Brad Paisley made me cry (boy or girl?)

May 16th

So this was the big day--time to find out if this little baby was really a boy, as I have been dreaming day and night, or if it was a girl. Frank for some reason thought it was a girl, an idea which I did not encourage or humor in any way, as he can attest. We both felt so confident (although I'm sure I was more confident) that he even posed a very small bet to me. Whoever "guesses" (knows) correctly, gets to choose baby's first outfit before we come home for the first time, as a family. I agreed, assuring Frank that I'd still let him help me pick out our little boy's outfit, even after it was medically confirmed that I've been right for an entire 4 months.

I did not entirely relieve myself of my tutoring schedule on this day, and would have to make a couple of appointments in the area of the Dr.'s office two or so hours after the big ultrasound. To avoid Frank having to stick around and do nothing while I worked with my students, we drove separate cars to the tutoring center, and then I hopped in with him, and we were off.

But not before Brad Paisley made me cry.

I have been hearing this song for months, smiling madly each time it plays in whole or in part. I'd picture my little boy drawing on my walls or telling me he loved me for the first time and just smiiiiile, smile, smile.

But today...this day, this song made me so afraid that I was wrong--that I'd be having an adorable, latina-looking, dinosaur-loving girl instead--that I cried when I tried to sing along with it. I realized that not only had I totally sold myself on wanting a stinky little boy, but I was completely unprepared for the alternative. I had never seriously considered the idea that it was truly only a 50/50 shot. I was so excited and anxious that I just kept driving, hopeful and terrified, silently leaking tears until the final chords rang out.

SPOILER ALERT: IT'S A BOY!

This, is Theodore. Theo. My son.

No, those are not warts on his face, those are his little baby finger tips. Apparently, ultrasound can look through all kinds of things. He also has his mouth open, and that's his little tongue sticking out. That's daddy's nose, and my chin. He should be a lot plushier when he comes out all screaming and beautiful, but this was definitely my favorite picture of the batch, and I wanted to share it.

It was kind of funny when the Sonographer (apparently not just a tech) was telling us what he was--it went like this:

Lady: Well, that's pretty easy to see

One of us: Um..what is?

Lady: You're having a little boy. He's not shy at all--look he's got his legs wide open!

Me: (Slapping Frank's arm) AHHHH I TOLD(")YOU IT WAS A BOY(")!!!

Frank kind of had the reaction I think I may have had if he had been a girl (minus overt sobbing)--he was a bit taken aback, and had to process for a few minutes before getting really excited and yelling in the parking lot.

We called our parents and siblings and friends and squealed over how many of us (women) were right all along. My dad in particular had braced himself for another girl in the family, after having a peak of four women living in his house with no masculine reprieve for all of these years. I firmly believe he just didn't want to get his hopes up--but here's how the call to him sounded:

Me: Hiiii Daaaad

Dad: Hiiii Carrrr

Me: Soooo, we just had our ultrasound...and I don't want you to be disappointed but...iiiit's aaa BOOYYYY!!!

Dad: Wooow...Well, ya proved me wrong, I thought for sure it'd be 'like mother, like daughter', and you'd have all girls.

Me: Nope, it's definitely a boy.

Dad: All riiiight! Now I got someone to go fishin' with--enough with this girl stuff!

Me: Haha, you earned it, Dad.

The whole thing was awesome--not only to have great feedback about how he was growing, but to be spot on right with my intuition. They say all mothers have it, and it's stronger than most forces on this earth. Such conviction is a bit scary, because it's so impossible to ignore, but truth be told, if you can't ignore something, you obviously shouldn't. Heretofore--I like it. Gives me a feeling of natural preparedness--that even if I can't read every scrap of useful information out there, I'll still know what to do for my little Theo when the time comes.

This is truly becoming a richer experience by the day, and I realize now how people can so easily forget about (or pony up for) morning sickness and all this other crap for second, third and fourth children. I'm still just focusing on this one, but...I'm just saying.

Aaaand I'm sobbing again. Some Youtube idiot did something adorable to the end of this song, and now my keyboard is all wet. At least I cry over good stuff sometimes.

Mother's Day

Frank is the SWEETEST! I woke up on Mother's day to this spread out on our dining room table:

For those of you who can't quite make out the crayon--here's a better look:

My first thought was--AWWWWW.
My second thought was--well at least we caught the dyslexia early.
My third thought was--dang--this must've happened while I was sleeping! Well done Frank...well done.

The day was beautiful and sunny--we went to church, and then made our way downtown to Canton Dockside for a half-dozen crabs on the deck! YAY!!

Fun fact: If you're pregnant, you can eat crab, just don't eat the mustard. If you don't know what "mustard" is, then you clearly aren't worried about eating Maryland crabs anyway.

What sunny Maryland afternoon is complete without some Ritas! That was our next, impromptu stop, as we listened to the Orioles struggle through a game (but eventually win!) on the radio. After-effects here:

He bleeds orange too--GO O's!

So we made it home, and I had to work on a special, secret project--results of which I can show you in about 3 months. While I did, Frank whipped up a special dinner "a la" when we first met--Scallops with this delicious homemade balsamic sauce, topped with corn and cherry tomatoes--my favorite Frankie dish! (I only got a picture of it after I ate most of it, and it didn't look great, so just use your imagination.)

It was really nice to be treated special on Mother's day. I can't really say I was expecting much, if anything until Frank tipped me off during the week, but I'm very thankful that he was thoughtful enough to do everything he did. By the way, here's my belly, starting to pop!

What I really think after almost five months of being pregnant, is that if you're making daily, hourly decisions based on the well-being of your child--guess what? No one else is doing that. And after your kid is born, what are you doing day in and day out, but the same exact thing? As soon as you start taking those conscious actions, you are a mother, and anyone who says differently has never been where you've been. If it counts outside your body, it should count double inside--you feed it, keep it warm, talk to it, hold it, and love it just as much, whether you're throwing up at four weeks, or happily holding your baby in your arms at fourty-four weeks. That's how moms work.

Fellas--buy your lady some flowers, and say you're sorry that you get to stay the same size. Tell her she's beautiful. Admit to being relieved you don't ever have to give birth. Kiss her belly and say hi to your kid. Thank her for farting in the other room. It doesn't have to be anything crazy, but since she's already a Mom, there's no reason you can't already be a Dad, and the three of you can't already be a family. You're so much more important than you realize to the equation, even now.

Happy Mother's Day.