My mother had two, my sister had three, and my brother had four! What did they have that I didn’t? Little girls. My family is abundant with females. I have seven nieces and they in turn had a multitude of baby girls. I, on the other hand, had one baby boy. He grew up and had two baby boys. When we took custody of two children, they were boys. A year later we took temporary custody of…one more boy. Five out of six of our cats are boys. My whole life revolves around the male psyche.
In my teen dating years, I had a boyfriend who had four brothers. I remember visiting his home to meet his family for the first time; his mom was a warm and friendly woman. She made me feel welcome and we made friends quickly. The first thing I remember noticing about her home was how masculine it felt. There were power tools on the floor next to the back door. Cowboy hats (I live in Texas) and caps with logos stating, John Deere Tractors and Deer Hunters Do It In The Woods, were strewn around the house. Boots stood in every corner; a huge gun case loomed in the living room, filled with hunting rifles and shotguns. Her laundry was a mountain of blue jeans and boxers. The only indication that a woman inhabited any part of the house was the ruffled, gingham-checked curtains that hung in her kitchen. I remember thinking how strange she has nothing here that reflects her personality; her home looked like a bunkhouse inhabited only by men. After a few visits, I realized she had adapted well to the male influence in her life. She was as adept at using the power tools, hunting in the woods, and breaking down and cleaning a rifle as any male in her household. I thought she was amazing. I did not however, envy her life or the look of her home. I always envisioned my adult home decorated with stylish furniture, custom drapery, and a luxurious spa like bathroom.
I look around my home and I remember my boyfriend’s mother. I understand better now the influence of males as I make note of the large plastic container sitting prominently on my kitchen shelf. The original reason for purchasing it was for pasta storage; it now houses assorted screwdrivers, wrenches, washers, and a small can of WD 40. Virtually every lamp in my house has a cap perched on top of the lampshade. My furniture is more functional than fabulous. Nestled between pots, pans, and dishes are various sizes of hammers and tape measures. Instead of the pretty crystal vases I envisioned for my home, there is an assortment of mason jars, filled with screws and nails. These are placed strategically around the house in case one of my males feels the desire to hang a hat rack, gun rack, deer antlers, or a decorative calendar from the local feed store. I have grown accustomed to fishing tackle being displayed as a work of art around the house. The jar full of bugs sitting prominently in the kitchen window is considered a nature display.
I enjoy my males, please don’t misunderstand. They are interesting and fun on occasion. I have learned a lot from them and someday hope to put to good use the knowledge of the difference between torque and horsepower. I was even happy when I received my very own electric drill one year for Christmas. I do, however, miss a few things pertaining to having a little girl in the house. I have come to terms with the fact that I will never shop for a prom dress, never be asked my opinion on which dress is more slimming, or have the joy of sending a young lady off on her first date. I will never be the mother of the bride. My oldest did ask me the other day if I would teach him how to cook; I guess I can’t have everything.