I just found out that my brother and my sister-in-law are having their fourth baby girl. I’m so unreasonably excited for them. From the moment I found out she was pregnant, I knew it was a girl. I just knew. She laughed. “My doctor told me that if I was hoping for a boy, I should have hoped last time,” she said. So, no boys for The Boyes. But, honestly, I can’t think of anything more perfect for their family. Four perfect little ladies. Little women, if you will.
And don’t think I’m not already searching for a first-edition copy of the book.Â I want to be the first to give it to Rachel. To the mama of girls.
I already had one of my superawesomeandtotallyridiculouslyrad Bat Mitzvah ideas stolen right out from underneath me. I’m not letting this one get stolen.
(Yes. I have already started planning my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah. Yes. I tried to get her to give up the party idea and just go on vacation someplace tropical. No. She was not buying it. Yes. She has ideas. BIG ONES.)
It’s funny, I always thought I’d be the mother of girls. I always pictured myself raising a gaggle of sisters. I am a girl, I know how to be a girl, I know the good parts about being a girl and I understand the bad partsâ€”I have been through them all. Boys are a mystery to me. I don’t understand them. They need too many haircuts, they occasionally smell strange, they always have holes in their socks, they play sports that require too much equipment, and they, um, wrestle. For fun.
We didn’t find out what we were having with baby #1.Â Because I knew she was a girl.Â And sure enough, she came out with all of the appropriate lady parts and I cried my fool head off because I was the mama of a girl.
We didn’t find out what we were having with baby #2.Â Because I knew she was a girl.Â But, alas, when the baby came out, there was an unfamiliar appendage attached.
“A boy?” I asked, shocked.
I was the mama of a boy.Â One look and I knew.Â I was meant to be the mama of girls AND BOY.
I just hadn’t known it until that very moment.
Sure, he smells weird sometimes.Â Sure, I am constantly throwing out socks.Â Sure, he requires more haircuts than his sisters.Â Sure, he likes to wrestle.Â Sure, he never ever ever ever tells me anything.Â But he adds so much character to our family.Â He is an important piece of the puzzle.Â One that makes me laugh, and makes me wonder, and makes me cry.
One that find me giving him 100 kisses in a row.
Because, of course.
Me: Josh, there’s no way you can eat that entire cup of frozen yogurt.
Josh: Yes. Yes. Yes.
Me: I bet you that you can’t.
Josh: What do you want to bet?
Me: I don’t know…100 kisses?
Josh: BETTER GET THOSE LIPS READY!
There may not be an iconic novel about being the mama to girls and boy.
Maybe I will write one.Â
Because it’s a good story too.