Well, it’s official. You are baby boy dumplings! I guess you both knew that already. I actually had a feeling you were going to be two boys. I don’t know why. Call it a mother’s intuition.
Your Daddy is excited you are both healthy and active. Boy are you active. He seems to think he is better with girls names than boys names, so he is slightly bummed there will be no girl to select this go round. Plus, whenever you have a child of the same sex — you are, of course, excited — but at the same time you know at some point in your life this child will claim to hate you, if only for a moment. Girls go through it with Moms — just ask your Grandma Kay about when I was 16. Boys go through it with Dads. After the phase is over, as the kid, you eventually give in to the fact that you are just like your same sex parent in more ways than you will ever care to admit … until you’re over 40. Then you embrace it. Or you start drinking more.
I can’t promise you won’t go through a phase where I embarrass the living daylights out of you. It runs in my family. If I start buying strange hats, just call me Louise. If I start randomly dancing around the living room, just call me Kay.
As long and as hard as we had to work to get to me being 16 weeks and 3 days pregnant — you could be a couple of baby kangaroos and we’d be ready with two swaddling blankets the minute you popped out. I’m glad you’re not kangaroos, since that would be strange, but you get the idea. I’m so happy you’re healthy and kicking and making me nauseous every single day.
Every. Single. Day.
Your Daddy reminded me that we have a few more kiddos on ice with Dr. K (eight to be exact), so perhaps you have a little sister in there somewhere. Or not. I’ll be honest, if I don’t get to the glowing honeymoon phase of this pregnancy, I might never want to do this again. Everyone tells me I’ll forget all of it the minute I hold both of you. I hold on to that thought while chewing every miserable bite of food.
Some people seem worried that I won’t know what to do with boys, being an only girl child. I’m here to tell you not to worry. I’ve never been that girly. I’ve gone three days without a shower in the wilderness.
I may not know how to keep score with the card and a pencil at the baseball game (yet). I’ll admit I am easily bored watching sports for hours on end, but I do love football and the Dallas Cowboys. I know what a flea flicker is. I know all about the Final Four. The four major tennis tournaments. The Stanley Cup. The Indy 500. The Kentucky Derby. The Preakness. The Belmont Stakes … I’ve been to Belmont many, many times. I’ve been to the Rose Bowl … twice. The picture at the top of this post is your Grandpa Roy and me at the 2011 Rose Bowl. TCU beat the Wisconsin Badgers 21 to 19.
Now I will admit, you’ll have a lot more fun watching any sporting event with your Daddy, because he knows everything. He should have been a sportscaster. He’s full of random sports trivia and his enthusiasm is infectious.
Now, let me tell you where I come in.
Skiing? I know how to snow ski. I have been an intermediate skier since I was about 11 years old, and I have no desire to get any better than that because I hate to go fast. It’s the control freak in me. I’ll make sure you learn how to ski, while your Daddy is sitting at the bottom of the hill cheering us on. (He has bad knees.)
Snowboarding? You’re on your own.
Camping? Your Mama knows how to pitch a tent. I know how to make all kinds of meals in foil over a campfire or on a charcoal grill. Stick with me and we’ll camp in the great outdoors. Your Daddy will take you to Camp Hyatt.
Fishing? Your Mama knows how to bait a hook and throw a line. I’m not afraid of worms or grasshoppers. Consider me your fishing coach. Daddy will probably join us here, since he did fish with his Aunt Sharie … though I’m not sure about how he’ll do with the grasshoppers.
Video Games? I used to work for a video game network called G4. I can still play a pretty mean game of Pac Man, but 1982 is about as far as I go. Unless you count Zuma Blitz on Facebook. Your Daddy plays backgammon against the computer. Exciting, I know.
You don’t need video games any way. We’re going camping.
Yoga? Yes. All good little boys do yoga. It’s an excellent way to meet girls.
I’ll admit, I am excited to have a couple of Mama’s boys. If you love me like your Daddy loves your Grandma Wilcox, I’ll be one lucky Mama.
I already feel like I won the lottery.
And in the end, if you are interested in none of these things … well, you’ll just have to teach us all about it. We love you already; whatever your passions turn out to be. Provided they’re legal and not weird.
You’re obviously going to be hanging out together non-stop for the next couple of decades. I never had any siblings, so I think you’re pretty lucky to have each other right from the start. I hope you become best friends and you always stick together. Support each other. Love each other. Be there for each other.
I know you’re only slightly bigger than a Haas Avocado — but can you promise me that?