Why My Wife Can't Have Nice Things...

My wife has great taste, and she likes nice things.  In a perfect world she would have plenty of nice things in the house.  Pristine light colors would shine throughout, delicate and fragile items would be left safely on shelves.  The laundry room would smell of flowers and toilet seats would remain forever fastened down securely.  Instead she lives with me and two male dogs.  Even our cat is male.




Mason

 She likes hand towels and nice smelling soaps.  I like doing yard work and picking up the first thing I can find to wipe the dirt off my hands.

She likes seasonal smells and glade plug-ins.  I come home from basketball sweaty and smelling less than seasonal.

She likes dryer sheets and lavender smelling detergents. My socks sometimes get crunchy and need to be tapped with a hammer before washing.

She likes accent walls and themes that flow throughout the house.  I like sports.

And now we’re having a boy.  That leaves her sufficiently outnumbered.  In a house full of males she tries her best to keep things presentable. 

The other day we were putting together the dresser in Simon’s room when my wife said simply, “Your shoes!” I realized that I was still wearing my shoes, the same shoes that I'd worn to walk the dogs through the mud and the puddles as they had played creek, rolled in the grass, and frolicked in the woods.  I looked down at the untarnished white carpet and then back up to my wife like a child caught in the act.  Crap.

I gently eased off of the white carpet, shamefully removing my shoes in the hallway when I noticed Mason--our puppy, stretched out on the bed, sound asleep on the white comforter. This is why my wife can’t have nice things.

What if it's a boy?

In a few days, my wife and I will find out whether she's having a boy or a girl.  Honestly, I’m a little scared as I know all to well the trouble boys can get into.  During the summer months while growing up, my two cousins and I could get quite imaginative when it came to entertaining ourselves.

Our neighborhood park was the perfect place to do the things all boys love. From bottle rockets and smoke bombs, to BB guns and sling shots, the park was where we gashed and bruised ourselves while somehow keeping our limbs intact as we experimented with combustible materials. We used Aqua Net as a flame thrower, and kept a fresh supply of Mentos and soda handy. What can I say? It was the eighties, a much different time.

I’ve had stitches in my head or face at least 8 different times, I’ve been hospitalized due to a gash in my knee, wounded myself with a pellet gun, had a fish skinner removed from my foot, cut my thumb open after throwing a broken beer bottle, and had countless concussions trying to ride a bike with no hands.  And all of this before I was 13 years old.

After that I graduated to more serious injuries, flipping two cars, knocking out my front teeth, and crashing into a telephone pole resulting in 40 or so stitches in my head....So maybe a girl is something I should hope for...

Here are just a few examples of what scares me about having a boy:

• After days of raining (and rampant flooding), we headed down to the local park to swim in the creek.  The water was almost ground level as we jumped in and hung on to tree limbs for dear life until my dad came down to save us (he was just a little bit upset).
• I shot my cousin in the head and then myself in the hand with a pellet gun in what would be remembered as the Homicide/Suicide incident.  My cousin still has the pellet lodged behind his ear to this day.  (I didn't know it was loaded.)
• After watching Beastie Boys videos, the three of us headed out to find some VW emblems of our own to wear, this ended with police and parents being called to the scene.
• We were kicked out of countless church events including summer camps, sleep overs, pizza nights, and bible school.   
• One of our favorite stunts at camp involved tossing a brick into the outhouse and quickly shutting the door….Splat. Not a pleasant experience for the next visitor.
• My younger cousin received a bow and arrow for Christmas one year, this resulted in an arrow being stuck in the neighbor’s roof for almost 6 months.
• After watching a Chuck Norris movie, we decided to make Molotov Cocktails. 
• We never stole bikes, but on occasion did toss them in the creek.  (I’m still not sure why this amused us)
• Eggs, toilet paper, potted plants, water balloons, balls, and countless other objects were thrown at houses and cars at one time or another.

Overall, we were good kids, really we were.... and if you asked my dad I'm sure he would tell you that raising my sister was no cakewalk. But I can't imagine my sister--wearing her Madonna leggings and black rubber bracelets--carrying that brick to the outhouse.