Today I found out that I am going to have a boy. I had known I was going to have a second child for months, of course, but today we bypassed any notion of waiting until July for the surprise of it all. We just wanted to find out. And it’s going to be a boy.
A Boy is Good
First of all, I am happy it’s a boy. Mostly because I’m a man who likes balance in my life. One boy and one girl provides nice balance, like vanilla and chocolate. I’m also happy because most of my friends with children have girls too. Having a boy will offer a nice change of pace to all the dollhouses, tea parties, kitchenettes, and princess outfits.
I want it to be clear that I would have been totally fine with another girl though. Honest! I know everyone expects me to be doing backflips over this news—Important Note: I can’t do backflips—but it’s just not the case. I am happy, but not overly so. But having a boy does open a door onto a world of new challenges. Not the least of which concerns the eternal debate:
Pink Vs. Blue
Girls like pink and boys like blue. There is no debating this! After all, the entire world reminds me of this over and over again, everywhere I go. Audrey has a girl’s potty book with the line, “I really love hot pink!” in it, for criminy’s sake. And Homer Simpson, American icon that he is, ended up in a mental institution with a white guy who sang like Michael Jackson when he wore a pink shirt to work. Girls might be allowed to enjoy a nice cool blue, but they’re certainly expected to like pink more. And boys definitely can’t be caught sharing pink’s loving warmth without their masculinity being called into question.
The point is that pink and blue matter, no matter what you think.
It’s funny to me that one of my first thoughts upon being told that I was going to have a boy was that we’ll have to replace the pink curtains in Audrey’s room. You see, Audrey and the thus far nameless second will be sharing a bedroom later this year. And right now Audrey’s room is pretty pink. Not overly so—the walls are yellow and the furniture is white—but the curtains certainly are, resulting in a room awash in girly light when it’s sunny out. I know it’s not a problem for a son of mine to sleep in such a place, and I’m about as un-macho as you can get, but those pink curtains popped in my head right away nevertheless.
Funny how that happens.
I Don’t Want to Get Peed On
My second major thought was just as unexpected as the first: I don’t want to get peed on.
Let me explain.
As I said earlier, most of my friends have girls. The few that have boys, however, always seem to mention the challenge they present on the changing table. “They’ll pee on you,” they’ll say, which makes total sense anatomically speaking. I don’t like to get peed on, however. No one does, I know, but I am not the best about spills and messes, especially of this type. So the thought of being blasted by my son six times a day does not appeal to me. In fact, the paranoia has already begun to set in.
I heard about these things called Pee-Pee Teepees, which are pretty much exactly what they sound like. One thing I didn’t expect is that they’d have all sorts of designs on them, like monkeys, weiner dogs (get it?), and even golf clubs. I dunno. If the kid is just going to pee on it, I don’t need it to entertain me. This is business, people. Let’s be professional about it. Regardless of their look, however, I heard that these things seem to fall off quite a bit. After all, kids don’t lie flat on the changing table, and unless you superglue the things to the kid’s bits—NOT ADVISED—they’re going to fall off.
Regardless, I’m going to have to do more research here. Good thing I have five more months to think about it.
As if We Didn’t Have Enough Stuff Already
Audrey is swimming in toys. We don’t have enough room for them either. Her stuffed animals are spilling out of their basket. Her bookshelves are overflowing. Her cubby holes are crammed full. All available spots on the living room floor are occupied with rocking horses, bite-sized furniture, and wheeled toys of all shapes and sizes. This is what it’s like with one child. Now I’m having another.
And his toys are going to be different too.
Oh sure, he can play with a lot of her toys. He’ll like crayons, books, xylophones, small furniture, puzzles, and balls. No problem. But we all know that as kids get older their tastes diverge. He’ll start wanting toys with muscles and guns and flame decals. She’ll start wanting toys with festive bows and eyelashes. And I’ll be stuck in the middle, picking all of it up at the end of day.
As much as I just groused about being buried under piles of beeping and booping children’s toys, however, I am frankly excited about being able to play with my son’s toys. Not to say I don’t enjoy playing with my daughter, but I grew up with Transformers, G.I. Joe, and Star Wars. The odds of being able to play with something similar to what I loved so long ago just increased dramatically, and I’m a little excited about that.
Two Versus One
My last thought is one of numbers. I am one person. My daughter is one person. Even! My daughter and my son are two people, however. Uneven! And not in my favor either. My mind has already begun crafting scenarios in which I am helpless and hopeless in the face of two of these little monsters. I mean, I’m exhausted at the end of one day with Audrey. What will two do to me?
The second kiddo is also going to screw up my routine. After all, every one of life’s changes takes some adjustment. When Audrey was born, and when my wife went back to work, our entire routine was blown out of the water. It took months to settle into a new one. Now, with a second kid, the routine’s about to change yet again, and the adjustment will likely take even longer.
It won’t be easy, but I’ll get through it. I might have to buy new curtains, but I’ll get through it. I might get peed in the face six times a day, but I will get through it. I might even have to buy a new house to hold all the new toys coming our way, but dammit I’ll get through that too! No matter what happens, I’ll get through it. Somehow.