Please Remain Calm...

My last post has cause quite the stir in our house. My wife is not pleased that I have inadvertently giving the impression that we have triplets on the way.

To clarify.

There is one "Piddle" and one "Piddle" only.

The ultrasound machine was mistakenly showing triplicate images of our ONE child.

I apologize greatly for the confusion. I guess it's one of those "you had to be there moments."

You can tell the Texas National Guard to stand down.

Triple Vision...

We went to get the ultrasound for "Piddle" (as Emma calls the baby).

Here's the report:

6 arms.

6 legs.

30 toes.

30 fingers.

3 heads.

And then the technician apologized because her machine had just gone on the fritz.

WHEW!

We feel very blessed to be anticipating #3, but 2 on 5 are just unfair odds.

The technician gave her professional opinion, considering the circumstances, but was careful to clarify that the evidence was extremely difficult to see. Thus it was more a guess than anything else.

So. The suspense continues...

This is Erin hacked into Chad's blog- we are NOT having triplets. The ultrasound machine was not functioning properly and was showing triplicate shadows of the baby, so we couldn't get any clear pictures of all the measurements needed or to find out what it is. We are going back next week for another ultrasound.

Opportunity Knocked...

Out.

After getting home from my game (a rousing come from behind 51-31 victory no less), grandma bathed the girls while I waited to pajama them (yes, I just used that as a verb). While waiting, I flipped around the channels (seeing as MSU had just dispatched of Ohio State for a national viewing audience) to find some thing to fill the time. God is good, because he saw fit to have my in-laws cable provider carry the newly started MLB Network (that's right. ALL baseball, ALL the time.) I settled in to see what this new blessing had to offer. To my great delight, Tuesdays from 8-9:30 (central time) they are airing Ken Burns' Baseball. Now, blame it on the fact that my Civil War nut father allowed me to watch that PBS documentary series with him as a child or the fact that I was dorky enough to actually be interested in it, but this offering of Mr. Burns clarified for me that I missed a GOLDEN opportunity.

My Christmas list was pretty extensive.

I apologize to my sister and my mother for apparently HIGHLIGHTING, UNDERLINING, AND GENERALLY DRAWING HEARTS AROUND black fleece pullover.

But I have now seen the light.

I am actually, physically kicking myself.

I still desire Guitar Hero.

I still hope to own much of the baseball gear and paraphanalia I have been teased about asking for.

I still love all my gifts and more importantly those that gave them to me.

But, please...
In the name of all things Holy (Jesus and Sparky Anderson)...
If you are looking to get me a gift...

Please.

Please.

PLLLEEEEEEEAAAAAAZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZEEEEEE...

Consider purchasing Ken Burns' Baseball Documentary for me.

This item is now OFFICIALLY, PERMANENTLY on my gift list until further notice.

(After writing this post, I have come to the realization that I perhaps assume too much thinking that anyone would want to give me a gift or that I even deserve one. Here's to taking a shot in the dark. Oh. And don't forget the gift reciept...you know. In case I have multiple admirers.)