How Does Regan Dulles O'Sullivan Sound?

18 March 2013

Story #644

R. Linda:

So dere I was sitten' at da table laughin' and haffen a good tyme of it when da wife announces to all assembled we be expectin' a . . .  wait for it . . . another boyo! I had known about dis 'ere fer a few monts now I did, and the whole tyme of it, I wus sayin' ta da wife I wus, "Ye knoe dis be da beginnin' of a basketball team, a few more boyos an' we kin start a game fer real wit oar very own teem!"

Okay, why am I writing in an Irish accent? Because, as usual, when I get stressed, I go right back home to the old sod I do. So here it is, Tonya tells me, unsuspecting self, a few months back, "Gabriel, I have news! You are going to be a dad for the third time. And THIS time, it is a girl!"

I had been sitting in the living room after the kiddos had gone to bed, after a particularly exhausting evening of the two of them kicking the shite out of each other, and as I was vegging in front of the telly, herself, sits down and lays this news on me. After the evening we just had, this would be good news. I tell ya! At first, I thought she was kidding, but one look at the sparkle in her eye, and I knew she wasn't. Okay, I say, another kiddo to the clan. Me parents and especially YOUR mother will be happy to have the news. When will the new wee one be arriving? I asked.

"Well, August," says she.

"Oi, we just donated all the baby stuff to the Good Will," I remembered and thought for joy. Here, we get to start from scratch.

"Well, it'll be a girl this time, so . . ."

"How do you know that?" I asked, confused. It be too early to know.

"I just do." Says she.

"Even so, it won't matter, yellow or green and blue and pink, won't matter until it be older."

"It matters to me." Says she and that be that.

So for months now, before leaving for work, I pat her tummy and say, "How's me wee footballer?" and instantly, I be corrected with, "How's your wee daughter, you mean."

"No, boyo." I smile, and off I go to the shout of "GIRL!"

Miss Tonya has been out in the mall stores, telling me about the adorable things they had for girls on Valentine's Day. "Oh Gabe, there was a little red heart dress . . . I almost bought it." Such as that. What really scared me was the bet she wanted to make because she had me convinced it was a girl.

"Twenty dollars. It's a girl."

I thought about it, but she seemed so sure of it. I was tempted, but then . . .

"Nuhhh, no. Not gonna bet wit ye." I said sure she knew it instinctively and I just couldn't bring meself to enter into it, because I was getting more and more uncertain that it wasn't a boy. NOW I wish I had bet her bad self because I was right!

We waited for the ultrasound to determine whether it was a boy or a girl, which came last Friday. We decided to announce the new arrival as soon as we knew.

Tonya had me entirely convinced by then that the babe was a girl. She and her mother had been bandying about Irish girl names and somehow had ended up with a name that was anything but: Delilah Katrina O'Sullivan. I was like, WHAT when I heard it. So, in me heart of hearts, I was hoping for a boy, and it was much easier to come up with a name that actually rolled off the tongue with O'Sullivan.

"Do you want to come with me?" She says to me a week before the ultrasound.

"Uh . . . nah," I said, feeling frightened to death to find out it was Delilah Katrina O'Sullivan gestating in there.

"Oh, coward. You need to come with me to understand this is REAL."

"I know it be real." Says I trying to ignore her and look busy.

"You're going, and that's that." Says she and walks off.

The day arrived. I took off from work that morning, and as we got ready to head out, I said to the baby bump, "So me boyo, look sharp; we are going to get a gander at the jewels."

"What? Is that anything to say to your baby girl?"

"Not a girl, Ton, it is a boy."

"Oh, you of little faith, it's a girl, think PINK O'Sullivan." Says she, and off we go.

The joking is over once we are in the room with the technician, and we are ready to go. The gel is on, the sensor is ready, the screen is glowing, and there, in all his glory, showing off his stuff right off, is HIM. Yup, and before the tech can say a word, Tonya has noticed and realised and is not happy.

"You don't have to tell me. I can see that's a boy," she says to the woman, looking back at her with all the sympathy in the world. "This makes three boys! I wanted a little girl," and then it was wah wah wah. The tears came, and the disappointment hit, and I tried to say things like, "Boys are less expensive than girls," but that didn't go over well. Then I said, "Our two will be so pleased," and she countered that with, "No, they wanted a little sister," and I was at me wits end trying to reassure her broken heart, but then she started laughing and said, "Oh what the hell, it's a boy so well name it Arnold Donald O'Sullivan!"

"Whoa, whoa, wait one minute, dere Tonya. No son of mine will be called dat!" I was floored.

"Then Baylor Andrew Dugel O'Sullivan. We'll call him BAD for short. Better than your airport names."

"Oh no, no, no, no we won't." Where does she come up with these names? "Just look at 'em up on dat screen dere, Tonya. That does not look like an Arnold Donald or a Baylor Andrew Dugel to me!"

Meanwhile, the techie moved the sensor, and the wee babe is shown in colour on the screen. This ends my chat because I had only seen black-and-white images, so seeing colour was a treat.

"See, he is good with that name," she smiled at the techie.

"Now Tonya . . . NO." I said, watching his bad self kick and stretch, his mam smiling, making mothering sounds, and murmuring that now she knows what he's doing. "See dat Tonya, a footballer. For sure," I said. I couldn't take me eyes off him, but I realised Tonya was watching me with an adorable look in her eyes. Well, it was a moment; it was.

Her doctor came in a few minutes later, and there was the confirmation, "Oh, you are having a boy!"

And then the tears welled up again, and Tonya boohooed a wee bit and told us it was alright, but this was the last one. . . and . . .

"AND? Last one?" I said, somewhat stunned.

"Yes, I think so. I know this is it; there is no more chance for a girl." And she turns to the two women and says, "He only makes boys." Oh boo-hoo-hoo! Gees, the woman.

"It be all me fault, yes it be," I said.

"Do you notice how big the baby is?" the doctor asked. She had taken the sensor and was trying to get him to move so she could get a better view of him. "Look, he's going to be a tall one."

As the session ended, the tears turned to laughter, then back to tears. I tell you, the wife was an emotional mess. She was. I was thrilled, but I pretended to be sad, but I really, really wasn't.

"Just think, tall, dark and handsome," her doctor said, and of course, that got a big old grin on me stupid face, but I couldn't help it. "You know, Tonya, this boy could be a blessing in disguise for whatever unknown reason, and as time passes, you may be pleased he is a he."

Wow, I thought, why didn't I come up with THAT? 

Yesterday was the big announcement: the O'Sullivan family will expand to one more male. And he won't be named Arnold, Donald, BAD, Caleb, or Jesse. Just so you know, I'm thinking of another airport name, like Dulles or Reagan. There you go, that last one: Reagan Dulles O'Sullivan! That's the one. Now I just have to tell the wife.

Gabe
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