Future Husband, Time To Reveal

Dear Future Husband,
If your social media accounts are anything like mine, they are probably flooded with posts, pictures and videos from the new-ish party phenomenon thrown by millennial preggos* and their hubbies – the gender reveal.

*Yes, I just referred to pregnant ladies as “preggos.” I, personally, don’t think it’s offensive, but this IS 2016 (and I’ve never been pregnant…) So, I’ll apologize in advance. I’m sorry. HOWEVER, I’m actually considering posting “my eggo’s been preggo-ed” to announce that we’re expecting one day. You’re allowed to veto (but you have to agree it’s stinkin’ clever).

Anyway, after watching a MILLION and ONE videos of couples biting into cupcakes, slicing cakes, releasing balloons, popping balloons, punting footballs, hitting baseballs, shooting targets or whatever creative method they choose, I began to realize…the reaction is ALWAYS the same. It usually involves cheering – nay screaming – a lot of jumping and oftentimes tears.

And I have the following questions:

1. Why is everyone SO surprised? I mean, there is a 100% chance that the result is either boy or girl. I’d agree that the screaming would be warranted if the announcement was that newly revealed baby girl would exit the womb holding a billion dollars…but…

2. Should a pregnant lady REALLY be jumping like that?

3. How is it that I’ve watched a million of these videos and not been invited to a single one?

But, alas, I continue to watch them…while secretly waiting for reveal that breaks the mold:

Couple bites into cupcake to reveal blue icing. Husband looks at wife and says, “Well dang. Try again in 9 months?”
Balloon pops to reveal yellow confetti with a note: “Your baby will inform you of its chosen gender in roughly 15 years. SURPRISE!”

Also, I’d like to point out that I’m pretty sure gender reveal parties back in the day were simply called “giving birth.” But whatever. I’m all for one more reason to celebrate and eat cake.

PS. If this is still a “thing” by the time we have kids, we’re totally doing it.
PSS. Remind me of this post when I INEVITABLY scream and cry…I probably won’t jump.

Ima Waitin

Future Husband, Time To Reveal

Future Husband, You Can Handle IT

Dear Future Husband,
I could have REALLY used your help around 11:23pm the other night.

I was getting ready for bed and had just washed my face. I was reaching for the towel hanging over my shower rod when I noticed IT.

IT = the biggest, ugliest, yellowest and orangest (I just created a word) spider I have ever seen.

I might have cursed your unknown name at that point for forcing me to deal with IT in my helpless, very tired and female-who-hates-spiders state.

But alas, I had to do SOMETHING. I tried many different ways to knock IT from the ceiling. I removed the shower head and sprayed the ceiling (NOT the best idea…remind me to point out the decorative water stains that I’m totally blaming on you after we meet). I threw things at IT (apparently I have horrible aim when it comes to hurling near weightless objects at a targeted area). Nothing worked.

Angry or amused (I couldn’t accurately decipher IT’s feelings), IT began toying with me by descending from and re-climbing its lifeline of silk over and over again. Then, IT triumphantly returned to its original position defiantly perched on the ceiling. Back to square one.

In my now desperate state, I was – you guessed it – desperate. I had to try ONE more time. I concocted a VERY resourceful plan involving my hairspray can. I removed the lid, filled it with water, got close to IT and forcefully splashed IT off the ceiling. VICTORY!

The problem: everything that went up, of course, came down. On my head. And I freaked out.

After doing a little frantic (ok, a LOT frantic) dance, I saw IT on the shower floor. And under the hairspray can lid IT went…until the morning.

…..break for 7 hours of IT-infested dreams….

I awoke the next morning not rested in the least, but ready for round two nonetheless. I called my mother to tell her about the incident, and when she learned that I had kept IT imprisoned all night and had not yet released IT, her words were – and I quote – “Sooner better than later — poor IT is prob hungry. And scared.”

And now, I ACTUALLY began EMPATHIZING with IT, and completely felt bad for inducing starvation and panic on this poor, helpless creature.

So, I slipped some paper under the hairspray can lid and carefully took IT outside to set IT free.

As soon as IT realized IT was free, IT immediately began to CHARGE at me. I knocked IT back. IT charged again. I knocked IT back again. And the charge continued. And then I ran inside and slammed the door.

At this point, I was terrified that IT was going to try to come inside again, so I peeked out the front door window. And, right where IT WAS formally standing, sat a very large and satiated looking lizard.

Oops. Sorry, IT.

PS. Had you been around, the situation would not have been NEARLY as dramatic…unless you, too, are not a fan of spiders.
PSS. Even if you are NOT a fan of spiders, you will still assume spider (and lizard, frog, roach, rodent, bird, moth, anything that flies/crawls that could potentially EVER enter the house) duties, should they occur.

Ima Waitin

Future Husband, You Can Handle IT

Future Husband, Do You Know My Mother?

Dear Future Husband,
You should probably be aware of the fact that I talk to my mother…A LOT. And then she immediately tells my dad everything, so I INdirectly talk to my dad A LOT. Therefore, my parents consistently know A LOT about me, and in due time, will know A LOT about you. I hope that’s ok. If not, speak now or forever hold your peace. Well, actually, I guess “speak now or forever never show up” would work just as well here…

Anyway, I was talking to my mother this weekend, and she excitedly exclaimed, “Ima! I met your future husband! I know who you’re going to marry! I’m not even kidding…I think I REALLY found him!” Now, this exclamation was pretty earth-shattering considering SHE HAS NEVER ONCE even remotely made this claim before. And, if you’ll remember, she is totally against arranging my marriage. So, intrigued, I asked her to continue.

My mother then went on to explain how she knew this most eligible and perfect bachelor and everything she had learned about him – which was amazingly and shockingly VERY LITTLE. (He’s older than me, taller than me, employed and a Christian…I tell ya, my Mother is a SLEUTH!)

So, I agreed that this was great news and asked if she had told this most eligible and perfect bachelor that she had a most eligible and perfect daughter who was also very single?

Her response, “No.”

Well, are you GOING to tell him? (That was my next question.)

Her response, “No, I think that would be too weird.”

Hmm…ok, then. Exactly HOW am I supposed to MARRY this guy if we are never introduced?

Her response, “You’re a smart girl…I KNOW you can figure it out. Why don’t you find him online and send him a message to introduce yourself?”


Because it would BE TOTALLY WEIRD for YOU, dear Mother, to speak to a man whom you actually KNOW to let him know that you believe that he and your daughter – who happens to be of similar age, intelligence and religious upbringing – just MIGHT hit it off and would it be OK if you set up an introduction the next time she is in town?

And it would BE TOTALLY NOT WEIRD for ME – who has no apparent social common factor with this man other than a Mother who refuses to acknowledge anything – to CYBER STALK him from three states away, find his contact information and social media profiles, creepily send him a message to introduce myself and pray that he interprets my request for a date as just that, a date, rather than an elaborate, yet romantic, attempt to end his life.

You’re right, Mother. It would be CRAZY for me to ask you to introduce us. I’ll just keep you posted on the relationship – or the restraining order. Just know that restraining orders typically make it tough to produce grandchildren.

PS. Future Husband, if you DO happen to be this gentleman, I was able to find your picture online. And I think you’re handsome. So, at least we have that working for us…
PSS. Future Husband, if you are NOT this gentleman, you can thank my Mother for not introducing him to me.

Ima Waitin

Future Husband, Do You Know My Mother?