Oh Boy.

Well, it's been over a month - I suppose it's about time I blogged about it:  Oh boy!  It's a boy!

The ultrasound tech circled it, in case I wasn't sure.
Indeed, it's a little penis.

I would be remiss if I didn't admit that this was a bit of a culture shock for me and my estrogen-filled world (no wonder Diane, the sonographer, put a circle around his scrotum - I'm sure the look on my face was one of confusion).  It was much like the Sex and the City episode where Miranda "fakes" her ultrasound (anyone?) as Diane might've well as told me I was having a Wookie or a Vulcan or a three-headed wildebeest.  Ya.  That was kindof how I felt.  Shocked, and confused.  A boy?

I mean, at our house princesses and hairbows abound; strollers and babies are tripped over daily; we currently have two larger-than-Tanner "paper princess dolls" set up in our living room.  We ARE pink.  And now...well, we're not gonna be as much (I'm not deluded enough to think he'll survive without more than a few tea parties, princess parades, or jewelry extravaganzas).  A quick tally of my baby toys reveals that I have quite a few non-gender-specific 0-6 month playthings, but after that?  Well, it's a pink, pink world, my little man.

Dude, you're already cute.  I'm sure you'll look just as good in hairbows.

Perhaps it is faux pas to say, but with each of the girls I was pretty ambivalent about this being-in-love-with-my-baby stuff until they were here, flesh and blood, and in my arms.  In fact, I had a full-on MELTDOWN the night before Ellery was born, terrified beyond belief at what I had "done" to Tanner by giving her a sibling - I was convinced that baby #2 was the biggest mistake I had ever made.  As a good friend told me then (and what I now know), what a shame it would've been to NOT give her a sister, a playmate, a little person to boss around, share secrets with, grow up with, love.  Watching Tanner and Ellery talk and play together (especially when they don't know I'm watching) is one of my greatest joys - so.flipping.CUTE (and adorable and funny and awesome and any other word you can think of).  Nothing is capable of warming my heart as much as that.

For some reason, though, I feel socially compelled to be waaaaay more excited about having a boy than I've ever been about having a baby before.  I understand it to a certain extent - I mean, John has a perma-grin on his face about this masculine development.  The other day he looked at me and said "sometimes I just think about the fact that we're having a boy and just SMILE I'm so excited!  Don't you?"  Um...er....sure.  Of course.   I'm happy our baby is healthy.  I'm okay with the mostly-gender-neutral nursery we already have established.  Admittedly, I'm disappointed in the complete and total lack of super-cute summer baby boy clothes, but I'm sure once he gets here I'll think he looks cute and handsome in just about anything I throw on his body. 

But excited?  Nah.  There's no way I'm EVER going to be excited about gaining weight, expanding my hips, and growing OUT of previously full-term maternity clothes when I'm only 25 weeks along.  This, my friends, is not exciting, it's pregnancy, and - call me a motherhood deviant - I've never been one to embrace it all that much.  The fact that I survive it without hurting someone, offing myself, or getting a divorce is a testament to my kind, loving, and patient husband who weathers the hormonal storm with as much grace as any one man should ever have to muster. :)
 
So, even if I have to "fake the ultrasound" or feign the "hoorahs" every time someone gleefully exclaims "yay!  It's a boy!  Aren't you SO excited???," I can say this with deepest sincerity:  Hurliboy, welcome to our family.  We can't wait to meet you, and I promise I won't let your oldest sister give you as many raspberries in person as she does now (Tanner's favorite "trick" right now is to give my belly raspberries, and she vows to continue this once he is outside of my belly.  She told me the other day, "I don't plan on stopping, Mommy.")  Additionally, I promise not to let your middle sister put you in a stroller and ram you into a wall (as Ellery currently does with babies now.  When I told her "oh no!  That hurts the baby - do you hear her crying?  Don't you want to pick up the baby and love her when she's hurt?" Ellery looked at me, stone-eyed and said "Nope.")  Lastly, I promise to not let either of them smother you with their love, because you have some of the best, most loving, big sisters on the planet.  And for the record, despite what those two tell you, your mom and dad aren't too shabby either :)

I mean, we're pretty sure it's a penis, right?  Ack! :)

Grow safe and healthy, little man!  See you in June! :)