Disclaimer: I have changed last names in this blog to protect the innocent
It's not a secret that I was a tad surprised when I had a girl. And it really isn't a secret either that I am also a tad nervous about having a red-headed girl. I totally have a valid reason for my nervousness...for God's sake, my husband's red-headed cousin is a professional boxer. And she is a girl. My husband is also nervous about having a girl...specifically, he is afraid of the attitude and personality that could come along with a red-headed girl with his last name. (his mother will occasionally say to him "That's the O'Donnell shining through"...and she only means that he is being, well, difficult)
On a side note, when I was dating my husband, one of the funniest things I ever saw my MIL do was during an argument with her husband. (you have to understand something about my MIL...my neighbor once described her as a classy lady...she drinks cosmos, she doesn't raise her voice, and she definitely doesn't use 4 letter words, sort of a Southern Belle without the Southern) He was being, well, difficult, and she was being just as difficult back. It was like watching two of those mountain goats butt heads, neither backing down, both pissed as hell. When he finally got to where he had no other arguments, he retreated to what he thought was the last resort, the final straw, the "ultimate insult". He says to her, "What's the matter with you? You acting just like an O'Donnell." Her response? "I've been an O'Donnell longer than I was a Van Cleve, it's about damn time I started acting like it." (I don't remember if she actually said "damn", because if she did, we'd have to call her out on her "language", but it makes for a better story) I thought I was going to cry, I laughed so hard. Neither one of them appreciated that. And needless to say, I can't wait until I can say that. It's a great excuse. Only 26 more years. But I digress.
Anyway, Workaholic and I were watching TV last night, as it was a great evening for TV. And he was holding Samantha, trying to feed her, and she was having none of it. She pushed the bottle nipple out of her mouth and fussed and cried. He changed her diaper. She still fussed and cried. He held her and talked to her, and she fussed and cried. Finally, out of frustration, he plopped her on the Bumbo seat on the couch next to him. She immediately quieted. Poor thing just wanted to be left alone. He looked at me, and I looked at him, and we realized that we already have a kid who knows exactly what she wants. Uh-oh...we are in for it. After that, we put her on the floor where she talked to herself for at least an hour. Looks like the O'Donnell in her is meshing well with the Grundman in her...at least she happy to just chill. Let's just hope she doesn't want to become a professional boxer...that would be just too scary for me!!