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Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Do you wanna dance?

Some days seminary class is just, umm, unbelievable? Too humorous for words? Filled with a thunderous lack of anything even remotely spiritual? Yes, today was one of those days. We covered, among other topics, heroin offers at Applebee's, "depression" pills, violent, confused referees at college football games, "Amazing Grace," and whether you can "accidentally, intentionally, kind of a little of both" plow someone into the ground during a soccer game...and whether you need to repent since the guy was in your "box." Right......

An underlying theme here is one I've been noticing a lot of late: I am surrounded by boys. All of the sudden, my house floweth o'er with testosterone. When it was just the husband and me alone, I was able to keep the maleness of it all under control with constant targeted cleaning and stern reminders and cans of air freshener. But now, with baby J becoming undeniably, increasingly more prototypically male with each passing day and six gawky, grumpy, guffawing teenage boys here every weekday morning, no one has enough estrogen in the world to counteract our slide into Neverland. I keep expecting my living room to start smelling like a gym one day soon. Already I can't keep up with the clutter. Why are boys constitutionally incapable of putting their books in multiple bins provided for just that purpose? And do I look like their maid? Do I look like someone who wants to pick up their empty Gatorade bottles? And why are they drinking Gatorade at 6 in the morning? Do they not see the mat on which they should wipe their feet? How do they manage to get so many leaves attached to them on the short walk from the street to the house? All unanswerable questions, it appears.

One part religion, one part mystery, two parts hormones!

2 comments:

joyful704 said...

this made me think of you guys.

http://www.brainchildmag.com/essays/fall2008_dempsey.asp

Patrick Clyde said...

Did you really make multiple bins for your boys' books? I would have to leave my book somewhere else just to give you a hard time for trying so hard to make a place for the books! Then you would probably hurt me...