Testosterone

The other day I realized what it was, the phenomenon I was feeling. As all of my five boys were sitting on the couch with their hands, well, yes…I realized that my house has too much testosterone in it. I am the only female. The only one who really wants to talk; the only one who really wants to express my emotions; the only one who likes soft silence and taking a pause.

We were having a dinner on Saturday night family style and the moment the food hit the table, it was whoofed down with a burp and a fart and a giggle; and then dinner was over. Just as I was deciding on what to drink, it was all over. I grew up with two brothers – I know how fast one has to eat to get your fair share. Or at least dish it out onto your plate to save it. I know the strategies of not talking and just shoving/grabbing/pushing one’s way to the center of the table to each dish available. Five naan bread turns into nada really quickly.

But surely I can pour a drink and sit down before the end is in sight?? Just as I was saying, ‘So, how was your…’ boom slap (as young one would say), the hunger games began and after a few swallows, they were gone. I allowed it because it is summertime. Summer is that wonderful inter-phase of time where all is possible and usually nothing gets accomplished and lots of rules are broken. One son has summer school which would have been the bane of my entire July if I hadn’t found a carpool and booked a ticket to London for three of the weeks. That commute each morning nearly killed me week one, and it was Husband who decided that ‘perhaps I needed to hire someone to help’ after I would arrive home from a two hour commute each day screaming at everyone, anyone, maid/cat/dog/postman/whomever!

His generosity had more to do with surviving my stares then spending the money, I’m sure. But I digress… anyway…it’s the next night and I sit in a house having just fed 9 for kids’ dinner and it is still SO LOUD. They – the male race – seem to get louder and louder as they grow. And smellier and smellier. I use lovely perfumes, light candles, dim lights, create moods in our four walls that get completely ignored and overlooked. It’s three-two-one-it or zombie killing wars or just good ol’ fashioned fighting.

Lord help me when one of them gets a girlfriend. I am going to obsess on spending time with her. I know it’s going to be weird. She’s going to think that I have no life. But I don’t have a life, a life that involves quiet contemplation or lots of analyzing and chats in our home. The sweet smell of female energy does not exist beyond me. So I will track her down in the house, make her talk about everything with me, cook with me, rock out to songs with me and even take walks down to the bluffs with me. She will break up with my son not because of him, but because of his looney tunes mom. And I will feel…

Shitty. That’s why my obsession with Unknown Girlfriend will remain silent and I will live with this crazy, insane amount of testosterone on my own. Cuz we all know that out of four boys I’m bound to have at least one girlfriend whom I love and one that I, well, I don’t dare say it. And with that, I await the next chapter of what testosterone brings into my house with bated breath. It’s summer, after-all, and it’s only just begun.