Thanksgiving has come and gone. Hallelujah! All I'm going to say about that is that in the grand scheme of things...we lived. However, as a non-stereotypical person in a non-stereotypical family I did almost unwind a few times in a few directions that would have ended badly.
Squib is not fond of dogs. Sooo not fond of dogs that he stayed--literally--nestled under my armpit for three days in the dead center of the sofa. They came in. He would try to go out. And vice versa. The true death knell to Squib's dog experience, though, was when one of the dog's picked up his shoe in her mouth and (supposedly) 'showed it to us.' Then, I had to chase her, and tug back and forth to get it back. His eyes were big and round and later he asked where to put his shoes so no dog ever got it and I suggested Venus. He gave me an appropriately quelling look and stalked off to hide them himself. The kid used to sleep in his shoes until not so long ago, so the shoes are a wee tad important to him. A little bit of fabric was torn and he was worried, etc. When you only have one pair of shoes you tend to guard them with your life, so he wasn't the only person staring at those shoes going, "Oh crap!!"
Same day, later on, I was pinned to the sofa with Squib 'helping' me (looking all the while like a moppet) play Tera when it was deemed that I "couldn't do this, it's a man's job." The remark was referring to some of the jacking up that the Mud Hut needed. First, I was extreeeeeemly tired. Last to sleep, first to wake and I don't work well that way. Second, the person commenting doesn't even know me. Third, well third thing is I was back on the sofa and dealing with us homeless garage monkeys who thought being in the Hut meant...being in the Hut.
A man's job??!?? Same man that has been helping to fell trees and cut them up and roll logs (big logs!!) onto really hot fires kind of man's job?? It isn't as though anyone is going to pick the house up with their bare hands. No. I did not say that out loud. Or anything about the pains of childbirth or crap like that. The birthing pains thing didn't even occur to me, though I don't know why not since Beanstalk took out a few ribs on his way into this world as the anesthesiologist mumbled something about not being able to block pain above a certain height. Gee, thanks. No. I sat there somewhat surprised that I even cared. Wondered a little what my ever-stinking problem was. If someone else wants to do it, then I'm fine with that!!
So, what do women do? And where can I go to do that?