I've never been commended for my patience...

Which is why we have an appointment next Monday, the 16th, to find out if Bho is a "he" or "she." Alongside the excitement and impatience of finding out if "she" will be my mini me, brings the horrific nightmare of pink flowery pretty pretty princess or blue cowboy/transportation baby themes.

Seriously, why are girls stuck with frills, priss, and glitter when boys get planes, trains, cars, and even horses?! Do I sound jealous? Hell, yeah, I'm jealous. Who prefers to stay back and "play house" with high heels on instead of catching minnows at the local stream?! Not this girl and that is exactly what happened to me in daycare around the 2nd grade.

It is quite unfortunate that my only hesitation in finding out the gender is because I'm worried that our little Bho will replicate the "girlie spoiling" that has occured on the in-law side with their firstborn niece and granddaughter. I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I'm terrified that we'll start receiving an influx of gender specific doo-dads, which is completely the opposite of what I'd like to teach little Bho. Granted, if Bho wants to wear a pink dress... fine! I don't mind, not at all. However, I'd like "her" to know that girls don't only wear princess jewels and need to be shy; girls also get to ride in planes, trains, cars and even horses! Damn, these methods of transportation may even take "her" places... magnificient places in life such as seeing history like the ruins in Athens, fast-paced city life in Shanghai, or even peace in the Middle East (hey, a girl can dream).

Speaking of dreaming, I'm hoping that these sexist societal tendencies that are apparently keeping Babies R' Us in business (have you seen those God-awful crib sets?!) will someday be quieted by parents who are patient enough to wait until their own little Bho makes the exit or refuses to accept that blue = boy, pink = girl.

Wow, I think I've convinced myself; I might just prefer a little "mini-Craig" instead. Yep, I hate pink thaaaat much. Plus, I think I'd prefer to deal with the free standing peeing and not have to explain why "he gets to be shirtless but you have to wear a bra and a shirt" in the summer heat. I'll never have an answer to that one, my poor little Bho.

Quite applicable...

Recently, I've found myself hurriedly rushing to the restroom wherever I go. In my mind, it isn't because I've been chugging huge Gatorade bottles filled with water... it is the weight of the extra pounds pressing on my bladder making it impossible to write one more email before dashing to the pot. Well, if you ever find yourself in this situation - I've found something just miraculous to help when you're driving down Hwy 61 and you feel the need to go, BAD.

Craig will be happy to know that I've researched where I'll be directing him to speed off the highway so I can use the toilet, baby "everything I do, I do it for you..."