This past rainy Sunday, we finally took apart “the crib.” The crib that Lily would not sleep in, the crib that Celine would not sleep in, the crib that the cat would happily sleep in. I hovered like a vulture as my husband took it apart, determined to keep all the parts together and protected from damage, defending my need to put two large, construction-grade, black plastic bags on each of the wooden pieces.
It’s a drop-side so it can’t be resold, and it doesn’t look like anyone in the family is going to need it…except ME, maybe?
With snickers and raising eyebrows, my husband kept pointing out that I was talking about a future baby as if it was already planned. He’s good with the two girls—and ready to move on to the next chapter of parenting young children.
And we replay the same conversation, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a BOY? Would I really want to have another baby, when things are looking up, we’re sleeping a little more, career is moving in a good direction, there’s time for house projects again, the girls are learning to self-entertain, we can get back to traveling? But, don’t you want a boy to share your woodworking knowledge with? Nope, I’m good with the two girls. To fly RC helicopters with? Still good with the two girls.
I am one of two girls, he is one of two boys. I guess he doesn’t fantasize about gender variety among siblings like I do. A BOY would bring some sanity to a girl-dominated household. A BOY would look out for his sisters. A BOY would mow the lawn.
A BOY would not be guaranteed, though. My mom agreed that I would have to consult an older woman, perhaps from Italy or another country with great folk wisdom (mom is definitely pro more grandchildren, especially a BOY. I think it falls under I want you to have all the things I didn’t). And I’m just not committed to the idea that I’M DONE. I’ve always had a hard time with commitment (having married my third fiance; couldn’t even buy wedding shoes without a return policy). I think I’d like to be a new mom again, try some things differently. I’m so much better at it now!
In any event, my could-be would-be BOY, the crib is packed up for you in the basement so that when—IF! IF! IF!—the time comes, you can scream your head off about having to sleep in it.
This is an original JerseyMomsBlog post by Darla, who may or may not be “done”. Image credit to www.babyboyscribbedding.net