At least they're not cake pops

I've really enjoyed Beyonce-ing this pregnancy. It is much more fun to up and show up with a baby bump than to make a grand announcement and try to smile all demurely like the Virgin Mary or something. I guess, minus side, people tend to feel like they are inconsequential and get all hurt insides-feeling about it. I guess maybe it is my small act of rebellion against the culture of over-sharing in which I normally am an active participant. And whatever, I act like I kept quiet but I didn't, really. I still made the facebook announcement. But I sure as shit did not do so with the cutesy picture of me and a jar of spaghetti sauce. Prego has always been my least favorite word, anyways. 

Let's see, what else, how else can I try to offend people who possess a genuine interest in my life. I have my big 20 week ultrasound tomorrow. We're having the gender written down and I'm having cupcakes (YEAH, I SAID CUPCAKES, LAYNE) made with the appropriate pink or blue filling. That way we can be surprised together as a family at Mo's birthday dinner tomorrow evening. He didn't want the responsibility of having an appropriate reaction cutting into a cake, so we decided to let everyone focus on their own little cake. I'm excited yet terrified it's going to be blue. But then. At least blue means I get a whole bunch of new stuff. Because what is the point of having babies besides getting stuff, right? 

Speaking of gender, I have noticed an outcropping of people who feel the need to say, "we will be finding out the SEX of the baby. We will find out his or her gender when he or she identifies as one or the other." I want to make jerk-off hand motions at these people. And sometimes do.