Today was the big day.  The gender reveal.  I didn't know what to wish for (well other than a healthy baby). Not that I have any control over the results anyway...so what's the point in wishing!  Nevertheless, I did. But my wishing went back and forth.

First of all,  my natural inclination is to always wish for a girl. I get girls.  They do things I like to do.  They get excited about Target.  And dresses.  And pretty things.  I get the way they think and I relate with how they play because I did the same things as a kid.  Tea parties, and playing school, crafts, cooking, dressing up, pretending to be a princess, and basically anything girly and pink.  I get all of this.  And plus, when they are babies, they are like my own personal dolls in which I get to dress and accessorize them any which way I want.  (Unfortunately this phase is very short lived and the rest of the time I mourn the fact that Chloe won't wear the beautiful dresses in her closet and instead chooses to wear costume skirts over jeggings. But I digress....)

On the other hand, I realized that it was rather selfish of me to wish for another girl, after all I do have 2.  I think *almost every girl wishes for at least 1 daughter, and I think *almost every man wishes for at least 1 son.  So I did also wish for a boy, probably for Don's sake more than my own.  Now I probably sound like a horrible person for saying this, and dear future son, I hope you are not offended, because I am sure I wouldn't trade you for all the girls in the world,  but you will soon learn a few things about me. 1. I am the most unathletic person you will ever come into contact with in your life.  2. I know next to nothing about football.  3.  I only wear pants on special occasions, the occasion being I am feeling very, very skinny.  4. I hate video games.  5. I don't like action movies or any comic book characters.  6. I don't understand dog piles.  Or wrestling.  Or contests that try to prove who is the toughest or the person with the least common sense.  7.  I don't like dirt. Or bugs.  Or camping.  Or making fires.  Good grief, I don't even like science experiments.  In conclusion, your Mother is probably the least qualified woman on the planet to be entrusted with a boy.  But here we are, you and I.  And I suppose that none of the above reasons will matter because I am banking on the fact that my love for you will overpower all of the things that do not come naturally for me.

I will tell you that all along I knew you were a boy.  It's easy to say that in hindsight, but honestly, I was 95% sure you were a boy.  And I was right, like always. Oh, that's another thing about me.  I am always right.  (The problem is, so is your Dad.) Anecdotally, this pregnancy has been different than your older sisters.  You have made me a lot less sick.  (thank you).  I hardly even threw up.  But tired and for longer.  (But that's hard to remember too.  It seems like I have been more tired).  And I just had that feeling you were a boy.  Let the record show your Dad thought you were a girl.  So I was not surprised when the ultrasound tech said, "boy!"

I am still trying to wrap my head around this.  I am a little terrified.  I've never been great with the unknown.  And I will probably still dress you in all my newborn dresses in private, because to be honest,  I am mourning a little that I don't get to pull those out again.  So here is the beginning to a new adventure.  And a change to our family dynamic.  For so long everything has been pink around here.  And it will be strange to visit the blue toy aisles in Target.  Oh crap. Now we are NEVER going to be able to get out of that store.