6/26

So, one of my favorite bloggers, SJ, is pregnant again with her second child. She thinks that it's going to be a boy and one of the funniest comments that she wrote was,

"The thought of a boy scares me. Sure, there’s the whole fact that everyone is going to try and make him a Tonka Truck carrying, Monster Truck watching, Card Carrying Hick. What I’m really worried about, however, is the weiner.
First off, I can’t imagine growing something with nuts and a wang in there. Second, these nuts and wang will emerge and someone is going to expect me to clean them. "

After I finished laughing, I realized that I haven't written very much recently about having a boy. When I found out at 20 weeks that Peanut was a boy, I wrote this entry, but then the issue of what biological sex my child would be kind of faded in my mind. HOWEVER, every time I go to get another ultrasound (I've had six during this tumultuous pregnancy because of injury and the little one deciding that he wanted to sit butt down on mommy's small intenstine for 26 weeks), the technicians go a little crazy pointing out his "boy parts". I've heard his penis referred to everything from a "turtle" to a "weiner" to a "winky". I even have one entire photograph of his scrotum with the word, "scrotum" typed on the picture, just in case you couldn't figure out how the Nerf golf balls ended up in my uterus. It seems that medical technicians are obsessed with my baby's growing genitalia.

I have to admit, that I'm not worried about a baby penis, being sprayed in the face with urine can only be SO bad....I'm worried about the toddler penis that he wants to play with and show everyone that comes into the house....about the pre-teen penis that decides it wants to start displaying its eruptive power in the middle of the night....about the teenage penis that takes over his brain until the age of thirty.....and morning wood. How am I going to be able to look at Peanut in the morning and ask if he wants Cheerios or Honey Nut Bran while he's pitching a tent in his boxer shorts? Do I make him wait to come into the kitchen until everything is back to normal? Do I pretend that (God help me) it's normal and that I'm a cool, hippie Mom that embraces sexuality and nudity in a five year-old?

OK, do you see my dilemma? I want to be supportive of his "boy parts", but I have this huge Puritan streak in me that kind of freaks out when I'm around penises. It's like God is forcing me to deal with my male gender and sexuality issues. This might be punishment for some of the things I said about men in my late teenage years. God knows....and apparently he remembers.