I live in a male-dominated household. Three sons, one husband, one dog. It’s like total bloke city here. The only splash of pink in an all-blue landscape comes from me.
Sometimes it feels like I’m trapped in one of those American frat houses; the noise level is loud, toilet humour rules, household cleaning (by them) is virtually non-existent and the television is permanently tuned to Channel Crass & Puerile.
It can be a hard row to hoe. A real tough ask. And my boys ask for plenty! Like last week, when, as much as I love them all to death, I got to the point where I simply needed to be somewhere else… anywhere other than here.
I needed a break. Away from them. So I could be myself other than Mum or The Wife. To laugh. To relax. Drink wine/gin/cider/coffee. Hell, possibly all of the above. But mostly to be around my ‘girls’ for a spell.
Because they ‘get’ me. They understand how I get tired of wiping the toilet seat before I sit down to avoid getting pee all over the backs of my thighs. They are familiar with the irritation I face seeing that empty cardboard roll on the toilet roll hanger. They empathise over the need for constant replenishment of food supplies at my house. They share and promote the belief that deodorant is designed to be sprayed under clean armpits, not all over clothes. They know all about late nights. Early mornings. Sleep depravation. Pressures and stress. The good times to be had. And occasionally, the bad.
A girly afternoon was exactly what I needed and as fortune would have it, I had the excellent luck to be invited out for one last Saturday. After a few hours I was feeling much better and a lot less cranky – group therapy the way it should be, right? Definitely won’t wait so long until the next time. (Thanks JP xx)
So big cyber hugs to all my girls… know that you are loved and appreciated. Not to mention seriously kickass. *g*
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