Boys and Flannel: Two Lessons Learned

I have recently learned two things about myself, about life, about the difference between boys and girls, or perhaps just the difference between any two people, and I learned about my own limitations.

The first lesson involved a quilt that I am making, a baby blanket, out of flannel.  The flannel was an impulse choice, I was walking around sort of aimlessly, looking at the fabrics, when I saw four colors grouped together in a way that made me happy, and so I took a yard of each color, not sure exactly what I would do with them, but knowing it would satisfy something deep inside me to do it.  Ah, it might have satisfied if only it had been any fabric but flannel - not knowing then what I know now and all.

Here are the things I have learned about flannel:
1. It is a stretchy fabric.  It is quite willing to pull and give and wiggle its shape all over the place. You have to be very stern with it, poking and prodding it with pins to show it who is boss.
2. It is also a very sticky fabric. This means that when you place one piece on top of another, you know, to piece the quilt together, and then you have to make some small adjustment, it sticks and sticks and then according to some law of physics, it suddenly jolts apart much farther than the minute amount you wanted it to move.  And so  you start over, it wiggling and stretching and sticking when you least want it to.
3. It garbles up my machine, filling it with lint and essence of flannel until my machine is coughing, choking, spitting, gagging, poor old thing.  Although, actually, my machine kind of does that with a lot of fabrics.


My second lesson is about boys.  A friend of mine has two young boys, one recently three and the other 15 months old.  She had somewhere she had to be most of yesterday and all of today.  I told her I would watch them for her, this long before I knew I was pregnant, and long before the  hernia had started bothering me again.  But the day for them to come dawned bright and I was feeling really good.  They are good boys, and didn't really give me any trouble either day - but sakes alive am I exhausted.  I still would have offered to watch them, I'd watch them again next week if she needed me, but I definitely learned something about boys. (or, again, is it just a difference in personality?)

Here are the things I've learned about boys:
1. They are a force of nature.  They are tornadoes, hurricanes, elephant stampedes, thunder and lightning, they are stone walls.  Which, in all honesty, I think makes their affection that much sweeter, when they lie soft and still, or cuddle their heads into that spot between your neck and shoulder, when they smile at you with their big cheeks covered in chocolate from warm gooey cookies - it warms you inside in a way that I don't get from my girls.
2.  Force of nature, yes. Whining, complaining, high pitched squealers they are not.  I think the phrase I currently use most often with Hallie these days is, "Try saying it again. No whining this time."  I have yet to hear these guys make a single whining sound.
3. All little kids have energy, but it seems to radiate off of boys in a different way.  Like, the energy from girls radiates in transverse waves and boys in longitudinal (I remember a few things from college).

I guess this experience has just really heightened my appreciation that we are having another girl.  Don't get me wrong, little boys are great, and these little boys especially are genuine sweeties, well behaved and good natured.  The thing is that I feel like I've been trained in girldom, and to have a boy suddenly thrust upon me would shatter everything I know about parenting.  Like
if you had spent your time training to run a marathon, only to be told that the test would be whether or not you could shoot 90 out of 100 free throws.
if you had spent years studying 15th century Spanish poetry, only to be told that the final exam was only going  to cover nuclear phsyics.
if all of your sewing experience was with cotton, and suddenly you were trying to make a blanket out of flannel.
if you had spent all your life on Venus and were suddenly told you had to move to Mars.

Now, I realize that millions of parents the world over have both boy and girl children.  I guess those parents are the ones that excel at the triathlon, or get double majors in Psychology and Calculus, but I don't think it's me.  Because apparently, all I can sew on is cotton.

I guess my best hope is that if I do ever have a boy I can also find a crash course in Mars-living.  And in flannel-sewing too, I guess, you know while I'm at it.