So I’ve been thinking a lot about whether or not to find out the gender of Thimons Baby #5 lately. We have a daughter and three boys… and for the first part of this pregnancy, as I clung nauseous to the edge of my sofa, I told myself I needed the mental preparation if another boy was in store for us. 3 tiny tornadoes in one small house was already making my head spin. I would certainly need a good 9 months to brace myself for a possible 4th tornado.
Which got me thinking about the definite differences between boys and girls. Don’t get me wrong, I love love LOVE my boys, but in light of all the gender drama lately.. I’d like to grab the microphone and “Ahem, Ahem” address the crowd that gender reveals a whole heck of a lot about a person, right from the get-go. I don’t care what popular journalists and psycho-doctors want to say otherwise. I have lived it, baby.
Mia, my oldest, from the start was the easiest baby…great sleeper, great learner, earliest talker. By 16 months when our son Jack was born, she was toting around her baby doll, nursing her baby, nurturing Jack (who screamed constantly) and trying to help change diapers. There was a distinct maternal instinct, from that early age that she was expressing as a little girl.
The boys, while sweet and caring brothers, greeted newborn babies differently. Taking risks by trying to ‘leap’ over them during their tummy time, or see how quickly they’d react to a bop on the head from a Lego. One time poor Max was littered with a pile of their toys, in their attempt to make him stop crying. I saw the distinction between how guys nurture and how girls nurture. Guys, ‘here, do something, just stop complaining and work it out’.
And now, as they are all growing older… the distinctions are broadening like never before. Mia pouts and gets sensitive if you ask her for the thousandth time to please clean the 79 books off her bed and re-shelve them. She sulks when you reprimand her but she also writes us dozens of notes for every silly little thing that flutters into her almost eight year old head. Shopping lists, thank yous, reminders, and of course, “Sorry my room is clozed for repairs. Come again later!’. In the mornings, she likes quiet and she’s reached the point of exasperation with her brothers for ‘busting into my room when I’m trying to read’.
The boys on the other hand, wake up swinging from the chandeliers. They compete over everything: who can get downstairs first, who can eat more, who has more Legos, who can push Mommy over the edge by asking the same thing over and over again. They start their day on loud, fast paced energy, and crash at the end of the day like a Mack truck. When they get punished, they shrug it off… sometimes a little too quickly, but they don’t take it… or much of anything personally. All three of them don’t sit still for books. All three of them are super picky eaters. All three of them never want to ‘chill out’ or slow down.
I see clear differences, from the start, between boys and girls. And perhaps the differences are more exaggerated to me since I grew up with only sisters. Just my observations though! All too frequently incidents happen where I find myself thinking, “girls would NEVER” or “boys would NEVER”.
Point in case, as I mounted the stairs one afternoon in search of my laundry basket, I came upon it. It was perched, teetering on edge of the top step of the staircase, with Charlie seated in it, tightly gripping either side of the basket. Practically flying up the steps, flailing my arms to ‘catch’ the prospective accident I was about to witness I screamed,
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
Completely unphased, he looked up and responded
(Duh, Mom. I’m GOING DOWN, can’t you SEE THAT?)
“In the LAUNDRY BASKET?” I asked/shouted/panted
“It’s a boat.”
Um, Mia would never, ever ever ever attempt to fly down my 15 step staircase in nothing but a laundry basket. Nope. No siree.
What Mia does do is quietly get out scissors, and fabric, and dolls and sit intensely working on the floor of her bedroom. By the time I notice the extreme lack of chitter chatter in my house, all of my scotch tape has disappeared….and my Sharpies….and I hear her triumphantly entering the kitchen with a basket (my bathroom basket that she swiped) piled high with…. garbage? No!
“Look what I MADE, Mom!” She’s giddy and proud
“Are those your new socks I just bought you?” I’m blinking non stop and sifting through the
garbage pilefabric creation she’s bearing in her basket.
“Yeah! I cut up my socks and made headbands for my American Girl Dolls! Look!”
I freeze in that frozen Mom face you get when you realize how no body ever has socks that match, so after weeks of forgetting, you finally remember to pick up a brand new 12 pack of socks… only to find them snipped to smithereens the following day by a very creative child.
The boys would NEVER. They wouldn’t even be nurturing enough to care to brush the dolls hair let alone redesign all their socks into accessories.
See what I mean? Big differences… even from little people.
So for this baby I was going to find out the gender, because quite frankly, it does reveal an awful lot about the tiny person I’d be charged with soon. But I opted not to.
Instead I thought about it and realized that my daughter and my sons have all done things very differently, but each peeled away a different layer of my selfishness…that only they could do. When I put it in that light, I reasoned, they were each sent to me not for me to form them, but for them to form me more… they were exactly what I needed to chisel away at my vocation and aid my spiritual growth. So with that in mind, I think boy or girl… this baby is the next perfect stepping stone that God wants me to take. And I’m super excited to meet him or her when our journey is set to begin!