The Power of Women

I have four daughters and one son.  They range in ages from 12-20 years.  We are talkers.  We talk about almost anything.  One of the things we talk about a lot is human behavior.

Recently we were watching a movie.  One girl got angry at another girl for a perceived offense.  She then began to systematically ruin this girl's social life.  And so began our conversation.

My son didn't see it coming.  My daughters were all able to predict what would happen each step along the way.  It seems this is one way males and females are still different.

My husband taught me about how boys handle things like this.  He told me a story about when he was in junior high.  A boy had a problem with him, didn't like him.  He told my husband so.  My husband said that was fine because he didn't like the boy either.  Soon the fists were flying.  They both got in trouble.  The police were involved.  They learned their lesson.  And before long, they were good friends.

As I've talked to men over the years I've come to understand that this is a common happening.  Guys have a problem, they deal with it (not always with fists), and often they become friends afterward.  If not, at least they are direct and know where they each stand.  Then they just leave each other alone.

Girls, on the other hand, are not as direct.  They often continue to act friendly in person but destroy each other behind their backs.  They spread rumors, they steal friends, they poison the social waters in any way they can.  And it works.  It works because girls/women are of the heart.

We understand how people feel.  We learn what is important to them.  We understand that they are social creatures, that cutting off their social support is like suffocating them.  We know how to hurt another person in a way that is so much deeper than a physical injury.  And because we are of the heart, these wounds damage us.  This attack works.

I wish I could say this ends in junior high.  For some of us it probably does.  I've known some incredible women who would never say anything bad about another person, who would never strike at another's soul.

I wish I was one of them, but I'm not.  Sometimes I'm petty.  Sometimes I'm jealous and self-centered.  Sometimes I'm just impatient.  And often I am critical.

As women we have an incredible ability to do good.  We can use this same power to lift others up.  Instead of seeing how those around us don't measure up, we can look for things they are doing well and praise them.  We can encourage them.  We can thank them.  It's this same exact power -- the power of the heart -- that offers us this choice.  We can do so much good or so much harm.

People don't need to be told what they are doing wrong; they already know.  They need to be told that they are of worth.  They need to be told that they are capable of better, that we believe in them.  They need to be appreciated for what they have to offer, not told how they are lacking.

I am a woman.  I have the power of the heart.  I commit today to use this power more wisely and kindly.  Because I can.  I have a choice.  I hope you will join me.

A Lesbian Trapped in a Man's Body

This is how my husband describes himself.  You see, he's very attracted to women.  I know, try to wrap your mind around it.

As I examined this phrase I realized that he might be right.  He is kind of a girl.

He's not effeminate in any discernable way.  And he does enough stupid man-things that I want to kill him on a regular basis.  But if ever anyone were "in touch with his feminine side" it's him.

Allow me to illustrate.

My husband does not do home repairs.  He has no idea how; he's not allowed to try.  He can fix computers but nothing else.  He does not own any tools.  He is forbidden to touch power tools.

My husband likes scented candles.  Way more than I do.  His favorite scent is lilac.  Back when I used to get invited to candle parties all the time there was always a handwritten note on the invite that said to bring him along.  Please.

And speaking of parties, you should see him go nuts at a Pampered Chef party.  He thinks anything made by Pampered Chef is a godsend.  I was also instructed to bring him to these parties.  The demonstrator would talk about an item, he would gush about how he uses it to make such and such, how he couldn't live without it, and sales would soar.  I'm pretty sure that as long as he went no one would care if I even came.

At social gatherings he is much more likely to hang out with the women than the men.  Those men are just such . . . men.  They are just gross.  He can't stand locker room talk or behavior.  He doesn't talk sports.  But get him with a bunch of women talking about the mini-whip from Pampered Chef and he can hold his own.

And as much as I love him, he is more like a 14-year old girl than I ever was.  Emotionally needy.  Playing mind games to get attention.  Pouting when I don't include him.

I guess it works out well for us because I am more like a guy in so many ways.  I own the tools.  I do the repairs.  I mow the lawn.  I split the wood.  I explain sports to him.

No, I do not consider myself a man nor am I trapped anywhere I don't belong.  I'm just a very progressive girl.

We fit, in our own peculiar way.  My favorite memory of how we're different would have to be as we prepared for a Memorial Day barbeque with my family.  I was up in a tree with a chainsaw while he was in the kitchen making deviled eggs.

Yup, that's us.

*****
If you liked this story, you'll love the one my daughter tells about him trying to do something manly.

The Domesticated Female

It is widely believed that the domesticated female is part of a dwindling group.  Not yet endangered, but certainly less frequently observed in the general population.  There are, however, pockets where they seem to thrive.  In fact, it seems they far outnumber their couterparts in these areas.

The domesticated female is easy to identify, although the traits used for classification have a wide range of compliance.  Some dabble.  Some go all in.  Let's examine a few of her qualities.

She is a strong nester.  She works hard to create a pleasant living environment for her mate and offspring.  From tidying the nest to adding those touches which make it more welcoming.  This is done to strengthen the home life attachement. 

She takes great joy in providing the sustenance for all who enter the dwelling.  If you are within her realm she will attempt to feed you.  It is her instinct to do so.  She is very skilled at this trait.

Her children and her mate are her top priority.  She will sacrifice food and safety so that they are taken care of.  She will even give her life to protect them.

In contrast, the feral female scores quite low on all of the above.  The state of the nest appears to be less important to her.  She will keep it in such a state that it doesn't endanger the family, but that's about it.  No extra effort is exerted to make it just right.

The feral female is more concerned with sustaining life than providing a variety of foods.  She will meet this need only to the point that there will be food available.  She seldoms prepares the food or insists that others eat, encouraging self-sufficiency.

She watches to make sure that her mate and offspring are safe, but she also works to meet her own needs.  Sometimes the family is ignored so that she can go off and stretch her wings.  She comes back often enough that no one dies, but the squawking upon her return can often be heard for great distances.

The domesticated female is generally preferred by males, although some lean toward the feral.  If a feral female finds herself in a pack of domesticated females she often tries to blend in, knowing that she is considered the lesser of the species.  An attempt to domesticate a feral female may work, but it is usually temporary as her natural state of being is wild.

Both types thrive best when allowed to follow their natural bent.

Guess which one I am.