Brown-Eyed Girl

So, it’s no secret that the Irishman wants more kids. Exactly one more if we’re being specific. Personally, I’m currently quite content with Parker. He really does it for me. He’s a great, mellow kid who’s bright as can be with a sparkling personality (can you tell I’m smitten?) Yup, Parker is pretty much the love of my life and I like the dynamic that my little family has. However, if it was just about the family dynamic, I would probably have a fighting chance of ending this debate tomorrow, but it’s not just that my husband wants another child. He really wants a daughter.

I would like to enter Exhibit A here.


Awww, what a sweet little thing. I really was too. I’m told that I was the easiest baby in the world and just the calmest little kid ever. But then, something happened. I turned 7 and all hell broke loose. I was falling from tree houses and climbing barbwire fences because my brother dared me to (and slitting my wrist in the process). Then there was the time that my mom was casually drinking her afternoon coffee in our summer house when she looked over to see me scampering down the side of the mountain (it would have been about a thousand foot fall if I’d slipped). I would regularly race my cousins without a second thought (in flip flops) and would often come home bruised and bloodied from the days events.

As if the daredevil in me wasn’t enough, then I hit 12 and I was pure attitude. What made it harder was that I was a smart kid, so I never screwed up enough to get into real trouble, just enough to push the envelope (and my parents buttons). I had a stubborn streak the size of Texas and I wasn’t afraid of anything on this earth (aliens were my only fear, but that’s another post for another day). I don’t think I snapped out of my “me against the world” phase until I was in my early 20s. By then, I was in college and having a grand old time. The good news for my parents was that by this point, my mom could just pretend that I was safely tucked into bed at 9pm every night.

I have two points here. (1) Even with all of that, I was a pretty good kid. Imagine would a bad kid would have put their parents through? (2) While I can understand why the Irishman wants a sweet little girl to look up at him with her big doe eyes, he grew up with a brother and he has no earthly clue how soon he would switch from blond to gray if he had a daughter of his own.

Am I completely dead set against another child? No. Would I equally adore a daughter if I were to have one. Absolutely. And I would start going to church immediately because the female offspring of the Irishman and myself would be a force to be reckoned with. Heaven help us all.


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