I had my 12 week ultrasound yesterday (but at 14 weeks because the scheduler apparently cannot do math). Anyway, everything looked pretty good. Except for that penis she saw. Even I could see it. I could hear God taunting me as I gazed at it in horror. Some people will tell you they don't care what they have "as long as it's healthy." I will tell you that I do NOT want to have a boy.
As everyone knows, I don't really like small children, period. A lot of people find that offensive and wonder why I then had children (Ironically, these are the same people who got all worked up 15 years ago when I told people I did not want to have children. I guess some people are never happy.) To me, it's very understandable why I had children, I honestly think it's the same reason anyone has children, so they can one day have GROWN children. Or at least children who do not have a tantrum when you explain to them it is physically impossible for them to sleep in a shoebox.
To me, boys are the distillation of early childhood in its most potent form. Now, I know there are vast differences in individual children, and I have known little boys who are quite civilized and little girls who would put the fear of God into Kim Jong Il. Some people think good parenting makes the difference, but they flatter themselves. I am convinced that nature accounts for at least 75% of the equation, which is terrifying to consider, because it largely turns things into a crap shoot. And I think when one has a little boy, they are more likely to lose out on that crap shoot, at least if they cherish their possessions, their sedentary lifestyle, and their sanity, as I do very deeply. Little boys are the reason why there are products to lock down every object in your home that moves, opens, slides, or electrocutes (none of which I have yet to purchase for my little girl). They are the reason a bottle of Tylenol can't be opened without power tools. They are probably the reason so many lawyers in this country are so rich and why there are disclaimers on things as seemingly harmless as a fitted sheet warning of sure death and destruction if not kept out of the hands of children. In short, they scare the living crap out of me, and I want no part of them.
Unfortunately, I am going to have to get over this, unless I plan to be an even worse mother to this child than I am to Charlotte, which I really can't afford. I mean, when girls go bad, they just tell you they hate you and maybe have a child out of wedlock, which is bad enough, but when boys go bad, they shoot up a school. I have had many helpful friends encourage me by telling me how much they love their little boys and how there are many good things about little boys. Of course, none of these friends are as lazy and pessimistic as I am, but I did find their words heartening. However, to combat my bad attitude, I am going to have to find reasons of my own that are relevant to me and my own life. So, I am going to start now by listing the benefits I might reap from a son.
First of all, and this is a big one, probably the top one--Now that I am having a boy, my cankles are really irrelevant. No one cares if guys have cankles, in fact, it makes them appear more sturdy. My dad has cankles, which he generously gave to both his daughters, and I don't think he has ever agonized over which shoes might make them less noticeable (incidentally, it is a wedge, in case you are wondering). Of course, now my weak jaw, plus autism and psychopathy, are bigger worries than they would be for a girl, but I really don't think anything can trump cankles on a girl.
Secondly, my son may destroy my house, but at least he should leave me alone. I don't think you can simultaneously destroy a house and cling to someone's legs demanding that they hold you like Charlotte does all day, every day. I might even willingly sacrifice some of my Africa Crap for an hour to myself. Of course, this assumes Charlotte eventually grows out of her current preference for living in symbiotic relationship with my lap. My worst nightmare is that she will not, AND I will have a boy destroying everything I own. I can just see myself attempting to run after the boy as he impales himself on a giraffe sculpture while Charlotte desperately affixes herself to my leg. But I think she will have to get over it if she wants to live to see adulthood, which she may not, quite honestly. She gives every impression of wanting to stay an infant forever or to die trying.
In addition, I think I can also use a son to make my husband do more work. For instance, he has never allowed Charlotte to see him in any state of undress, because he thinks it will scar her for life. I think I can make the case that the same is true for a boy child and his mother, which will necessitate Kevin blocking out an hour every day so that I may shower and dress alone in order not to scar our son. Also, it should make him more supportive when I inevitably give up breast feeding. He may actually beg me not to ever breast feed, so when the nazis come after me, I can just blame it on him. That would be pretty awesome.
Next, although having a boy will necessitate I buy a bunch more baby clothes--which will cost money I could have spent on someone really important, myself--I find boy clothes so uninspiring, it's doubtful I will be tempted to buy many of them. It's really the same with men's clothes. Buy three polo shirts in different colors, khakis and a pair of jeans and you should be good for the next 20 years. And even then the only thing that will change is the khakis will probably go back to being pleated instead of flat front. If you saved your pair from the early 1990's, you still won't have to buy anything new, at least until we go all space-age and start wearing Star Trek uniforms.
Choosing a name should also be easier, since there are really like 10 guy names. Put David, Michael, William, Alex, Ryan, Brian, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John in a hat and just draw a name. It's really that simple. And boring, but let's stay focused on the positive side of things.
Lastly, for today anyway, boy decor will probably go better in our spare room, the ceiling of which is slanted and painted blue already for an eventual sky motif. If it was a girl, I was going to have to do something really radical, like combine pink with blue. I am not sure the baby decor world could handle that.
Wow, I'm already feeling better. Not really, but I've got 6 more months to work on it. Worst comes to worst, I'll fly in my former boss, Jerry, who can always be counted on to spout an endless stream of annoying yet mysteriously penetrating optimism.