Christy called me the Anti-blogger the other day since it has been so long between my posts. I have been so interested in the medical side and the adventure to Mexico that I have had much to share about my investigation into IVF and Surrogacy.
We had a successful pregnancy test and have gotten through the iffy stages and are flowing through a very boring healthy pregnancy. It is very nice to have a surrogate that is drama free.
So this leads me to my issue of the day.
What is left for me to blog about?
Your normal IM would write - "We went shopping today and bought this cute outfit!!!!!"
"It was so much fun!!!!!"
I would tell you to - "just kill me now" if I was forced to write about clothes and shopping - But our child does need a dad so I need to play it conservative and just stay away from the topic as much as possible.
And the fact that we have a girl coming takes away from the fun of telling Christy that I will dress our boy in pink.
I am busy with telling everyone that our girl's color wheel is light blue and yellow and she has a surfer theme.
I get the response - OH! you wanted a boy. And check out this great Hawaiian print outfit.
My thoughts are surfboards, sky, and sun. Not flower prints and thatch huts.
I didn't know that California had a surfer culture and style that was so distinct.
Also, I hardly find a light blue and yellow dress OR a frilly top with light blue and yellow butterflies a boys outfit.
The butterfly shirt was originally vetoed on by her older sister, but I overruled her and we went and bought it
It is amazing that clothes already define our girl - and according to her mother she already has a very distinct style.
Yet, Christy wants to call me weird for declaring that she has a color wheel. So our girl can have a style, but not a color. Somebody clearly has a screw loose.
I guess that Christy must think that our child will be color blind.
I am already a changed man. I use to write about science, travel, and odds - and now I blog about fashion, color, and style.
To Christy's horror I get to show off my metro-sexual side.
Oh, the joys of being a dad.