This is a follow-up to my 'Boys will be boys' post from yesterday. Lisa left a comment (Hi Lisa!!) and I wanted to comment back, but realized it would be long enough to warrant a new damn blog. So, here we go.
Here are some facts around here as, gender-wise, I am heavily outnumbered (unless you count the rabbit, guinea pig, and chickens .. and then that is just stretching it).
Justin used to dress as a woman for Halloween every year. It started at a party shortly after we met (even more ironic is that we were accidentally dressed EXACTLY alike at that party) and continued on for several years.
The year Shannon was born Justin wore one of my black dresses and a wig of mine. He had shaved his beard. He not only fooled strangers, but he fooled his own parents when we pulled up at their house. They seriously thought I had a girl with me. As we went door to door several people would jump back a little when they heard him say "Happy Halloween" because they weren't expecting the deep voice from someone they thought was really a woman.
We've since bought him his own prom dress and tiara and he has gone as "Princess PrettyBottom," much to my over-masculine father's horror.
Tristan LOVES it when I do his nails. He prefers me to use my green nail polish on them. Justin doesn't mind, and my mom and step-dad tolerate it. My father hasn't seen it yet, but I don't care.
Shannon has scolded me when I haven't had my nails done and has been known to tell me which colors to do them in as well. When Shannon was younger he once let me put his hair in pigtails. It rocked and he was adorable. Everyone shuddered, but he was SO CUTE, so screw em.
How is it that my dog rocks a tie-dye shirt better than I do?
This is the final one, and I'm still trying to learn to laugh it off. I've been called Justin's mother FIVE TIMES now. Apparently boys will be boys, men will be boys, and I will be an old hag.
Once he was in his work clothes and I was in a tie-dye shirt and Birks. (Is there something someone isn't telling me about my tie-dye looks?)
Justin tends to get called ma'am frequently because of his longer hair. Once though we were both addressed ma'am. The guy suddenly realized his mistake, turned to me and said "Oh, I'm sorry, I mean sir." Yea - Triple D boobs and I got called a GUY!!!
So there is my follow-up. My husband looks young enough to be my son, and I look old enough to have an 18 year old (I'm 32 fyi); my sons look ADORABLE in skirts, nail polish, and pigtails; my husband looks better in my dresses (and my sunglasses) than I do; my dog looks better in tie-dye than I do.
Can someone please point me to the nearest Extreme Makeover department?