Tiny Dancer.

I knew I wanted a girl, deep down, even before I definitively knew that I wanted a child. After we found out Adelyn's sex ohsolong ago, it took a few days for the news to really sink in, that there was a tiny me inside of my own body, that I was soon going to be responsible for the upbringing of one of my own. Like I said before I don't know what I would do with a boy. I've heard boys are "easier," in the sense that they're less fussy in the beginning and less complicated later on. But I'll take that complication in a heart beat in exchange for the beautiful intricacy of the life in front of me.

I've also said before that I didn't really love the idea of decking out a baby in pink just because, especially if, like me, it's your least favorite color. But having a girl means you get to buy ridiculous stuff like ballerina-swimsuits, like the one above my sister got for Adelyn.

(She spit up all over the tutu ten seconds after this picture was taken.)

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Baby hair bands and the female challenge.

Someone brought my attention to this today:


http://www.babybangshairband.com/

And it brought up a lot of thoughts on what's ahead for me. I'm having a girl. I wanted a girl. Everyone told me that boys are easier. But I don't want easy.

Of course girls are harder. You did that to us, world. You tell us things like "have a perfect body," and "fulfill your biological destiny and have children," and "don't get fat," and "don't be selfish and care about getting fat when you're pregnant," and "don't forget to be the perfect mother," and "even if you're a baby, you better be rocking some awesome hair," and then you force women to tell their pregnant counterparts in hushed tones that boys are just the easier way to go.

You made it this way.

I've always been a girls' girl. I connect with the female spirit infinitely better than I ever have with those gross and dirty boys. I've never understood the boys' girls--the ones who walk the tightrope perfectly between tomboy and flirt, who complain about how catty the members of their own sex are, who claim the only women they've ever known have been nothing but manipulative man stealers. I grew up thinking boys were snickering, name-calling, self-esteem ruining meanies. Girls were my allies.

Trust me, boys' girls. That's just not it. I've met those girls, and I've hated them, too. I know I'm lucky that I've had a close knit group of girl friends that are smart and intelligent and rarely catty and always compassionate. I guess I'm lucky that I have a mom and a sister whose careers and minds and collective ballsiness put the entire male population to shame. But I can say without the tiniest bit of hesitiation that I just plain like girls better. Sorry, boys.

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I convinced myself I was having a boy. An hour after I watched the positive sign form on the pregnancy test, I saw him: a little mini Jason. Wild, blonde, sweet but never so much so that he lost his boyishness. Completely foreign.

If having a girl is more of a challenge, then bring it on. At least I can give her some ammunition, some armor, to get her through what's ahead--baby hair bands are just the beginning.

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Think Pink.

It took about three hours after the it's a girl revelation for consumerism to take hold.

Jason had to leave for work right when we got home from the doctor, leaving me alone to soak in the huge news. A girl. Someone I can actually teach with purpose. I would have been happy with a boy, but I wouldn't have known what to do with a boy. With a girl, I can actually share my personal love of Gloria Steinem, Maureen Dowd, feminism, heels and Sex and the City reruns. I can try to mold her into what the next generation needs--smart, aware women who don't turn their noses up at the fellow members of their sex, whether they're decked out in pink or sporting hairy armpits.

But above all that--it's someone I can SHOP FOR.

I'm not a fan of the color pink, and I've said before with way too much authority that if I ever have a girl I wouldn't deck her out in pink everything just because her lack of a Y chromosome, but ohmygod I didn't know how adorably tiny and amazing those little girl clothes are. It started with some innocent browsing. I needed (and need) to do some serious research, because as it turns out, I really don't know what a newborn wears. After almost a week of googling and soul-searching and shopping and I still don't have a definitive answer.

So I browsed all the Big names, the ones even a child-neophyte has heard of. And The Children's Place was having a mondo sale, and before I knew it I'd spent $50 and my daughter had two hats, ten onesies, and three dresses to start her soon-to-be bursting at the seams wardrobe. They're all pink. They're all gag-inducingly girly. But they were cheap, and just looking at the confirmation e-mail in my inbox makes my hormonally-enthused self want to bawl. I'm having a girl.

The next day one of my oldest friends and I stopped by Gymboree after lunch. She'd bought a few outfits for her ex-boyfriend's daughter, and they'd broken up before she'd given them to her, so she needed to exchange them. (Thank you, friend's ex-boyfriend, for turning out to be such a psycho so my daughter could benefit.) She graciously picked out two mind-numbingly pink newborn sweatshirts and some teeny tiny little pink and white booties and--what else?--some more pink onesies.

(While waiting in line, this friend loudly asked me, while looking at a display of baby underwear, if I should buy the baby some underwear. Three months ago and I would have been like well, shit, add that to the list of things I need. I've come FAR ENOUGH to know better than that. Ten points for me. And the cashier audibly chuckled at our conversation.)

Now, my lovely little fetus has taken over a third of her daddy's clothes rack. We live in a tiny apartment, and his "closet" consists of a long bar hanging in our bathroom. Now, when I open the bathroom door I'm barraged with PINK. My formerly least-favorite color is taking over my life.

Did I mentioned we picked out a name? Adelyn Belle. It almost sounds pink. I love it.

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