Drumroll, please....

As I laid there on the ultrasound table yesterday, the technician asked one more time, "Now... do you want to know the gender of your baby?"

"Yes! We definitely do!"

And my first reaction when she told me was:

"Oh, boy!"

which was anything but appropriate, because...



Images of lacy socks and hairbows and tea parties and ballet recitals cascaded through my mind as I let the news sink in.

I looked over at Drew, who just had a goofy huge grin on his face.

"You're having a sister, buddy!"

More smiles and giggles as he peered up at the grainy black and white image bouncing around on the computer monitor.

The tech left the room a few minutes later to go get the doctor, and I sat up.

"Hey, Drew! We should go to the mall so you can pick out a special present for the baby... now that you know it's a girl."

"YES!" he was thrilled with the idea. "Let's think of what we're going to go get the baby, o.k.?"

He sat down on the floor in serious thought. Then, his eyes brightened and he exclaimed, "I KNOW! I know what to get for the baby! We should get her a TIARA!"

I didn't even know he knew what the word meant. But it was the sweetest thought I'd ever heard, so you know that is exactly what we did after we left our appointment.

We walked into the Disney store in search of the perfect tiara for our little princess.

And that is when I had my first moments of panic. Because the Disney store offered us no less than 8 different choices in royal hair adornments for little girls. And each was offered alongside a princess dress, princess shoes, a wand, a purse, lip gloss and various other accessories.

What in the world are we in for? was the thought going through my mind.

But all that escaped from my lips was a barely audible, "Oh boy! I mean... girl!"



SO, congratulations to more than half of you for getting it right. The winner of the contest, by random selection:

True Random Number Generator

Min: 1
Max: 11
Result: 3

I think it would be so fun if you had a girl. I've got a 50/50 shot, but have NO idea.

Have any instincts?

Love the soldier story. So sweet!

May 22, 2009 2:11 PM

Danielle M

(*Side note and disclaimer. Danielle is The Design Girl, my very talented & creative blog designer. And despite her attempts to bribe me into letting her know the answer beforehand, she honestly just got it right and happened to be chosen by random.org. Now, if she figured out how to bribe the random number generator people, she's even more talented & creative than I have given her credit for! Congrats - and thanks for the awesome new header and "It's a Girl" image!)

The Teaser

Just so you know... the baby was very cooperative today.

We know!!!!!!!!!!

And we'll tell you all about it tomorrow! See you then!

The List Is Growing Longer...

(You still have a few more days to cast your vote in the contest HERE. Our big announcement will hopefully be made on Friday morning!)

Things that make four-year old boys scream at the top of their lungs:

1. Four shots at the 4-yr old check-up
2. Getting hair cut with Daddy
3. Dogs
4. Pull-Ups


Now, the first item on the list needs no explanation (but you can read this if you want one).

But haircuts and DOGS??? We own a 120 lb yellow lab. What kind of dog could possibly scare a child who owns a dog the size of a small horse? Another labrador retriever, of course.

And the same haircut outing he's always taken with his daddy to the same haircut place? This time, the visit evoked a hysterical breakdown.

Finally, it appears that my son's desire to wear "big boy underwear" to bed has taken over any rational thought process. Because when I went to put on his nighttime pull-ups the other night, you would have thought I'd entered the room with... well 4 shots, a big dog and some hair-cutting scissors.

It's just a stage... this too shall pass.
It's just a stage... this too shall pass.
It's just a stage... this too shall pass.

Wanna Play?

Hey! I've decided to have a contest. We find out next week (May 28) whether or not I'll be pulling out all our blue onesies, or whether we'll be shopping for a little bit of pink.

Leave a comment and tell me if you think we're having a boy or a girl. It's that simple. The contest will be open for ONE WEEK - and if the little one cooperates, I'll reveal the results next Friday (May 29).

Everyone who guesses correctly will be put into a random drawing for one of the following little prizes:

If it's GIRL: this book by Sheila Walsh
"Gigi, God's Little Princess"


If it's a BOY: this book by Sheila Walsh
"Will, God's Mighty Warrior"



And just a quick sidenote about mighty warriors... As Drew and I were leaving a sandwich shop this afternoon, we ran into 3 soldiers. My son stopped dead in his tracks and just stood there looking up at them, mouth hanging open in pure wonder. I smiled at those boys (who couldn't have been a day over 19 years old) and explained that my child wanted to be a soldier, too, when he grows up.

(I know - that's a whole blog post in itself.)

But those men stepped out of line and knelt down to talk to him, then one of them ran out to his car... in the RAIN... and brought in a rubber camo bracelet and a camo lanyard for my boy to wear.

As we got into the car, I talked to Drew about how brave and strong those men are, (and thought to myself how brave and strong their mommies are). God bless them today, for making my son's day.

So...ANYWAY...

Is it a Mighty Warrior or a Little Princess? I can't wait to hear what you think!

A Rainy Day

Apparently he's been making observations and drawing conclusions over his short little life.

Because this morning, when Drew awoke and stumbled sleepily into the living room, the pounding rain and rumbling thunder stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Hey! It's supposed to be bright and sunny outside!"

I was amused. "You're right, buddy. We haven't seen this kind of weather in a while, have we?"

"No. We do live in Florida, after all," he replied.

I was tickled by his assumptions and continued to think about his comments as I drove (with windshield wipers on High) to school this morning.

Even though I love the sunshine, I am more than willing to sacrifice the warm rays for this overcast day.

Our grass is parched and brown. The city's watering restrictions (one day a week, and only in the middle of the night) are being enforced with heavy fines. We are in critical need of some rain. And it's falling in glorious amounts this morning.

When you know how much you need something, you are more willing to accept (and be grateful for) what it takes to meet that need.

I can't help but notice, though, how much my own assumptions about life mimic my child's view of the weather this morning.

"Hey - it's supposed to be bright and sunny! This isn't supposed to be so hard! What's with the rain?"

My (incorrect) assumptions can partly be attributed to the fact that I am blessed BEYOND MEASURE with many bright, sunshine-y days. I tend to take them for granted.

But when the rain comes, and I am reminded to grab the umbrella of His protection, I'm put in a position where I must trust that He'll use it to bring new life, restoration, growth.

My Ears Are Still Ringing

I'm offering some unsolicited advice today. Free of charge. You're welcome.

Never, EVER, put a four-year-old child in a position where they feel like it's necessary to scream at the top of their lungs.

At four years of age, children have a large lung-capacity and strong vocal chords.

It is loud and embarassing and a downright painful experience for everyone involved.

Any child confronted with the reality that they're about to get four shots at their four-year-old checkup... well, they're bound to feel like they need to somehow vocalize their objection.

And it may seem like the longest 3-4 minutes of your life when you have to hold them still during the process and calm them down afterward.

I will say that the promise of stickers and donuts seems to have a calming effect.

(For both the grown-up and the preschooler).

Well, That Was Sooner Than I Had Hoped...

Remember when I shared (in this post) that pretty soon, we'd be having conversations about curfews and car insurance with our Drew?

I had no idea that we'd really have to have those conversations so soon.

I had no idea, either, that he'd ride his bicycle directly into a parked car.

A new Mercedes.

In our next door neighbor's driveway.

He wasn't very concerned about the car, but the broken light on his little Huffy caused him a great amount of angst.

Daddy, on the other hand, suffered what appeared to be a minor heart attack as the bike collided with the shiny black automobile.

After apologizing to our neighbors' visiting dinner guests (and offering to pay to fix the damages), we put Drew to bed an hour early.

Yep, curfews and car insurance.

And a few more gray hairs.

Domestic Support

Before we said our "I Do"'s (almost eleven years ago!!!), my husband and I read through a book called "His Needs, Her Needs" by Willard F. Harley, Jr as part of our pre-marital counseling. It basically laid out the definitions of the top things a husband needs from his wife and those things that the wife needs from a relationship with her husband.

After completing the exercises in the back of the book, I learned that one of my husband's top five "needs" from me was defined as "Domestic Support". Basically, a clean and orderly house. A well-maintained and peaceful environment to come home to after a long day at work.

Poor guy.

I'm just not the Domestically Supportive type. Not in my natural state, that is. It takes effort and an unselfish mindset and good planning and attention to detail to keep a home in order. It takes a desire to want to be the wife my husband needs me to be MORE THAN I want to do whatever pleases me. Oh boy...

Over nearly eleven years of marriage, I have learned that it's atually worth it to show my husband this type of sacrificial love. Listen, if I was a neat freak myself, it would cost me nothing to keep our home tidy. But I'm not. So, every time I unload the dishwasher or make the bed with hospital corners or scrub the kitchen sink, it is only because I know how much it will mean to him.

Most of the time, I fall woefully short in this manner of support. Which is why I was extra-excited to stumble upon a new (to me, only... I take it) blog. Simple Mom is everything I'm not, but a lot of things I aspire to be. And I've joined her party:



And I'm purchasing her e-book today.

And I'm going to do a little Spring Cleaning this week.

Because nothin' says lovin' like a sparkly clean toilet bowl...

It's a Scientific Fact (at least, I think I remember reading that somewhere...)

I feel a little bit like I'm losing my mind this week. You can't imagine how grateful I was, then, that I stumbled upon this article today.

Several years ago, researchers in London discovered that the pregnant woman's brain actually shrinks during pregnancy. It typically returns to it's normal size about 6 months after the baby is delivered.

Hmmm... I really AM losing my mind.

This might explain why:

A. Four hours after picking Drew up from school on Monday I FINALLY remembered that I was supposed to bring the entire week's worth of snacks for his class in that morning. Good thing it's late in the year. The teacher was able to put together a hodge-podge of leftovers from previous weeks to tame the tummies of 13 hungry tots for a day.

B. I found it oddly fascinating this morning while we sat in carline that all the other children seemed to be dressed so nicely. Hmmm... wonder what's going on? It took another five minutes of pondering to finally remember (though I'd had a conversation with Drew about it YESTERDAY) that today was class picture day. I turned around and looked at my son in his bright yellow Naval Academy t-shirt and unbrushed hair and thought, "At least we'll be able to pick him out in the picture."

C. I scheduled an appointment for the pest control man to come to the house tomorrow morning between 8am and 10am. I neglected to recall that tomorrow morning is "Muffins with Mom" at school - same time... totally different place. Daddy's now on Waiting-For-Terminix duty because I couldn't convince him that "Muffins with Mom" would, of course, love to embrace one Daddy tomorrow.

This pattern suggests that the 8% of brain power I've lost is all coming from the "Good Mom Who Is Informed About And Participates In All Her Son's School Functions" lobe.

Good thing we only have 10 days left of school before summer. The break should give me some time to recapture some of those missing cells before I send him back in the Fall.

(Wait a minute... what did I do with those Pre-K registration forms???)

Four Going on Fourteen

My baby boy turned four years old last week.

He got some money from his grandparents and cousins.

We went to the mall. He bought himself a cell phone.

Lightning McQueen. Red and blue checkered. Plays cool music.

He ignored me for the rest of the outing while he chatted with imaginary friends and made his weekend plans with conversations like, "Yeah. Yeah. Oh sure. Uh huh. OK, see you then."

This morning, I helped him select the perfect outfit for school. When he was dressed, I commented on how cute he looked.

"Mom............ don't say 'CUTE'!!!"

"I'm sorry, what word would you like me to use?"

"AWESOME!"

"Well, then, buddy. You look AWESOME!"

At this rate, our next conversation is going to be about curfews and car insurance.

Perhaps I can convince him to walk around with bricks in his backpack... slow down this "growing up" stuff a little. He may just go for it.

I'll give him a call.