We are getting very close to finding out if this baby is carrying a bat or a mitt. A hot dog or bun. *Insert next euphemism here*
People are coming up with all sorts of creative ways to tell their friends and family which they’re packing: Have your ultrasound technician place the results in an envelope. Deliver that envelope to your local bakery. They create a cake that has either pink or blue frosting inside. Throw a party, cut the cake, enjoy the moment. EAT CAKE!
Or for the more calorie-conscious there’s the confetti ball:
With all these parties, the New Yorker argues “. . .couples take a private moment made possible by science and oblige others to join in, with the result—as in so many invented rituals of our day—that the focus turns from where it ought to be (in this case, the baby) to the self.” Narcissism in Pink and Blue. But I say boo New Yorker. Lighten up and eat some cake. There are members of my extended family to whom the gender is very important and would embrace and enjoy such a spectacle. And as what will likely be our last child, I’m tempted to embrace this trend myself and adopt one of these ideas. Further, it’s a sign of the times, something to laugh/roll our eyes about 30 years from now when gender will be selected like eye color and sexual preference. Ain’t gonna be no party for that.
But we can’t wait any longer than we already have. Ticket-taker, baker or confetti-ball maker be damned. Kris and I are of the same mind on this subject and we would find out the moment of conception if possible. Having to wait until the 20 week scan has been rough, especially since we knew at 16 weeks with Arlo. It’s no secret I’d be more comfortable with another boy as it’s no secret Kris is dying for a baby girl. This gender divide has made the anticipation that much more tortuous. Also as a person who gets stuff done, I am living with an empty room AND a garage filled with boxes. That’s just not . . I don’t do well . . . gack. I have a very long To Do list drafted and while we’ll use much of what we had for Arlo, I am stymied until I know the gender. Wall treatment comes first while the room is empty, right? I’m not going to paint the walls pink (or will I?) but what about a wallpaper with a feminine edge? Who knows? Hands tied. Mind warped. I am ready to get this party started. (Unintentional Pink reference! O.M.G. PINK!)
X or Y.
Sing me outta here you adorable Internet Stranger: