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Archive for August 4th, 2020

Yes, Drill Sergeant, er, Nina! (Contest–2 Winners!)
Tuesday, August 4th, 2020

My dd traveled to Virginia to visit her dad for ten days. She took the three girls. Yes, they brought their own food, wore masks, used hand sanitizer constantly, and yes, her dad has been very carefully self-isolating throughout the crisis, so I’m not worried about that.

She left me with the “the boys.” Her hubby and the sixteen-year-old son. Does the picture make better sense now?

Does this one help clarify? While Mom’s away…

No? Then let me explain.

I remember reading a book some time ago (I still think I have a copy somewhere) called Brain Sex. It describes the fundamental differences between a male brain that gets washes of testosterone (the first happening in the womb), which destroy certain connections between the left and right halves of men’s brains, and an undamaged female brain. Well, the author didn’t really say men are brain-damaged, but that was my conclusion. I’ve had years of observations to prove my theory.

Being the good mom she is, who runs her household with as much precision as she can with four children, nine dogs, five cats, etc., she sat the boys down before she left and explained the schedule of daily activities they had to complete for the upkeep of the home and animals.

So, why is it that since she left, I have to constantly follow them around like a deranged drill sergeant to ensure everything is being handled? Short of blasting a bullhorn in the morning to make sure everyone is up at a decent hour, I’m the timekeeper as well as the drill sergeant.

I mean, seriously, guys? How many times can you walk past a clothes basket filled with towels to be folded before you notice it and take it upstairs? Or to empty the dehumidifier with the red light you pass a dozen times before you go, “Oh! I better empty it!”

So, I have to keep a schedule with tick marks to make sure plants are watered, horses and goats are watered and fed, dogs are walked routinely, the floor is vacuumed,  the trash is taken out… I’m not getting a ton of writing done, which had been my hope.

So, my question is, Does this situation resemble your home situation? Do you believe, as I do, that men are brain-damaged and perhaps, incapable of remembering to get their dirty clothes into a hamper and delivered to the washing machine? Just askin’. 🙂

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