The Labor Day Weekend is behind us, which means that summer is over, except that summer isn’t really over. Sumer will be over at the autumn equinox on 22 September, 2014 at 10:29 PM EDT, which is actually 23 September 2014 02:29 Zulu or Universal Coordinated Time.
The most significant thing about Labor Day is that it is the day when mothers leap with joy because their kids are returning to school.
In the interest of full disclosure, remember that I am a male with a middle aged shape, greying and slightly balding, a bit wrinkled, who is fond of grilling, and who has a fascination with tools.
In other words – totally, completely, and utterly clueless about women.
Who are these women who sent their kids to the bus stop at 3:00 AM this morning? They are the very same women who a few short years ago were focused on their biological clocks. I’m not talking about a casual interest, I mean totally focused. Back then their biological clocks were ticking so loudly that they drowned out the crowd at an LSU football game. Over top of the cheers and the band all you could hear was, “tick. Tick. TICK. TICK! TICK! TICK!!!! It’s time to have babies!”
Yes, I’m talking about the same women who cooed over anything in a diaper that dripped from both ends. These are the same women who purchased baby clothes prior to pregnancy and held onto them to be used as hand-me-downs. Between babies they were out scouting for bargains for the proposed next baby.
These acquisitions announced their public commitment to having progeny (unless they were lawyers, in which case it was their commitment to having “issues” – the legal jargon for children.) They made it clear – very clear – that they wanted babies.
But then something changed. Maybe it’s like getting a cute little kitten while conveniently forgetting that someday it will be a finicky adult cat. Maybe the spring came off their biological clock. In any case, after getting exactly what they always wanted, their dream changed.
“I can’t wait for summer to end so that I can get rid of the kids at least five days out of seven. If I’m lucky, maybe I can get them into after school and weekend activities, too.”
If you’re not confused by now, it’s okay. I’m confused enough for both of us.
We guys dream differently. We may dream of a sports car, an obscenely large television, or the world’s finest hand-made golf clubs; if a guy gets his dream he NEVER wants to send it away (unless it’s to get a faster sports car, a larger screen TV or an even better set of clubs.)
But then, as I said earlier, I’m a male and therefore clueless.