I asked the ultrasound technician if she would mind telling me the sex and she said that at 15 weeks it's a little early and you can't be sure. I was lying on the table and she said, "I know the sex of one of them" and by that I knew that she meant they were boys. With boys there's something to see, whereas with girls they're always less sure because you're dealing with the absence of junk.
So I'm having boys. It was like that Homer Simpson, "and WHAT A BOY!" type moments.
I am happy that they are not being super-weird in there but the Dotytron and I did feel a moment of disappointment that we won't get the opportunity to raise girls and that in about 10-14 years we're going to be eaten out of house and home. SO MUCH MILK AND PIZZA POCKETS (or their future-equivalent). Then I instantly felt guilty. It's not the twerps' fault that they're boys. They're just doing them, and here I am feeling a twinge of disappointment about their junk. WORST!
What does sex mean anyway? One of them (or both of them) could be super femme-y. Really, what does being a boy or a girl ultimately matter? I don't feel like I'm going to be gender-outnumbered. I do want to raise them to be feminists. But I would want to raise any and all of my progeny to be feminists, so no difference there. I just want them to be in my life forever and ever and for some reason, I feel that daughters stay closer to their families than sons. That probably says more about my own unfounded gender-biases than any actual lived reality. What will be, will be. I also thought that having girls would make the Big Yam still feel special, but he's going to be going through his own shiz anyway, regardless of the twerps' sex, so I think that's just me projecting a possible best-case scenario.
Any way you cut it, I'm carrying around mad junk in my trunk.
Tonight for dinner I made us spicy beef & kimchi udon. Which was DELICIOUS, and precisely what you want to eat when peeps are all up in your grill about a coming snowmageddon.