If Women are from Mars, then Men must be from Uranus

I have always been aware of the dramatic differences between men and women.  They range from the most subtle of things to more dramatic, almost inconceivable, ways.  I often find myself looking at the opposite sex in total confusion and despair.  At the same time, if I had a dollar for how many times my husband has uttered, "HuH?!?" with the most puzzled look as if I were talking to him in Hebrew, we would be Oprah rich.  These differences have been the discussion of psychologists and behaviorist for years.  The idea of bridging the gap between the sexes for a better relationship and understanding have plagued our society.  I am a Marriage and Family Therapist. This is a concept that I believed and trusted in during my graduate studies. And I stand here today to tell you that it is all pure BULLSHIT!!

I am an only child. Growing up there were no references for what "boys were like." We have all heard the sweet nursery rhymes that tells us that girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice and boys, on the other hand, are snakes and snails and puppy dog tails.  This should have clued us all in to the truth!! Boys are slimy, sticky, dirty..... Now, don't get me wrong, I love my boy with all of my heart. I just struggle with how to relate to him; how to get him to understand me.  Never would I have thought that potty training would be best encouraged as "pee on the grass" training.  Nor did I ever expect to hear the words, "Momma, I just pooped on the concrete." Can you imagine my horror when I realized that my beautiful, sweet, long eye lashed son dropped trouser, squatted, and pinched off a loaf on our back patio like one of the dogs!! I find myself thinking "what went wrong" "what's the matter with him" "I can't do this anymore" on a regular basis.  I have no foundation for this! I am a girly girl.  I wear heels to Wal-Mart for goodness sake! But still I try.  I shop for him in what most would be deemed the "preppy" section.  I love the GAP outlets and I pick out outfits that coordinate from the undershirt to his tennis shoes.  And I fight. I fight daily. "Where's my Lightening McQueen shirt?" "Where's my airplane shirt?" "Where's my pirate shirt." "I don't like those shoes! Where are my Spiderman shoes?" All of these garments are cheap, and like cheap clothing do, they are frayed, worn, and ragged. 

It was not until this week that I decided that the battle was useless.  That boys will be boys and girls will be girls and that we shall NEVER understand one another.  While Carter was at the dentist's office, he announced (loudly I might add) that he "needed to poopoo." As Carter and Dain emerged from the bathroom rather quickly considering the stated task at hand, I asked (first mistake) if he "took care of business." In a proud moment, Dain explained that Carter announced, "Daddy, I'm gonna poopoo fast and hard; like a MAN!!" It was as if God reached down, gently touched my shoulder and in all of his Holiness and gentleness whispered in my ear, "Give it UP."