I have never been to a gender reveal party. Nor do I really care to unless there’s either a lot of mojitos or mai tais. If it is a boy serve up the mojitos. If it’s a girl serve up the maitais. Just go with it. Gender reveal parties are silly and maybe even a menace to society. So, let’s mix it up.

I was in the park this weekend and came across a group setting up a gender reveal party. I ran away as quickly as possible.

Everytime there’s such a party, there’s a mishap of some sorts. No thanks. Not sticking around for that.

When I was pregnant we decided to not find out the gender beforehand. What would it matter? Yellow was a perfectly acceptable color for clothes and the bedroom. Some people were annoyed because they wanted to know whether to buy blue or pink items. Oh my. That just wasn’t my primary concern.

I just wanted a healthy baby. I will admit I readily had a girl’s name picked out. However, we didn’t come up with a boy’s name until the week I gave birth. It was hard. That was the only hard part of not knowing beforehand.

When I gave birth and saw my baby boy, it was pure joy and excitement. My active labor was 12 minutes. Yes. Yes, it was. I’m efficient. That’s my joke. But back to the birth. As the baby exited my body and entered the world, I waited with grand anticipation. Boy? Girl?

And from the second he was born, my son has kept me guessing, laughing, and smiling.