When I started the journey to become a mother, I was pining for a little girl. Hair-bows and pink and flowers and shoes...oh my.
And then it went haywire, that process (you all know the story...) and so we found ourselves in Africa holding the most precious of little baby boys I have ever set eyes on.
All things "girl" were set aside. All things "boy" were brought to the forefront. Pink for green and blues and (gulp) camouflage...I know, I know. Hair-bows for baseball hats and flowers for toy cars and dinosaurs and robots. And I don't want to stereotype what boys and girls play with or colors or any of that. I just want to make a clear distinction between the two. Quint is ALL BOY. There is no middle of the road. He loves all things boy and if he had spider-man hands, he would climb the walls of my living room.
I had so much fun learning all about him and loving him, that I forgot what I ever saw in all that pink stuff anyway. And when the time came to actually get back on track with ribbons and lace, I had no idea where to start.
Don't get me wrong, I had quite a collection going in that nursery of hers. Ahem. Cough.
But I was intimidated by the idea of a little girl coming to live amongst our new way of life. Boy, boy, boy was written everywhere. In every nuance of our home. A little boy lives here. You couldn't miss it.
I actually thought "I don't even know what to do with a girl". And we all know that's just silly, because I am a girl - hello.
But she fixed it.
Oh yes, she did.
I forgot what I was pining for, and buddy she is worth every single second of it.
Pink. Oh, the pink...the lavender, the haiiiiirrrrbboooooowwwwsss. I die.
I forgot how much I loved her clothes. Until she was wearing them.
Until I could see how much better they look on her than on the hanger.
How much her smile and her personality brings every single thing I was saving for her to life.
How much she brings us to life...in all her girly, sweet smelling, soft baby, silly smiling, chubby leg , pink wearing goodness.