David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published Jan. 14, 2003

Sex isn't that big a priority

Beware of the Fountain of Youth. Oh, if only I'd known.

You may have already read this somewhere, but boys and girls are different. My new son reminded me of this within a few days of his arrival. The message came in the form of a spritz to my shirt as I changed his diaper for the umpteenth time. I don't think I need to elaborate much further, do I? Suffice it to say that Phil shoots for accuracy and distance.

Yes, we had a boy -- a strapping 8-pound, 3-ounce lad who looks a lot like his old man, yours truly. Well, we love him anyway.

We were hoping for a boy, but a girl would have been great also. As long as he's healthy, the gender is of little consequence. For some folks, however, the sex is a big, big deal.

Let's rewind the tape a few years and eavesdrop on a dinner conversation. In our previous lives, when my wife and I first began hashing out our baby-making plans, whilst dining on salmon pico and fruit trifle at the Italian Market & Grill, we agreed that two children would satisfy our parental desires -- no more, no less.

It's a nice, round number. I'd like a family of four and a caesar salad, please. Plus, it's easier to get a table at a restaurant. If you arrive as a party of four or less, you'll get a table without much trouble. However, if you walk in as a party of five or more, you're in for additional wait time.

Restaurant themes notwithstanding, let's move ahead to April 2001. Our first child is born, Anna -- daddy's little girl. How sweet. We decided not to find out Anna's gender until she was born. It was fun to do it like that, plus it drove the prospective grandparents crazy, an added value.

Let's fast-forward 11 months or so. My wife's pregnant again. We hope it's a boy, and we decide to again enjoy the suspense (and even more "added value") by not finding out the gender. We also decide that since my wife must undergo a second cesarean section, we might as well have the doc perform a tubal ligation. Two is it. When the second baby comes, we are officially out of the baby-making business.

It's during the second pregnancy when things really get interesting in terms of some people's questions and reactions.

The most perplexing, yet quite common, attitude is capsulated by the following conversation. I remember it well, as I had it at least 20 times. I'll use the name Cliff to represent a long list of people with whom I carried on this dialog. Besides, apart from The Big Red Dog, an Acapulco diver and Mr. Clavin, I don't know a Cliff.

Cliff: "You're going to have another baby? That's great! Is it a boy or a girl?"

Me: "We don't know. We're leaving it a mystery. Two will be it, though. She's getting her tubes tied."

Cliff: "Well, what if it's another girl?"

Me: "Then we'll have two girls."

Cliff: "You don't want a boy?"

Me: "Sure, we'd like a boy, but two kids is enough for us. Two girls will be just as great as one boy and one girl."

Cliff: "Well, OK then. Good luck. I hope it works out for you."

This may sound like a strange question coming from a guy, but what's so important about having a boy? Sure, I wanted a boy so that we'd have one of each gender and be able to enjoy a wide range of experiences, but another girl would have been just as fine. Why are some people so hung up about having a boy?

I think part of it is that some people, while they probably won't admit it, consider boys to be more valuable than girls, and a man who does not father a son has failed. I'd like to sum up that view with one word: disgusting. What a load of, uh, poo poo. I'd like to think that backwater, patriarchal sentiments like that no longer thrive in the modern era, but they do. What would these people have me do if Phil had been a girl? Should we keep pumping out baby after baby after baby until we hit the magical Y-chromosome? No way. I've got to get some sleep eventually.

Some folks are terribly concerned about "carrying on the family name," whatever that means. Names are a big deal to some people, and ensuring their surname thrives for generations is of major importance. I could care less. Spates is my last name. Big deal. While relatively rare, there are plenty of us walking around. A quick Google search proves it.

I guess if we had two girls, that would have been a disaster, huh? If they follow societal norms, they'll get married, adopt their husbands' surnames, and then have children under the new names. No more Spateses? Hardly.

They're still part of us, regardless of their names. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," or, "You say 'poTAYto,' I say 'poTAHto.'"

I have a new baby boy. I'm not worried about passing him the torch. Right now I'm just worried about learning to avoid the Fountain of Youth.

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David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@chartertn.net.