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I have a Bachelor's in Psychology, a Master's in Human Relations, and a Ph.D. in telling people what to do. I raise children, dogs, cats, and hermit crabs and cultivate crabgrass and pretty weeds. I am teaching myself to cook, not because I love to cook but because I love to eat. I love to travel, read, and take pictures; I also like to write, so you'll get to read a lot about all the aforementioned subjects plus about anything else I happen to feel like sharing with you. I'll take all your questions and may even give some back with answers if you're lucky and I'm feeling helpful (or bored.)

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Thankful entries # 7 and 8

Man.  I can't seem to get it together enough to post an entry every day.

Anyway, yesterday I was thankful for macaroni and cheese.  The kind you bake in the oven, with the really thick, creamy cheesy-ness and the bread crumbs on top.  With a tall glass of milk.

Admit it. Now you want some. You're welcome.

Today I'm thankful I have boys.  I was thinking about this while taking them to school this morning: girls are so much more high-maintenance than boys.  Boys don't cry at the drop of a hat.  Boys don't have hissy fits if their clothes don't match (they don't even know when their clothes don't match.) Boys don't have hair that must be brushed and styled.  Boys don't have 48,000 accessories to keep track of.  Boys don't have 86 pairs of shoes. Boys don't have to be taught how to wear makeup, bras, or tampons.  Boys don't have hormonal mood swings when they're three.  Boys don't have unrealistic notions that they're going to grow up to be princesses, and thus, feel as though they should be treated as such their entire childhoods.  Boys aren't (generally) manipulative and passive-aggressive when they don't get their way. Boys don't request glamour shots, want to wear your high heels and jewelry, or dress like strippers to attract the attention of the opposite sex.  

My boys may be messy, unmatched, dirty, loud, argumentative, stubborn, aggressive, and able to eat everything in the grocery store and still be hungry, but I'll take that every day of the week over typical girl behavior.  I used to think I wanted a daughter.  But God knew better and I'm thankful He did, because as it turns out, I'm not a fan of girls after they reach the age of three. I have met a few so far that I think are precious and darling, but they are in the indescribably small minority.  I only hope that I can get over this deep-seated aversion before my boys graduate high school and start bringing girls they want to marry home to see me.

Today's entries are brought to you by the symbol  *****  for the atrocities I was screaming inside my own head while the baby was screaming  "I want my treasure chest! Mom! I waaaaaant my treaaaaaaasure chessssst!" the entire way to school this morning.  (How is it possible that this child never outgrew the terrible twos? He's four. When will the tantrums end? Well, at least he's not whining, like a girl.)

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