By: Elaine Martin
You know those routine conversations you have with people you first meet? They usually include, “Do you have a family?” “How many kids do you have?” “Are they boys or girls?” My answers to those questions are, “yes, 3, girls – all girls.” I can almost always count on the reply I will hear next. It will either be “WOW! You have three girls? Your home must be full of so much drama!” to “That’s amazing. I hope your husband has his own bathroom.”
My heartfelt smile is the only reaction that I can offer to that new friend. How in the world could I summarize the colorful life having three daughters has given me? Yes, our home is indeed a drama-infused mess at times and we do have an occasional line for the bathroom; however, girls offer SO much more than tears and cluttered bathroom counters.
In their younger years, tea parties were as normal as the sun rising and setting. It seemed that every meal had at least one of them drinking from a teeny cup with her pinky finger raised high. My husband, Greg, would come home from work for a quick lunch, expecting to catch a few minutes of SportsCenter while munching on a hot dog. Instead, he would be greeted at the door by three giggly girls, escorting him to a beautifully set meal on their tike-sized pink kitchen table. He would somehow bend his knees and ankles in such a way to both eat their carefully made peanut butter & jelly heart-shaped sandwiches and listen to their colorful stories. I have no doubt that his co-workers would know who his lunch dates were when he returned to his desk with glitter on his cheeks and a huge smile on his face.
Our daughters do share a separate bathroom; nevertheless, a normal morning means all ladies will spend time getting ready in one bathroom, specifically, the bathroom that partly belongs to Greg. He sits patiently in the living room or spends his waiting time scrambling eggs while us girls take turns fixing hair and fighting over the cutest scarf. Once we all pour out, he will enter the bathroom amidst a fog of perfume, sticky counters, and hairspray.
If you were to ask Greg what is the ONE thing that is hard about having a bunch of girls around, he wouldn’t even blink before he answered…HAIR. Yep, our beautiful flowing locks are his nemesis. I know he easily gets worn out from the lost bobby pins that seem to multiply in every sofa cushion crack to the clogged shower and sink drains that he has to constantly unclog. He actually went online and placed a bulk order for the belts needed for our vacuum cleaner. Our insanely thick hair gets caught in the roller and burns the belts, so instead of grumbling on his way to the hardware store, he simply admitted defeat and set aside a portion of his garage for the sacred vacuum belts.
Dinnertime with our house of girls is probably my favorite time of the day. Over the years, we’ve grown to save our best highlights from our time apart for this special time. Once the food has been placed and our blessings have been offered, their words come flying out. Vivid descriptions of school events or cafeteria conversations fill the air, as we laugh together over our chow. I can tell when one daughter has taken too much time to speak, because I notice another one tapping her fork on her plate because she is anxious to share her adventure. Some evenings leave Greg with a glazed look on his face because we have overloaded his male mind with too many words. He may be glassy-eyed, but I know his heart is full.
I am thankful for my girls because they have each promised me something very important. It’s actually identical to a standing agreement I have with my own mom. This is one thing that I believe a son, no matter how wonderful, would be unable to guarantee. When I am in my senior years and they safely tuck me away in a nursing home, they have each committed in sharing the task of keeping my chin whisker-free. I consider that an even exchange for the French braiding and flat ironing I do now.
So, the next time that you make a new acquaintance and learn she is a mom to a slew of girls, don’t mistake her smile for a cover-up. She is probably proud of the fact that her purse holds mismatched Barbie shoes and her cute, sassy shoes secretly belong to her 13-year-old. You’ll want to be her friend, since an invitation to an exceptional tea party may be in your future.