When I first started this blog, it was to record some of the craziness that goes along with raising three boys. In order to survive, it takes a lot of patience, wine, and humor. Well, yesterday I found out that I’m going to need a lot more patience, wine, and humor because next spring we are going to have another boy to survive. That’s right, four boys under age six in one house! I’m in trouble.
When I first told people that I was pregnant again, aside from people wondering if I was crazy, most people told me they were hoping I’d finally get a girl. There was a lot of talk about a little girl with three older brothers and how protected and such a princess she’d be. My in-laws even began looking up Irish girl names the night before we opened the envelope with the sex of the baby in it (we saved it for Christmas morning). People assumed this fourth one had to be a girl because I already had three boys and I just had to have a little girl. I felt like people were worried for me incase I didn’t get that little girl. I even felt like the ultra sound tech was trying to prep me for the let down of it being another boy without actually telling me the sex of the baby. The thing that most people didn’t seem to get is, I didn’t want a little girl.
Sure, when I got pregnant with my first child, I wouldn’t have minded a little girl, but I just wanted a healthy baby, which I got. With my second child, I would have loved a girl so I could have one of each, but I wasn’t disappointed to have another boy. By the time I had two boys, I had kind of decided that I was meant to be the mom of boys, it just seemed to work for me, so I wasn’t surprised that the third was a boy. It was around that time that I decided that I kind of wanted four boys, even though my husband didn’t want more kids. I thought maybe later we would adopt another boy. I had this picture in my head of all my teenage boys, taller than me, but still my babies, hanging around our house with all their equally large friends, raiding my fridge, causing chaos, and me smacking them up the backside of the head when they burped or made a disgusting remark. Sure we would have to shop 3 times a week at Costco and still never have food, there would be dirty, smelly socks everywhere, and I’d have to go back to work just to pay for shoes for their constantly growing feet, but was my idea of an ideal future.
What all the people who were wishing a girl for me didn’t seem to get was that the idea of a daughter terrified me. I’m 37 years old, I have three boys already, raising boys is an old hat to me, I know what I’m doing (sort of). Introducing a daughter to our family right now would throw us into complete chaos (I mean, more than the everyday chaos here). I wouldn’t know what to do with a little girl. I know my husband would refuse to change her diapers because of “all the folds down there” so he won’t know what to do. We would need different clothes and different toys. Plus, I have two nieces, one who is in third grade and already acts like a teenager, I don’t need all that drama, that’s what my oldest son is for. In my house we are all about fart jokes, superheroes, and playing rough. A little girl would never survive in our house and I’m too old to start over and learn a new way to parent. So I was secretly praying for a fourth boy and when we opened that envelope on Christmas morning, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
So now I just need to prep for a little more chaos come this spring. I’ll have to stock up on wine, take yoga classes, and practice smiling through the craziness, but I will survive my four boys, even if my furniture doesn’t.