Being the Only Girl in the HouseLori Garcia
My husband and I are redecorating our master bedroom and adjoining bathroom. Perhaps more frustrating than the exhaust and expense of doing-it-ourselves is that fact that everything I own is now on display.
As I eagerly await the delivery of my new dresser and bathroom cabinet this week, panties, bras, fake boob cutlets, and feminine toiletries are just a few of the random lady items sparking curiosity in my kids.
As hard as I’ve been trying to keep my boys out of my danger zone that is my bedroom, BooBoo came to me with a handful of pads and tampons asking if he could play with them. For what I can only imagine. Boy Wonder discovered my itty bitty thong underwear (the ones I never wear because they give me a headache) and asked “What’s this for?” as he held them with two pinched fingers in disgust.
Try as I might to carve out even an inch of personal space as a woman in this house, I struggle. I can’t fold laundry, sit down to pee, or pick up essentials from Target without having to answer questions about the how’s, where’s, and why’s of what makes us biologically different. Sure, my kids know that mom has different body parts but that’s all they know. Despite multiple conversations with my 4-year-old, he still thinks I have “peanuts” that require me to sit down to pee.
Sometimes I want to paint a wall pink or tie ridiculously huge ribbons around random things, not because I’m a girly girl, but because I’m drowning in a tidal wave of stinky boy testosterone.
I’ll never deny the joy of being queen, but there are times I’d gladly give up the crown to even the playing field.
Are you in the gender minority at home?
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