I have three children. They’re all three girls. I am pleased with this. I would have been just as pleased with three boys. Or two boys and a girl. Or two girls and a boy. I don’t care about their gender.
So when I was pregnant with my second, and then third child and had to answer “Do you know the gender?” it occasionally got awkward. Because some people respond to the idea that I have all girls poorly. And it makes me want to scream. Here’s the rudest shit I’ve been told. … And how I should have responded. If I wasn’t so good at biting my tongue. (haha)
Awww… You Can Try Again!
Try what? Go ahead. Try saying it out loud and not feel bad about yourself. Try for a boy? Why? When you say that, you’re implying we failed in some way. Our goal was healthy baby. Look at my giant ass belly. Success. Now eff right off.
And what if I can’t “just try again”? The freakin’ nerve to just assume this conception, pregnancy and delivery were all just a slice of pie. It’s almost as much as the nerve it takes to assume I want to have more kids. When we all know damned good and well that the same a-holes who say this to you are the same a-holes who say “You know how those are made, right?” when you have more than the number of children they think you should have.
Just because you can see my pregnant belly, does not mean it’s an invitation to comment on my reproductive habits.
Doesn’t Your Husband want a Boy?
First, this is really none of anyone’s business. He actually may have (casually) wanted a boy, but we have girls. And he loves them just as much as he’d love the damned boy. So asking that after I tell you we have all girls is stupid. It’s like saying “isn’t your husband disappointed in your children?” or “I bet your husband would love boys more.”
More importantly, why? Why should he want a boy? Why do you expect that, old lady in the grocery store? To pass on his name? We can do that other ways; naming our girls after him or his family. And our girls may never change their names. Why else? To teach sports and superheroes? Yeah, he does that with my oldest. She’s a “tomboy” (A name I don’t know that I like, but for the simplicity of this argument, let’s just let that one go.) So what else you got? To wrestle with? He does that with my girls. They beat the crap out of him. How about to help him tend the farm as he gets older? Oh, nope, darn, that’s not necessary in his line of work. How about to inherit? Oh, that’s right! We’re living in a world where women can inherit things, now! Crazy, I know.
The only thing I can think of as a down side for my husband is that he has no one to cross streams with while he’s potty training. Poor Guy. (Thank God; there’s enough of a pee mess from him and the girls.)
Doesn’t your older child want a little brother?
Well, she didn’t. Until you mentioned that gem of a thought to her. All she wanted was a baby to poke. And now, thanks to you, random stranger, she wants it to be a boy and is highly disappointed. Worthy of note, if you’d have said “Doesn’t she want a flame thrower?” She’d have wanted it. Thanks for the suggestive leading statement that now has my daughter cursing me for growing a girl. Congratulations. You made a 2 year old a little sexist. And you made her think boys are more desirable than girls. So now she’ll think they’re better, more important, smarter, more valuable.
So if she becomes a stripper, it’s all thanks to you, bitch. (Some mild exaggeration may be happening here.)
But boys are so much easier!
When they’re older. The general consensus seems to be that when they get to be teenagers, girls are more difficult. And then there’s the lovely “With a boy, all you have to worry about is one penis, with a girl you have to worry about them all!” hahaha ha. ha….. ha. HA. This is not funny to me; that’s sarcasm laughter. …. Which is difficult to do in a freakin’ blog post so… ya know what? Just pretend. I’m actually not worried about penises. I’ll teach my kid the same sexual morals whether they’re boys or girls. If you do different, you’re probably contributing to all kinds of messed up societal shit.
Besides at least my girls can only get pregnant once at a time. And I feel like labor is a decent deterrence from doing it again. Boys can knock up any number of girls at the same time and not have any naturally occurring physical punishment. Maybe boys moms should start be on the lookout for crazy vaginas!
At least girls are easier! (Same person… presented both arguments)
To potty train. Apparently. One daughter raged pooped on her sister when she was mad at me and another hid poop somewhere in an apartment we’ve since moved out of. I can’t imagine it getting too much grosser, but I’m told it does. Good on you mommas with boys. Guess what that fact does not do? Convince me I want a boy.
There’s just something special about the mother and son relationship!
Yes. I understand that. And I recognize I will not experience it. But on this side, I can comfortably say: Momma’s boys hold no appeal to me. I’m trying to say this without pissing off my boy mommy friends (of which I have plenty… or had plenty before this blog…) But it’s just bordering on creepy most the time. Like… it’s a mini version of your husband who, you probably breast fed too long, and you co-sleep with. I mean… just imagine the outside perspective for a moment and tell me again that this is a relationship I should long for.
Besides, there’s something special between a daughter and a mother, too. When my children grow up, they will be my best friends. And for at least some period of time, I’ll probably increase my wardrobe by three. So suck on that, boy moms.
And yes, come teen years, I’ll be the shelter from the onslaught of hormones. They’ll aim all their anger at me. I’ll be hated like fire and ice and rage. I’ll be hated with the storm inside the sun. It’s an ancient and forever kind of hate. It burns at the center of time and will see the turn of the universe.