That's the typical Hollywood depiction of how you find out what you're having. And in real life, it may very well be like that too. Although ours was more like...
"Are you sure you want to know?"
"Because there are two extra identical genetic markers in every cell."
"I'd still like to know."
"Just to let you know, we are having meetings like crazy to try and figure out what you're looking at here, because quite frankly we've never seen anything like this before, but the odds of this pregnancy surviving are very slim and even if it does.... well, you might want to consider... well, you know. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Fire away."
"Ok... (deep sigh, long pause)... it's a boy." (In case you're reading this aloud, and really getting into the theatrics of the moment, the last part was said with an almost apologetic tone. Try it. There you go. Bravo! Oscar for you!)
So later, oh say between weeks 18-26 before all hell broke loose again, when people asked "Are you excited it's a boy?!" I'd honestly just reply, "We're hoping he's healthy and beautifully average."
It wasn't until much, much, much later (say, after he was born and the x-rays and kyrotype came back in good shape, and I'd examined every nook and cranny of him myself) that I even allowed myself to think... "Boy, hmmm, boy?? Does it matter?" And, quite frankly, to me it didn't.
Well, that is to say, for the most part it didn't matter... unless I was shopping for clothes for him. And, as the mom of a boy, you realize that 80% of all baby clothing is created for girls. It's pink. With ribbons. And little leggings. And flowers. And cute little matching bows and shoes. Hooooo-ly crap! It's nuts! And for your little bouncing boy, madame, we have a lovely blue onesie. Would you like that with a truck or a baseball bat on it? That's it. A truck or a bat. Actually, I guess, I'm being a little harsh, sometimes they really get crazy and make a few outfits that look like fatigues. Those are green.
But I have to say, in all honesty, that the whole boy/girl thing hasn't really hit yet. I mean sure he's messy. But what baby isn't, right? The other weekend my husband was pointing out that Kacey's (the little girl whose parents we were having a delightful lunch with) outfit looked immaculate and, well, Dashell's was a little worse for wear. Below, Exhibit A...
But let's all be honest, at this age it's really all about the mommy's, right?
Is it that Diana is much more attentive in regards to Kacey's general hygiene and appearance, and that maybe (let's think of a good excuse for me), I just concern myself with other things? Like, say, the situation in the Middle East. But, then what does that say about me as a mom?? Not much, right?! So, let's not envision me concerning myself with that. (Besides, I know as much about that, as I do which size knitting needles you should use to knit a scarf.)
Or is it that mom's of girls are more attentive in regards to their daughter's appearance. Feast your eyes on Exhibit B...(and of course revisit Exhibit A image 1)
I've never done the bib-for-crawling-around thing (see Exhibit A) and I realized after going to a few playgroups that it's not just a mommy-with-girl thing. So, maybe it wouldn't matter if I had a boy or a girl. Maybe any child of mine is just destined to look like a vagrant.
I don't know what the answer is. But, definitely don't forget to check back in a few months when he gets into some real dirt! Until then I'll think about maybe carrying around a few more wipes and bibs. But, come on, he's a boy, right?! Mess 'n' mayhem, in one little irresistible package.
This weekend Dash conned the innocent and beautiful Taline into helping him pull off a devilish Tupperware heist...
And a smug little smile for his cohort in crime.