DragonBlog

Birds of Prey...

I like boys. Okay, men, nowadays. Boys are, well, boys and aren't equipped to fully understand a woman with kids. Oh, they'd have potential to be fun and all, but really... Men. I've gone from the type of girl who'd ogle a tall, long-haired, brooding boy to a woman who raises and eyebrow at the guy two aisles down with slightly-graying hair and a kid in the cart.

The thing is - I'm not ogling them for THOSE reasons. Okay. Maybe occasionally. But I know that I've got what I need at home in my own little nest. What it is, is that I miss having "guy" friends. I used to have guy friends. I talked with them, about everything and anything and it always seemed as if I could relate better to them than most of my female friends.

Not a lot of guy friends are left, however. Most of the male friends I had over the years have wandered off to college and/or their own lives, wives, and what-nots. And now I find that making new male friends is, well, difficult at best. Most of the "activities" I go to where I might meet new friends are for moms, you see. And though there are a few stay-at-home-dads out there, they are still few enough and far between and tend to flock together for safety against the moms. Mind you, considering the kind of conversations I've had with some of the moms - I don't blame them. There's only so many times a man can hear a woman's labor and birth story, complete with episiotomy details, before fleeing to the safety of their fellow menfolk. Heck, sometimes it scares me, hearing all those birth stories, and I've been through childbirth. Twice. *shudder*

Which means that most of the other men I come into contact with are the husbands of the moms I meet.

Now, something happened when I got married. I entered a new genre of people-type. The "wife". Now the wife is a territorial species. She keeps her beady eyes on the lookout for anyone entering her territory. It is important to keep one's head down and not make eye contact with her male partner, or she will potentially tear. you. apart. Sqwawk, flutter, dead. One does not approach the male partner of the wife species until one has been cleared by the wife herself. With divorce rates as high as they are, women are becoming more and more proprietary over their husbands. Rightly so, in some cases I suppose, especially once parenting comes into play.

Because now, as a "mom" the wife has to divide her attention. Now someone could slip by her while she's not looking. Not only that, but now she has to struggle with the weight that came with pregnancy, mood swings from post-pregnancy, and the utter desire to smack the first adult that comes along after a long day of being whined at - simply because she couldn't smack the offending offspring that frustrated her in the first place. This does not lend to a good groundwork for a woman wanting to keep her husband under the myth that she is perfectly groomed, waxed, plucked, powdered, and otherwise someone he'd be proud to tote about on his arm. Now the wife has to seriously work at it. This is tiring, and makes us cranky. Oh yes, guys - it does.

Of course the men have changed too. Gone are the "guys" who can laughingly talk with women about music, movies, art, politics, and what-not. Now all the men seem to talk about is sports, mortgages and drywall. They certainly aren't going to talk about their wives with other women - that could get them into huge trouble. So there's a great, gaping divide that has managed to develop where the only "safe" conversation is about their kids. With the all-important occasional mention of some wonderful thing the wife has done so that her ears won't prick up from across the room and set her into a predatory state. Because if she thinks you are going after her husband for anything more than polite conversation - she will devour you. whole.

Now, bear in mind the fact that I hate shopping, have never had a manicure or pedicure in my life, and usually burn myself if I come too close to a curling iron. This limits my "relatability" to the other womenfolk whom I'm supposed to be building long-lasting friendships with right about now. My social skills seem to have slipped away too lately, but the topper is that I've always felt more comfortable talking to guys. Hell, I can have a better "chat" in ten minutes with the guy doctor I've been seeing for my foot problems than I have with about half the moms at the group moms' events I go to. There's a couple groups of people where I can chat with the ladies well enough but more and more I keep my mouth shut so I don't jam my foot in there, even with them.

But, with men - there's two categories now. Either they are Married or they are Not. The ones that are - make good with the wives first, so they don't feel threatened. The ones that are Not - make sure they know that YOU are married, so there's no misunderstandings. Which pretty much closes the door to friendship and general conversation in my experience. No single man seems to want to waste his time chatting up the married chick. It seems that men are actually more open to making new, female friends when there's a potential to get in their pants. *grumble* No, this is not a general rule, just a disturbingly frequent observation.

Although it doesn't seem to be the same in the workplace. Brian chats with women all the time at work. Women and men both. Now, this could just be an observation about him, or it could be an observation that the workplace is a sort of neutral ground where it's okay to talk to anyone. But my "workplace" is in the home, so I can't just meet someone at the water cooler to chat about the state of the economy when the "water cooler" is the spigot on my fridge.

*sigh*

Anyway... nope. Don't know where this is going. I rambled today. Sometimes it happens. Sorry. heh.

This little blonde makes my brain feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And a little sick in the stomach though. She demonstrates the answer to the question so... eloquently. Or something. But she manages to make my injury-rattled brain feel so... smart! No matter how much I might ramble, I don't think I've ever been quite that lost. Clearly she had prepped for other questions.

Later!

Current Mood: weird

Okay, maybe six WOULD be too many...

This eBay auction was brought to my attention by one of my moms' boards today. Anyone who's tried to trek through the store with even two kids will find it highly amusing. Guaranteed. Unless you're dead, I suppose.

I have to say, when it comes to grocery shopping I get the "they're so cute" instead of the "are they all yours?" commentary. Which is fine. Until about the hundredth time, after which I want to say "Good! YOU take them for a while!" in response. Because, while the first thirty or so times of my son singing his alphabet (consistently leaving out the letter "N" every time), are cute... the second thirty or so are not. Produce is the last section in the store. By the time we hit produce, I am generally resolved that yes - my husband is right - two children is enough. God help me on the days that I have to let Jareth walk the store when they don't have the cart with the extra seat for him to sit in. For some reason, my son thinks the world needs rearranging. Of course when he IS in the seated cart, he seems to think his sister's legs will grow faster quicker if he yanks on them...

And Jareth is the quiet one. Nevermind about Kayla. The one I constantly dub as "feisty".

*long sigh*

Mind you, Brian and I agreed that if we ever had SIX kids - we'd lose one. And we both looked at each other and simultaneously said "okay, kids - where's Jimmy?" when we decided that. So we will NEVER name any child we have Jimmy, James, Jimbo, or any other such similar name. Because he'd be doomed. Eep.

The lady who wrote the auction also has a weblog, located here. I haven't had much time to read it yet, and it doesn't seem to let me set up RSS feed like I usually do when I want to read a blog, so hopefully I'll have a chance to check it out.

Enjoy!

Current Mood: amused

"OOOh! Just smell that Flat Latex White!!!"

I can't smell paint fumes. Oh, there's a vague alcohol-based odor in the background, but seriously, I can't smell them. Most people linger over a paint can and roll their eyes before backing off, while I hover there, peering in at the paint color instead. Another one of those things that is totally weird about having one's olfactory nerve smooshed when your brain swells from head injury. Normally I can smell "noxious" things - gasoline and some others. But paint fumes just pass me on by.

And, I spent ALL of Saturday either plastering or painting.

Ow. Oh, my head.

But, on the positive side, the light gray color we're doing the bottom half of the room is done. I'd taken care of the upper half over a few prior sessions, painstakingly going over the nasty texture stuff with a fresh white paint brushed on. On Saturday I also took care of the heat-resistant white we needed to do over the heat ducting, which was a nasty, oil-based paint that splattered all over me in the process. And I went around and edged the ceiling, so that we just have a little more brushwork to do around the fans before we can roller it. Hopefully we won't have to do that one more than once - I had to do the light gray paint twice. I'll probably have to do the dark gray trim twice too. And I still have to do one wall in white, since it's panelling and doesn't have the divider in the middle like the rest of the room. I spent all Saturday breaking my back, inhaling toxic fumes, and STILL I feel as if we're only about half done.

Brian's folks were kind enough to babysit the kids, so he was working on it all too. He trimmed down the shutters so they will finally fit the space they are in, and he pulled a bunch of stuff out of the room itself, into the next room over so that we can throw a tarp over the rest for painting the ceiling and not have as much to move out of the way for when we can have carpet put in. Which, I hope, will be soon. We need to have this all finished by the end of the year (including the bathroom and laundry rooms adjacent to the family room) or else we don't get the rest of the insurance money for the project. It's going to be a tight few months until it's done, although Brian's recent promotion will help us a bunch. I'm not quite ready to breath a big sigh of relief yet, but maybe some little happy panting noises at least. Maybe there is more than just a big bug zapper at the end of the tunnel after all. Maybe.

Anyway, more later. Thought I'd update again since I'm taking a little rest time today as it's "shots day" for the allergies and I'm still purging the nauseating feeling that comes from a day of paint fumes. The headache seems to have gone down to a dull ache, but I feel tired, worn out, and just plain... buggered. Then again, other new and decisions have got me weary too. Tired. Disappointed.

I think my New Year's Resolution at the end of this year will need to be about moving on and moving forward. Time to turn my back on some of the things that cause me pain, even if the act of doing so causes me pain too. *sigh*

Why does everything have to be so... complicated all the damn time?

Later...

Current Mood: tired

Because it's his BIRTHDAY!!

Alright. It was pointedly pointed out last night that I haven't been posting regularly. And since I STILL don't have much time today to post (been a-painting the family room, doing laundry and other assorted chores today), I will still keep this one a brief, simple message of congratulations...

*grins & waves*

For those who don't know him, that was to my my father-in-law. Check the site. It's still a work in progress, but hey - it's rock-solid. *wink*

'nuff said. More coming, hopefully sooner rather than later.

G'night!