Seems many strangers out there think Tsega is a girl!
Two boys and a girl? we get asked all the time. But I always forget to ask which one they identified as female until recently when some old men and little girls referred to Tsega as She. Must be all those cute curls. Or maybe I need to rethink my styling senses? Or maybe I really wanted girls (pink binkies and heart-shaped sun glasses . . . hmmmm . . .)? Nah, it's the curls.
This reminds me, I have to confess a little. While I was truly open to gender when we were waiting for our referral, for a split--and I mean split--second, I was a little disappointed when I asked the gender of the children (it seemed like time stood still for awhile on the triplet part). ALL BOYS!!! Couldn't there have been one girl? Well, the second passed before I was off the phone, or maybe it was that night. Certainly nothing to be disappointed by in the face of such amazing news and I decided on the spot that I would celebrate the ALL BOYS part. Then a lady says to me the other day, too bad there wasn't at least one girl among your triplets--then you'd have the perfect family. Dumb lady! Offended, to say the least. How does gender make families perfect anyway? Is symmetry a key to happiness? Yet I bet you many people have thought the same thing (just keep it in your head). BTW, part of me thinks the reason so many families request girls when adopting is because "everybody's doing it". Not that there's anything wrong with desiring a daughter and I suppose Jerry and I would like one someday--maybe.
Logistically, having same-gender triplets is easier. They can always share the same room, toys and clothes; it's easier to speak and write about them (The Boys, My Sons); and presumably they will share similar interests instead of dividing along girly and boyish lines. Yet I wonder, for those of you with same-sex multiples, how do you distinguish their undies (not that undies are in our near future!)?
Like I've blogged before, little boys enjoy dress up, new shoes, hugs and kisses (finally my boys not only hug, but have started kissing each other), all the same things little girls like. I don't deny DNA (and I believe it's a mistake for adoptive families to poo-poo genetics for the sake of familial unity with their adopted children) and typical boy traits, but socially enforced gender lines irritate me, especially at this young age. The other night we were dining out in the Big City (Kansas City, that is) and a lady this time thought Bereket was the girl. So I asked her why she thought this; not that it bothered me since it did not, I was just curious. She apologized (no need to be sorry!) and said it must have been the pink binkie. I told her we don't mind gender-bending a little. :) We've also been told that our boys are pretty like girls. I guess so!
Look at pretty little Bereket hiding from the big fish at the mall aquarium. He never cries when he's scared of something he sees (like cows, monkeys, and fish), he just silently hides his eyes because boys don't cry. Oh, wait, but aren't they fearless too?
But, another confession here, I have many early memories of being mistaken for a boy and it shook my soul. I hated it. I was painfully sensitive and this did not help. So my mom took me to get my ears pierced. I was a tom-boy but wanted to look like a girl, only no dresses. I still can't wear a high heeled pair of shoes; it's like my feet through magnetic force repel them. Or it's like wearing a chicken suit out in public. It's embarrassing and it's just . . . not . . . me.
This certainly will not win me Mother of the Year, but in line with this post's theme, here (click HERE) is a You Tube snippet of my boys' favorite show, or rather there favorite show tune; they always stop, turn, smile, and sing meh, meh, meh whenever this comes on. Sent to me courtesy of my mom (hi mom!) because, as she well knows from her loooong visit last week (just kidding Grandma C!), the boys love it. Manly Men indeed (or are they?), pretty ones too.
Disclaimer: no, we don't regularly sit the boys down to watch TV, but sometimes parents get tired; and no, this is not my favorite show. :)