Frogs and Snails and Puppy Dogs' Tails

So once we found out it's a boy, I suddenly felt motivated. I've had no inclination to start preparing the baby's room or prepare baby stuff because frankly, the room is occupied. And all the baby stuff is out. But a boy...oh boy. I suddenly felt the need to have everything ready-the room, the name, the wardrobe, and it has to be done today. Which is totally irrational, because we kind of have over four months until any of it will matter. But try telling that to my hormones. So yesterday I started going through the newborn baby clothes to pull out anything neutral and pack away everything pink, purple, frilly, lacy, and flowery. And man, was that emotional. Because I am completely ridiculous. Let me clarify: I am ecstatic it's a boy. It's supposed to be a boy. I feel really good about a boy. But I am terrified of boys. As I put away everything feminine I felt like I was losing my footing. My little boy can't wear pretty dresses. Little adorable newborn babies that fit tiny shoes and bows and onesies are supposed to be girls. I can't wrap my head around this foreign idea. And I felt like the era of girls was being wrested away from me. What if those tiny girl clothes never come out again? Rationally I know they probably will, because we plan on having several more children, but you never know what life will bring. What if my future is blue? See how ridiculous I am? I was basically having a nervous breakdown in Kimberly's closet. I had to take several deep breaths and remind myself that I have two beautiful girls, including a wonderful baby girl, that I can dress up in pink and frills to my hearts content. Who will buy prom dresses and wedding dresses and high heels and be girly. And boys will be awesome too. And we will have free lawn mowing in ten to fifteen years. So everything will turn out all right.

Fortunately, my mother and sister have taught me the proper way to deal with emotional breakdowns, and I grabbed my Kid to Kid gift certificate and went out to get psyched about little men. Turns out the little boy's section is awesomely reassuring. I bought a bunch of onesies and outfits that say manly things like "Daddy's Team" and "Football" and have pictures of balls and dogs and come in blue and green. And I felt a lot better. So never fear, we're still psyched up about a boy. I just might be a little bipolar until he's here and I can hold him and realize newborn boys aren't a different species. Just a different chromosome.

The verdict is in...

Well, here we are. Two weeks later, as promised, and I believe I owe you some information. Hold on to your hats, ladies and gents. The Warner household is about to up the ante. Apparently it is about 306 percent positive that our little one is all....boy. That's right, boy. Apparently Jessie has some manliness to share. He is very satisfied, of course, because he is sexist and would have been heartbroken at a femal fetus. Haha. Just kidding. He's a sucker for girls and romantic comedies, as we all know. But he is super excited to have a boy. I think he's probably online buying BYU football tickets for ten years from now. I am also quite thrilled. The last few weeks I've been having a hard time not referring to the babe as a He, and last night dreamed that it was a girl and started hyperventilating because it was all wrong and it was supposed to be a boy. It just feels like a good thing. Also, I started thinking about tiny little boy's suits and ties and got a little bit worked up. Dratted pregnancy hormones.

The only downside is that we have almost no boy names we like. As usual, we won't be disucussing the names we like with anyone, but this time it will be a bit easier, because we don't have any. Probably we'll name him Fredette. Or Josh Lyman. Or maybe Benjamin Franklin Hawkeye. So many options. And while I'm pondering the many possibilities, I get to go boy clothes shopping. And figure out how to make a pink bouncer look manly. Maybe I'll just put a sign promoting breast cancer awareness on our front door, and then I don't have to redo anything pink. I love supporting a good cause and getting to be lazy at the same time. I have a feeling a boy is going to be a lot of fun. I just hope he doesn't mind getting his nails painted.

Trucking along. Woohoo.

Hello again, my faithful few. Time for more exciting Warner exploits! In our last episode, we were looking forward to the many adventures of September. Unfortunately, my immune system continues to be fickle, and I seem to catch every sniffle and cough that comes around. Also random shoulder pain that incapacitates my arm. But that's another matter. On to the good stuff! Besides dying, we've been having a blast. Guess who is learning to walk? Everyone's favorite Warner almost toddler, Kimberly! She's not actually to walking capacity yet, but she took her first steps and she can be persuaded to take up to five or six at a time before she succumbs to your enemy and mine, gravity. Why we are encouraging these rogue activities is beyond me, but there you go. Some irrepressible parental urge to prepare your child to outrun predators probably.

Since I only blog every two years, I know you are all dying to see if I have turned into a pumpkin yet. Here you go:
I feel like I'm getting bigger, but more slowly. Not inflating like one of those rafts on an airplane. Life is pretty good, because I'm feeling pretty good for being pregnant. Definitely a little more energy and almost zero nausea, which is excellent. And the baby is starting to move, which I forgot how much I love. Go second trimester. Well, except the whole not sleeping thing. Because I have to be turned like a pancake every two minutes. Also because the baby has found my bladder. Also because my toddler likes to fall out of bed frequently. And scream. But hey, in good news, only two weeks until we identify the gender chromosomes on our growing life form. Excitement and expectation abound. I have no idea. No inclinations, no burning desires, no visions or intuitions. Jessie has no such qualms and says it's a boy. Feel free to weigh in. Whoever can accurately guess the gender, estimated gestational age, number of ounces of liquid I'm going to consume before the ultrasound, the name of the ultrasound tech, and the color Jessie's face would turn if I successfully tricked him into thinking it was triplets, wins a trip to our house and an afternoon of fun with my children. Let the fierce competition begin!