First of all, the implication that you can try for a particular gender really amuses me. I think this is due in part to the fact that I often have the same sense of humor as an adolescent boy halfway down his road to manhood. I know that the nice people that say this to us are not really implying a literal meaning, but could you imagine if that was really how it worked? Um, yes. I'd like to order a baby girl please. I decided to give my sweet husband a hard time the last time we heard this together. We were at a Hill family get together and one of his extended family members asked that magic question, "So are y'all going to try for a girl?"Before Matt could give our usual lengthy and eloquent response of, "No," I turned to him and said, "Now wait just a minute. Are you telling me that you weren't even trying for a girl last time? I am shocked and a little hurt because you promised that you were going to bring your girl baby, A game. Thanks to you Matt, I am now outnumbered 3 to 1! You owe me a girl!"
At the time I thought this was hilarious and in retrospect, I still do. Matt was not as amused.
The second thing that completely baffles me about this question: Who in their right mind sees me and my children, out and about, maybe shopping or playing at the park and thinks to themselves, "You know there is something missing from this picture, I just can't put my finger on it." I imagine that they closely observe my four year old who knows everything and rarely shuts his mouth, and my one year old who could scale an 8 foot fence without blinking an eye. Then the epiphany will hit! They will exclaim,"I know what that attractive, intelligent woman is missing..... it's another child!" Insert my hysterical laughter here. I do not know what causes strangers in public to assume that I could handle another kid, except maybe the same morbid fascination that causes people to slow down to look at automobile accidents. Let me just put it out there, the Hill family is not adding anymore family members, male, female or otherwise. As much as I love my sons, and I really do, I strongly believe that the addition of another baby (which would undoubtedly be a boy) to the mix of our family might be the proverbial straw that severs my often fragile connection to order, control and sanity.
Plus, I think people underestimate the responsibility of caring for the imaginary members of our family. Why, just the other night I had to give an imaginary lecture and spanking to Kenny because he said a word so bad that Connor wouldn't even dare repeat it (Thank God).
The whole deal was highly weird and exhausting.
So I get my little girl fix from my niece Marlee, a smart, sassy little princess who I am secretly training to be exactly like her Auntie M. Insert maniacal laughter here. In the meantime, while I wait for her to grow old enough to help me achieve world domination, I guess I will just take my chances and keep floating around in all the testosterone, keeping my fingers crossed that one day I will wash up on a beach in Fiji.