On having a son

Believe it or not, I’m not a baby person.  I’m not the girl who’ll walk in a room with a baby and immediately ask to hold him.  I don’t think all babies are cute (don’t judge me too harshly because I also don’t find kittens cute), I’ve never put my hand on a pregnant woman’s stomach, and for several years I wasn’t even sure I wanted to have children.  But then I got married to the most wonderful man I know and it only took a few months before I completely reversed my “let’s have five years alone together and then we’ll talk” to “let’s be pregnant by our first anniversary!”

Seemingly overnight, I began to marvel at what CK and I could do: add people to the world and live together as a family, a family that we made (of course with some Divine help), to carve out our own family traditions, to raise little people and watch them fall in love with certain things and books and people, and to leave the world a little bit better because of our sweet additions.  It all was amazing and overwhelming to me.  What’s more is that my whole insides would smile when I thought about my sweet husband as the father to my children.  Why wouldn’t I want to have half a dozen children, right?!

Years ago, whenever I heard someone say, “I don’t care if we have a boy or girl, as long as it’s healthy,” I used to always think, “Yeah, right, I’m sure there’s a secret preference.”  Growing up, my favorite doll (Play Baby) wore a very special dress, a sweet little dress and matching bonnet that I wore when I was a baby.  Even as a little girl I knew the story behind that dress: when my mom found out she was pregnant with me, she bought the dress and bonnet and hid them, along with her secret hope I’d be a girl.  Had I been a boy, I know my mom would have been thrilled – but, she wanted a baby girl.  And I always had this fear – what if I grow up and have a bunch of kids and they’re all boys?!  What would I ever do?  How would I ever be happy?  Anyone who knows me probably knows I love Cinderella, and pink was once-upon-a-time my favorite color, and you should’ve seen my Cabbage Patch and Barbie collections growing up.  I like to bake and scrapbook – two (stereotypically) girly things that I would love to share with a daughter one day.  BUT … I have CK – who is such a sweet, smart, kind, romantic, strong, and loving man – and I think the world needs more men just like him.  How could I not want a brood of boys to be raised by such wonderful father ?  And why can’t boys bake tasty treats and preserve memories in scrapbooks (or at the very least, photo albums?).   I learned that the cliche was true: it really didn’t matter if our baby was a boy or girl – we both would’ve been over the moon with either, we just prayed for health.

Going in for our 20 week scan was exciting, but we weren’t on pins and needles with the unbearable anticipation of: ARE WE HAVING A BOY OR GIRL?!  We wanted to be surprised.  Remember, it didn’t matter … but then I saw this:

Our sweet baby’s foot.  And though I couldn’t feel all the movement, our baby was such a wiggle worm.  Soon I found myself wavering and I was pretty sure that if we walked out of the sonographer’s room without finding out, I’d be pretty regretful for the remaining 20 weeks.  Seeing the foot and the movement just made me want to know who it was I was carrying.  So I caved!  Laying there on the table I asked the sonographer if she could find the gender for us and I looked up at CK and asked him if he minded.  Of course he didn’t – he just smiled at me (probably a little un-surprised at my too-easily-changed mind).

I’ll never forget the moment when the sonographer found just the right spot and pointed to the little screen.  I couldn’t tell – maybe it was my vantage point, but so many of the things she showed us on during that ultrasound looked so incredibly foreign to me (but not the foot!  I knew what that was immediately).  CK knew immediately, but he kept quiet until the professional confirmed his suspicion.  We were having a boy.  Little tears welled up in my eyes, but I didn’t cry (at either ultrasound, which has surprised me a bit).  A boy!  We were having a boy – I was carrying my husband’s son, our son.  In that moment, I was so grateful I caved because knowing for the next 20 weeks who was going to join our family — well, it’s been a gift so far.

And I find myself helpless around outfits like these – and I can’t wait to see CK holding our son!

I’m already planning some matching outfits for them (I pray that our little one will inherit his sweet father’s good nature and easy going-ness, because there’s going to be a lot of this around the Salois home):

That’s not too matchy, is it?  It’s more coordinating than matching.  That is more acceptable, now isn’t it?

 

Motherhood: the perfect brownies and the possibility of goth boots

I love The Smitten Kitchen. Blogger Deb is funny and thoughtful and a fantastic baker.  Not only do I love her recipes, but I love her stories, too.  Back in a post from July she wrote:

Some people find out they’re going to be parents and — you know, after the whole “yay babies!” cheer has simmered down a bit — freak out because they haven’t yet a) traveled the world, b) made their first million, paid off all of their debt and saved up enough for $200 toys for their little snowflake or c) well, grown up yet. But me, I actually had a moment of panic because I hadn’t yet found the perfect yellow layer cake recipe.

But, Deb met the deadline.  She found the perfect yellow layer cake recipe a couple months before her son was born.  Her post reminded me of that episode of Friends where Monica wants to the be the mom known for the best chocolate chip cookies.  Go ahead, watch this 4 minute clip – there are so many things that are funny about it. [Edit: Sadly, the PERFECT clip of Friends that I had originally posted here was removed from YouTube.  Hopefully, you know the episode I am referring to and if not, take my word for it :: it was a good one!]

So, Deb’s story and the Friends episode got me thinking: by the time I have children, what do I want to bake really well?  And it came to me in an instant: brownies.  I love yellow layered cake and chocolate chip cookies just as much as the next American girl, but I adore brownies.  Yes, it was settled, I would be the mom known for her amazing brownies.  So amazing that her kids would miss her brownies nearly as much as they’d miss her when they go off to college.

Now, as luck would have it, another favorite blogger, crafter, and baker of mine posted this entry just a couple of weeks after I got thinking about The Best Brownies ever.  After reading the Black Apple’s description, I was sold:

These are so reliable, so fast, and so good, and they fit my brownie-criteria to a T. I know that people look for different things in their brownie, but these are my top concerns:
-Chewiness
-Soft-ish insides
-Crisp (but not hard) little crust on top and sides

I gave them a try and … guess what?  They were perfect.  In.Every.Way.  She’s right: they’re reliable, fast, so good, chewy and softish, with a crisp upper crust.

The Best Brownie Ever

Please don’t think that I’ve just gone and settled for the first recipe I’ve tried.  After several batches of Chocolate Raspberry Brownies (sans nuts and raspberry topping), Cookie Dough Brownies (which we loved because not only because they were delicious, but the recipe made a lot: 9×13 pan instead of an 8 or 9 in square!), and Cheesecake Brownies (cream cheese makes anything better), I know a little about what I’m looking for.  While all these brownies are stand-outs in their own right, the Black Apple brownies still win.  I feel so accomplished to have my go-to brownie recipe secured.  Sure, it’s not my original recipe, but I have every confidence in the world that our kids will love them.  I might not make batches to send to them when they head off to college (mailing baked goods makes me nervous), but I will make them every time they come home to visit.

So, to me, motherhood means making the perfect brownies.  It also means letting your kids dress themselves and if that means they’ll pair their favorite polka dot shirt with their well worn plaid pants and hand knitted striped socks (because I will know how to knit by the time we have kids), then fantastic! I will proudly take them, in their silly and lovely mismatched outfits, out in public where they can parade around a bookstore.  After all, it’s just an outfit!

I’m glad I tell Clark Kent my thoughts because he holds me accountable.  We sit next to a very lovely couple in church most Sundays.  Both husband and wife hold degrees in Mathematics and are very nerdy (in the best possible way!).  They’ve had us to their home for Sunday lunch and we’ve met and talked with their two (very nice) teenage children.  Their daughter is very shy, soft-spoken, sweet, and when she is in church, she sits between her parents … wearing the most interesting foot wear.  And I mean interesting. I remember the first time I noticed them, I had to do a double-take.  It’s not like you would ever expect a girl like E to wear shoes like that. Like, crazy platform, goth-like, boots – a little bit something like this:

Definitely not something I would ever choose to wear – or want to buy for my daughter to wear.  As we walked home from church the other day, I asked Clark Kent, “What if our daughter wants to wear shoes like E?  What will we do?”  I sounded desperate.  Clark Kent, without missing a beat, said, “We’ll let her and it won’t be a big deal.”  I stared at him, in disbelief.  He then continued, “If we’re going to let our toddler pick out her own clothes, we might as well let our teenager.”  Touche, my dear husband, touche!

So, to me, motherhood is also the possibility that my daughter will choose goth boots over the sensible, yet stylish, Clarks that her mother might choose for her; and I’m ok with that now that I am armed with the perfect brownie recipe for her!  After all, they’re just shoes!