I remember the day I saw the little turtle shape on the ultra sound screen the surprise that skipped into my heart. I am having a boy, a boy, wait I have no idea what to do with a boy. I come from a female dominated society, I was raised in a estrogen overloaded household, we even had all female animals growing up, wait maybe I think the turtle was a dude...anyway, most of my surroundings as I ventured into adulthood were female monopolized. In college I lived in a house with 60 other girls, and my life following that, sans my husband, has been pretty pink. Now my pink was to be dotted with blue, and come to find out not just dotted someone was about to splash a whole lotta blue on this damsel. My son was born with ease and he captured my heart the moment I met him. It was weird, it was like he was the missing part that I had been waiting for but didn't know I was missing. I learned how to work with the different set of tools that were located in the diapered region. I got peed on, walls got peed on, clothes got peed on, I am pretty sure everyone was inducted into the urine hall of fame by time he was 2 months old. As he grew I realized quickly that raised a boy is far different from raising a girl, even a girl like Havely who is a tomboy at heart. She used to play with things, pick them up set them down, move onto the next. He scoops things with fury, slams them down with a vengeance, or just tossed them across the room to move onto his next kill. I sit and watch this with amazement. I feel like Jane Goodall just staring in amazement at this creature and his activity. I am in awe, but slightly afraid of his behavior, while at the same time I love it and it makes me smile wide. I am excited for new adventures to see how he acts and to watch his lack of grace that my daughter displays. My family always comments on how expressive he is and how he is full of energy and fun, I couldn't agree more. While he is outgoing and very expressive, he is also so caring and loyal that he has me totally captured. Early mornings on the weekends, we cuddle on the couch cloaked with a blanket and we sit and read. He pushes his back deep into my chest and fits his soft curls right in the crook of my neck and we go through story by story, usually never reaching the end of any of them, because he is eager to move to the next. Then once he is fully awake and usually ready to eat, the energy is fully recharged and he is ready to expend it all. The other night we had just finished dinner and I was in the kitchen observing him through the opening like a sit com that was my life. He was holding cars above his head and running in circles with them clutched as far in the air as his arms could reach. He was also making his own sound effects as he danced about, some screams, manly of course, I heard grrr, groans, and some grunts. And then without regard he suddenly flipped the cars into the air, and came running into the kitchen toward me. He stopped short of me with a jolt, and posed with his hands like claws, one arm posed above his tipped head, the other jutting out from his crotch and grrrred at me with gust, then quickly re morphed to a different position and grrrred again even louder. I stood and stared at him in amazement trying not to snicker, and once he was off again, I let loose, and told myself, this is it, this is boy, this is raging testosterone, and your house is stuffed with it. I delight in the fact that my home is a blue and pink yin-yang. We are loaded with macho, balanced with dainty. But within the swirls are the dots, the men have their soft side, and us girls can certainly hang with the boys. A boy is trust with dirt on it's face, beauty with a cut on it's finger, wisdom with bubble gum in it's hair, and the hope of the future with a frog in it's pocket. wonder. dream. play. explore. find. discover. And I love it. 01.18.12
