When Ellis was born earlier this year, it was via c-section. (Stay with me folks, I swear this isn’t a ‘wonder of childbirth’ blog. I wouldn’t do that to you.) For those of you who’ve never had the pleasure of having a csection; they put a big screen over your stomach; presumably this is so that you don’t die from the sheer shock of seeing two grown adults with their hands in your innards and blood up to their elbows. Anyway; because you can’t see anything, you get the full big gender reveal moment when they hold the baby up over the screen…
So I’m lying there with me guts hanging out and about 10 minutes in Rob blurts out;
‘Aaaahhhh it’s another lad!’.
I couldn’t feel that the baby was definitely out at that point so I said,
‘how do you know yet!?’…
to which he replied
‘well babeh; there’s a massive pair of balls coming towards me so I’m pretty certain.’
Turns out the surgeon hadn’t come over all ‘Full Monty’ and it was indeed the baby’s balls Rob was referring to. There they were, and there he was, in all his screaming, lovely warm glory.
We had decided not to find out the gender and I’m ashamed to say now that was because I was worried I’d be disappointed if and when the scan showed up another massive penis. I don’t know why I imagined I’d be anything less than madly in love with this baby whatever sex it turned out to be. I’ve got form after all.
I remember after I’d had Jonah someone asked me if I was disappointed that he wasn’t a girl. I responded that I genuinely couldn’t love him more if he had three foofs. Not my most delicate turn-of-phrase I grant you; but you get the drift.
The problem is that there are SO many bullshit gender-related myths about kids… girls like to sit and colour in, boys are more loving, blah blah friggin blah. I’ve realised the more kids I get to know; that there’s not that much difference between them when they’re little.
On Sunday we spent the day with my friend Zoe who has two girls. At the end of a simply joyous half term week, she was just as frazzled/demented/borderline alcoholic as me. This is because regardless of their gender; ALL kids are arseholes in the school holidays. In fact, if your kid isn’t an arsehole in the school holidays, you need to take a good hard look at your parenting and work out where you’re going wrong.
So; three boys it is. My house will always have a faint air of fart about it that no amount of scented candles will sort out. Their bedrooms will always look like a cross between ‘The Hoarder Next Door’ and the set of ‘Ninja Warrior UK’. And there will always be just a little bit of piss on the floor around the toilet.
But more and more I’m finding the advantages of having all boys too… Last week me and Jonah had a trip just the two of us to the cinema. We were in the queue getting me a coffee and obviously Jonah was doing knee-slides across the floor whilst singing Toto’s ‘Africa’ at full volume.
A woman behind me in the queue had her beautiful little girl with her.
‘Wow. Boys are a right handful aren’t they? I don’t know how I’d cope!’ she trilled. Tit.
I was just giving her a sweet smile through gritted teeth when Jonah came up to her and said;
‘We’re going to see The Nut Job 2! What are you going to see?’
I swear to God the colour drained from this poor woman’s face and she looked faintly hysterical as she replied; ‘The My Little Pony Movie’…
‘Ooh that’ll be LOVELY 😂’ I grinned. Then I picked up my coffee, grabbed Jonahs grubby little hand and strutted off; like only a woman who knows she will never ever have to sit through a My Little Pony Movie can.