I am raising a boy.

When I was pregnant with Hamza, all I dreamt about was having a little girl. I made myself to believe that it IS a girl. After all, i was the mother, i was supposed to have these motherly instincts that tipped me off. I wanted to buy those cute little dresses, bows, hair clips, skirts, frocks, bangles, fantasised about having tea parties with my girl, playing house, doing dress up, all things girly (which was a surprise since I am not a very girly person myself). Whenever i went to shopping for the baby, i saw these huge aisle after aisle of clothes for baby girls, and always just a small corner for the boys stuff. I used to wander between those racks and got all excited about the day when the doctor will confirm my prediction that its a girl and i will rush back here and get all cute stuff for my coming princess.

At my 20 week ultrasound appointment, me and the husband were obviously very thrilled. He wanted a boy, i was so smug that i was gonna prove him wrong in a few minutes. When the doctor pressed the ultrasound tool over my belly and announced that its definitely a boy, i was surprised by my own rush of emotions. I, who had never doubted for even a second that it will be a girl, looked up to my husband with those happy tears in his eyes, and came to realize how happy I myself am over hearing this. The truth is it didn’t matter whether it was a girl or a boy for both of us, but the fact that we finally knew what it was, gave the whole pregnancy situation the reality factor that was somehow missing. Now we could finally stop fantasising about it, and live and prepare for the reality.

And oh boy, do i love being the mommy of this little monster of a boy! Its the best thing! I love how different he is from me. how much more energetic even at 14 months. Always a blur of motion and activity. Never a still moment in this boy’s life. All the climbing up on chairs, tables, windows, you name it. The curiosity to dissect every thing his little hand touches. The instinct to always check every object by thrashing it against any surface a few times. You know, just to prove who is the boss around here. And thats why the toy baskets are always filled with mismatched, broken heap of toys.

He loves being thrown in air, and doing all kinds of stunts with his Dad, even though sometimes they extract terrified squeals from me. 

Its my utmost pleasure to see the way his personality is shaping up to be. I cant put words to it, but he has this manner of taking care of me. Like whenever he is eating or drinking anything, he would offer me again and again and will be very happy doing that. If I am sad or sometimes crying infront of him (i m not proud of it, but it happens), he would run to me, hug me, pat my face and the concern that his eyes shows for me —- my hearts overflows with emotion!

Annnddddd what do you know…!!! I love shopping for you! Its my favourite thing to do now. One thing i always failed to achieve was get my brother or husband buy clothes of my choice. I really like boys clothes, but they never listened to my suggestions. Ha! too bad for them! Cause now i have my very personal male model to dress up 😉 (and i am not boasting, but i kind of have this amazing taste in clothes so you my child, are in safe hands).

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