Odd woman out

When my mother was pregnant with me, her firstborn, my father greeted her at the end of every day by asking, "How's my son?" And she'd fire back, "Your daughter is fine."

My mom always wanted a daughter, and I'm convinced she made me female through sheer force of will. We're two headstrong peas in a pod, Mom and me. She's my original and eternal best friend, but I honestly never understood why she was so hellbent on having a daughter. I was (and continue to be) a pain in the ass.

So when I had my sons, I was genuinely indifferent to their genders. I wanted kids. I felt swooningly lucky to have them. When both my babies showed up with boy parts, there was never any talk of trying for a girl. Babies! Yay! The end.

And now they're 13 and 9, those baby boys of mine. And while I still feel swooningly lucky to have my sweet, grubby boys, I'm beginning to see why Mom was so determined to give herself a little female company in her family. 

My god, y'all, it's manly up in here these days. And in that spirit, I give you my column in the TFP last week.

Boys. Cars. (I am 120 miles away having a pedicure.)