Many dankes for the kind words and affirmations (and offers for girly sanctuary) on the last post: they are gratefully appreciated, noted, and filed away for future remembrance (oh, I *will* remember).

So yes: yesterday I spent a lot of time thinking about the shape life will take - two boys!

Some of y’all may be surprised: you hadn’t heard that we were expecting. Some of y’all may be like my Mama who honestly thought I may never procreate again (I talk big: I don’t like answering questions and being held accountable). If you hadn’t heard, I apologize: we did not intend to slight anyone with lack of info. In fact, we hadn’t planned on telling anyone about Half Pint until the gender ultrasound, but plans don’t always go the way you, well, plan (that’s why I usually don’t).

So, details, if you’re interested:
Date we found out a Half Pint was on the way: October 13th, Hubby’s birthday
Date we told our families: Christmas
Date we’re expecting a Half Pint: June 18th, our anniversary
Nickname: Half Pint (Hubby thought of it, and I agreed because Laura Ingells Wilder’s dad called her Half Pint and I always liked that)

A very holiday-oriented child.

The way we broke the news to our folks was this video. In fact, that’s how we told most everyone else: it was really amusing to see a) who actually reads Hubby’s site and 2) who actually watches videos, no matter how long they are (some don’t, shockingly enough).

The reactions to the news has been run. Most folks are overwhelmingly congratulatory. Others offer sanctuary to recharge those estrogen batteries. A number of folks, mostly those with boys, are so excited: they can play together and run around in the mud and be oh-so-boy! And then others say things like, “Can you handle it?” Uh . . . . apparently God thinks so?

I started to feel overwhelmed this morning, letting those questions sink in (bad move, but understandable considering state of sleep and hormones - in adverse alignment). During the ultrasound I was a little freaked out - not because of gender, though: I think I actually would’ve been a little upset if it was a girl, cause frankly, I have all the boy gear already, and girls can be so mean down the road. No, my worries stemmed from my doctor noting that Half Pint flipped completely around during the short ultrasound — *three* *times*. Kicking, flipping, bouncing off his little womb walls. My doctor even checked her instrument to make sure she hadn’t turned it upside down: nope, he just did a 180 again. And then — almost all day — it was like a rave was going on in my uterus: we could even visibly see the thrasher kick. I don’t remember that happening so soon with JJ.

Of course, this means “nothing” - or so says most mothers. “Oh, my baby was so crazy in the womb, but he’s totally calm now.” But somehow I don’t think that’s in the cards, not when Hubby and I seem to have combustible DNA.

Frankly, I got tired. The reality really set in: I can unpack JJ’s infant clothes (I’ll probably need some more if anyone has donations to add to the cause), I have to figure out a name (which we can’t: we picked the name we liked: there were no other contenders), I know what color I’ll mentally paint Half Pint’s room. But another active one? Another one who will run around the library, knocking over keyboards, trying to break into the elevator, opening the cabinet containing the fire hose and setting off alarms (which took place after the ultrasound)?

My dad told me the other day that God gives us gifts: sometimes we like the package and we accept it gratefully; sometimes we don’t like the package, and we grumble and gripe and miss out on the empowerment and blessing that’s inside. God knows just what I need; God knows just what Half Pint needs; whether we can make it without calling the fire department (or having the fire department summoned) will be another thing, but still - it’s all for my good. Right? Please? I mean, the kid has to sleep at some point . . .

Which was the end of our ultrasound. Half Pint wore himself out from all his rebel rousin’, and we got to see him yawn and rub his eyes. I wanted to reach into the screen and cuddle him. Those moments provide the salve for the not-so-calm situations. If I practice contentment rather than grumbling, I may store up enough to be able to really slather up.

Little A Adventures, Mama Musings