The Omen.

I believe in Omens (yes, that is a capital O, on purpose).  I believed in the idea of Omens before now, but I AM A BELIEVER! 

So, we go to take our picture on Thursday night.  Back story:  I lied to everyone I knew that asked when we were finding out what we were having.  I don't know why.  I just lied.  Turns out that lying is pretty fun!  Our US was Friday May 6, so my grand idea was to get two blue balloons (one representing each boy) and I got two pink balloons.  That way, I could take pix before the US, have them photoshopped and ready to email/text when we saw our baby's vagina or wiener.

We pull into the park, get the boys and balloons out of the car and find that one of the pink balloons was deflated.  No biggie, right?  I had another one.  I was glad I had thought ahead (this rarely happens, by-the-by). I give the camera to Brian then get the balloons positioned for the first pic.  Except, the last pink balloon is missing, as we ignore Konrad in the background saying, "Oh no!  Look!".  I tend to ignore a lot of what he says.  Anyhow, the pink balloon had escaped my grasp and was up in the trees.

That was the omen.  No pink balloons.  No vagina.  Only a wiener left.  My little boy's wiener!  I am so pumped to be having a little boy!  I bought the sweetest fabric for a quilt and I am pretty pumped I don't have ANYTHING that I need to buy (except for sanity, but I don't think that's for sale).  Konrad is especially pumped.  The whole time he has been saying that it's a boy.  In fact, when we asked him what he would think of a little sister, he would say, "No.  It's a boy.  A brother.  His name is T. Rex."  Just like that!  Every time!  And, no, we are not naming him T. Rex.  We are calling him  Baby Wayne.  Check it.

18 weeks.  Them's maternity pants.