Things that matter, things that don't.

Things that matter:

Georgia weighs seven pounds, and Odessa weighs almost EIGHT.

They're growing faster than zucchini in July, but more delicious (and unlike zucchini, we don't wonder what in the name of Britney we're going to do with that much baby.)

They eat four thousand times a day. They no longer sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. When they wake up crying, they wake up the other one too. Also, we've taken to calling them "that one" and "the other one." We're tired.

(Photo: Odessa at Odessa (the diner) with Aunties Lorna and Mary Ann)

Things that don't:

Everyone is very concerned with whether the babies are boys or girls. Staci has taken the brunt of it... She got yelled at by a lady who thought we were creating traumatic confusion for them by not draping them in pink. Another person was upset because they were wearing blue (which is mostly all there is besides pink) but then realized that there was a pink blanket in the stroller and calmed right down.

It boiled over this weekend. Previously, an old queen had called to congratulate and inquire about gender, but was adorably addled and ended up asking "what's their sexuality?" Which seems no weirder or more intrusive than the demand to know what bits the babies are sporting Down There. I said "they're queer, haha!" and we shared a little guffaw.

But then this weekend at Bob Kohler's memorial, we were loitering by the pop'ems when Penny Arcade asked the boys-or-girls question, and I had just had enough and reverted to "they're queer!" Penny freaked out.

- How do you know?! Did you do The Test? The Test that the whole country is hoping for, so they can abort the gay babeeees!!?!

- No, I'm pretty sure it's nurture.

- I thought we were about freeeedommm!

Flotilla was nearby, and whispered to her "No, it's good -- then they'll be on our side!"

(Photo: Baby O with Aunty LaurieWen at Bob's memorial.)

Later, during her eulogizing of Bob, she performance arted us in retort. Penny repeated the conversation we'd had 20 minutes earlier, but shriekier, even more accusing, over twanging guitars. I'm not sure how it was related to the eulogy...

Anyway, turns out that babies' gender coding is a topic that seems to strip onlookers of all decorum and erase strangers' sense of boundaries between themselves and our family. No such thing as just letting the babies be -- people want you to graffiti their grown-up identity onto them right now. And if they think you've written it wrong, you're in for an all-out intervention. Yikes! I was thinking I just wanted the babies to experience the exciting breadth of the world, but now I've gone all protectionist. Kindly step away from the babies.