Testosterone on vacation isn’t really any different than at home, just a bit more amped up.
The conversation, whether in the car or in the family room, goes something like this: “Hey, you’re navel cheese!” “Be quiet, Earwax!” “Your Mom!”… (“Is someone using my name in vain?” I respond). Being the Queen – the only family member without an extra appendage – I listen to and endure the endless boy humor and interaction. On a daily basis, there must be at least one wrestling engagement, usually on one of the beds in the beach condo and then one out in the water. What is it with the male need to have a regular bodily struggle 99% of the time? It’s all in fun though a good percentage of that ends up in an injury of varying levels. We women don’t understand or relate to this at all.
Contrary to reports, the weather has turned out to be just wonderful – hot and sunny during the day, cool breezes in the evening. Parasailors periodically fly by my window, the white sand is warm and soft under my feet, the ocean water feels like a bath. Seems rather ethereal and serene doesn’t it? Three boys keep it real. Seldom are there under-the-breath snide remarks or gossip behind backs (the female’s tactic); it’s all out there. God probably knew what He was doing by giving me all boys. If there’s disagreement, you know about it…and the neighbors likely do too.
It's raining again but all the males are out in the water, both surf and pool. Why not? Wesley made a hat out of sand for his hair. Why not?
Soon, my junior barbarians will be tromping in from the beach, wet and sandy, weather-worn but happy. And hungry. Do they ever run out of energy? I’m usually out at the beach or pool but this time I’m the chef, enjoying the quiet with my glass of red wine preparing food and tapping out thoughts on the keyboard.
Counting my blessings.