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Boy or Girl?!

Friday, we have an ultrasound.  I will be 18 weeks and a few days pregnant at this one.  So I would imagine we’ll learn whether we are having a boy or a girl.

Curiously enough?  I don’t care.  In fact, several times in the past couple week, I’ve even forgotten about the appointment entirely.

I thought I might care.  Maybe I’d be hoping for a girl since I already have a boy?  And we do have a girl name we love since we picked a male and female name for the baby last time.  But honestly?  I don’t care.

Before Mac, I think I had a slight bias towards girls since I have a lot of sisters, was primarily raised by my Mother, and am a girl myself (duh).  But now that I have Mac, I’d be pleased as punch to have another baby boy.  Mac is awesome!

Of course, this doesn’t stop folks from asking about my preference.  Or my “feelings” about what it might be.  Or commenting on the baby’s position in my belly. . .which certainly must be a difficult observation given the lumpy state of my midsection prior to conception.

Even one of my nurses asked me “you don’t have a feeling yet about whether it’s a boy or a girl?”

Ahhh No!  The only feelings I’m currently experiencing are an aching back and feet and a constantly full bladder sensation all combined with fleeting feelings of terror over being stupid enough to get pregnant again.   I also have a busy two-year old.  So even if I did have “feelings” I certainly wouldn’t have time to analyze them.

Although she would never tell me, I think my Mother would be keen on a granddaughter.  She has five grandsons and only one other granddaughter.  My Mother-In-Law was recently raving about all the cute girl’s clothing they make.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the chances of me taking the time to put a baby in an adorable outfit on a regular basis are about as good as winning the lottery.  (Anyone expecting a baby?  WHITE ONESIES & SIDE-SNAP T-SHIRTS ARE YOUR FRIEND!!  They are comfortable, easy to manage during midnight diaper changes, and so cheap they are practically disposable.)

When I mention I don’t care whether we are having a boy or girl, most folks nod politely and smile in a way that conveys they think I’m perhaps not being completely candid.  And typically, they will just move on agreeing with my comment that our number one priority is a healthy, happy child, regardless of sex.

BUT I have one Sister who is unabashedly pro-girl.  (She has a boy and girl herself). She’s been wishing for a niece since I told her I was expecting Mac.  And since then, she’s welcomed TWO nephews.

So of course when I told her I was expecting again, she was sure to reiterate her desires for a baby niece.

This Sister is not only pro-girl.  She’s also impatient as hell, and well, a tad nuts (in mostly wonderful ways. . .MOSTLY).

Unable to wait for a confirming ultrasound, she decided to take the gender prediction of my second child into her own hands. She sent me a text informing me she had big plans for our next get-together.

I arrived at the family’s annual Memorial Day picnic anxious to learn about Sister’s gender prediction test.  This should be fun!

Maybe she’d do that one where they hold the string over the tummy to see which way it spins?  We could make a family wager on her prediction maybe?  Something for a little excitement, you know?

I eagerly approached her after unloading Mac and his 51 tons of ancillary gear from our Volkswagon.

“What’s the plan?” I asked her.  “Did you Google this stuff?  Are you doing that one with the string?  That’s the only one I know about.”

“Um no Buddy,” she laughed, taking a long pull off her Miller Lite, “You’re going to piss on Drano.”

“Ha,” I laughed, “It’s so loud in here, it sounded for a minute like you said I was going to pee on Drano.”

She nearly snarfed her beer in response.  “That’s exactly what I said.  You have to piss on Drano.”

“No.  No.  No.  Absolutely not,” I stammered.  “I’m not peeing on Drano.  Where do you come up with this shit?  That can’t even be safe.”

“Yeah Buddy, you have to be careful.  That shit gets hot once you piss on it.  Don’t worry, I’ll give you an over mitt so you can hold the jar.”

Fortunately for me, I had to turn my attention to Mac who was lurking dangerously close to a tray of seven-layer dip.  I raced away from her praying that she’d drink too much and forget all about her hair-brained scheme.

For the rest of the afternoon, I busied myself with Mac and tried to drink a minimal amount of fluid.  Once I attempted to Google “peeing on Drano” but my Internet connection timed out.  My plan was to avoid her at all costs.  I would sneak into the bathroom only when I was sure she was completely distracted.

Things were looking promising.  Every time I ran into her, she had a beer in her hand.  Keep boozin’ it up, Sista.

The sun was setting in the sky. . .We had to get Mac to my Mom’s house for bed.  I raced around the place gathering up his 51 tons of gear, using a great deal of stealth, attempting to conceal the fact that we were preparing to make a very hasty exit.

Except on one of my trips to the car, I was spotted.  Or someone ratted me out.

I turned around from the trunk to find myself nose to nose with Sister.

“You’re not leaving yet are you?” She cackled, waving a mason jar full of what appeared to be cat litter in my face.

“Mac is exhausted.  I HAVE to get to Mom’s house.  HAVE to.  What is that anyway?”

“It’s Drano buddy.  The crystal kind.  And you’re going to piss on it right now.”  She laughed swaying slightly from the Miller Lite.

“I do NOT have time for this.  Plus it looks dangerous as hell.  I don’t think the insurance will pay for reconstructive surgery of my lady parts if I explode them while urinating on Drano.  I’m NOT doing it.”

“Come ON, please, Deni.  Please?  It will only take a second,”  She pleaded.  “You can’t go until you pee.  You know you have to go anyway.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the mason jar from her.

As I made a beeline for the powder room, she was belting out instructions.  “You have to pee enough to cover the crystals.  Hold the jar with the oven mitt so you don’t burn your hands!  As soon as you are done, open the bathroom door and hand the jar to me!  Don’t even pause to wipe, or flush, or wash your hands, the stuff could explode.  I have to get it outside as fast as possible!  Do you understand?!”

What I understood was there is no reasoning with her.  Ever.  Even sober.

I slammed the bathroom door in her face.  “Don’t wander off, you drunk!” I shouted.

Then I said a prayer to the effect of “Dear Lord, I know I’ve made a lot of frivolous requests over the years, but I swear, if you could just make sure my labia stay intact while I pee on this caustic drain cleaner, I’ll stop.  I’ll never ask for stupid stuff again. . . Swear to. . Well, yeah, swear to YOU I won’t.”

Then I proceeded to urinate. . .INTO A MASON JAR FULL OF DRANO CRYSTALS.

Scared to death, of what might happen next, I took three steps towards the bathroom door with my underwear around my ankles, threw open the door, and transferred the rapidly frothing liquid to her oven mitt protected hand.

She went running towards the back deck.  I gathered myself and went running towards the car.  We HAD to get Mac to bed.

“Aren’t you even going to wait for the results?”  Shouted my other Sister’s Mother-In-Law.

“Tell her to text me!” I shouted.

But then I realized I had forgotten Mac’s milk. . .

I went racing back into the kitchen to grab it from the fridge. . .and was met by Sister who was rooting around in said fridge likely for another Miller Lite.

“You want to know, Buddy?” She asked.

“Sure.  Make it fast.  We’re in a hurry.”

“Oh my effing GAWD, you are totally having a BOY.  That shit turned BLACK.  I have never see it turn so dark.”

Wait.  She’s done this before?  Who has she made do this before?!  We should start a support group.

She grabs my jacket lapel and pulls me in close.  “Do you already know what it is?  Did they tell you already?  If so, you can tell me.  I want to know if I’m right.”

“I won’t know for a few more weeks.  Trust me.  I have NO idea.”

“It’s a boy, buddy.”

“Thanks for not exploding my vagina!” I shouted as I sprinted back to the car.


My ultrasound is at 9AM Friday.  If I find out the sex, I’ll TWEET about it Friday morning.  Follow me @homeeckwreck.








4 Responses to “Boy or Girl?!”

  1. Goddammit woman. How am I going to sleep now? 😛
    nothingbythebook recently posted…The Authoritative New Parents’ Guide to Sex After Children, ReduxMy Profile

    • admin says:

      Ha! I’ll just bet as a veteran parent, you’ll manage to sleep. . .somehow. . .Well, if you’re not um busy gettin’ busy. Great post! 😉

  2. Shay says:

    Okay, this has got to be one of my favorite of your posts so far. This shit was HILARIOUS!! I love how you described your sister swaying with the beers and insisting that you piss on the Drano. I can’t wait to find out if she was right!
    Shay recently posted…Mom TextsMy Profile

    • admin says:

      Thanks! I’m so glad you liked it. I have no idea why she doesn’t have her own blog. The stuff she writes – even just text messages – and the stuff she does is pure comedic gold! I should honestly start a blog called Shit My Sister Says. It would be an instant viral sensation.

      Unfortunately she was CORRECT. We are having a boy. This means she’s going to think she’s good at predicting gender via Drano. . .UGH. Thank goodness this is likely my last pregnancy. Ha!