I am shocked, disgusted, appalled, and so on at the number of people who see me out in public with my healthy and (in my opinion) beautiful little boys and ask, "When are you trying for a girl?" It isn't always worded as such. There are many different versions of the offense, but the wording is hardly what matters, and the message is the same. You're a woman, and therefore you must need a girl. Hey, idiots, that's offensive! Particularly since my kids are right there, you know, hearing you.
I have, to date, refrained from telling these people... well, women, actually. It's always women - mostly moms. So I've refrained from telling these women that I prayed like heck both pregnancies not to have a girl because that may be offensive to some parents of girls. I have nothing against girls, by the way, except that I was one and pretty much sucked from ages 12-22. If you ask some of my ex-boyfriends I'm sure the age extends beyond that, but that's another discussion altogether. I also have a strong distaste for pretty much everything that says "princess," and while pink is okay here & there, a room of it makes me want to have a seizure or gouge my eyes out.
What's odd is that I enjoy girly pursuits - those that I can enjoy with women my own age, anyway. Pedicures, wine, shopping, cocktails, shoe shopping, wine & cocktails, chick flicks with wine & cocktails and my personal favorite - people watching with a large dose of judging & mockery, preferably with cocktails. But waiting for the days when I could enjoy such things with a daughter while getting stuck playing My Little Pony (Yes, I'm old, but they are back), Barbies or whatever other horrific toy the marketing geniuses at Mattel have decided to foist on the female public would cause me to lose my freaking mind.
Boys are awesome. I spent 45 minutes today throwing a plush football to my kid as his skidded across the carpet in various painful positions trying to catch it. I spend at least and hour each day wrestling and/or arranging green army men in any variety of combat scenarios. Best of all, my kids never point out pretty things to me. God help me, pretty was my first word, but apparently it was Christmastime and my dad kept talking about the tree using the adjective. So whatever. My kids play in the mud, kick stuff and are fascinated with anything that has wheels. Some girls have these qualities, like I did when I spent hours at my dad's workbench using a hacksaw to see the different insides of golf balls, but there are no guarantees.
Let's not forget the teenage years, people. There is nothing more frightening than a teenage girl, except one who is texting behind the wheel. Then there's the hours it takes them to get ready, the phone, and boys. I guess that last one kind of goes against my point...
Anywho, I didn't want girls. I don't say it out loud because I have Nieces whom I love and they may get the wrong impression. My friends with girls may be offended, but I think their girls are awesome, in no small part because they live with them and not me. So I wouldn't "try for a girl" even with your uterus, and I only wanted two kids. I can only handle two kids, and my life is good with my two kids. I have tried to keep the details of my fertility problems to myself thus far, but pretty soon will begin firing out comments about how I am lucky to have any kids at all & wouldn't have looked a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe I'll just do what I always should have done, and tell them they're idiots who should mind their own damn business.
Or perhaps I'll get a good closeup of my husband's vasectomy scars and share that in line at the grocery store. That would shut pretty much anyone up.
