Goodbye Monday Night Football, Hello Kitty

A few people suggested I share this article I wrote for the last issue of HiS Magazine, so here you go…

The simple fact is that when most guys find out they are going to become a father, they secretly hope their newborn child will be a boy. If they’re smart, they’ll keep that to themselves and spout the “I am just hoping for a happy, healthy baby” company line, but we all know what they’re really thinking. Why the predisposition to the male gender? Some of the reasons are obvious. Little boys are easier to recruit for watching football on Sundays. They’re usually a little less fragile so you can body slam them onto the couch harder without fear of a lawsuit or divorce. Those of us whose dreams of a pro baseball career didn’t pan out probably look at a son as life’s little reset button; a chance to correct one of the most egregious omissions in sports history–in our minds anyway. The other half of the equation is most likely our fear of the unknown. We don’t know anything about what being a little girl is like. We’ve never braided a pony tail, we don’t know a Care Bear from a My Little Pony, and we are scared to death of the thought of dealing with a teenage girl. I’m 33 years old and I’ve never attended a tea party in my life. I wouldn’t know what to do if I did, but it sounds mind-numbingly dull.

Why my sudden interest in the boys vs. girls discussion? Well, about eight months ago my wife and I learned we were expecting twins, most likely of the non-identical variety. We’re both pretty impatient people, so it was agreed that we’d find out the sexes as soon as we could. Just like most guys, in my heart of hearts I was hoping for at least one boy. We were looking at a 66% chance of at least one boy, so I was feeling pretty good. When the day of the big revelation came, it really did come as quite a shock to find out I was going to be the proud papa of two little girls.

The doctor’s first comment was, “oooh, that’s going to be expensive!” Thanks doc, I hadn’t thought about THAT part of it. Suddenly I was picturing a lavish double wedding at Spanish Bay, followed by images of my Xbox and iPod going on eBay to help pay for it. At least with both kids being the same sex, I’ll save a little bit on clothing right? Somehow I have a feeling that won’t work out quite how I’m picturing it either. I have enough trouble trying to get my wife to wear the same cocktail dress twice.

The first thing I did was seek out the advice of guys that I knew that had raised daughters themselves. To a man, the one word that came up each and every time was “fun.” Little girls are fun. My fears about not being able to roughhouse with my kids turned out to be unfounded. It turns out you can wrestle with girls, hang them upside down, and pretend to lift them up by their ears just as easily as boys.

The more I thought about THAT aspect of raising kids, the more I began to appreciate the fact that we weren’t having two boys. I grew up with one little brother. I’m not saying we were the wildest children ever born, but I am truly surprised that my immediate family is alive today. My poor parents had to endure knocked out teeth, visits from the fire and police departments, and a healthy number of trips to the emergency room. Actually, I guess that many trips would be considered rather unhealthy. With girls, hopefully I won’t have to break up nearly as many steak knife fights or pay for any detonated mailboxes.

Now that I’ve had several months to mentally prepare for the estrogen bomb that is about to level my house, I’m starting to believe those guys that claim they don’t care what they are going to have. I am truly excited for what the next part of my life is going to bring. I know it’s going to be insane. I know I am going to have to endure massive doses of all things pink and lavender. The more I think about it, the more I start to appreciate the challenge ahead. I get to face a completely new set of trials that nothing in my personal experiences will have prepared me for.

I’m lying, but only a little bit. I am excited but I am also freaking out. As I sit here and contemplate the end of my free-wheeling, Xbox-playing, poker-whenever-I-wanting, happy-hour-attending days, there’s a part of me that’s really going to miss it. But I know what lies ahead for me is going to be even more rewarding, more exciting, and a lot more fun. Wish me luck, fellas. I’m about to step into the big pink and lavender abyss. By the time you hear from me again, I’ll probably know more than I’ll ever want to know about what goes on at a tea party. Oh well, you gotta go with the flow…