Princess P!

I've had a daughter for almost eight weeks now.  As a mother of mostly sons (fully 67% of my spawn), there's been a slight learning curve to the mothering of a (very) young girl. For instance, if you put her in a ducky onesie and cover her up with a truck blankie, people are going to automatically assume you are some poor soul with three sons and treat you thusly.  "Oh, three boys!" they might remark with a better-you-than-me type smirk on their face.  That's when you have to dig around in the car seat looking for that pink bow that you just know is in there somewhere.  One must never forget the gender-defining headband bow.  "Oh no!" you'll have to reassure that nosy stranger.  "Two boys and a girl!"  And then they will go on with a suddenly genuine smile to say how spoiled that little girl is going to be, and before you know it, it's all princess this and princess that.

Of course, I have called her "princess" myself.  It's either that or Buddy like I used to call the boys, which feels weird and wrong.  "Hey Buddy, you got poop in your vagina" sounds incorrect.  Of course, substituting "princess" into that sentence isn't any better.  I guess it's just time to admit that there's no right way to say that sentence and I should simply stop trying.  I call her Princess P., which is my casual reference to Super Mario's Princess Peach and also my way of saying my baby smells like urine.  Princess PEE. Get it?

There are so many tropes about little girls.  She is the reason I had a third a child, she is super sweet, she is going to be a spoiled princess, she is going to be my best friend at some point and my worst enemy at others, she will be a daddy's girl, she will love to shop.  Of course, there are just as many about little boys, but for some reason, I am not nearly as bothered by them.  There must be some psychological explanation for this, but I am in great defense of the fact that my boys are boys and not girls and a bit annoyed by the belief that Emily has fulfilled every great wish and parental desire by being a girl.  This DESPITE that fact that I myself have stated that THANK GOD she's a girl and not a third boy.  I cannot explain why I feel this way, but I do, and perhaps it's just my maternal way of protecting Andy and Alex in my heart.  Only I am allowed to remark on the Thank God-ness of Emily's gender.  It's hypocritical and makes it incredibly difficult to have a conversation, but there it is.

And so, getting that all out of the way, I can't help but believe, and perhaps hope, that Emily's existence as a little girl will be one of the best gifts my boys could have received.  Will Emily make them more sensitive men, better boyfriends, finer gentlemen?  Will she temper all the testosterone with Barbie dolls and the scent of pink bubble gum?  In return, what will the boys do for her?  I haven't quite considered the reverse of the equation yet, even though as a young girl I used to daydream about my non-existent older brother showing up one day.  He would be cool and hang out with me, show me the various ropes, introduce me to cute older boys.  He would kick ass when I needed him to kick ass.  He would perhaps drive me places and later, down the road, co-sign on my various loans.

Alas. At some point, I will be a better mother of a daughter, an equally good mother of both boys and girl.  I'm working on it.  One thing I can say for certain:  I love all these goofy kids, and I do not condone co-signing on loans.  It's really not a sound financial decision.
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