I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues

What is it with the pink and blue thing anyway? This distinction between boy babies and girl babies? I know it never existed when I was a child and my mother kept popping out babies every few years. I remember yellow being popular and blue for all babies. And baby gear being gender neutral (rompers for all!). And my baby sister being dressed in navy and my own babies in black and white. And my daughter making up her daughter's nursery in all the colours of the rainbow. Dramatic, true colours and not pastels. As I did mine, in my time, in brilliant turquoise and emerald green.

I was mulling over these thoughts after a friend told me it was important to know the future grandchild's gender for "decorating and clothing" reasons. Whut? What can one respond as this thinking is so prevalent and I'm getting a little tired of the lone voice crying in the wilderness thing. Girls are still soft and fluffy and delicate and need to be pink-cushioned and sugared and spicied?

Are we so regressive? I was relieved and validated, therefore, to find this excellent post today in Sociological Images.

And am I alone in thinking this early colour sorting has an effect on the babies themselves - studies have shown that people react differently to babies. Pink babies are held, talked to and cuddled more, blue babies are not. Early conditioning. Not a good thing for the lonely little boy baby and his future emotional availability.

Topsy Turvy Time

And yes, in case you're asking, I am so a huge fan of "Topsy Turvy" the movie.
Life's like this at the moment:
Calls from friends in Newfoundland telling me they can hardly wait till I get home.
Friends and family here telling me they are so sad I'm leaving home.
I finally decided that home is where the heart is, like the song says. so wherever my gypsy heart lands is my home.

And I get a few very sad emails from my dear friend R as his girlfriend had broken up with him, for the final time in the space of a few short months. She had tried to break up with him a few times, but he had been persistent in trying to make it work. I've met her and wondered privately at their partnership. Not a flicker of a spark that I could determine. And this is what she told him when she dearjohnned him, the spark was never there for her. I feel so sad for him, he had great hopes of this working out and had confided in me last week that the relationship had relieved his chronic loneliness. We can never run from ourselves though, can we?

And two of my brothers, both grandfathers, have been expecting babies - their partners are, I should add. One of the babies was born yesterday, emergency, but doing well now, praise be. The other is due in a week or so. This baby will be uncle to a fifteen year old. Rather them than me. I can't even imagine such a situation.

My mantra of late has been: I'm too old for this shite. Pays off handsomely in difficult situations. And a new baby in your sixties is a challenge, n'est pas?

And I'm all in upheaval here, thinking to myself I had thought my life simplified but when parking yourself elsewhere for four months, it is amazing the detritus that has to go with you when you pry up the tent pegs once more. I am leaving on Tuesday for Newfoundland with a tightly packed car but with a bonus of my dog riding shotgun (she adores road trips).

And yeah, I should be working and not blogging, but every good woman deserves a break.

I'm a little bit at sixes and sevens at the moment. Can't you tell?