Al Humdillilah

Last night Elizabeth and Catherine's homestay mom invited all the girls on the trip over for a henna party. The tourist in all of us kicked in and we were giddy by the time we got out there. As is tradition, we were hosted in the "guest room" similar to the one in our house. We were served tea and coffee and, of course, lots of forms of bread with jam and butter. Their homestay mom doesn't speak a word of English so the conversation was oh-so-active and thrilling but we tried.
After sitting around for a while we moved into the other room for the henna. She mixed the henna leaves with some sort of powder and another sort of liquid and mashed it up in her hands into a nasty, thick, green paste. Really..."nasty" doesn't properly describe it.

**MMM**

She tackled it into a syringe and proceeded to make incredible, intricate designs on everyone's hands and feet. I have my right hand/arm and right foot/leg done (this has GOT to drive my semestry-obsessed family crazy). When we left their house we used the few Arabic words we know to thank her.**Getting all tatted up**

Genius Cindy chose to get her foot henna-ed so I was stuck unable to wear a shoe for the walk back to my house from the main road. It was only about a tenth of a mile but with one pant leg rolled up (the first time I've showed my knees in the past month) and henna up both my arm and leg I looked extremely touristy and out of place. SLASH kinda homeless. When I got home Nadia and Khadija had a field day with how strange I looked and were practically crying. I didn't think it was THAT ridiculous but then again I don't always understand foreign humor. And I don't always think I look as ridiculous as I do.**Khadija insisted on taking a picture of me looking like a tourist. Note the one shoe**

Getting the henna off is the problem. They insist on coating the dry henna with a mixture of water, sugar, garlic, and lemon. WHO, may I ask, came up with that mixture? Someone decided to find the worst smelling, stickiest combination ever and forced girls to rub it on their bodies. Does the term "cruel and unusual punishment" mean anything to you? Anyways, the fact that I stuck to anything within a 2 foot radius of me like a magnet made me want to shower before bed. With the assistance of a bobby pin I stood in the shower and scraped it off me. It looks almost as gross coming off as it did going on.

I just realized that I haven't given yall a rundown on the bathroom situation in Morocco. One thing I'm introducing to the country next time I visit: shower curtains. Someone had the great idea of putting a 2' x2'x3" indention in the bathroom floor (between the toilet and the sink, might I add. Not in the corner like you might think.) and calling it a shower. There is a sort of showerhead on a cord that really has a mind of it's own. Basically anytime you think about showering the entire bathroom is wet for hours afterwards. They don't even mop it up, just leave it to dry. That's our downstairs shower. **Downstairs bathroom. The tile square is the shower**

Now the upstairs shower is actually a tub. Again, with the showerhead on a cord (which is lucky cause most of the other students just have buckets). When I shower up there I feel like a 4 year old and expect to learn how to blow bubbles or share the tub with my sisters. Throwback.

Now for the toilets. Can't believe I haven't gotten to this before. Again, luckily, my family is very well off and has pretty normal fixtures so our toilets are normal. When you go to other people's houses or through markets and such you're expected to squat and do your thang in a hole in the ground. Now when I was told that I was expecting a hole shoveled out of the dirt where you just squat. Oh no, these are like glorified holes in the ground. There's a porcelain square around the hole and little platforms where your feet go as if that's supposed to keep you from actually peeing on them. It doesn't.
**When you're done you fill the bucket with water and wash it all down**

Just to add in a little side note: the Moroccan school girl beside me is listening to "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion on repeat. I love being abroad.

OW OWWW!!!

One thing we were warned about before coming to Morocco and one thing that has become increasingly evident is that it is extremely common for men to call out to women as they walk down the street. Nothing is meant by it and it isn't degrading or sexual as American's would usually interpret, instead it is just a comment of appreciation of your beauty. They would normally yell out in Arabic but since Liz and I are white they normally try French. The normal call is "SBA LKHIR! BONJOUR! HERRO!". Anyways, when someone Moroccan walks with us we make them translate what they are yelling to us, and these are some of the better ones we've heard:

- I've been called "princess" almost hundreds of times, in Arabic and English
- Any noise that you would use to call a cat to you...they use those ("tsss tsss")
- "I am poor and have no money but I can offer you my love"
- "I will pay five million durham for the one in the blue"
- "Blonde! And American!"....apparently I'm blonde for Moroccan standards
- Clapping. Yep, they clap when you walk by.

And probably my all time favorite:
- "I would give a thousand camels to have you as my wife"

Do the Hussle

One thing I've noticed in my time between Costa Rica and Morocco is that kids are universally the same.
In Costa Rica, 3 yr oldLaura and I were best friends cause she and I could speak about the same amount of Spanish. Here, 2 year old Hiba and I can play dumb little games and communicate like there isn't a language barrier at all. In the same sense, Hiba can be an extremely obnoxious whining terrible two. Liz and I can hear her from our basement floor when she screams two floors above us.

**I know what you're thinking..."she's cute"...don't be fooled.**

In terms of the language barrier in general, Khadija, Summiyah and Nadia taught Liz and I how to dance the Moroccan way when we dressed up in their traditional outfits. Last night we taught them how to dance the American way. Not the bump & grind teenage kinda dancing, we taught them the good stuff; mostly the sprinkler, the shopping cart, the shower, the lawnmower, etc. Watching the girls in their long conservative jillabas and heads covered trying to do the sprinkler was quite a sight.

**Our version of Moroccan dance. Nadia told me to move like a snake, so I did. Then she said I looked like a "handicap snake"**

After not seeing our family for the 4 days we were in the desert we were really happy to come home to them. When we got back we realized that they were happy we were home too. When Khadija came to say hello to us she hugged us. Like really hugged us. It's great to know that she really cares about us even if we don't have much in common. Even when we can't communicate at all with Khadija we know she loves us and we always have a good time with her. Don't worry, Mom, I'm in good hands.

**My fam. Hallad (he's 15 and we only heard him talk once), Nadia with Hiba, me, Khadija with Adam, Summiyah**

Why do so many businessmen convert to Islam?

FOR THE PROPHET!!!!
Ha. Gotta love Islam jokes.

So last night we got back from our 4 day trip to the Sahara. Easy to say this was the coolest experience of my life. I'll start from the beginning.

Thursday we met early in the morning and managed to turn a 7 hour car ride into a 12 hour road trip. Moroccans like to have bread and tea at least every hour.

Friday we visited a shrine and a mosque and a place where they make pottery, old school style. We saw the raw mud that they dug from the ground, the potter who was using a kick wheel, the brick and clay ovens they used to fire the pottery, and the man who was doing henna designs on the pottery.

**Before being glazed or fired**
**Dude doing henna**

Then that afternoon we headed out to the Sahara. Took us two hours via bus to reach the end of the road and from there we were on camelback. We each got a blue turban to wrap around our heads and faces to keep the sand away so we looked like a band of uncomfortable wannabe terrorists in American clothing.

**See the terrorist in the red? That would be me.**

**Shadow pictures**

The camels were pretty serene and aside from the awkward positioning of their humps the ride wasn't too uncomfortable. At least for the first hour. The second hour found all of us squirming to find a more comfortable position and when we finally got off at our campsites it was an understatement to say we were walking funny. The ride there was spectacular. Everywhere you looked there was just...sand. The sky was literally cloudless. Not like...a few clouds here and there. None. And it was just bright bright blue. The best way I heard it described was that we were in a snowglobe. It looked like all the land around us was just flat and the sky formed a perfect dome around us. **Perfect skies**

At dusk the sky turned kinda purple and we hoped the guides knew where they were going cause if they turned us around we would never know. The campsite was more like a Ritz Carlton in the middle of the desert. There was one huge tent where we ate our meals and then a circle of smaller tents where we all had mattresses to sleep on. **Our campsite complete with camels**

After dinner we all laid on our backs in the middle of the smaller tents and watched the stars. Again, the sky was cloudless and I was pretty sure I could see every star ever invented. Eventually Dr. Godlas's stories got infinitely more pointless and boring and we passed out.

Saturday morning we all woke up to the sun peering in our tents and one of the guides singing prayers somewhere in the dunes. Turns out it was about 5:30am. Holy cow, Bob should be proud. We treated ourselves to some breakfast (tea and bread...SURPRISE!) and headed back to society via camel. At that point we were pretty sore in strange places so the camel ride back was less than comfortable. But again, the sky was cloudless and the temperature was still morning-cool so we could handle the soreness for our ride back. When we had only 20 minutes left in our ride, one of the camels got spooked and bucked it's rider off. Was it one of the healthy, active 20 year olds on the trip? No...it was the one lady who is 56 and came along for the experience. She rolled her ankle and had to ice it when we got back. Naturally. Compared to the desert and camels the rest of our 4 days was pretty uneventful. Saturday afternoon we trekked to Ait Haddu where what I like to call the "Skirt Situation" occured.

Casbah Ait Haddu is this famous place in Morocco where tons of movies have been filmed (Gladiator, Jewel of the Nile, Samson and Gamorah, etc.).

**See the little house at the very top in to the left? That's where we walked up to**

Anyways, we were told we were going on a little tour around it and to get ready. I noticed everyone was wearing pants so I said to one of our leaders, Ja'afar, "I didn't get the pants memo...should I go change?" and he said, "No, we're just walking around a little bit, it won't be a problem." ALL LIES. Walking around the base of the hill wasn't much of a problem so I was off to a good start. As we progressed up the hill and it got later and much windier I noticed my skirt was beginning to take on a mind of it's own so I casually wrapped it around my legs and just held onto the end of it. As we got even further up the hill the winds were reaching some intense speeds and I was getting very close to sharing my goods with the Arab world. It look both hands and lots of patience to continually try to tame my satan skirt. By the top of the hill I thought it might just fly off my body at any given moment. At one point I had a friend help me down off a little ledge and he caught me kind of awkwardly. Seconds later one of the girls yelled, "CINDY! I THINK THERE'S A RIP IN YOUR SKIRT!" Upon reaching my hand backwards I felt nothing but my bare behind. How fantastic that I should be sharing my choice of underwear with a society that won't share it's choice of haircut. Somehow we managed to take my overshirt and tie it in two different ways around my body to cover my girl parts and at the same time tie my skirt around my leg so it turned into some strange form of pants. This is how I walked down the hill. I was wearing my beautiful peach colored, Navajo-inspired, Goodwill-rejected skirt/now pants and I knew my mom would be upset if I had to throw it out. After all she had been pretty clear in letting me know she didn't want me representing America in a piece of fabric this...glorious.

**A picture courtesy of another girl, capturing the sense of community that surrounds such a tragedy**

So when we got back to our hotel room we gradually untied the thousand knots that had been formed in my outfit along the way and discovered that, in fact, there was no rip in my skirt. What the girl had seen was the slit for my pocket and when I felt behind me I had actually put my hand down my skirt. Is there any better way to end a story this ridiculous? I don't think so.

So Sunday we drove all the way back to Marrakesh and made it back home by 4. At about 5 I layed down for a nap and woke up this morning at 7. So 14 hours of good sleep to recover from 4 incredible days.

Clothing Culture Shock

So about two days ago Nadia, Khadija and Sumiyah decided to dress Liz and I up in their traditional outfits for formal events. Apparently there are different things you have to wear to different things according to how fancy the event is (similar to a formal compared to a semi formal dress). So we're doing our final project on the different kinds of dress. Here's a pretty good idea of all the things we dressed up in:

**This is the one piece dress that would be more for parties or semi-formal things. These range from about $250 on up**

**This is the two piece dress that they would wear for much more formal events and they're much more expensive as well. This would be our equivalent to a ball gown. They wear them to weddings and such.**

**This is another set of outfits on all of us (Nadia, me, Liz) that are a mixture of the one and two piece ones.**

**These are the outfits they wear in the more southern areas. They're all one piece of fabric and they do certain dances in them. This is us pretending we know how to do the dances.**

**This is the Berber headdress that Khadija wore at her wedding. She gave us the honor of putting it on us in the like 12 different pieces. She said that every culture has a way of wearing jewelry and this is theirs. All of it is real metal (silver or gold) and it's been passed down through her family for many generations. It looks really obscure but it's beautiful in its own way."

"At every moment, God appears in a different form"

Last night we ate cake for dinner.
This is my kinda country.

Mom I thought you would like this- when we have Arabic class, sometimes there is an English class right next to us that we can hear. Pretty sure it's for younger kids cause they teach them kids songs to practice their English. Anyways, the other day we were sitting in class and they started singing the "All you hungry children, come and eat it up" song. I told my class I knew what it was but all I could remember was "Wednesday...ZZZOUUUUUPPP!"

Some cool things about free speech/tolerance:
- A long time ago when the city was being built they purposefully built the Christian church and Islamic mosque across the street from eachother to promote tolerance between the religions
- We saw a protest (something I was pretty sure I wouldn't see before I came). Apparently the government is trying to get rid of this shanty town right outside the city walls so the people who live in the shanty town were protesting the project. Thought it was great that they have the right to assembly.

This was all towards the beginning of the trip but the same time we saw the protest we saw a funeral procession. It's traditional to wash the body near the family's home and then walk/bike/drive to the cemetary. So through the middle of these busy CRAZY streets there was a steady stream of processors walking towards the cemetary. It was quite a sight to see with all the modes of transportation involved.

Blombi!

Yesterday we had normal classes in the morning and then Liz and I went shopping in the medina with Ja'afar (one of our leaders- he's actually Portugese but he used to live in Morocco and somehow knows our other instructors). He's a master at bargaining and knows exactly how to do it. If you're going to make a purchase you basically have to get to know the shop owner first so that he doesn't rip you off. Liz bought a rug and it took probably over an hour (which included talk about the shop owner's recent marriage and sitting down for some tea). Between the two of us we only bought 8 things but it took FIVE HOURS. We were so exhausted when we got home.

Nadia had class from 2-8 last night so we had to eat dinner with just our homestay mom, Khadija (the name of Mohammad's first wife, FYI). See Khadija doesn't speak any English...except "sorry" which we learned when Hiba ripped up a piece of lettuce and through it all over the carpet/my feet. Anyways, yesterday in class we learned words for different occupations. Everyday we come home and just recite random words that we learned in class that day so that we can have some level of communication with our mom. WELL, we were going over things like "good morning" and "congratulations" when all of the sudden I remembered one of our new words so I said excitedly, "BLOMBI!"... which means "plumber". Khadija was kinda thrown for a loop when I said that and then neither Liz nor I could think of any other words for occupations so we left her hanging awkwardly with "plumber" as the last word. Later we told Nadia and asked her to explain the whole thing to her mom and the two of them were crying laughing over it. Just another funny language-barrier story.

Nadia's favorite thing to get me to say is "Ana Maghrabia, wuhead, zhosh, cleta" which means "I'm Moroccan, one, two, three." As if my ability to count to three justifies the statement that I'm indeed Moroccan.

Tonight we're having a singing/dancing performance at the ALC where we get to bring our homestay families and take pictures and have fun. Hopefully I'll be able to get pictures of my whole family up (though I've only seen my homestay dad for a total of 30 seconds so far and Hallad (my brother) is scared to talk to us).

Filing this one away

Not much has happened since my last post except that we had classes and lunch with our homestay yesterday. Last night Liz and I took a walk around Marrakech with our three sisters. Nadia and I had Hiba between us as we walked down the streets. The girls like to sing slow English songs so they can understand the words and sing along. So at twilight we walked through parks and streets together singing the Beatles. Just a memory that I think will stick with me for a long time.

Still loving it here.

Pictograph O My Life Right Now

Woo pictures are up!

The other day we took an afternoon to visit a school that was unbelievable. The walls were engraved completely with verses from the Qu'ran and completely hand done mosaic walls.

**Idea of what we dress like here and how big the school was**

**Close up on the engraving that was all around the school. One person would go around with a stencil and put it up against the wall, blow coal dust on it, and leave it for the apprentices to come around and carve out the coal dusted areas.**

**Close up on the Qu'ran scriptures. This one says "The kingdom belongs to God" and another band at the top says, "True honor belongs to God."**

**Close up of the mosaics around the bottom-each mosaic is handcarved!**

The same day we saw a huge "pool" that used to be used to teach the army how to swim. Now it'd filled with carp that you can feed.

**Some sweet carp eating the bread we threw to it.**

**Whole group in front of the "pool"**

We've also had plenty of time to walk around and see the Jamalfana (the huge market) where they sell pretty much anything you can imagine from spices to slippers to lingerie to lanterns to suitcases to oranges.

**Pretty good idea of the outside of the Jamalfana**

**Shoe/slipper shop in the market.**

**Some awesome lanterns in a shop**

Yesterday we took an entire day to travel up one of the mountains to see the Tenmil mosque. It was incredible and we had to use our headscarves for the first time. I'm starting to understand the headscarf thing. Nadia told us that it's basically giving yourself up to God. The girls that wear the full veils (mouths and nose too) are pretty much saving their beauty for God. Also...just to point it out...it has become very clear to me during my stay so far that women are not subservient in this society. They consciously choose to cover their heads and/or mouths or not to. It's a choice that each woman makes for herself. I have met older women who wear nothing and young girls who cover themselves completely.

**Tinmil mosque**

**Some of us in our scarves lookin fly.**

"My second home"

Pictures are coming soon I promise! I took 160 in the first two days. Just practicing for my photojournalism emphasis. Also, the woodworking here still has me in awe. So I take pictures of it anywhere I see it. My roommate, Liz, has finally gotten better so she's back in action. Guess she didn't have swine flu like we all thought.

I passed out the gifts I'd brought for the family and realized that I didn't really have anything for a girl my own age. Luckily I'd brought a Glamour magazine on the plane and gave it to Nadia and she loved it. At night, Nadia, Liz and I sit up and talk like we're old friends. It's very eye opening that someone so incredibly different from us is actually fundamentally the same.

I've started to finally learn some Arabic phrases. Since my homestay mother doesn't speak any English at all I can't communicate with her. Yesterday on the way home from school Nadia taught me how to say "one two three" so when we got home I ran into the kitchen and said "wuhead, zhoosh, cleta!!!" and she laughed and clapped and kissed me. Her mother and I talked (through Nadia) last night about the government in the US. What I've gathered from both that conversation and the Intercultural Dialogue class is that people are excited Obama is in office simply because he's not Bush. I really don't fit with either side of the political spectrum but when I asked what they're looking forward to in Obama's term(s), Nadia admitted that she didn't really know and that she just jumped on the bandwagon. Her mother mentioned all the things he promised. Guess his public speaking skills really helped out globally. For the sake of America and the rest of the world, I really hope he manages to pass the political final with flying colors. I also really hope that our government doesn't continue to disappoint the world with our decisions. Not sure if that's really possible if we keep our own interest first. A direct (translated) quote from her mother was, "What Bush did to the world was worse than what the terrorists did." When I asked her about it she mentioned "the wars and the massacres."

Something else I've picked up from learning my basic Arabic is that Moroccans aren't afraid at all to include religion connotations in everything they do and say. It would be easy to say that this is because they're all Muslims but that's actually not true at all. They have a very prominent Jewish population. The ALC is actually right across the street from a synagogue. Anyways, for example, instead of saying, "This food is great!" they would say, "May God bless you for your great food." And instead of saying, "Please" they would say, "May God keep you safe." Also, when a beggar comes up to you and asks for money you must respond, "May God provide for you." In America this is all very taboo and if someone you didn't know were to mention God in a conversation you would be turned off. Interesting, nonetheless.

On one of our first days here the Haaj (someone considered a leader because they have made the haaj to Mecca) came to welcome us to Morocco. Translated, what he said was, "We welcome you, our brothers and sisters, to your second home, Morocco." That is the greatest welcome I have ever received. These people have a level of hospitality that is something I have never experienced in the states. They love to sit and talk and learn with you. Nadia and her mom ask questions constantly about our life in America. They are never quick to judge and will explain anything about their religion or customs that we ask about. Nadia even said she was going to dress Liz and I up in her formal robes and take pictures of us in their incredible guest room. She's going to teach us how to properly wrap our heads too. We're pathetic at it.

One problem with their level of hospitality is that they won't tell us when we're being rude! They know we don't mean to be rude but they refuse to correct us so we just have to copy what they do. They all eat from the center dish but give us plates because "we know how you Americans like your plates." We asked if we should take off our shoes when we step on the carpet and all they say is, "As you like, as you like." So now we just follow what they do and they seem to appreciate it for the most part.

Can't wait til I can get the pictures up- they describe everything so much better than I do!

Moroccan Keyboard... struggle

Im here in my beautiful Moroccan home and cant seem to find the apostrophe on this Moroccan computer. Its bad enough the A and Q and W and M are all mixed up. My stay has continued to be incredible and I will definitely be bringing back some tea. Other good news: I found a softer pillow. Victory. The food is still amazing and i still LOVE my family. Ive learned to count to three and to say goodnight and good evening and thank you. Not bad for no background in Arabic. We have an Intercltural Dialogue class where we literally sit with Moroccans in class and discuss controversial issues. VERY eyeopening. Ill write more later on a computer that doesnt force me to type like my father.

Yep...still alive.

So the first post was from last night. I have to wait to the mornings to make posts cause there is no internet in my house. Well, there is but it's not Wifi. I got to sleep last night! Sweet victory. My mattress(es) are hard. Like rock hard. LUCKILY I like hard mattresses. But UNFORTUNATELY they must have bought the mattresses and the pillows as a packaged deal. OR they ran out of pillows and put pillowcases on sacks of sand. Either way...you get the picture.

**Pushing as hard as possible on my pillow...you can see my wrist bending**

We learned some new things about the culture today:
-Kiss twice on the cheek- right cheek first then left (to avoid extreme awkwardness)
-Don't kiss/hug/maintain eye contact with someone of the opposite sex ever
-Barraka Allahu Fik = thank you
- a welcoming tradition is to serve you a milk/rose water mixture with dates


More to come.

Alive in Morocco!

After arriving at the airport 4 hours early, taking an 8.5 hour flight to Paris, having a 4 hour layover in Paris, taking a 3.5 hour flight to Casablanca and a 4 hour bus ride to Marrakesh… I HAVE ARRIVED!!!

**View of Paris from the plane**

And hence begins my month long study abroad to Morocco. I’m here to learn about Islam and Arabic, both of which I’ve already been fully immersed in. And it turns out when I thought I would look both ignorant and out of place if I didn’t know any Arabic…I was right! Two people in my “family” speak English but other than that I just sit and smile and nod.

Traveling here wasn’t much of a pain but until I went to bed I had been up for about 32 hours straight. Jet lag and I are already in a fight.

We’ll be staying the entire time with our homestay families. Mine consists of our “host”, 19 year old Nadia (said nah-jia) who speaks fluent English (LUCKILY!), her 2 sisters ages 17 and 2, and her 2 brothers ages 15 and 11 months. As soon as we came in the 2 year old girl ran over to me for me to pick her up. We’re gonna be best friends I can already tell. Aside from the 2 year old, all the women of my family cover their heads until bed time. I asked Nadia about it and she said that it’s a personal decision and some people put off covering it until they are married but most people of the faith choose to start covering their heads when they enter high school. Speaking of homestay- this villa is UNBELIEVABLE. Picture “Moroccan” and that’s what it looks like.

**My villa! So homey and wonderful!**

The ceilings all have intricate henna-like carvings, there are multi-colored glass chandeliers in a few of the rooms, and the walls in my room are tiled with brown designs. I even have a mattress this summer!

**My beloved mattress!!!...and the rest of my room**

**Close up on the ceilings carvings in our guest room**

They have a room called the “guest room” but instead of it being where a guest sleeps it’s just where they have company over. The room is shaped like an L and has about a 2’ couch running around the perimeter of the entire thing.

**Our guest room- the couches continues around the parts of the room you can't see**

They have rod iron gates that are, again, intricately designed and run around a small garden in their backyard. Dinner was ready for us when we got “home” and it was delicious. We were told that one boy managed to gain 30 lbs in one summer here on study abroad and I’m starting to believe it. We had chicken legs that literally fell off the bone in a tangy orange sauce with peas and carrots and lima beans on top of it, served with a side of something between what looked like beets and Thanksgiving cranberry sauce that had mayonnaise on top. Looked weird. Tasted weird. But I’m here for the experience right?

The ALC (American Language Center- my school for the month) has Wifi so I should be able to update pretty frequently. Hope all is well!

2016...bring it on.

I got to see Ashley one more time before I head out to Morocco next week! WOO!
So in our final meeting, we got to talking about having kids. Since daughters like her have aspirations and stuff she decided she needs to make partner before poppin em out. Which means she'll be 33. Which in my mind means I have until I'm 28 to have a kid and name it either Austin (my future maiden name) or Reid ( Mom's maiden name). Guess I always thought since she's the oldest she'd get first pick of names. LUCKILY us dud children (ok...child in my case) have no aspirations and nothing better to do with our lives but reproduce. So dear Ashley puts a restriction on my child bearing.

Here are the rules:

1. You must be married before you have the kid
2. The father of the child must be the husband
3. You must know the father of the child (kinda redundant but important nonetheless)
4. You must have an ultrasound as proof that you're preggers before you call the name

Not only does she obviously have high expectations for me, but this sounds very similar to waiting to call "shotgun" til you can see the car. And that's probably cause it is.

Let the games begin!