Orange and Off-White–Keeping A Secret
Every family starts with either a boy or a girl. We know what ours is, but the thing we’ve been most excited about is the stuff. And I’m convinced that the way to get the best stuff, the coolest stuff, the most long-lasting-through-the-whole-family stuff is to not tell the gender of the bump inside me.
Most of this is because I don’t like very gender-specific stuff. I love white and off-white, chocolate and every shade of green. I love yellow with red and orange with grey. I even love navy on girls’ dresses and boys in purple shirts, although I’ll have to buy that myself. But I don’t like pink. And blue on boys is too typical, although I’m not as opposed to blue as I am to pink.
I loved pink when I was a girl. I didn’t willingly wear a pair of pants until I was in the third grade. But considering my kid is my accessory until it can choose for itself, I don’t want it wearing pink. I don’t want all blue and baseball uniforms in my baby drawer.
So we’re keeping the gender a secret. The girls at work are telling Just’In to tell me to tell them so they know. His grandma got really close to throwing a whiny temper tantrum when the glint in my eye arrived and I told her that we had a secret.
What she doesn’t know or doesn’t remember is that when Just’In and I decided we were going to get married, we told ourselves we’d keep it secret until he met my parents over Spring Break, and then a little longer until he proposed after that. But it didn’t work, and I was the first to spill.
I didn’t want to know, but Just’In did. So this is our compromise, if it works. But my weird revulsion for gender-specific colors is keeping the glint in my eye. And it forces gift-givers to be creative or give us cash. I like cash, and I like creativity along an entire spectrum of colors even more.