A modern comic tells of his family situation by describing the environment in which he lives. he says, "In my house there's my two daughters and my wife and I. Next door there's my sister-in-law and my three nieces. Between My girls, my wife's family and frequent visits from my mother-in-law...I live knee deep in the estrogen ocean."
He talks about the hair care products, the multiple lotions, perfumes and polishes. He rants and raves about the clothing, accessories, and hormones that fly around him constantly. I laugh every time I hear him tell about it because I remember growing up with my sisters, friends and cousins ;all of us knee deep in the estrogen ocean. The difference was we were acclimated.
Now, as the only female in a house full of men, I find myself lost in the testosterone triangle.
It is a group of highly dangerous, complicated and nonsensical islands that bring down sane, rational, normal women from every walk of life.
The major islands in this destructive chain are named: socially inappropriate body noises, the 'nothing box', short term thinking, and short circuited brain function.
Between my husband's 'white board' mentality. In his words his brain is a white board. Everything is written down on it, considered for quantity of importance and then wiped clean of everything that doesn't matter. This boils down to what things cost. How much effort is involved. What temperature the environment is and whether or not it will cause confusion for females traveling in the triangle.
Take this mind-set and combine it with boys who #1 know everything. #2 are never wrong and #3 will do it again, stir in a little hormonal imbalance, a touch of immortality and a dash of inflated self importance, and you live in the Testosterone triangle as well.
Its fraught with backward logic...i.e. "Well if I told you i wrecked the car you'd kill me. If you found out about it from someone else, the only person who gets hurt is you.
Its a tangled obstacle course of silence, 'read my mind' don't ask me questions, and What do you mean I can't choose my consequences?
As the only woman, deep in the testosterone triangle, I also get the benefit of awkward attempts at charm, flirtation and sweetness before they go out into the world and try them on 'real girls'. I take my little boys, feed them, clothe them, potty-train them , bandage their scraped knees, wipe away their tears only to have them shut me out, roll their eyes and reduce their vocabulary to 'whatever', while I try to navigate their world during their ascension to becoming men.
When they're gone and the shipwrecks of dirty laundry, dirty mouths and dirty bathrooms along with the plane crashes of broken hearts, totaled friendships and shattered confidence, lie as a pile in the wreckage of my memory, I'll look back with fondness as they become a safe harbor for their little ones and the port of call for the lucky girl they marry.
Then I'll go back to 'the triangle', cry in their rooms and thank my Father-In-Heaven He gave me the chance to crash into their world for a little while.
I Love you boys!