I’m starting to realize that having a girl is entirely different from having a boy. Now that Kirsten can do a lot more than ingest milk and scream, it’s becoming quite apparent that I’ve got a girly girl on my hands. Not just any girly girl, but the kind that speaks softly, bats her eyelids and preens when she walks. I’ve gotta say, I am actually terrified surprised.
I had my money on the fact that she’d be the spunky sort but no, looks like that’s not going to happen. For starters, she doesn’t like to be spoken to loudly or harshly, which will instantly cause her mouth to turn into a pout. And we all know what that leads to. We’ve been so used to shouting at Tru from across the hall or singing at the top of our lungs that it’s so disconcerting to have to keep real quiet and talk gently to Kirsten.
Feeding her is also an art form. All the elements have to be just right in order for her to enjoy her milk. I used to just prop Tru on a pillow and hold his bottle with one hand while still surfing the net or reading. But with baby girl, I’ve got to cradle her close, look into her eyes and whisper sweet nothings before she will take in a full feed. If I so much as look away or get distracted, she’ll start to fuss and refuse to drink. So much so that Superdad has acknowledged defeat because he is too restless to do nothing but look into her eyes for 30 minutes.
Then the playing. My boy is an adrenaline junkie. Any form of playing that requires throwing, swinging, hanging him upside down or drowning is a sure hit. He’ll giggle himself into fits and make you repeat it a million times. I tried swinging Kirsten once and she broke out into the loudest shriek of her life. True story. I almost thought I sent her into a cardiac arrest. And even after I spent the next hour holding her and whispering sweet nothings, she still sulked and pouted, as if to say “DON’T YOU DARE SWING ME LIKE THAT AGAIN, MAMA.” I got the idea.
To be honest, I have no idea how to handle a girly girl because I’ve never been one. My favorite color is blue (the husband claims it’s yellow), I love soccer and cars (the faster the better), I outplay boys at basketball (yes, even the husband) and dolls *really* freak me out. When I got Barbies as presents as a kid, I used to beat them on the head with various objects and trade them for remote control cars with my brother (the going rate was 3 limited edition Barbies and a full set of accessories for a Lamborghini Murcielago). My sister was the one who loved the clothes and high heels and ballet.
Although having a girl has its perks. She’s content to just lie in my arms and gurgle when I talk to her for hours. She’s got none of that restlessness or mischief and she’s got a smile that turns you into mush. Tru never smiles. He grins or giggles, and either way, he’s up to no good, so it’s a refreshing change to have baby girl sit on my lap without squirming.
It’s a good thing I’ve still got some time before she’s into the whole Barbie/Bratz thing. Or the day she starts to make me pick out sand from between her toes.
