Worst Mom Ever.

Standard

Today the para in my classroom did the “pencil test” on my wrist. You know, the one where you tie a string to a pencil and hold it over your wrist and if it sways back and forth it’s a boy and if it spins in circles, you’re having a girl………..WELL. The pencil rocked back and forth so I said, “This can’t be. Try the other wrist.” And again, it went from left to right, left to right, left to right and I CRIED. I’ve said all along that I don’t care if my child is a boy or a girl but deep down I want a girl. A girl that wants to get her nails done with me. A girl that wants to be BFFs one day. A girl that wears bows and dresses and mascara. Does it make me a terrible mom to be sad that I might be growing a boy? Then I had the thought that if it IS in fact a boy, that means I have a weenie in my belly. HOLY CRAP. I go for the gender revealing ultrasound on May 29th. I don’t even like any boy names. This could get interesting.

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