surprise!

Brad has been in Pittsburgh for a few days, and I've been holding down the fort. Even though Brad and I started trying to start a family this month, we both assumed it would take quite a few months to conceive. Hence, when my sister got married five days ago, I didn't think twice about drinking and drinking and drinking (tiny Coronas go down surprisingly fast). But today I realized that Brad and I might have beginners luck. I called him and let him know that it was time to pee on a stick. Went to Target after work and perused the wall of pregnancy tests. Then patiently waited for his flight to come in at 8:15. Got home, listened to Brad emphasize how I should be holding said stick, did the business, and then fled the bathroom. A few minutes later, we returned, hands over our eyes. After a countdown we looked and SURPRISE! Success!

Immediately decided we needed a name for the guy/gal. Here's the train of thought:

Me: I think we're due in March!
Brad: St. Patrick's Day! Irish people! The great potato famine! Let's call it potato!
Me: How about spud?
Brad: Spud works.
[Cut to the following morning]
Brad: How's spud doing?
Me: I don't think I like spud anymore. The name, not the embryo. I like the embryo. How about tater tot?
Brad: I'm going to call it spud.
Me: I'm going to call it tater.
[Cut to the following day]
Brad: I'm going to call it tater.

We called our immediate family members and shared the news. Charles was thrilled, and seemed a bit relieved to know he would actually get to be a granddad. Eva and Jim were ecstatic, Caty and Jim and Stef equally so. Randy flipped out and asked if he could buy a round for the entire bar (Randy could not understand wanting to keep it a secret for a little while, but I suppose I won't be running into any of the bar patrons). Jared was quiet at first, then mumbled. Brad quickly let him know that it wasn't an accident, and Jared got excited.

We, of course, are over the moon.