When testosterone takes over the house

A few years back a friend of mine was pregnant and knew it was a boy. This, to her, was sort of a relief. Although at the time she hadn't said anything to anyone about it, she had wanted a boy.

When I asked her why she wanted a boy over a girl she simply replied that she was just a boy mommy. Now that I have a boy of my own I know what she meant, sort of.

Before I got pregnant I never really thought much about whether I wanted a boy or a girl. Once I did get a bun in the oven, although I assumed it would be a boy since practically everyone on my husband's side of the family was a boy, I for some reason had pictured a girl. Not that I wanted a girl over a boy. And not that I really spent any time picturing.

To me it was no surprise when I found out I was having a boy. And it was no disappointment. Quite the opposite, I was absolutely overjoyed. Of course, had the baby been a girl I would have been equally thrilled. Seriously--I know people say they don't care about the sex but secretly a lot of them do. And they tell you so after the baby is born and they got what they wanted.

I just wanted a healthy baby, honest. It never occurred to me to play one side over the other. Then I found out I was having a boy. I warmed up to the thought of having another male presence in the house faster than the speed of light. It was firmly planted in the core of my soul: I was having a SON. And it felt great!

On a much slower scale, little things started changing within me. The more pregnant I became, the more boy-ish things I liked. Well, stereotypical things, I should say. Let's just say that I started taking a keen interest in things I couldn't have cared less about before that are often associated with boys.

And I became obsessed with those things in given time. For example, I nearly lost my mind waiting for the baseball season to start. Normally I regarded baseball players as overpaid wienies who were out on the disabled list for getting a hangnail. Now here I was pining away for them.

Next was football. The old me abhorred football and all things associated with it. Except for the New Orleans Saints. I always have and always will have a soft spot for Dem Saints, but now that I was with male child the desire to watch men tackle each other was simply cosmic.

I am now the one pushing for the Fantasy Football league. I am the one who peruses the NFL merchandise websites. Of course I'm looking for onesies but also a visor for myself. And this is coming from a woman who in the past refused to wear clothing that had labels because "I'm not a billboard!"

I'm the one who knows all about the Minnesota Twins. I know about Jorge Posada's (of the Yankees) batting percentage. I know things I shouldn't know like pointless stats and what people were doing in the off-season. I care about the minutiae. Wait, no I don't--I still don't care about that.

But I will leave golf on the television if it pops up. And I consider information I get from ESPN to be news. And I have opinions about certain sportscasters. And I know who's a free agent.

Essentially, I've turned into my husband. I'm the friend he always wanted, only he married him (her). It wasn't until I had the extra testosterone running through my system that the cycle was complete, though.

Now all I can think of is sports. Playing them, watching them. Thinking about which one my son may play and get a scholarship to college since living in NYC is putting us in the poor house.

Of course, my son may not be into any of this. He may prefer the exact opposite. Who knows. But for now, the testosterone is running strong in our house, and it has completely taken me over.

Luckily, I like it.