We were watching Baby Mama, and the part came where the lispy birth class teacher talks about using olive oil to stretch out the hoo-hah to prevent tearing.

Marmot cracked up about it. I gave him the Eye (I’m Italian, its hereditary).

And the conversation went something like this…

Me: You know you’re going to have to do that when I get pregnant.

Marmot: Do what?!

Me: Put olive oil down there so it stretches.

Marmot: *look of horror* The hell??

Me: Don’t even look at me like that, its your job!

Marmot: No ma’am! If you want to get kinky and rub yourself down there with cooking oil, that is YOUR deal.

Me: Ah no- allow me to explain this to you. If rubbing something on my hoo-hah prevents it from being TORN or CUT in the process of giving birth to YOUR child, you’re going to get over it. Because if you found out that me rubbing bat guano on your head prevented male-pattern baldness, there would be not a question in your mind that I’d be doing that.

Marmot: Alright alright, point taken. But can’t we just spray Pam down there??

Hands off ladies, he’s mine…lol

Now this is an ongoing debate in our house…

I am the oldest child, and also the oldest daughter…its a family tradition actually. On my Mom’s side, going back eight generations, the firstborn child has always been a girl. On my Dad’s side it goes back a few generations, at least four that I’m aware of (once you get into the depths of Italy, the family history is harder to track). But either way, I’ve got a hella lot of generations backing the expectation that my firstborn child will be a girl.

But before you think I’m destined to have a girl….let me tell you the competition. Marmot is the oldest son. The firstborn child has been a son going back ten generations. TEN! All boys. Naturally, Marmot wants our firstborn to be a boy.

But I am Italian. And you know how those Italian momma’s love their sons. Especially the firstborn son. My grandmother never openly played favorites, but the older I got the more I realized that my grandmother adored my Dad. Not that she didn’t adore my aunts, but she was SO proud of my Dad. I still tease him about it.

My Mom told me about the book, How to Choose the Sex of Your Baby which I laughed about at first…but Mom had known about the book for years, so it couldn’t be total crap right? I read it, along with TCOYF (the reason we started using natural family planning as birth control) and decided I can totally do this temping thing, I can swing the odds towards a boy. 

But lately I’ve been thinking about my family history….and girly nurseries like this one…and cute pink tutus…and awwww….

So the debate rages on in our household….will our firstborn be a boy or girl?

I’m all about pressuring myself about having kids….seriously, I research and read and go to Babies R Us and think about babies and pretty much obsess, constantly. Just ask Marmot.

For the nosy people who don’t think school and house are a good enough answer, I usually turn to the snarky when people tell me that having kids does good things for their marriage and finances which pretty much ends it right there. Snarky response? Yes it is. Appropriate for people who have no business asking? I think so.

….isn’t just for girls….

We babysat last weekend, and he became buddies with Baby Grace…