son

Nine months ago I wrote the post ‘XY’ and talked about how I was over-the-moon about adopting a boy. Not that I don’t like girls or girly-stuff. It just seemed pretty likely we’d be adopting a boy.

We said we were up for either gender on our dossier. Since there are more families requesting girls, we ended up significantly higher on the waiting list for a boy.

Over the past year while our dossier sat in Armenia I occasionally allowed myself random and fanciful purchases for our “boy-to-be.” I held off from decorating the “nursery” (which was our office until we did our recent remodel, and is still serving as Big Papa’s office for the time being), but I hit up a number of local consignment shops for cute overalls, a few shirts and the occasional truck or kid’s tool kit. Big Papa and I even went as far as to pick out a top contender name for our future son.

After our fateful trip in September, when we decided to pass on the infant boy with special needs, I squirreled away most of my finds. Toys went into a pine toy chest and the clothes were folded and put in a grocery bag which I placed in our basement “winter storage” closet. Then we remodeled.

Fast forward five months. Post-remodel, our basement (the dirt floor with piles of coal basement that is our Urban Cabin) is more dust-filled than ever before since the construction crew used it to saw this or that during the rainy season. Our storage shelves, previously lined up against the walls around the perimeter of the basement, now congregate in a tight huddle in the middle of our front basement room.

The free stroller and tricycle castoffs I nabbed via my neighborhood moms-group, sit silently in the back. And, I’d completely forgotten about the bag of boys clothes I’d put into hiding until I went down to the basement last week to gather up some of my own clothes that I hoped to consign or donate.

Surprise! There they were, a pile of boy duds, including a cute t-shirt with an Orcas whale on it, dungaree shorts, and some rock ‘em, stomp ‘em baby work boots.

It was at that moment, it occurred to me we could end up parenting a daughter, not a son. Sure, we finally made it to the top of the list for a baby boy, but these days our position for a baby girl isn’t far behind. Families in front of us have received referrals. Their decision to adopt a boy or girl has pushed us a place or two further ahead in the ‘XX’ line. If just a couple more families get referrals for girls we could be neck in neck for either one. Go figure.

Honestly, if we adopt a healthy happy baby, I couldn’t care less if it’s a boy or a girl. Plus we’re active, outdoorsy, play-in-the dirt sort of folks, so those boots and overalls will come in handy, whether it turns out we’re toting along a son or a daughter. Heck, if he turns out to be a she, she can just pull her tutu on top of it all.

Pink was the color of my childhood bedroom. In the morning, when the light was soft, the walls were the color of our Magnolia blossoms in spring. Later in the day, the color would deepen to a rosy hue. As a little girl, I loved pink.

I was a girly-girl. My favorite pre-school activity was playing dress-up and I had lots of dolls. I still remember ‘Thumbelina,’ one of my very first baby dolls. I fed her and changed her and cared for her as I fantasized about the baby girls I would raise when I grew up and got married. Our home also had the requisite Easy-Bake Oven, which got plenty of use, and I organized my fair share of tea parties.

Girls-only families go back a couple generations on my mother’s side. I have one sister and no brothers. Mom had two sisters, no brothers. My Nana had two sisters, and although she also had a much-loved brother, he died in World War II, so I only knew my great-aunts.

My sister adopted a daughter who loved pink too. She’s starting to move into her blue phase, but ballet, dolls and all things girly are still quite appealing. Our family has been all about girls for as long as I can remember.

Girl names I’ve liked are still lodged in my memory. As many girls (and women) do, I always had a few favorites that I’d knew I’d choose if I had a daughter. When I find myself at a kid’s store, I’m not immune to ooh-ing and ah-ing over the immense selection of adorable dresses and flowery hair do-dads.

I like clothes and confess to owning more pairs of shoes than any one gal really needs. Though I’m a consignment and thrift-shopper from way back, I read ‘Lucky’ magazine, pay attention to what’s in style and smile proudly when compliments on my outfit are sent in my direction.

So the fact that I’m completely over the moon about adopting a little boy, might come as a surprise to many. And, I’m most definitely an on the fringe in the world of international adoption, where upwards of ninety percent of prospective adoptive parents want to adopt girls.

How I became a crusader for parenting boys is something of a mystery to me. At some point it started to dawn on me that I can share all my passions with a son or a daughter. My love of gardening, cooking and writing are not bound to gender.

In recent years, I noticed that my collection of antique trucks and ferry boats had grown quite large and nary a doll is in our home. Truth be told, I am a bit of a science geek too. Some years ago, I convinced my friend Marshall to stand in line with me for four hours to see Halley’s comet through the telescope at the University of Washington. I have a strong stomach and don’t shrink from blood and gore. I like to hike and camp and can start a campfire with the best of them.

Thinking it would be cool to be a mom to a boy also turned a corner when I saw friends interacting with their sons. Credit is due to some of the amazing moms and dads I know who are raising equally amazing sons.

My friends Eric and Alice were the first to have one and then two boys. While I don’t see a lot of them, I can tell from stories Eric shares, that they are really awesome kids. Our godparents, Julie and Byron are parents to a son as well. On our last visit, as I laughed watching Nate run Big Papa ragged around the yard and felt pride when I managed to discover heretofore unknown abilities in Nate’s Anakin Skywalker action figure.

At the gym, one friend Britta is mom to three boys. I have been inspired hearing her stories about how she’s raising loving sons. In fact boys easily outnumber the girls with the moms I’ve met there. Rayna and her sister have two boys each. One day I watched Rayna stroke her son Jared’s back while he sat in her lap. I felt my heart warm knowing I could hug and snuggle a son as easily as I could a daughter.

Our friends Karen and Tim are parents to Casey, who was one of the first boy kids Big Papa and I got to know together. Granted Casey is a trooper when it comes to hanging with the grown-ups, but spending time with him, gave us a better picture of what it would be like to have a kid around. And, we stocked up on parenting tips from the stories Karen and Tim have shared with us.

My dear friend Sherri is another role model for parenting sons. She has adopted two boys, one from Armenia. She says boys rock and I believe her.

Sure, I quiver a bit when I think about the day when I’ll need to teach him how to pee standing up and I’m fairly certain he won’t want me to be the one to show him how to throw a baseball. That said I’m tickled to trade sugar and spice for snips and snails and puppy dog tails.

Plus, the man I married helped me see just how fantastic boys can be. I couldn’t be happier that Big Papa is in my life. So I’m hopeful that raising a boy means I’ll double my bliss. I’ll be the lucky girl who gets to spend her days with two great guys by my side.