Living in a Sea of Estrogen.

When I was growing up, my father was the only guy in our family. He was always surrounded by moody women and girly angst. Poor guy.

I never quite understood the qualms of it because I was one of the....angsters? Today, I look at my husband and can finally see the predicament of being outnumbered. Don't get me wrong or anything, I don't feel sorry for him. I do however understand when he gets that look in his eye. You know the look. The, "Oh good god, what's wrong now?" look. Yah, he has that look on his face a lot.

As an adult female, I can rationalize when I'm in a mood. I can actually give fair warning. As an adult female though, I don't have the patience for the "other" females in the house. I mean seriously, how in the hell can you be smiling one minute then crying the next. Check yourself girls. Don't mess with the momma bear cause I will eat you....with BBQ sauce.

Another problem is we haven't quite reached full capacity of just how bad it could be. No, my oven is closed. I'm not adding onto the angst with more children. I'm just cringing when these little women become real women with all their hormones and mass amounts of tampons....or feminine napkins as my husband calls them. When that happens, I may have to find a way to sweeten the pot of home because my husband is going to run out of here screaming.

M (daughter): Can I walk to Market Street with my friends?

Me: It'll be 8 o'clock in 20 minutes. You need to be inside by then. Can you make it back in 20 minutes.

M (daughter): I think so. I'll text you if I'm gonna be late.

Me: Um.....no. You either commit to coming back on time or you don't go. ::looking at my husband:: Am I being unreasonable?

Husband: It's a school night. I don't see her making it back in time.

M (daughter): Fine! I'll just stay home, in my flowery room so you can keep me prisoner!

Me: Are you freaking kidding me?

Husband: I know she just didn't say that.

Me: Oh yes she did!

M (daughter): You never let me do anything! I'm in 6th grade and you treat me like a baby.

Me: Which is it? A prisoner or a baby? Because I can do both.

M (daughter): You think you're so funny but you're not.

Me: Oh I ain't trying to be funny right now. I'm asking a question. If you want funny, let's go! You, my dear, are about three seconds from being grounded. You're about 5 seconds from your dad showing what a prisoner really is. Annnnnd you're about 10 seconds from wishing you were never born.

M (daughter): I'm not afraid of you.

Husband: Oh shit! And we always thought your were the smart one. Your mom scares the shit outta me so you better take some cover M. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Did I beat the crap outta her? Nope! Oh boy, did I want to but she's 12 years old. I merely followed through with every threat.

1) I grounded her.

2) I told her dad, "If you don't take over, I might do something that'll put me in jail."

So therefore, 3) Her dad took over and as I've explained before, my husband is an asshole. He took her to her room, yelled at her for being rude and dramatic.....and M ended the night wishing she was dead.

Victory was mine!

I've also found the loophole of living in a sea of estrogen. Claim hormones and the testosterone in the house takes over.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.