It seems that the majority of you would like me to write about whether or not I get embarrassed by this blog. Are you freakin' kidding?! Who wouldn't be embarrassed when your husband writes, in detail, about aspects of your pregnancy that no one needs to know and you would like to forget? Most women are afforded the luxury of being able to block out all the bad stuff that happened to them when they were pregnant. Not only can I relive every moment by reading the blog, but I also get to have strangers come up to me and ask if I still have "cankles." (Thankfully it's not shorts weather yet.)
Anyone who knows Scott realizes that he likes to embarrass people. No one is exempt from his teasing, be it his parents, his sister Anne (pretzel maven), and even his sweet, gray-haired grandma. (Incidentally, he better watch out for grandma because I heard that she can carry a five pound bag of rice all the way from church to her home - several blocks - without breaking a sweat!) These people are blood relatives. They have no choice but to live with Scott's antics. I, however, married the guy. In other words, I knew what I was getting into, but decided to say "I do" anyway.
Over the years, many of you have asked, "Why?" Why submit yourself to such merciless taunts, such ruthless shenanigans? I stand by my answer: Scott makes me laugh. Yes, he's nice, and smart, and talented (enough already, Mrs. Braverman!) He's thoughtful, and C.O.S. (Cute On Sight, at least to some), and "deceptively strong." What gets me, though, is his sense of humor. The first time I ever spent a considerable amount of time alone with him, he made me laugh so hard that I almost peed my pants. It's 15 years later, and he still makes it necessary for me to wear Depends (and I'm not even embarrassed to admit it!)