Ever since my grown son came home to roost for a few weeks, the balance of power has shifted and I am outnumbered by way more than just two to one. Things have gotten ridiculously male, and not just ordinary human-male but borderline ape-male. The two of them are bonding like never before over things like running in shoes or running barefoot. They are digging in the dirt and planting seeds and growing food for the coming apocalypse. They argue over the relative merits of Paleo eating versus Vegan. They are expanding muscles at every opportunity with push-ups and pull-ups and sit-ups and squats. They talk about bike wheels and gear ratios. This afternoon they let me go with them to buy a punching bag. Needless to say, they got it at Dick's.When my son was little, I was the Chosen One. Naturally that phase ended, and who would wish otherwise, but what's going on now is simply beyond the pale--I can only imagine what it's like for mothers of more than one son. I can also only imagine what it's like to have a daughter, although I got a taste of it recently when my son's girlfriend was visiting. She and I lunched out at a lovely little salad place, then went to an art museum and actually discussed what we had seen afterwards. On the way home we browsed a few shops. She weighed in on a clothing decision, generously helping me choose this dress over that one. It was heaven.
She's gone now, and once again I am adrift, alone, in a sea of testosterone. I guess it's payback time for the early days when it was all-mommy, all the time. How nice for my husband.
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