Men

How was I supposed to know that Batman's cape has a jagged edge but the bottom of superman's cape is straight? I drew the wrong cape on the right superhero. It was an entire disaster. I think I'll go back to drawing UFC fighters. In my immediate family there are four girls and three boys and I have never been outnumbered by men, until now. The subtle nuances of living in a male dominated household are as follows: accidentally sitting on the rim of the toilet instead of the actual toilet seat OR just as unexpectedly sitting in the vestiges of urine that happened to have fallen where you are sitting when you use the ladies' room.

Then there's the violence. They don't hit me, usually, but that does not mean I escape nearly being punched in the gut or nearly being round-house kicked anywhere they can reach or nearly being elbowed in any other accessible part of my body. Needless to say, my six and four-year-old nephews are enrolled in "Little Ninjas". A week ago I went to their gym to see them earn their yellow belts. I have to admit I was impressed. I actually got teary eyed (you may want to note that I was PMSing at the time) and I couldn't help but laugh at seeing about twenty kids, girls and boys and all still in the single digits age-wise, participate in a miniature obstacle course. Eat your heart out Rambo, they're coming for you. The funny part is I have more teeth in my mouth than all of them combined including Sylvester Stallone.

Lastly, a couple of days ago I was actually tossing a football around with the six-year-old, Moon-Pie. Of course he was throwing spirals and my footballs were lucky to make it to any destination, but I do what I can. I also have been known to play a game of soccer now and then. Given, I'm no Mia Hamm but I can kick a ball one time out of two. There was a time when I averted all speeding balls whether hit, kicked, or thrown out of respect to my face but it seems those days are coming to a close thanks to my testosterone-filled abode.

The truth is I don't mourn ballerinas or Barbies but instead have considered moving the toilet seat to its upright position after I'm done in the ladies' room. I hate to say it, but there is a real possibility here that I, as part of a potentially viable minority, will go silently into the night to cry no more in protest to household crimes against gender.

Honestly

Why is it that kids are brutally honest?  I really resent the fact that my six year old nephew feels the need to keep addressing the presence of my mustache.  Then, my four year old nephew has a nerve to point out my bra bulge!  How much can a girl take?  I realize that they are not intentionally mean (most of the time) but it really does make me want to get a machete and send some heads rolling.  

Instead of killing kids, I've decided to take their comments as indicators of areas where I can make improvements.  As a result of living with two toddlers, I have enrolled myself in a self-improvement project.  I started a new exercise program that will hopefully eradicate the unsightly bra bulge.  Hey, my only other option was back lipo and as that is in its experimental stages I decided to go the more lengthy route.  In addition, I've invested in cream for my ZZ Top beard.  All in all, I think I should be grateful for the intervention.

On the bright side of living with toddlers, I sometimes get my hair brushed for free and when I put on make-up I'm treated like a super model although sometimes they scream and say that I must be a new aunt that killed the old one and took her place.  Needless to say, I don't wear make-up very often.  

I am looking forward to whatever delightful comments I'll hear after the bra bulge and beard are gone.  If I don't kill anyone, that is.