Mishaps, messes and little boys

It’s difficult to explain how a moment can feel both familiar and brand new at the same time. I’d been in this dark ultrasound room before. I’d felt myself fully absorbed in the wonderful thumping sound of my child’s heartbeat. I remembered my breath nearly ceasing from the anticipation of wanting to know the gender of my growing baby.

It was a monumental life event that played out almost exactly as it had two years before. And while the circumstances felt something more like déjà vu, I couldn’t have been more excited to know the gender of our newest family member. I hardly slept the night before, overwhelmed by the expectancy of what the next day would hold.

This day would start another defining chapter in my life story. An identity hidden from us until this point would be revealed. A new name that would spill from my lips more than most others in my lifetime would be decided. The picture of our family, discovered.

We found out two years ago, on Feb. 21, 2012, that we were having a girl, and Tilly has been the greatest gift in our lives since that moment. A strawberry blonde, blue-eyed girl who steals my heart a little more each day. Her mornings start by giving the dog, Baxter, a hug, and her nights end with relaxed and loving cuddles in daddy’s lap.

He envisioned calling him, ‘G.W.,’ stamping his name in a leather belt and raising him with full-on redneck in his blood.”

I love that she’s 19-months-old and already shows preference to her pink shoes and knows how to say, “I’m cute.”

I love that she is a bookworm, like her mommy, and will dance on command. I love being the mom to this little girl.

Almost exactly two years after finding out Tilly’s gender, we found out on Feb. 27, that this time our family would be welcoming a boy.

My husband, Ty, has teased me for years that if given the opportunity to have a boy, we would name him Grady Wayne. He envisioned calling him, “G.W.,” stamping his name in a leather belt and raising him with full-on redneck in his blood.

I would make threats, explaining that “if you keep on with that name, you’re going to find yourself with a house full of girls.” But just in case, I decided to cover all bases. We needed to have a talk, a real heart-to-heart about that name. Days before our Feb. 27 doctor’s appointment, I casually brought up “Grady Wayne” over dinner.

“Call him Grady Wayne or G.W. if you want, but can we agree to put something else on paper?” I begged, and after years of teasing, Ty relented.

Our boy’s name would be Grady Rooks. Grady, my husband’s middle name and also the name of his great grandfather, and Rooks, the middle name of my maternal grandfather, Russell Rooks Robinson.

It took days for the news to set in with me. A boy. What was I going to do with one of those? I was fully expecting to have another girl. And the advice I received from others only terrified me further.

When I called to tell my dad the news, he recommended that I “start praying now.” Others would say that “little boys love their mamas” and immediately follow that up with tales of how they spit and kick and destroy your house. With the advice I received, you would think I was giving birth to a known terrorist, not a son.

I decided to stop anticipating. When I was pregnant with my daughter, people would comment on how she was going to break the bank, and here we’ve managed to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. Maybe these insights are also exaggerations. I am certain no one would trade in their  rough-and-tumble boy for anything else.

Several months ago, I purchased a needlepoint that reads, “Good moms have sticky floors, dirty ovens and happy kids.” My husband found it hysterical that I, of all people, thought this quote related to me. As a mother of one, I haven’t had to sacrifice my floors or oven for the sake of a happy child. Nor, do I really know if I could do it. My gut is telling me “no.”

Maybe my time will come. From what other says, Grady may push me on my floors and oven a bit. Despite whatever differences may lie between raising boys and raising girls, I am thrilled to be experiencing both. Two years from now, I will be able to spout a list of things I love about Grady in the same way I can about Tilly.

No matter what adventures, mishaps and messes are in store, I am confident of one thing. I will love being the mom to this little boy.