No, I'm not pregnant (at least as far as I know). It's just that we saw Knocked Up on Sunday. I loved it.
But I've GOT to stop crying at these pregnancy movies. Yes, even through the hilarity, the vulgarity, and the graphic childbirth scene, I ended up crying about the magic of having a baby. I've lost it.
Oh, and did I mention that we saw it with my in-laws?
It wasn't all gooey sentimentality for me on Sunday, though. I had a fight with my husband because he was supposed to plan our evening with his parents and he left it until the last minute. Planning ahead is not one of his favorite pastimes. So as I was walking the dog on Sunday afternoon, he called me on my cell to finally tell me the plan.
"My parents are coming over in about an hour. Then we'll go see Knocked Up at 5:40 pm, and go to dinner afterward on the east side," he said.
"So, I have an hour to get back home, shower, and get the apartment ready for your parents? I said, annoyed. Isn't there any other movie we can see later?"
"But I thought you wanted to see Knocked Up."
"Not with your parents!" I shouted, imagining how we'd spend dinner talking about pregnancy and exactly when they were going to have more grandchildren.
The fight got a little more immature after that (on my part). But eventually I agreed to his plan (there wasn't really anything I could do about it at that point anyway). And I'm glad I did. To his parents' credit, they didn't ask us one question about when we're going to have kids (in the past, we've answered them vaguely along the lines of, "We're thinking about it"). And despite the fact that I watched sex scene after raunchy sex scene with my in-laws in the next seats, the movie left me with a warm feeling and an even greater desire to get pregnant — if that's possible.