One may have thought that I had done enough good deeds in between Graham’s birth and this pregnancy to out-do any bad karma I may have had coming my way. Saying I would leave all boy-babies on the hillside back in my college days is definitely worthy of karma sending me one boy. But I’ve done good by this boy. And I feel like I’ve done lots of other good deeds that would allow karma to smile down on me. Well dear friends, apparently I have not. Thing 2 is Baby BOY Harding.
When I went to the ultrasound, I asked the technician to cut to the chase. “Yes, I know we’re here to find out that my baby is healthy. Yes, I want a healthy baby. But first, I want to know the gender. Now,” I demanded. She looked slightly shocked, then waved the little wand over my belly. And not being modest, Thing 2 showed us HIS stuff. The technician didn’t even have to tell me. A tear rolled down my face. I couldn’t help it. Then I pulled myself together and pushed aside my dreams of pigtails, and bloomers, and all things pink.
That is, until we got to the next step in the Baby-Gender-Revealing-Process. As we did with Graham, the new tradition (if you can call doing something once a tradition), is to reveal to my family the gender of the baby by purchasing the going-home outfit. We then gather the family around and allow one of my parents to open the package. So, inevitably, we went clothes shopping after our doctor’s appointment. Which is when I shed my second tear. Bypassing the adorable rose-hued smocked cardigan and winter-white cap with knitted bow, I begrudgingly selected a light blue romper and striped onesie. Here we go again.
OK, enough is enough. This is the last time you will hear any despairing remarks about Thing 2 and his boy-ness. I am thrilled that my first son will have a life-long playmate. I look forward to the days when we can go as a family to soccer games and karate class to watch our boys engage in activities together, rather than splitting up into boy-girl teams to conquer the children’s engagements. But man… that mother-daughter trip to the nail salon sure would have been fun.
P.S. And no, this does NOT mean we are having a third. Just thought I’d get that out there.