After having four boys I was resigned to the fact that I may never raise a daughter. And I was all right with that. I love my boys. Honestly after Luca died I didn’t care either way. As long as they made it here safely, I’d take anything!
So when I got the results back from my round of genetics testing with my fifth baby I was in complete shock when the chromosomes read girl. Girl!?!?!? What?
Honestly I was terrified.
I had been raising ninjas for so many years I had forgotten all about princesses.
But these past three years have been magical. They’ve been filled with unicorns, baby dolls and pink.
I count myself lucky to be raising a daughter – I know there are women out there who are never given the chance.
All of my kids are different but I didn’t realize how different boys and girls were until our little princess arrived.
She truly is a caretaker. She loves to help me around the house and she loves to care for her dolls and stuffed animals. Her favorite thing to play right now is “house.” She’s the mom and I’m the kid. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, she’ll let me lay in her toddler bed while she serenades me with piano playing and lullabies.
This contrasts the warrior/hunting games my boys and I played at her same age. Of course we still had animals and friends we took care of, but instead of peaceful music, our games usually ended up with something scary trying to kill us and us having to fight for our lives.
She is definitely a fashionista. From the moment she could talk she started dictating her fashion sense. “Not that shirt!” “I want those tights!” While my boys couldn’t care less what they wear, she has to be in a dress that “twirls” – and no matter how fancy the dress, she usually tops of the ensemble with a pair of pink and grey tennis shoes.
She gets embarrassed. Normally when my boys do something wrong they have an excuse or a reason for it. Instead of feeling bad or guilty they shout out the reasons why whoever or whatever deserved what was coming to them.
Not my baby girl. She accidentally tossed a ball at a baby at playgroup yesterday and she cried and cried that she just wanted to go home. She was so embarrassed. Even when she fell in downtown Salt Lake City and cut her head open she was more worried about people “seeing her” than the pain from the cut. She cried into my husband’s shoulder because she was nervous. Bless my heart. It was the saddest, cutest thing.
She loves her daddy. My boys were mamas boys. They followed me around the house and wanted to be with me all … the… time… It has been so fun to see the relationship between my husband and daughter. She prefers her dad. While sometimes I feel sad that she mostly wants her dad, I can’t blame her. After all, I married him, right? I love that she loves him like that.
She loves lipstick – so much that I had to hide it because she was using it as body paint.
She loves to dance and sing. You should see her hula! It’s completely different than the wild, run around, head banging, sword swinging her brothers did. It’s calm, it’s full of hip sway and it’s only performed on a “stage” of pillows.
I could go on and on about why she is different than my boys. She fills my life with ponies, blushes and twirls – things I thought I’d never care about as an adult.
I love everything about her. I am so grateful I get to raise a girl!
Boogers on the Wall 