fat or sugar-- or lots of peanut butter...or malt flavoring-- because I lost my gallbladder in 'Nam all those many years ago.  Sam is randomly allergic to fun foods like mint, apples (raw), and certain kinds of oil (uncooked).  At least I can eat all the carbs I can handle!  And Sam has pears.  He loves pears.

3. They will have teeth worse than a Liverpool sailor.  Sam had bad teeth as a kid.  He did the braces thing and only recently started wearing his retainers again.  I had terrible, horrible, no-good, very-bad teeth.  I got braces at the beginning of 4th grade.  They were pink and purple.  Yep.  I had teeth coming in at weird angles and no where near where they were supposed to be.  I blame it on a lot of wonky-mouthed English ancestors.

Bad-teeth Shannon, age 6.  Fun Fact: This is the last time I showed my
teeth in a school picture until 8th grade. You now know why.

I still wear the same retainers I got a million years ago when I finally got my braces off just before High School.  At night, when the retainers have been popped into place, Sam and I have some pretty interesting conversations:

"Did gyoo know Frontier airlinthe ith shtopping their fligthsh out of Profo?"

"That ith shtoopid, they jusht shtarted!"

"Yeah, and I heard mosht of their flightsh are alwaysh full."

"Don't they only ko to lichhe Billingsh, Montana?"

And so forth.

4. They will sport a very bizarre and perhaps at times creepy sense of humor.  That will come primarily from me, but Sam's oddities are far from infrequent...why do you think I married him?

Exhibit A: "Dying Man" My siblings' and my darkish twist on Hangman.  Complete with nonsensical words that probably wouldn't make sense to many other people.

Hurt me!

Don't ask me, I have no explanation.

5. They'll have delightfully huge noses, skin issues, eye problems, the fat gene, psychological issues (they will never sit still...they will never concentrate...they will never be grounded in reality...yay!) BUT WAIT, if you call within the next seven minutes!

At the very least, they are going to have pretty hair (hopefully), and pretty eyes.  Yikes, I hope so, otherwise we will have to hide them in cages and pass their bread and water through the bars.