It's official. Well, as official as it can be at 12 weeks. We had our perinatology ultrasound (read top o' the line machine) on Monday at 12w3d and what would appear to be danglies in the form of a 3mm pixelated penis were in plain view for all to see. That's right kids, it would appear that we are adding yet another Y-chromosome to our household which brings the tally to: boys -3, good guys-2 (Yeah, I'm counting the cats because otherwise it's 2-1 and that's lonesome for a sister.) I'll admit that I had my 2 minutes of gender disappointment while all the dreams of princess outfits and tutus flew out the window, but, I was elated to hear that we had a very, very healthy little man growing bigger by the day in my ever expanding buddha belly. Now, it's still early and there's a small possibility that things may end up on the opposite end of the gender spectrum, but lets not get our hopes up people. The other residents of our testosterone-laden abode are pumped to be adding another to the club allowed in the man-rage. Will could only be happer if we'd picked from his list of possible names including Nick, Levi, or Tristan, but he got over it when we reminded him of his master plan to change his name to Levi when he 1)turns 18, and 2) has $100. I don't know if he's been researching this online or what, but he's pretty sure those are the only requirements for the name change.
He's been a trooper all through this baby-mania, but had his first lightbulb moment while waiting for his parent-teacher conference to start on Tuesday. We're sitting in the tiny chairs (as if I didn't already feel like the fat guy in a little coat) outside his classroom waiting for our turn. I was fresh from the gym in my 'sweet' workout sweats since I didn't get the memo that apparently moms and dads dress to the nines for these things. He was sitting quietly next to me trying not to draw attention to his sweaty, hobo excuse for a mom. As we ate our bananas (another faux paus in the hall at a school...who knew), we were chatting about the ultrasound and how it was a boy and his name, yada, yada, yada. He quits chewing, turns to me with his cheeks all chipmunked out with banana, and only spits a little of this tasty treat on my already embarassing outfit while saying, 'wait, a minute. I'm not going to be the only child anymore. Whaaaaaat?" Needless to say that my assurances that he was the FIRST child and would always be the OLDEST child who had us all to himself for years before the others, fell on dead ears. It was only after I solemnly pinky swore that Nana Joyce would continue to spoil him and that he'd get to do a host of things the baby would be too small to do that he came around...a little. I still think he's excited, he's just beginning to scheme and lock down certain promises and 'that's not how we do its' as a form of 6 year old, self preservation. It's pretty cute.
It's also pretty cute when I can do anything crazy and he's like, 'Is that the baby doing that?' "Is the baby making you eat my french fries, mama?" "Is the baby making you eat another piece of cake?" "Is the baby making you not go to the gym to do your exercises anymore?" He's like my own little guilty conscience, following me around reminding me that I'm only supposed to eat 300 extra calories a day and exercise is not a form of devil worship. A-freaking-dorable, I tell ya. Just don't try to blame all the yucky side effects of parasitism/pregnancy on the baby when your hubby is around. He doesn't buy it that all the yummy GI side effects are the baby 'burping' and promptly calls you out on it which makes the 6 year old look at you with squinty eyes wondering what else the baby 'isn't doing' to you. FYI, when he looks at you like this, it's like he has the two fingers pointing at his eyes, then at you, then at his eyes, and then at you as if to signal "I'm watching you crazytown."
On a closing note, it's funny the inappropriate things that fly out of previously distinguished and quasi-normal peoples mouthes after you tell them you're sporting a tri-pod. One is funny, one is not PG-13, but it didn't come out of my mouth, I'm simply re-typing it so you can try to imagine the look on my face when this was said to me. My fave two were:
1: Next time your husband acts up, tell him this. "Watch it mister, I have just as many balls as you do now."
2: It's kind of like the first time you had sex, huh? There's a cock in you and you're not getting anything out of the deal! (Followed by an insane cackle/laugh and then she just walked away as if she'd just congratulated me and moved on...It was sooooooo weird.)
On that note, I'm off to eat more fruit (awesome) to fend off my Little Debbie cravings. By the way, this is not a good plan and I don't suggest that you try it if your goal isn't to gain 60 lbs in 9 months.
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