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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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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