Yesterday I found out that I was carrying a baby boy, it was a surreal experience because for some reason, I figured it was going to be asexual forever, but now it's real...it's a boy. I heard the technician announce it and cackle that my son loved to bare his genitals--clearly he is his mother's child. Come to think of it, he could definitely be his father's son as well--we all love to bare our genitals around here.

When I pictured myself as a mother, I always pictured playing with a little girl and dressing her up in little cute pink dresses and doing girly stuff (this was always the vague part...I don't really know what we would be doing). For one hot minute I was a little sad that I wasn't having a girl (Don't ever let my son read this ok???). Then I thought about it, my childhood resume includes "best mudpie maker east of the Mississippi", "most casts in a single summer due to climbing trees that shouldn't be climbed" and "most likely to ask her dad for an M-16 rifle (toy) to play war with the boys". Obviously, I wasn't much of a girls girl...and even today, I'd never do a girl justice. I wear black pants to work every. single. day, because I don't feel like being a lady at work. And don't get me started on how I do my hair--it has two styles, down and loose, or up in a ponytail (oooh options). And although I still think that little girls' clothes are wayyyyy cuter than little boys', I'm so excited to get him a little Eagles jersey and hang out with my little man. Only 19 weeks to go.

And remember, this will not be a mommy blog...as soon as I do something fun and more monumental than finding out the sex of my baby, I'll dish the dirt :)