IT'S A.....

BOY. 

Well, it's official. God wants me to grow old alone and spend my days judging other peoples' daughters who will think they are good enough for one of my THREE flipping sons. If it's not already a little evident, I'll admit it- I'm a teensy, or maybe just a substantial amount more than teensy, bit bummed. Despite making it very clear that I've always wanted a daughter, I struggled with the idea of sharing my real feelings with you all tonight. I could have, and maybe, should have, announced it here with smiley faces and exclamation marks and thanked the lord for blessing me with another healthy little bundle of joy- and then gone on to remark on  how close the three of them will be and how lucky they'll be to have one another, and believe me, I WANT to feel this way, and to a certain extent, honestly, I promise, I do.

I would be remiss not to thank God, or the universe, or past life me, or whomever, for the fact that all of the necessary limbs and other important bits and pieces were just as they should be and that my little guy was bouncing around in there, waving his little fetus-y hand at us and impressing the boys with full on body revolutions for the ultrasound technician. I tried desperately to put those thoughts of "maybe it was a mistake" or "maybe it's a small, surgically removable tail," out of my clouded head so that I could fully appreciate the little miracle that was showing off for his new family, but, they were still there, whether I wanted them to be or not, and so, I thought, in the end, it's only fair to you all that I be honest, because, these days, everyone is so PC, "I just want it to be healthy" phony bologna, that I thought I would speak out for all of us mothers-of-three-or-more-of-the-same, and say: 

IT'S OK. It's OK to be a little bummed out for a short while. It doesn't make you a bad person and it does NOT, by any means what-so-ever, mean that you will not L-O-V-E this little person with every molecule in your body and thank God for it every single night, as it lays there peacefully sleeping amidst the wreckage of blocks, and super hero action figures and disgustingly detailed insect books.

So, that's it. Part of me keeps rationalizing and wanting to be super practical by convincing the rest of myself that this boy will be so much less expensive than a girl. After all, the walls are blue, I've still got all of my nursery bedding and rugs, and....who am I kidding???? This kid, if he ever gets a hold of this post, will need sufficient evidence that I loved him every bit as much as his dastardly brothers, so naturally, he'll need all new stuff. Right? Right??? And I am already planning his manly little nursery- that means I'm excited. Right??

OK- so it may be a total, fantasy, never-going-to-happen nursery, because it involves things like this super cool, super expensive, wood-stained Ouef Sparrow Crib: 

Sparrow Crib, $730

So, that one may not be happening, buuuuuuut, if I can convince the hubs that wallpaper is not the devil, I may just get away with one wall covered in this:

source

What do you think?? Ridiculous? Whatever, I don't care. I earned myself a little bit of ridiculous this week. Oh yeah, did I mention that I poured searing hot liquid on my chest and I have nasty, fleshy, second degree burns on both my giant, ugly maternity boobs and will have to refrain from exposing my chest pretty much for the rest of the summer? Not that anyone wanted to see what I've got going on right now, in a swim suit anyways, but, yeah, moral of the story: I deserve the freakin' whales.