Snips and snails and OMG the EGOS!
We were sitting on the front porch last night after T and T2 came back from a little gathering and I had sorted out what I was traveling with this coming week, when some neighbors dropped by to porch hang. The subject came up about the columns which everyone considers themselves an expert on and all loves to weigh in on. The issue – solid mahogany columns that are gorgeous but need refinishing every 9 months – they were put together in three pieces rather than as one expert suggested in hindsight, six. I demand a natural finish and an expert says then I will be tortured for life because they should be painted white so no UVs can touch them – nothing seems to be able to stand up to the lucky old sun that comes beating down on them and causes the finish to break down and now allow mold to grow. Last night, I was leaning against one of them – they are wrapped in builder’s paper to protect them as we get ready to strip, sterilize and once again try to finish them with something that can take the heat – this time a marine varnish that costs $300 a gallon. Yippee!
Only every time I said one thing about the columns, my neighbor weighed in on just how much I didn’t know shit from shinola. This is a common method among some men, having worked with about thirty while I was doing this house, to belittle and attempt to obfuscate. After the conversation ended, T and I came inside shaking our heads – it was almost as if we had just witnessed a parody of a man moments before.
Today, I ran into a friend who was angered because someone in the family thought it was his god given right to take care of the fold and that her care was unacceptable and unwanted, and he ungratefully made sure she knew it. I told her it was his own young male ego bucking up against a world he didn’t understand (a place where women don’t need men [instead they love and want to be around them]).
Then I went to yoga, a two hour acrobatic class that tested all my trusting and fear and proved to be a transformative experience all the way around. However, while there in the position of the spotter, I tried to explain to the man who I was spotting that he was leaning too far one way (hint: a metaphor) and that is why we couldn’t balance. To which he responded, he could fix that, he didn’t have a problem with balance. Again, I shook my head – HELLO BUDDY – we’re all working here together, can’t we all just open our ears and minds and believe that sometimes we don’t know everything.
My earlier friend was talking to me while I was holding Tin on my hip – he was playing with a little black football that a Turkish friend had given him on his first birthday and wearing the Who Dat? tee shirt that another friend had given when he first arrived – she said I hope Tin doesn’t grow up like that, I hope he is more sensitive. Well I said, I hope he grows up well rounded, after all we had just walked down the street to watch the Saints game begin as he is not going to learn about football from mom 1 or 2, so I figured he needed a little manning up on the sports side.
And I’m not saying women are superior – god knows I live with one and I see first hand all the things I put on the men in my life – the constant talking, emoting, searching for the right and perfect answer, the fickleness, the over desire to be spoon fed romance – BELIEVE ME, I know. But I am saying that along the way some men got stunted at male and forgot to keep growing, and maybe the same can be said about some women I know too.
That’s why I’m taking Real Boys with me to California, so I can figure out just how to convey masculinity to my little boy without pushing him too far in either direction. When it’s his turn to fly, I want him to have grace and balance, something I’m still learning.