I Don't Have a Daughter... But If I Did

I had three boys.  Correction:  I have three boys.  I gave birth to three boys.  And if I'm being honest - because my younger years with my  mom weren't what so many of my friends had (shopping excursions, hair appointments, girl talk, girl stuff...  heck it didn't matter if I did boy stuff - we just didn't converse a whole lot to begin with.  So to add an activity to that would have been preposterous) I was glad I had all boys.   But when I was pregnant, at least with #2 and #3 people would ask if we knew what it was and/or if we wanted a girl - especially when we got to #3.  But for me - I just didn't.  My mom and I didn't get along most of the time and that was just not my favorite time in my life.  That's not to say boys can't "not get along" with their mom too, we've had some of that, but it's different.  I parented differently.  Most of the time.  And a lot of it has to do with the "gift" I got in "the dad".

Cutting to the chase.  Jeff has been out of town since Friday and I've been trying to get some rooms in order now that I'm back to work and it's SO MUCH EASIER to do when he's not under foot. (You ladies know exactly what I'm talking about... kind of like the sick/pouty thing, right?)  So there's been this giant pile of clean clothes that my oldest left strewn about over break - I washed them, folded them and usually left them on the ironing table by the laundry room so each day he knew where to find some clean clothes.  School started up last week and he had mentioned he would be home last weekend, so I brought it all up and put it on the dining room table.  It sat there all week long.  So this morning I texted him and asked what he wanted me to do with his laundry.  He said he would come in right then.  I told him "No rush, just was checking."  Then I asked him if he wanted breakfast when he go here.  "No thanks."  Hmmmm...  

Usually I don't get responses.  Well, quick responses and coming in at 9:30 after a Saturday  night in college??  So my head got swirling.  Something was up.  The question was:  Could I handle it alone without "the dad" around?  

I left to go work out believing he would be a while still and on my way down the hill I ran into a friend who was walking so stopped and chatted at her for a few minutes.  THEN I see Jeffrey coming up the hill in his truck and right away I can see his hair is out of his face and I am smart enough to get excited only for a moment - in thinking he's finally cut his hair... and realize it's braided again.  Which I don't mind.  If it's going to be long, I like the braids.  I liked them more a month ago...  So he stops and we all three chat for a minute.  And then I see it.  Scratch that.  I see THEM.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudddddddddgggggggggge.  Shit.  Damnit.  Shit.  Crap.  WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!?!?!?  He laughs, says "You don't like them?"  

Me: "Did my reaction come across that I might like them?"

JD: <laughs> I'm going to go grab my stuff.

Me:  "I'm right behind you."

Then it gets better.  Because Jeff was out of town I took extra measures at locking doors. All doors.  So Jeffrey hopped the fence because it was frozen shut - at the same time I was calling Zach asking him to let me in.

JD: "Why'd you lock all the doors?"

Me:  "Cos dad is gone."

JD:  "Zach is here."

Me:  "C'mon... really?  He's in the basement, door shut, sleeping and wouldn't hear a thing."

JD:  <smiles>  "Yah, you're right."

Okay.  First of all, being all nicey-nice and agreeing with me is NOT going to make me like them AT ALL.

So here it is:

Me:  "I love you and am rarely disappointed in you, but this I don't like at all."

JD:  "You're disappointed?"

Me:  "Ya.  I'd rather you get a tattoo or (this is where my fine parenting REALLY kicked in) told me you got someone pregnant."

JD:  "Seriously?  I think a tattoo or getting someone pregnant is WAY worse."

Me: (Thanks to his demeanor... he is really good that way) <heavy sigh>  "Ya, you're right.  But shit, I just don't like this.  I'm not racist Jeff, but I hate to tell you this.  You're NOT black."

JD:  "I've got a 3.8+ GPA, I'm going to keep it.  I killed it in the weight room this Thursday when everyone else was puking - because of my work over break.  This is fine."

Me:  "I don't like it.  The hair is one thing.  EARRINGS are quite another."

Yes... earrings.  Gay ass earrings.  And I told him that.  Ugly as sin.  Stupid.  But yes... holes will close up.  A tattoo won't go away, nor will a crying, pooping bundle of joy.  

So... I've got three boys.  Two of whom are growing their hair out.  And I have been pretty good about it - but I don't like it.  Anymore.  And I really don't like the stupid (*&^%#^%(O(&%&##@#Y))&%$ earrings.  Gay as hell. Period.  So they have boy parts, but apparently - I am going to have to invest in more beauty aids, leaving me to believe that they are getting in touch with their feminine sides.

We obviously missed something in the parenting handbook when it came to "How to manage/manipulate your children when they're adults."

Double shit. Shit.

And then I realize... there are worse things.  And while I remember that... please allow me today and the next 88 times I see him... to think:  SHIT!  Stupid.  Dumb.  Ick.