Outnumbered and Outgunned



My husband raises our kids like they are going to be candidates for Survivor.

He claims he is trying to teach us all to survive in the jungle…because we all know that the danger of stumbling into an Amazonian-type jungle in the middle of farm country Louisiana is clearly imminent.

He hides and jumps out to scare us, to test our reflexes, he says. He hides the kids’ snacks when their backs are turned, then laughs as they hysterically try to find the oreos.

When the kids get foam swords or light sabers, we must get some too, so the entire family can engage in epic battles and build defensive sword skills…because of course we can carry swords around…*sigh*

I’ve learned to play Guitar Hero, Diablo II and I know all the Star Wars characters and the color of their light sabers.

And don’t even get me started on the Nerf dart guns. There are not enough expletives to describe just how much fun it is to be the only girl in the house when a Nerf gun war erupts.

Having boys had definitely brought out the boy in my husband. He plays with their toys, watches their cartoons and finds their humor hilarious.

I think his biggest challenge has been trying to keep a straight face when he is punishing them for something that was technically wrong, but really dang funny.

But, in all the boyishness, I can’t help but wonder what my husband will do if we ever have a girl…other than watch her like bomb that could go off unexpectedly. Just imagining the look on his face when she demands he play barbies is enough to make me giggle.

But, for now, I am stuck refereeing battles, dodging darts, acting as a human shield and watching Phineas and Ferb marathons.

Send chocolate and margaritas, because we women have to stick together.

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