Of Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman in possession of two wild and vigorous boys, must be in want of a girl.  Upon hearing that I was expecting, nearly everyone I know said something to the effect of, "Oooh!  Maybe you'll finally get a girl this time!"  I was even asked if we were "trying for our girl" in a way that suggested that no woman in her right mind would intentionally have three children for any other reason.

Shocking as it may be, however, I have really been hoping for another boy.  I love my boys.  I love the way they play.  I love their clothes.  I love their toys.  I love their wrestling, and their wild running, and their obsession with cars and trains and sticks and dirt.  And how could more of that not be a great idea?

Plus, I felt like having a girl would mean a big identity change for me--from a mother of boys to a mother of boys and girls.  And I really just tend to prefer the familiar.

As it turns out, however, all of my well-intentioned well-wishers got their wish.  This spring, Asher and Simon will become the proud owners of a little sister.  To console myself after my ultrasound, I went out and bought some thick, fuzzy, blanket sleepers that were girly, but not baby pink.  Since then, I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about ruffles and tiny cardigans and little warm tights.  I'm feeling much better already.  And maybe, with two older brothers, this little girly burrito will like trains and sticks and wrestling too.