on having a son

My whole Mom experience has been filled with princesses, pink, and pretty things. I’ve watched a little girl twirl in “ballerinas” and point to her fancy shoes fishing for a compliment. I learned how to make pig tails with tufts of hair so tiny that it took immense concentration to actually loop the elastic around four times tight. I sought out purple and pink sippy cups and I’ve dug through bins of pastel socks at BJs. I decorated a big girl room that my ohmygodabouttobeTHREE year old daughter adores. I listen to the sounds of her playing quietly; bossing around her stuffed animals, teaching Ariel to swim, reading books under a blanket on her bed. I smile when she says things like “we make soup tonight mommy, I need to look in my book and see what we need.” (the recipe) I sit by quietly while she sings the ABC song solo and I join in when she asks me to be a little teapot. I tell her stories about Princess Caroline and her many adventures. I have dreams of recitals, goals during her chosen sport’s games, party dresses, sharing secrets over steamed vanilla milk at Starbucks. I’ve been reading Queen Bees and Wanna Bes and wow, I don’t think I will ever be prepared for 6th grade, but I still feel that I am prepared to take on the challenge of having a girl.

A boy. My first “this is going to be entirely different” moment, the first diaper change. How not to get sprayed in the face? How to appropriately clean the area when it involves lifting and pushing aside and ??? He’s working on a bit of a rash, which I feel completely responsible for because of my complete incompetence at changing him well and quickly initially. There was just so much to think about! His behind, his area, the circumcision?!? I find myself surrounded by blue things, puppies, sports themed attire, adorable masculine blankets and instead of shirking away from it, I am embracing it.

During a nearly three hour “I’m wide awake, entertain me!” stint the other night, I was not annoyed in the least to be up with him. I was sick, blowing my nose and sanitizing my hands on repeat. I would have much preferred to have been asleep, but he was up and just looking for attention and I happily gave it to him. I sang to him. I played with his fingers. I pumped his little feet. I told him stories. I shared my dreams and hopes for his life. Be healthy always. Be happy more than you are sad. Be anything you want to be. Be yourself.

I’ve already said how anxious I was to have a second and find the space in my heart for him to occupy. I can honestly say that I loved him instantly and recklessly, with my whole being. He does not feel like a stranger to me, but like someone I have always known and though I am post partum and emotional given all that is happening, I look at him and talk to him and tears of happiness just spring to my eyes because was there ever a more amazing creature than my little Connor? How can I be so lucky in this life to be blessed with this twofold? I’ll learn all about boys in time and I think I’m going to enjoy it just as much as I have loved learning all about the fairies of Pixie Hollow. Whatever it is that makes their eyes widen and their excitement overflow is where I want to be.


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