One of my very earliest memories is of our house in New Jersey, the one we lived in when my little sister was born. It was the first house my parents ever bought and I can only imagine how exciting it was for them to buy the BRAND NEW 4 bedroom, 2 bath colonial with a big yard on a cul-de-sac. Something about being a homeowner just feels so grown up, even more than kids or a minivan or health insurance. I spent oh so many hours running around that neighborhood or playing on the swing set or cutting my own hair and then hiding under a chair so Mom wouldn’t yell at me reading quietly in the family room.

It was a good house.

One of my OTHER earliest memories is sneaking downstairs right around Christmas to find my parents and an aunt and uncle or two huddled around this:

Charming starter home on spacious lot, great location & schools

They were putting the finishing touches on the doll house as a Christmas present. My dad was SO DISAPPOINTED I saw it before Christmas morning. I still remember him rushing me back upstairs and telling me I was absolutely NOT allowed out of bed again no matter what. I tried super hard not to even think about the house – and I know I didn’t talk about it – until it was officially mine, although I don’t think anyone tried to tell me my presents were “from Santa” after that.

Center entry, formal living and dining rooms

The doll house is an exact replica of the actual house we living in in New Jersey, from the floor plan and carpet color right down to the wallpaper. There was no kit or plans, just my dad and a tape measure and his amazing attention to detail.

Even though we moved to Long Island after a couple of years…and California a few years after that…and then Massachusetts…and finally to Virgina, my parents had this GIANT doll house shipped with our stuff EVERY TIME. Dad built a special crate and wrapped it in packing paper and Styrofoam so not a single wall is cracked or damaged even though it’s been almost two decades since it was uncrated.

And ever since I announced I was pregnant the first time my parents been dreaming of the day the dollhouse is no longer their problem. Baby #2’s girl parts sealed the doll house’s fate (although Baby Evan has already greatly enjoyed putting various items in the windows – Attack of the giant corn! Watch out for the tiny killer dump truck! On noes we’re all going to be eaten by the singing frog!) so now it lives in my dining room.

House has great bones, but some cosmetic repairs needed

As well as it was taken care of, NO house can hold up to 20 years of abandonment. Peeling paper, moldy carpets, and water damage all abound.

I’m sort of conflicted about fixing up the doll house – I want it exactly as I remember it (even though it’s already not) and it feels disloyal to my parents to tear apart even a minute of their hard work. But some of that decor is in really bad shape.

Orginal 1980's kitchen and baths. In case you're into "vintage".

Like that middle upstairs bathroom. Yikes.

And I don’t think anyone ANYWHERE still sells that wallpaper, so matching it is out of the question.

I guess I’m going to be redecorating.

FIREPLACE! The highlight of every realtor's tour!

And hey, since I don’t have the time and/or money to redecorate my entire REAL house (again) right now, this is a great place to channel my creative energy. Tiny rooms to paint! Tiny rugs! Tiny appliances! All new tiny furniture! And the best part, there’s only a tiny bit of wallpaper to peel off and carpet to tear up.

Stay tuned for the very exciting renovation coming soon.

Damn, I was hoping for hardwood.

Ladies and gentleman, we have a…..

GIRL!

My bank account is already weeping.

Besides THAT awesomeness, I am happy to report the baby looks perfect. For some reason, as focused as I’ve been on the gender, I’ve been secretly freaking out about the rest of the scan to the point where I’ve been waking up regularly at 2 am to obsess about it. Maybe it’s because this pregnancy feels so different from the first one I have a hard time believing it can be “normal.” Maybe it’s because after two years in the mommy-blogging world I have a better understanding of what a questionable or poor or tragic result means. Reading about it in What To Expect just doesn’t terrify me the way seeing it spelled out in black and white and gray and red and every rainbow color of emotion on the internet does. But the tech took a zillion measurements and was very thorough and said several times everything looked perfect and normal and good.

So for the record, the “high heartbeat means it’s a girl” old wives tale proved 100% true for me. Which makes it scientifically proven. IT’S SCIENCE, PEOPLE.

p.s. Oh God now I DO have to pick a name. I think we’ll probably narrow it down to a couple and make the announcement after she’s (SHE!!!!) born. So don’t be mad when I won’t tell you what it is until then – I DON’T KNOW.

p.p.s. Once this sinks in, expect a huge freak out over everything from whether or not I need to give Baby Girl her (HER!!!!!) own nursery to how exactly one changes little girl diapers.

p.p.p.s. I think E might cry. Please tell him girls are awesome and that they DON’T always grow up and break your heart. Although I think half his disappointment is not getting to use the awesome boy name we picked out. This time.