CEO of the House: When Gender Color-Coding Fails

by Laurie McDermott

"Oh, lookee! What a cute little girl!"

"Thanks," said my friend, Marge, on the compliment bestowed upon her three-month-old infant, "but actually, SHE'S a HE."

"Oh, I'm sorry," apologized the woman in line behind us at the Baby Gap counter.

Later, Marge was upset, "But he's wearing blue! When a baby is in pink, it's a girl, when he's in blue, boy! Who doesn't know that?

"Marge, his outfit is light blue, but the blanket you've covered him in is yellow." I said, trying to explain. Not listening, she continued, "Look, see, his binkie is blue, too!"

I can't even count how many times my ten-month-old son, dressed in blue, has been called "such a cute little girl" by a stranger thrusting their face inside his car seat.

Life is beyond crazy without having to make sure others know the true sex of my child. My son's closet is full of blue clothes. But sometimes, well okay, once, I had to dress him in the only clean outfit hanging in the closet: a pair of pink striped overalls. These were given to him by my sister-in-law who knew we were having a boy but hoped the doctors mistook the part as "an extra leg or something." I kept the outfit because I didn't want to offend my sister-in-law's unrealistic fantasy and figured if I ever had a girl one day, the outfit would come in handy.

Handy was not the word I used when my son ejected his lunch all over his last clean outfit seconds before I buckled him into his car seat. (Mom's Law #1: Rush your child and you will be late for sure.) I ran to his closet. There "pinky" hung in all its femininity. I grabbed the outfit off the hanger and quickly negotiated, "Well, it's only for a couple hours, if I keep the blue blanket over his body, no one will ever know."

20 minutes later, I'm standing in line at Savon pharmacy when my old neighbor, Jane, spots me, "Laurie!" she hollers, wildly waving her arm from three aisles away. I ducked down the nearest aisle pretending not to see her, quickly checking my boy for signs of peeking pink. It was too late. Joan was hot on my trail.

"Laurie!" she shouted, "I haven't seen you in ages. I didn't know you had a baby!"

Jane bent down to his mobile car seat. "What a cute little girl! How old?"

I looked at my infant. Hmmm…no pink. What made her think he was a girl? It was hard to guess, knowing Jane was the type of woman to blurt out "When's the baby due?" to a non-pregnant woman just because their stomach has a little pooch.

"He's 6 months," I said. Then, purely for my amusement, I asked, "Jane, how did you know my baby was a girl?"

"Are you kidding?! Look at those eyes, such long eyelashes! How beautiful…she looks just like you!"

"Thank you," I smiled, keeping my secret and my friend unembarrassed. I'm learning, sometimes it's best to just smile, everyone is happy.