So, I thought I’d get all crafty before the birthday extravaganzas begin and make an Initial for our wall made out of cork. Yes, it’s nothing new, but I was dying to do one and I’ve been holding on to too many corks for too long so here we are.
If you are so interested in the “how”, I’ll tell you what I did.
I first went to Michaels and bought a black flat initial and some Original Tacky Glue. (all purpose craft glue) I thought the flat initial was going to be too small, look too plain for what I was doing, but it was a perfect size and weight.
The initial already had a clear plastic tab stapled to the top of my L, so I didn’t have to worry about how to hang my letter after I was finished. Due to the height of the corks, you can’t really see it once it’s hung.
I used every saturated side of the cork for the glue and started at one end. I would only do a few at a time, due to time constraints, but that allowed me to place something flat and a bit heavy on every group of corks to get a strong flat hold.
Last Friday, I got Peppa ready for our incognito burrito mission by dressing him in the latest Target girl’s fashion. I found a cute $6 pink striped dress with pink bloomers. I spent a total of $6 and thought I’d send the outfit to little miss LG down the road at HomeSweetSarah’s after I finish my intense research.
As I mentioned last post, I decided to change our destination from Target to Trader Joes due to the intimacy you experience there. Hell, if you are not rubbing up against the person next to you, it must be a quiet day in the store. What I didn’t think about was the fact that it was crowded, but everyone was there for a purpose and wanted to get in and out of the store quickly. Not much time left for goo-gooing over anyone’s baby.
So, we spent most of our shopping session with the three of us pushing our carts through the madness. Yes, I had a cart and Rt and Hola both had their own little carts. We were a force to be reckoned with. I figured my research was a big ‘ol wash by the time we got to the checkout, but I was wrong. One gal who’s line we were supposed to go to was crushed when we were moved to another line. She looked at Sam and did all sorts of gooing and such while pushing our cart to the other lane.
So far, we had some gush. Baby gush.
Then, we spent our time checking out getting both little carts back to their spots and paying our $161 bill. YIKES. Not until one of the checker ladies went over to Sam to push the cart forward did I see she engage him and talk baby talk to him. Smiling and cooing continued until she asked “How old is she?” I said, “4 months” and that was that. They took him for a girl and we were on our way.
I had to stop at Old Navy and return some shirts I purchased in the wrong size. I noticed I didn’t have the stroller in the back of the car (Thanks J!) and had to put Sam in the carrier facing outwards. It was a quick trip, so I figured I could do it without breaking my back while keeping tabs on the other two kids.
Nothing at all was said to us when we went through the store. Even the checkout gal could have given a rat’s ass about us and said very little. (Not that she was supposed to, just noticed she didn’t.)
While getting the two boys in the car, a lady who had parked next to us was waiting for us to finish up so she could get in to her side of her car. She made some comment about Sam, nothing I can recall, something little, but then said, “Two Boys and a Girl, you’re all set.”
And I said, “Yep, we are.”
(Inside the car, Rt was saying under his breath, “Pretend girl, PRETEND GIRL.” He wasn’t digging the foolery as much as I thought he would.)
And that statement summed up a lot of what I’ve experienced since finding out Hola, #2, was a boy. To make my family “perfect” the end goal was to have one of each.
Well, yes. We were going for one of each. We just didn’t get it.
I think I will always hear about “shooting for a girl” and “are you going to try for a girl?” For some reason this makes an ideal family. Luckily, I disagree because otherwise I’d spent the rest of my life feeling less than someone who happens to have a boy and a girl.
Isn’t this all up to chance? (And, yes, I did try to control my “trying to conceive” environment and get myself a girl, but it didn’t work. And I’m a hard worker.)
Isn’t there a study out that says the most happy people in a family are ones that have all girls, or two girls? REALLY? Based on what exactly? What is it about boys that makes them so undesirable to have? Busy? Messy? Loud?
I thought I might have been at the end of my research after that trip since I didn’t think I would troops Sam around for days on end in a dress, but I was wrong. I happen to take him out alone a couple of times this week since my mom has been here and discovered some other things. (He was all boy for this venture, btw.)
People approach babies more often if they are the only baggage you have around. The other two tots were not with me. I was available to oooo and aaaa over my baby if someone came up to me. I wasn’t distracted. I went to Babies ‘R Us where, of course, they like babies. Sam got some good fawning over for being a smiley baby and smooshy gushy stuff was said to him while we were checking out.
Another trip to Old Navy found similar results. This portion is quite hilarious. It was the same checkout lady that we had earlier in the week when all four of us were there. The one that didn’t say much? Well, this time Sam was in his car seat inside a BRU cart. (Once again, J hadn’t put the stroller back in my car and I had forgotten to do something about it STILL.) She was trying to peak in to see the baby. Mentioned something about being a happy baby etc.
What a difference! Do any of you find this when you are out and about? Only baby, more attention? More chaos, less notice? Please chime in..
So, I think I have one more visit to Target alone with my undercover bambino to see what I find in that situation. Just to see if my theory of being alone with a baby does in fact make a difference. Overall, this has been fun. And it’s what it was supposed to be from the get-go.
So far, my conclusions are:
Being alone with a baby matters on attention getting.
Having a boy and a girl still seems to be the “perfect family” to some.
Babies get attention.
The older the kid gets, the less attention they receive.
*I’ll update once more after my last venture, but wanted to ask if anyone has noticed anything interesting or different since I brought up this subject in the first place? Do tell…
So, after having such a great discussion with all of you over your thoughts on gender, I decided to take it a step further.
I have purchased a cute dress and plan on taking my sweet, sweet boy, who now will be playing the role of a girl named Samantha, to Target. (Actually, I think it might be Trader Joe’s now. It’s more of an intimate setting and we’re out of TJ peanut butter. Travesty!) I will be taking my two older boys along with me for even more research.
I have to admit, when I put Peppa in a dress the other day for a dress rehearsal, I had the most interesting reaction.
I felt guilty.
At first, I honestly thought I would be tickled getting to dress someone in a cute, pink dress, but all it did was make me feel, weird. Like I was trying to make him something that he was not. (Not that I am, it just felt wrong.)
I know this is all for play and fun and to see what reaction I will get, if any, different from any other day shopping at Target (Trader Joes) with my three boys. Will there be anymore commentary to the baby based on being a different gender? Maybe. Maybe not.
I was just surprised that it didn’t satisfy what I thought I was missing and made me feel bad about it in the process.
I will be going to the store twice. Once with Peppa dressed in his “costume.” Then, we will return the following day having him dressed normally to see if anything differs in our experiment.
I’ll let you know what I find, if anything.
As a mother who has been wrong about what she’s having before finding out the gender of her children THREE times, I have never experienced what it’s like to expect/hope for one gender and actually see it being born/on the screen.
We didn’t know what we were having the first go around. Rt was a surprise. For some reason or another, both J and I thought he was a girl. So, when they declared he was a boy, we both were just as thrilled, since we had always wanted both genders. But, it did take me a bit to wrap my head around the fact that we had a boy. I just thought otherwise.
With Hola, we decided to find out, or I needed to find out what we were having before delivery. Either we were going to have one of each, like I expected it to happen. Hell, I have an older brother. I just thought it happened that way. So, when the 2o week ultrasound came along and we saw a very obvious “steeple” on the screen I was taken aback once again. This time, I either had to be ok with having two boys or open myself up to the idea of having THREE children. (Good God.) I recall getting into the car, after finding out we had a healthy child, and still cried. I was thrown off once again.
With Peppa, of course we had to find out early. The anticipation of wanting to know if we, in fact, were going to have a girl was too hard to bear for more than 19 weeks. As I mentioned at the time, the tech said, “do you see that?” and I said, “The BIG PENIS?”
And it was confirmed. I was to be the mother of three boys. And three children, no less. And then I cried. I was thrown off for the last and final time.
Let me state this clearly. I love my kids. All three of them. All three boys.
I wouldn’t change them, I wouldn’t do anything differently. Nothing.
It’s just that my future is different than I’d thought it would be.
I thought there would be a girl here. You know, besides me. (And no, getting a female animal does not equate.)
I have entered into a club only few of us will ever belong to. I think it’s cool. I am the queen. I get to leave the house alone when I say I am taking the girls out for the day, etc. I have a huge responsibility to show my boys what girls are like. And having all boys has made me want to be more of a girlie girl. The dresses, the painted toes. All of it. (Someday I’ll wear makeup more than once a week.)
As being the mother of three boy babies you do get the “awe, what a cute little man.” or “he looks like a little old man.” or “look at that hairline! That’s how it’ll look on its way out, huh?”
Word to the wise. These are not taken as compliments. I don’t know. To some of you, it may, but it doesn’t work so well in this camp.
I guess I have come to some sort of a resolution to not having a girl, but it’s interesting to see the dynamics between girl and boy babies being this my third time around. A friend of mine had her boy first. She got the typical sweet comments on her new boy bundle while in the shopping cart at the store, but later down the road when she had her second child, a girl, she noticed such an extreme difference. People would fawn over her. Mind you, she was a gorgeous baby, but she said it broke her heart to watch the love pour over her baby girl, yet her 2 yr old son in the back of the cart didn’t get much notice at all and hadn’t as much when he was an infant.
Yes, the clothes aren’t as cute (by any stretch.) Bows and headbands would like quite ridiculous on a baby boy too. But what of the male gender? Is there less “beauty” attention to the Y chromosome at birth? Whenever I see a girlfriend of Rt’s at school, I tend to want to comment on her cute outfit, or her current hairstyle, (of course, since I am a girl, yes?) but someone else will comment on Hola’s ability to climb the fire hydrant while waiting for school to start. Is it something innate in us, or do we choose how we comment on each of us based on gender?
Anyone have any imput? Anyone with only girls? Or one of each and do see a difference or not? Interested to hear sides.
And now we have come to the conclusion of this experiment.
I had everywhere to be and luckily had one last day of my hair run to work with. I spent most of my morning at the blood lab donating 3 tubes of blood and drinking 50 grams of sugar posed as a Sunkist drink. I didn’t mind the 1-hour wait time considering I was by myself, but I knew I was paying $8 an hour for Hola to be watched at Kids’ Park. (I guess I wasn’t too concerned since I made a quick trip into Target on my way to pick him up. Priorities!)
I was amused by the plethora of pregnant ladies in the waiting room with me. I counted a total of 5. Well, the 5 of us and every older person known to man having blood drawn as if it was a weekly visit. The techs knew a lot of these people by name. I can’t imagine what the reasonings were, but I bet they mostly weren’t for good measure.
I sit here writing this with complete and dirty hair. (Another ponytail, of course.) I am watching Hola and two other little ones while my dear friend is voluteering at school and spending a little time by herself until Kindergarten pick up. My turn is on Thursday, so I enjoy putting in my time. My hair? Is not happy with this setup. It’s ready to be given some attention.
I actually went to bed last night and my hair hurt. You know, when you take a ponytail out and the slightest movement sends your head into a tizzy? No? Well, I guess that’s what I get for not washing my hair.
If I wasn’t doing this experiment, I would have washed my hair on Sunday, day 4, while hubs was home and I had an hour to spare. I will have to make a decent attempt this afternoon after nap time. Snacks and a good program/Wii time should be just the right amount allotted to focus on me.
Next up, a powerful and meaningful story on my never-growing leg hair. Pictures included!
I kid, I kid.
I guess I should get to my 26 week belly shot. Well, now that I’m 27 weeks and change, I might as well wait till 28, huh? Until then, here’s a picture of my belly I took last night while watching the Orange Bowl.
Day 4 and still wearing the hair down. I did stay inside most of the day putting the house back together and didn’t have to “fix” it for anyone who would care, but I definitely felt I didn’t have to throw it up into a pony just yet.
It was a little stiffer. The long strands liked to stay together than flow like freshly washed hair. But, hey, I’m not complaining. Not yet anyway.
Can’t say much for today besides, I’M READY TO WASH MY HAIR. But, that won’t be happening until tomorrow, so stay tuned for one more pic. Riveting, I tell ya.
Showing tiny signs of separation, but nothing too noticeable around these parts. I do live with all things male. I don’t think they’d notice unless my hair turned a dark shade of grease from major neglect.
I do have to add, I sat around on my ass all day rubbing my head into the couch, while watching anyone and everyone play football, (GO SOONERS!) so I didn’t help the deterioration process.
I am currently sitting here with Day 4 hair wondering if today is in fact ponytail day. I think I can muster one more day down, then head for the rubber band hills tomorrow. Only time will tell….
And yes, this is definitely sharing my ability to NOT wash my hair very often. (I do shower, I swear!) Luckily, this is more of a phenomenon than a weekly practice. Ya, I’ll go with that….
I almost laugh writing these titles, as if my little experiment has any true importance in the grand scheme of things. haha. At least I am humored, right?
Here’s day two: New Year’s Eve!
It was nice to get ready to hit the town (go to a friend’s house) and all I had to do was shower and run a brush through my hair. Oh, and I actually put make up on INSIDE my house with a real mirror and everything. No car application on New Years Eve. Not for this broad.
Anywho, not much change on the hair so far. Will see what I get with my latest photo tonight, day 3.
It seems that ever since I got knocked up (well, every time I have been knocked up) my hair does this fantabulous thing.
IT DOESN’T GET DIRTY.
Ok, so yes, it DOES get dirty, but way past the normal time it should. I can’t say that it smells like luscious petals every day, but it shows NO signs, or hard-to-notice-ones for a good few days before the oils come in and take over.
So…. I decided to keep track.
I took this photo last night as evidence of the initial hair- Day 1 – Wash Day.
(Side note: I have to blow-dry and flat-iron my hair to get it to look like this. Seems my hair has gone through a transformation and has come out on the other end looking like that of a poodle. CURLS people, CURLS EVERYWHERE.)
I know this is riveting information, but these days, it’s all I got. I have fallen behind on my 26 week belly photo, my 4 year blogging anniversary, (Dec. 26th) BUT I’ve DOCUMENTED THE LACK OF OILS IN MY HAIR.
Man, have I got things in order.
I’ll be posting a photo every day this week, or until I have to wash it again. Let’s see how far I can take this puppy.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
Hubs just sent me a slide show via Kodak Gallery. In it, was over 75 pictures we took of ourselves one afternoon while living in LA.
We dressed up. He in his suit. I in my best black dress.
We got crafty. (We were bored. Remember those days?) We set up places in our apartment to look stylish and cool. Hell, at the time they probably WERE cool, just because. Those were the days.
We didn’t have any kids yet, living the high life as a married couple, both working in a town that never slept. (Although, I think I was early pg with Rt…….)
At the time I thought we were kinda corny (of course, my idea) taking photo after photo to document what seemed to be not much, but NOW, now? They are priceless. We look SO young and RESTED. What 6 years can do to ya, man.
I am SO tempted to put myself in that same dress (it’s stretchy) and pearls to recreate the moment, (minus the martini glasses, cute LA apartment and such) but I am not so sure I want to depress my current state of mind. DENIAL.