Pink vs. Blue

27 weeks, and I have been feeling GREAT. As I told James, I feel "Lucky, special, and kind of sexy." There are even moments when I forget I'm pregnant. Then I drop something and try to bend over and get it. Ho ho ho. James called me his porpoise yesterday, which under normal circumstances I might have taken offense to, but I do in fact somewhat resemble a porpoise these days, and nighttime is kind of like a show at Sea World, only the water is a down comforter. He pointed out that porpoises are smart and friendly and smooth. I said it's ok, as long as he doesn't call me a whale.

Boots is active - every couple of hours, there is a round of swirling and kicking. And in the last couple of days, there are hiccups. Dr. Groszmann says that hiccups are a sign of good neural development, so we find ourselves hoping for hiccups.

Emotionally, I alternate between feeling calm, happy, excited, and grounded and vaguely worried. I think I'm getting the nesting thing the last few days. I have been working on the baby's room and trying to figure out what we need besides a crib and diapers. The other day I was at CVS and some baby soap and lotion caught my eye and reminded me that we will need to wash the baby. It's this sort of revelation that makes me a little uneasy, not that the baby needs care, but that these things are just occurring to me. Like the other day, when I realized that when I'm at the hospital, I will have the baby, and from there on out the baby is in our charge. Holy cats.

So, about color... the baby's room is pink. And it will be pink. Even if it's a boy. I do not believe that if it IS a boy that our boy will struggle with his identity because he slept in a pink room as a very small child. I am just writing this down because I do feel a slight bit of guilt about this, and yet I think it's ridiculous. Why are boys and girls things so specifically different? I remember when my niece was small, my sister was driven crazy by pink clothing.

But the pink clothing doesn't drive me nearly as nuts as some of the boys stuff - tractors, trucks, deer, etc., like young boys are being subliminally trained to be public works employees, not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just, why not books, art, and musical notes? What about boyhood equals large equipment? Then again, I know for a fact that some of that is hard-wired. My friend Graham, who is 3 years old, was offered to choose a toy for himself from a whole wall of toys, and he immediately and with laser-like focus chose a fire engine from probably 35 options. Absolutely no question. And his parents are arty, funky, sensitive, modern individuals. So maybe I'm just fooling myself. Maybe I'll have a boy that wears nothing but blue and brown. Maybe I can just think of it as robin's egg and bark.

Anyone that knows me knows that I adore color - I want a piece of clothing in every shade...and then I organize it by color group, so that when I look into my cabinet, it's a beautiful rainbow. BUT, I fear the beautiful rainbow of toys that will fill our home. Primary colors are so often garish. Yech. That's something I shall certainly have to let go of, lest I turn into Mommie Dearest. ("Christopher, Christina, what did Mommy say? No more primary colors! Now organize your toys as I have taught you, and don't let me catch you with that hideous xylophone again!"

At any rate, the room's not pink like bubble gum, it's pink like the inside of a shell. Light, subtle pink with a just a breath of peach in it. Jamie and my brother Bill picked the color for me, back when it was my room.