Shannon left yesterday to head back east. I cried for the better part of the day. George says that she is no longer allowed to come and visit. Luckily, the boys were off to some friends to make gingerbread houses, so I was pretty much able to bask in my misery for the afternoon until it was time to go and pick them up. George stayed upstairs and communed with his computer while I worked through my issues.
It's kind of that I miss the "girl" stuff - - and of course I just miss her too. But, I am now living with all men. We spend a lot of time dealing with boy things.
We have boy games, eat boy food and watch boy TV. We shop for boy clothes (or let me rephrase, I shop for boy clothes since boys don't particularly care to go shopping). Said clothes are boring to shop for anyway. Jeans, shorts, striped shirts and sports jerseys. Oh, and white socks. Lots of white socks. Woo hoo.
Our conversations lean towards sports, and there's nearly daily conversation about various bodily functions, the speed and velocity of peeing and the size relationship between the penis and the balls.
Never, in the whole time that Shannon was a child did I hear the following comment, "Kiss my hairy balls." On one hand, this was an interesting comment from a guy who doesn't have a single hair on his body. On the other hand, this was not said directly to me, but was overheard in a conversation between the two younger boys. All the boys have been warned that THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE when I am around. We spend the better part of two weeks drilling this in when the boys get back from camp. I don't want to hear about it. Moreover, I don't care a itsy-bitsy about hairy or hairless and I have already heard most of the names they can be called. Enough already.
Any who, it was nice to have Shannon here, even if she was somewhat depressed. We didn't get to spend a whole lot of time together, but we got to go and have lunch where they serve good salads. We went to the bookstore and talked about books we like to read (and whether or not we really thought the Sex in the City movie was all that great). She told me that I needed to get a pair of skinny jeans to haul my butt in to the 21st century (I declined) and she borrowed some perfume while she was here. There were two of us "girls." It was nice. And, as I mentioned before - - at least there was someone here to help me finish decorating the tree.
It's kind of that I miss the "girl" stuff - - and of course I just miss her too. But, I am now living with all men. We spend a lot of time dealing with boy things.
We have boy games, eat boy food and watch boy TV. We shop for boy clothes (or let me rephrase, I shop for boy clothes since boys don't particularly care to go shopping). Said clothes are boring to shop for anyway. Jeans, shorts, striped shirts and sports jerseys. Oh, and white socks. Lots of white socks. Woo hoo.
Our conversations lean towards sports, and there's nearly daily conversation about various bodily functions, the speed and velocity of peeing and the size relationship between the penis and the balls.
Never, in the whole time that Shannon was a child did I hear the following comment, "Kiss my hairy balls." On one hand, this was an interesting comment from a guy who doesn't have a single hair on his body. On the other hand, this was not said directly to me, but was overheard in a conversation between the two younger boys. All the boys have been warned that THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE when I am around. We spend the better part of two weeks drilling this in when the boys get back from camp. I don't want to hear about it. Moreover, I don't care a itsy-bitsy about hairy or hairless and I have already heard most of the names they can be called. Enough already.
Any who, it was nice to have Shannon here, even if she was somewhat depressed. We didn't get to spend a whole lot of time together, but we got to go and have lunch where they serve good salads. We went to the bookstore and talked about books we like to read (and whether or not we really thought the Sex in the City movie was all that great). She told me that I needed to get a pair of skinny jeans to haul my butt in to the 21st century (I declined) and she borrowed some perfume while she was here. There were two of us "girls." It was nice. And, as I mentioned before - - at least there was someone here to help me finish decorating the tree.
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