The following comes from our new guest columnist Stacia, who as she puts it, writes about "the underbelly of parenting." You can get to know her better by reading the introduction she did for GWYM last month, as well as by following her own blog Dried on Milk.
I’m in my 2nd trimester now, and I was super-excited to find out what we are having. And it turns out we’re having a boy, which couldn’t be more perfect since my mind frame is similar to a 13-year-old boy’s, after all.
My nearly 3-year-old daughter Ava kept telling me this whole time it was a girl. She’s totally fired as my psychic. I didn’t have a feeling one way or the other, but I think I was leaning heavily toward girl since I already have one, am one and have all the stuff. Seriously, Ava has more clothes than Paris Hilton. When the ultrasound tech used the mouse to make it very clear... “you see that long thingy and those two thingies next to it? It’s a boy.” Sqweeee, so happy!
So naturally the very first thing that ran through my mind was how do you clean him when he craps all over the place? No, really. Baby poop is so freakin’ runny and messy. With a girl it’s so easy, nothing to clean around. Friends have told me little boys’ parts aren’t as delicate as you think. I guess you also have to be quick with a diaper lest you get sprayed. Come on man. I have worry about him spraying our house? My cat already does a good enough job barfing on everything; I would prefer to keep urination out of the mix. Oh, I’m not saying I’ve never been peed, pooped or spit up on but this is a whole different level, this is an actual hose as apposed to a spigot. Get what I’m sayin'?