Friday, April 30, 2010

They don't speak Martian on Venus

I was raised in the middle of nowhere. I have ONE sister who is 7 years older than me so we both had our "only child" time with our parents. We rode horses, played softball, cheered and danced. My father worked out of town a lot, so we were very "estrogen heavy" in our household. I have a daughter and she is the only female grandchild on my my mom and sister dote on her...alot. 

My husband was raised out in the middle of nowhere, too. He is one of FOUR boys and they are all within 8 years of each other. They all rode horses, played football and baseball, and showed livestock. They ate 2 loaves of bread and drank 2 gallons of milk A DAY. The boys were all, at one time or another, grounded, getting a spanking or being made to move the rock pile in the yard to a different location so they could "think about what they had done". His dad coached all of them in baseball or football at one time or another so he was definitely in a testosterone driven environment for the most part.  In his first marriage, he had a son who is a great kid and a "boy's boy" through and through.

And now, my husband is raising a girl.

And Ohmigod…the learning curve is steep.  And I am amused.

Because the same rules? Don't apply.

For example, you cannot "tickle" or "wrestle" a girl out of a snit. When she is pissed, she is flat out pissed. And no amount of "funny daddy tickling time" will get her out of it. In fact, it generally serves to make her madder and then the crying starts. And then she wants to tell you how you hurt her feelings and she's not your best friend anymore. Which makes Ronnie laugh, but in "girl speak" is like, the meanest thing you can possibly say to someone.

Also, the brushing and fixing of the hair can make or break your day. If it's tangled and you're too rough? Drama ensues. If it's not fixed exactly right? Drama ensues. If she wants to wear the lime green barrette that matches absolutely nothing on her outfit rather than the pink one you say she has to wear? Drama ensues. And what does my man who is one of four boys and had a son the first go-round of being a father know about doing girl hair? Not much.

And clothes? *psssh* I once picked my daughter up at school after Ronnie was in charge of getting her dressed and there and she was dressed in head-to-toe camouflage. And the worst part? It wasn't even matching camouflage! Dude. Really? Was it, like, declare war on the other preschools day at school or something?

The other night, we were watching Parenthood (my new favorite show by the way) and the dad opened up a package that had been delivered that day from Victoria's Secret. He was all, "Wow honey…this black lace bra is going to look great on you. What's the special occasion?" And his wife was all, "I didn't order that…it's addressed to your daughter."

And he freaked out.

And so did Ronnie.

I'd feel sorry for him if I didn't think it was so good for him. Or if I wasn't kind of bitchy in that I enjoy watching him squirm at the thought of our daughter in a bra.

Oh Ronnie, the things we have yet to teach you, dear. Just wait till prom…you may have to just go out of town that weekend.

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