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I have never claimed to be a big thinker, in fact to be perfectly honest with you I try not to think at all if I can help it. I prefer to live by instinct, kind of like a wild animal, a sort of modern day manimal if you will. I like to tap into my inner animal and rely on my God given instincts to get me through life. The Lovely Jacs ("TLJ") says that thinking is probably too much effort for me and if I tap into my inner manimal one more time and pee on her daffodils she is going to cull me. I can't believe she doesn't know how to pronounce kill, sometimes it's hard to believe she has a master's degree.
Anyway, what I was actually trying to get at was that one of my friends recently asked me a question which I really had no choice but to think about. His question was this: being such a robust specimen of alpha male masculinity (indirect quote) what was it like living in a house full of girls and raising three little girls? The scary thing was that I wasn't sure. Having given it some thought, not all my thought because that might be dangerous, I realised that my life has changed dramatically. In fact dramatically may well be an understatement.
Probably one of the more disturbing changes I have noticed is that all my 'one-liner' references have changed. Arnold Schwarzenegger used to be my go to 'one-liner' guy. Whereas before my conversation was littered with Shwarzenisms such as "I'll be back" or a "Hasta la vista baby!"
I now find that my go to 'one-liner' guy is in fact Judy Garland. Nary a day passes without me sprouting out an affected "Toto I don't think we are in Kansas anymore" (usually when I am lost while driving - I don't have GPS) which when I start panicking often graduates to "there is no place like home, there is no place like home." I am also quite fond of "Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking" which I have been saying a lot recently, especially with the opening of Parliament. Quite how Judy Garland insinuated herself into my life as a role model I am not sure but I suspect it was largely through prolonged exposure to the Wizard of Oz which Sizzles, Mackers and the Moose adore. In fact that would also probably explain why I know that Barbie's little sister's name is Stacie, that the little girl dinosaur on Barnie is called Baby Bop and that Tinkie Winkie of Tellytubbies fame's favourite accessory is a handbag. I am starting to realise that I am unconsciously watching way more TV than is good for me.
Another disturbing change is that my colour palette appears to have shifted without my knowledge. I was pretty sure when TLJ and I moved into our house that we agreed that neutral shades and tones were best. Looking around our house while writing this article I have realised that my understanding of 'neutral' was all wrong. It appears that pink is now a neutral tone. Every room in the house has pink in it somewhere. The lounge, the study, the bathroom, the kitchen, obviously the girls' rooms, but more bizarrely also my bedroom. Not all the occupants of that room are girls, admittedly most of them are (Fat Face my Newfoundland sleeps on her bed in our room at night because she is a girl and gets scared when the alarm goes off and needs me to protect her!), but surely there should be some boy influence.
I climbed into bed last night to discover that our duvet cover was now a Japanese cherry blossom print. The fact that I even know that it is cherry blossom disturbs me. When I pointed out to TLJ that there should be something in our room (I emphasised the "our" quite aggressively) reflecting a virile male was present, she switched on the side light pointed to my underpants lying in the middle of the floor and sarcastically pronounced "Tadaaa!" Nobody likes sarcasm and anyway I leave them there on purpose in case there is an emergency and I need a pair of underpants closer than the ones in the cupboard. I do have some standards. I refuse to confront a house breaker in the passage brandishing a hockey stick and the family jewels. Even criminals should not be subjected to cruel and unusual punishment. Look it up, it's there in the Constitution.
There are lots of other little things that are concerning too. I know what a GHD is and how to use it, I can tell shampoo apart from conditioner, I can make pink icing (no other colours yet), I can accessorize a 4 year old girl's outfit, I can put nail polish on nails and take it off again (sometimes repeatedly) and I regularly watch Project Runway on TV.
In short I appear to have unwittingly surrendered my masculinity along the way. My male contribution to the household is now really only limited to removing spiders, picking up the dog turds in the garden and using my superior reach to get things off high shelves. Aside from these functions I might as well be the sixth and biggest girl in the house. I gently broached this topic with TLJ who actually confirmed my suspicions by telling me not to be such a big girl and to go and watch some Supersport.
I guess the answer to the original question, while somewhat disturbing, is in fact very simple. How do I live in a house full of girls? It's really easy when you are one of the girls.
