The Adventures of Zandar and B

I'm about to tell you a story and some of you aren't going to like it.  Maybe all of you.  But it must be told and it has a happy ending, so don't freak too much as you read.

Zandar and I teach in the same school district, and among the perks that come with that (like being able to send messages and chocolate through inter-campus mail and having a partner to make faces at during professional days) is that we get the same days off from school.  So, during our fall break this year, we decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and the fact that we are still baby-less and go on an adventure.  We booked a room at the Mohunk Mountain House in New Paltz, NY and drove up there on a Monday morning.

The place was BEAUTIFUL.  We were in pure awe as our car climbed the winding roads leading to the magnificent "house."  I say, "house" because it really is a hotel, and a sprawling, charming, antiquey one at that.  We checked into our standard room (floral wall paper, balcony with rocking chairs looking out onto the mountains, two beds, of which we only used one because we're strange like that, and no TV) and started out on the real reason for coming- the magnificent hiking through the Mohunk Mountains.  (By the way, the humor in the name Mohunk did not escape us!) 

Me in front of our "wing" of the "house."

The house sits on a gorgeous, glistening lake.  The weather was PERFECT!

Now, by no means are we experienced hikers.  Our family has done some hiking on numerous family vacations in such beautiful locations as the redwood forests in California, the mountains of Acadia National Park in Maine, and the Canadian Rockies near Lake Louise and each time we have been ill-prepared, training and equipment-wise and at times have sprained ankles, found ourselves on 5-mile long, exhaustingly steep trails, fallen down, peed in our pants, nearly gotten lost, and drank water that looked glistening and pure (we actually dumped out our Poland Spring to sample the local  "fare") and later found out that we were quite lucky it didn't kill or at least hospitalize us. 

Despite all of this, the recollections of our hiking adventures stand out as some of our best in the mounds of incredible family vacation memories we have made.  So Zandar and I decided to put our experience or lack there of to good use and do some hiking of our own.  We had been told by a co-worker that we would love the trails there, particularly those classified as "rock scrambles."  We set out with our map to find said scrambles. 

Our first trail was pretty standard- a worn walking path which snaked up to the top of the mountain, with little wooden viewing posts marking the way, which looked down on the house, lake, and gorgeous display of fall foliage.  We finally found a cut through- the Mohunk Trail- which looked a little "rockier" - more like what we were expecting and carefully climbed up.  The path was short and fun, but overall not as exciting as we had been anticipating.  The view from the top of the mountain, however, made the trails an afterthought.  The beauty surrounding us was exhilarating.  It was one of those moments that really made me think about God and His omnipotence.  I felt like he was letting me in on one of His little secrets, which happened to be a grandiose display of his painting skills.

Ready to start our adventure!  Fanny pack?  Check!

Pretty standard path- fun, but not fun enough!

Zandar was excited- we thought we had found a scramble!

We descended the mountain by a different route and scoured the map for some trails that would be a little more challenging.  The map was not the easiest to follow, but we came to the top of a trail called "Crevice."  However, it seemed to just descend into rocks.  We figured it had been miss-marked.  Only slightly frustrated (the high from the exercise and nature was tough to beat!) we wound our way back down to the house for pumpkin cookies and tea in the lounge.

After another easy hike at sunset and some time reading magazines on the cushy lounge chairs by the lovely indoor pool, we dressed for dinner.  Four courses of AMAZING food later, we rolled back down the hallway, excited for flannel pj's and bed- I think it was 9pm.  The great outdoors will do that to you!  Just as we were settling in to fall asleep to an episode of "Drop Dead Diva,"  courtesy of Netflix on Zandar's laptop, a knock came on the door- a delivery of three jars of pumpkin butter!  If anything excuses a knock that forces me out of my deliciously comfortable bed, it's the bearing of a pumpkin product of some sort.  (Plus, I think we got that third jar for free because I was in my pj's and looked so freaked out!)

After nine hours of sleep and a breakfast buffet (which included the most scrumptious scone, of which we couldn't determine the exact flavor that made it so intoxicating- upon further thought, we should have brought it back to the lab, the lab being Cecelia or my "buncake" friend, who has chosen an alias and will hereto for be known as "Ladybird") we were ready for another day of hiking fun.  We consulted a list of trails in the lodge and saw that there were two trails listed as "rock scrambles":  "Eagle Cliff" and "Labyrinth and Crevice."  We set off to find "Eagle Cliff,"  an off-shoot of a typical trail.  To our dismays, at the juncture between the two, we found this:

A chain crossing the path entrance telling us that the trail was closed for the season.  However, we declared (well, it was mostly me) that we had come to this place mostly to try these fun rock scrambles, so for that reason and also because there was not another soul in sight, we stepped over the chain (really, if they didn't want us to go down there, they should have made it just a little more foreboding- an orange cone or something) and took the first steps onto "Eagle Cliff" pass:

Which happened to be a ladder.  Down into the rocks.  Now this is what we were talking about!  We had so much fun navigating these giant boulders and finding the arrows in faded red paint to show us the way.

An example of one of the red arrows that we used to show us the way back up "Eagle Cliff"

At this point, you may be wondering, "What the heck were you guys thinking?" (substitute the expletive of your choice) but the truth is, I never felt that I (or more importantly, Baby H) was in danger.  Zandar insisted on walking in front of me on our descents and behind me on our ascents, so that if I fell, she would cushion the blow (she is nothing if not chivalrous) and when anything felt too steep we got on our butts and scooted.  The experience was a rush and our adrenaline was pumping, so much so that when we got back to the top, we were ready for more.  So, after a quick rest stop of bathrooms, water, and licorice (essentials) back at the house, we set out to find "Labyrinth and Crevice."

Look how excited I was at the entrance to "Labyrinth."  Was feeling quite invincible.  Silly girl.

Right away, this path was more challenging than the most difficult parts of "Eagle Cliff."  We laughed as we found the arrows, pointing us up steep ladders, across questionable bridges, and into dark caves.  Sometimes, we had to get creative with our climbing, because as relatively short ladies, some of the rocks were just not cooperative with how high we could lift a leg or reach a good gripping point.  I'm not gonna lie- we had to do some straddling and our hoo-ha's got a little bit of a workout as well.   There were a few particularly tricky spots where we had to be extremely careful- passages with steep drop-offs and there were times when Zandar, who is afraid of heights, would shake like a little leaf, which made the process all the more difficult.  There was some hand-holding and coaching, but mostly laughter and fun.  The trail was at once grueling and amusing, but all I could think was, "This has got to be the last obstacle.  How long could they possibly keep this up for?  10 minutes of climbing? 15?  20???"

I'll tell you how long.  An hour and a half total.  That's right.

We were quite amused at the outset...

and started to get a little more incredulous as we went on.

After about an hour, we came to a break in the climbing, and a sign directed us that we could take about 100 stairs up to a major trail, or we could continue onto "Crevice."  Never one to back down from a challenge, I decided that we must press on.  We must complete the task at hand!  So off to "Crevice" we went. 

At this point, the rocks began to change and the arrows became more difficult to find.  Each direction seemed more improbable than the other and the change in terrain led us to believe that we were in said "Crevice."

What we thought was the "Crevice"

Suffice it to say, we were wrong.  Quite wrong.  Another 20 minutes of climbing accompanied by, as the climbing was all day, Zandar's proclamations that "Mom is gonna kill me!  What's wrong with me?  What was I thinking bringing you here?" and we were deposited at the base of what was actually "The Crevice."

And "The Crevice" was just that:  a giant crevice, which, when you stood at the bottom of it, felt as though you were standing at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.  To our horror, the red arrows instructed us go continue on into the crevice.  "In there?!?!  They want us to go in there?!?!" were our exact words.  We walked on, and it got darker and darker as walls of rock on either side of us got narrower and narrower until they met at a series of skinny ladders which led to the small glimmer of sunlight a hundred feet above us.

At the opening of the crevice, not knowing what was ahead and already not amused

It's worth mentioning that 1.)  we had not seen anyone else on this trail the entire time and 2.)  we were completely exhausted at this point and the prospect of climbing back the way we had just come was not an appealing one.  And neither was climbing those ladders, but we truly felt that we didn't have a choice. 

The ladders were so skinny at their bases that you could barely get one foot on a rung.  Not only that, but they were angled in such a way that as we climbed, our bodies rubbed against the wet rock next to us.  I have to be honest.  My heart was pounding, my palms were sweating, and I was silently cursing myself for putting poor Baby H in this position.  It was not safe and it was not smart and I was terrified.  At one point, I couldn't find my footing and had to backtrack and I stepped on Zandar's hand.  She, I could tell, was going into full-on panic mode and was cursing NOT silently.  As I pulled myself to the top of the last ladder, I found myself on a rock platform that was about 2 1/2 feet wide.  The problem was that I was still about 7 1/2 feet from being out of the crevice.  If I stood on my toes, I could just barely curl my fingers over the edges.  There was seemingly no help out, save for a piece of rock that jutted out about 4 feet up, which for someone who is 5'2" is not reasonable leg-lifting height.

I wanted to to really freak out-we were a very rocky 100 feet off of the ground, but I knew we were so close.  And also, Zandar was really losing it.  I could hear the sheer terror in her voice as she berated herself, us, our co-worker who thought this would be a great idea, the designers of the course, and just about anyone else who came to her mind.  In desperation, I turned around and used my arms to pull my butt on to the jutted out rock and then was able to get my elbows out into the sunshine and pull my feet underneath me.  I could feel my heart rate slow down as I realized that we were going to make it out safely.  And then I looked down and saw Zandar sitting on the platform sobbing. 

Poor Zandar was so scared.  She couldn't see what I could see and she couldn't fathom how we'd get out alive.  Worst of all, she was blaming herself for getting us into this position and it was not her fault in the least.  It was me who had kept pushing us onward and upward.  I told her, a little harshly, that she needed to stand up immediately and as she shakingly did, I walked her through the steps to pull herself to the little rock and from there I was able to reach down and scoop her out.  At which point she collapsed into my arms and bawled in relief for an extended period of time. 

When she was finally soothed, we were able to drink in the beauty around us.  It was an incredible moment- a feeling a relief, accomplishment, and gratitude.  Zandar began thanking God for letting us live.  We crossed a bridge over the crevice we had just climbed out of and were able to laugh at the situation, now that we had calmed down.  A few rocks up, we found ourselves at the place we had been the day before- where we had thought that the trail had to have been miss-marked and we laughed again.  We chose a very easy path back down the mountain and spoke about how much our dad and brother would have loved the trail and how Mom and Cecelia would probably want no part of it.

See?  We made it, safe and sound.

As we hungrily devoured our lunches back at the house, we decided that, yes, we'd do it again.  But no, not while one of us was pregnant.  Since all ended well, it is easy to say that I don't regret our overly-adventurous climbing.  The truth is, though, that we could have gotten hurt.  I can deal with spraining my own ankle, but I could not deal with hurting Baby H and during the whole climb I found myself apologizing to him or her and vowing to be much more protective.

Zandar says that the way I took care of her on the trail proves what a great mom I'll be.  But a great mom doesn't bring her baby on super-long, dangerous hikes.  My only defense is that I didn't know what we were in for, and in the future I will need to inform myself a little better before making decisions.  After all, it's not just me that I need to think about these days!

All's well that ends well, and in the end, sharing that experience with my sister is something neither of us will ever forget.  I could say that it made our bond even stronger, but I don't think that was ever possible.  It's something that we will put in our bank of family vacation memories to tell our kids someday, along with the time that Zandar sprained her ankle running on the mountain in the redwood forest and Poppy (our dad) carried her down on his shoulders or the time that our mom laughed so hard at Poppy slipping on a mountain that she had to sit in a stream to disguise the wet stain on her bottom. 

Welcome to the family, Baby H!  You're one of us now!

















Where My Girls At?

Fair is fair... a post about girls to balance the one for the boys.  While I'm doing my best to be impartial, the two posts may be a little lopsided, because the ladies in my life are, for lack of a better term- thegreatestintheworldandoneofthebestpartsofmylife.  And it doesn't hurt that none of the ladies in my life have compared my eating habits to that of a garbage disposal (at least to my face- sorry, still getting over that!).  Below is a list of just some of the things the ladies in my life have done to bring sunshine to my days, which they do all of the time, but I especially appreciate now, as I'm in need of a little extra TLC in my overly emotional state.

So, to start out, let's talk about my girls.  I mean my girls- which are now, drumroll please... a size 32D.  Now, a 32 D is a lot different from say, a 36D, and comparatively speaking a size 32D bra still looks pretty small.  I don't have stripper boobs or anything, but I was definitely spilling out of my 32C, so my other girls, Zandar and Cecelia (for those who don't remember, that's my sister and SIL extraordinaire) lovingly welcomed me to "The Big Show- Literally" and helped me navigate the Maidenform outlet, because a good bra is hard to find.

Here are some more highlights of girls helping girls out as only we can (and I'm sorry- I'm sure I'm accidentally leaving some out!):

Two of my fabulous ladies have given me Rockabye Baby CD's- for those of you who don't know of them, they are rock songs done in the form of lullabies.  So now Baby H will be snoozing to the soothing sounds of Bon Jovi and Weezer!

Remember when I told you that the instructor on my Pregnancy Fitness DVD calls your butt your "buncake"?  And how I said that a buncake sounded delicious?  Well, one of my very close friends emailed me immediately to tell me that she thought the exact same thing (not surprising, because we have always been freakishly close- when I did my senior recital 10 years ago (!) she could actually sense which songs I was most nervous for.  Sympathy nerves!  I hope my labor isn't too tough on her.  :)  ).  But not only had she thought that a buncake sounded delicious, but she immediately looked for a recipe and found one for... wait for it... Pumpkin Buncake.  Enough said.

Another luscious lady gave me a stack of FitPregnancy magazines passed on from a friend, not to mention the best reaction to my pregnancy news ever.  Out of anyone.  I'm telling you- it was four minutes of straight screaming.  I couldn't possibly unglue the smile from my face as I listened to her on the other end of the line.  And you'd think it wouldn't have been a big deal to her- at the time her own sister was expecting twins (born happy and healthy a few weeks ago!).  I should have known better.  She internalizes others' joy like no one else.  It truly is a moment I will never forget.

My fantastic friend, B, (a fellow blogger!) gave me a goody bag of some of her favorite pregnancy products, along with amazing mom insights.  She is the first of our friends to have a baby, so we all watch and learn from her.  Not only that, though, she totally didn't judge me when I HOUSED a gigantic omelet and hash browns in front of her at brunch last week, while she was clearly trying to be so good with her eating.  And she certainly didn't make any disposal remarks.  :)

One of my work friends, who also happens to be one of my favorite people in the world, gave me a beautiful book to write down pregnancy memories.  But again, as much as I love it, it pales in comparison to her unique perspective on parenting and the encouragement she gives me all the time.  She made having a boy sound so much less scary when she told me of her pregnancy experience thinking she was growing a girl and finding out to her surprise that a little boy was on the way instead.

My bestie from childhood has been so excited throughout this whole pregnancy process. The photo from our first ultrasound is nestled in the frame (made specifically for ultrasounds!) she gave us.  She is in touch all of the time (she doesn't live close enough, but she's getting there!) and wants to know every detail of the baby happenings.  No matter how frustrating a day is, a talk with her leaves you feeling like the luckiest girl in the world because she is in your life.

A wonderful friend sent me an invitation to a Pregnancy Night Out, which I attended with her and Cecelia and Zandar.  While the event was lovely, the real treat was spending the night with her and comparing stories with her friend who is also expecting.

I can't really get into my family in detail here, because I will surely start crying all over my keyboard and break it.  Let's just put it this way:  my mother is the most amazing woman and mom in the world.  Never has an expectant mother had a better built-in role model.  Zandar is my heart.  I don't know how else to express how much she means to me.  The other aunts-to-be, Cecelia and Aunt R, are my new sisters and they more than live up to that title.  I know I can call on them for ANYTHING (especially baby-sitting when the time comes!).  My MILs are beyond excited and so supportive.  My grandmothers (and I include Ivan's in there too) are the most wise women and every piece of advice they give I treasure like gold.  My aunts and cousins are amazing-  My fabulous aunt, Wife of Hunter, sends me texts to put my every fear at ease- she is another great mommy.

As I mentioned in the previous post, the comments, emails, and encouragement from all of the ladies reading has been overwhelming and humbling.  We're talking about Cecelia's mom, Zandar's friends, a friend overseas, the greatest aunts and cousins in the world... I am one lucky and spoiled lady.  The fact that you take time out of your day to read, respond, send a message... honestly, I am so blessed.  And I know that you are doing all of this with so much going on in your own lives- among other things:  new homes, new additions to families, sick children, work, loss of family members, loss of pets, new marriages, apartment disasters, college... you are all so incredibly generous and you make me proud to be a woman.

There was a time when I was not so crazy about girls.  Women can be very nasty to each other, and being a middle school teacher I see more than my fair share of cattiness.  Girls can be so very mean.  And I'm ashamed to say that there have been times that I have been one of those mean girls.  It's one of the reasons that I'm scared to have a girl.  I just know how easily it is for girls to hurt and be hurt.  When boys are angry at each other they duke it out and it's over, but girls?  We can hold a grudge.  Forever.  And the psychological warfare that girls wage on each other is so much more painful than a black eye.  Will I be able to teach a daughter to be stronger than I was, to not succumb to the peer pressure of joining in the nastiness?  Can I be a good enough example? 

And what about when your daughter decides that she hates you or speaks to you in that demeaning way that girls can?  (I know- I still do it to my own mom at times, even now.)  That has got to be so painful. 

What if I pass on my own unhealthy focus on looks to her?  My mom was never like that but look how I turned out- OCD about my looks.  What would happen to a little girl in my care?  She'd feel like a little walking Barbie doll. 

Oh Ladies.  At least as a consolation I know that even if I'm a mess, a little girl would have a TON of  fantastic role models surrounding her in my family and friends.  I know that everyone freaks out about their own inadequacies and worries about the job they will do as parents.  I also gather that there is only so much you can do as a parent.  And I know that no one is perfect.  And if a bunch of amazing women like you think enough of me to show me the love that you do, then I can't be THAT bad.  :) 

By the way, one of my school secretaries performed a little "ceremony" of waving a treaded needle over my palm.  By the needle's circular motion, she "determined" that the turnip or onion (different websites, different vegetables) sized baby I'm carrying is female. 

Ahh!  The suspense is wonderful and frustrating.  It's going to be so difficult to say, "No, we don't want to know," in two weeks when we go for the body scan ultrasound.  By the way, we went to the doctor two weeks ago for a check-up and everything seemed a-okay with the then avocado-sized little buddy in there.  And really, that's the only thing we need to hear when we go to the ultrasound.  It's the only thing that matters, right?  :)

Boys Will Be Boys

First of all, I am so sorry that this post is super-late.  My mom told me that some of you have been asking if everything is okay with me because there was no post last week, and after the "Debbie-Downer" nature of last week's, I can see why!  (And then again, maybe some of you were thinking, "Phew, no email from B this week! I need a break from her!") Either way, I'm sorry.  The truth is that I didn't have Internet for most of the week because of "Snowtober" and the end of the week caught up with me and I didn't get a chance to finish the post that I started on Thursday.  So without any further delay, here it is:
I have to start this post with a huge, "Thank you!!!" to those of you who reached out to me last week after my slightly emotional post on the work/don't work dilemma.  I was over-whelmed by the kindness and insight of the emails I received and conversations that I had with you.  I am surrounded by such incredible, strong, smart women and you all serve as role models to me.  I got so many emails that were chock full of sound advice and wise words.  You all should write a book!  I honestly feel so blessed that I can put out a virtual call for help and that you ladies respond like so many super-heroes, sans the Lycra outfits and magical accessories, but you know what?  You could rock those too.  You are some pretty amazing ladies.
Which leads me to this week's topic:  the difference in the genders.  Perhaps at no other time have I been so acutely aware of  the "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" phenomenon as now, when I am dying to know if the little apple-sized baby inside of me is made of "sugar and spice" or "snakes and snails" (guys really got the raw end of the deal with that adage!). 

I have had some pretty funny experiences with the opposite sex regarding my pregnancy lately.  Let's start with Ivan, shall we?

I must preface this story by telling you that almost all of the time, Ivan is wonderful with me.  He is patient when I cry over ridiculous things (and I've been doing that a lot), he tells me that I look beautiful when I am huffing around in the morning because I can't get my pants to button, and is constantly asking about me and the baby.  On a side note, he got so excited about being a dad when he saw our first trick-or-treaters on Monday- a 2 1/2 year old Red Riding Hood and a 1 year old Supergirl, who could barely stand on the stoop on her own (don't worry, her dad was right behind her).  We began imagining the end of our Halloween afternoons at home and envisioning the trek around the neighborhood collecting candy and we both got very excited (and not just for the candy!).  Anyway, I have to tell you these lovely things about him, because what I'm about to tell you will make you want to punch him in the face.  Or maybe that's just me.

A couple of Sunday nights ago, I made an astounding discovery:  at the bottom of our freezer in a Tupperware container was a large hunk of ice cream cake left over from Ivan's birthday party a week or so prior.  My sole thought was, "Score!"  and I took that sucker out to defrost.  Well, when Ivan saw this, he started to laugh and he asked me, "Do you have a button?"  "A button?  What do you mean?" I replied.  He said, "A button, you know, a switch."  And with that he walked over to the switch for our garbage disposal and turned it on.  Are you catching his meaning?  That's right- he was comparing my eating habits as of late to those of a GARBAGE DISPOSAL.  With fire in my eyes, I began screaming that he had no right and how dare he and the screams were accompanied by punches, which he did his best to deflect while in hysterics.  He thought he was so funny and kept trying to redeem himself by saying, "No, it's just cute!  I've never seen you this way" (which is a blatant lie, let me tell you).  I took my ice cream cake upstairs to eat in bed, thank you very much.  Men.

So that's my husband.  Now let's move on to my band.  So, as you know, my blog title is Rock Star Mommy 2B, not just because I'm really hoping to rock as a mom, but because I sing in a rock cover band, which makes me feel like a rock star, even though I'm really more of a rock piece of glitter or something else much smaller than a star.  I'm the only lady in the group and I truly love my band mates (especially that rhythm guitar player/keyboardist!)

Well, last Thursday night our band played a gig- a few hours at a local casino night for charity.  During one of our set breaks, I sat down with the bassist, drummer, and lead guitarist (Ivan was off schmoozing, as he is so good at it).  The bassist, an almost dead ringer for Andre the Giant, asked how I've been feeling.  Now, first understand that he is one of my favorite people in the world.  He is this big, tough looking guy (when my dad first saw him, he felt much better about our band playing out late- he knew no one was going to mess with me when this guy had my back!) and every other word out of his mouth begins with "f," but deep down he is a family guy at heart.  He would do anything for his wife and kids and he's a real teddy bear.  So when he asked how I was feeling, I replied, "I'm feeling really good!  Just tired, I could sleep all day!"  The rest of our conversation went something like this:

Bassist:  Yeah, that'll happen.  Are you gonna breastfeed?

Me:  (turning completely red) Yeah, that's the plan.

Bassist:  That's good, it's the best thing for the baby.  They're gonna get bigger, you know.  Ivan's gonna love it.

Me: (turning maroon) That's what I hear...

Bassist:  I tasted it once, it's really sweet.

At this point, bassist and drummer get into a detailed conversation about the intricacies of their wives breastfeeding experiences and I crawled under the table and died.  Well, I wanted to.  In actuality, I sat there, purple at this point, taking it all in and sharing bemused glances with the lead guitarist, who is a shy, extremely soft-spoken gentleman (who happens to be able to SHRED on solos) who finds the bassist hysterical, but would never join in this type of exchange.  I've never been so excited for a set break to be over.

Here's me with the guys- bassist far left, guitarist behind me.  Thinking of changing the band name to Lactation Specialists.

By the way, I should mention that at this exact gig last year, I received two very different, very flattering compliments from two different men.  A young guy (maybe 19 or 20) who worked at the restaurant told me, "The guy who's wichu is mad lucky," and a much older gentleman (70's?) told me that I was "a rare petunia in an onion patch."  No such compliments this year.  Just sayin'. 

So the last member of the male species that I'd like to discuss today is a former student of mine.  I received a text from him congratulating me on the pregnancy.  The exchange went something like this:

Student:  Ms. J!  I head that you're gonna have your baby soon!  Congratulations!

Me:  Not until April, but thanks!

Student:  Oh nice! April is a good month- that's when my birthday is.  You should try to conceive him or her on the 10th.

Me:  Okay  :)

I mean, that is not a correction you can make to a 15 year old boy.  It's a conversation you just don't need to get into, but I must say it has provided me with tons of chuckles as I've thought about it over the past couple of weeks!

Oh boys, boys, boys.  So strange.  But the big question is, ladies:  Could I be carrying one of these gross creatures inside of me right now?  It seems like some of the old wives tales are pointing in that direction.  The lack of morning sickness, the broken-out skin (because the testosterone of a boy would cause it), even the time of my cycle during which we conceived lends itself more towards a boy.  I don't have a strong feeling one way or another about the gender of the baby-  some days I am sure it is one or the other.  The thing is, though, I'm such a girly-girl that I wouldn't have the first idea of what to do with a boy.  So, if that's what God has in mind for us, just be ready for another virtual call for help!   Actually, no matter what gender child I have, it wouldn't be a bad idea to have your spandex super-suits at the ready! :)