The other day I was thinking about our family, the differences, and the similarities. We have our cool family members, and then we have the engineers. The engineer members might not be professional engineers, but they could be. They share the same personality traits. Even some of the grandchildren still in grade school fall into that camp.
Once I asked my oldest grandson his favorite color. “Black,” he said. I laughed. “Okay, what’s your second favorite color?” “White.” His major might be Business Finance, but that child falls squarely in the engineering camp.
But here’s the thing about the engineer types– they’re smart enough to snag cool wives or girlfriends. All the sons, except for Brooklyn reside in the engineer-world. All the wives hang-out in the super-cool camp.
Our engineer types take Boy-Scout-preparedness to the tenth power. I’ll give you a couple of examples. My husband is an engineer by profession. He focuses on a problem, looks at the obstacle from every possible angle, and then looks at it one more time. Then he takes one more pass at his dilemma, you know, just to make sure he hasn’t missed ANYTHING! When he makes a decision, he’s rarely wrong or caught by surprise.
That sounds great, but it’s freaking exhausting. If you don’t believe me, tag along when he buys his next car. That’s a two or three-month process by the way, so take a sabbatical from work and pack a few lunches.
My daughter came home for a visit the other day, and I casually mentioned that the previous week, her father and I had a home fire drill and the week before that we’d practiced what we’d do if our security alarm went off in the middle of the night. I should probably mention, my daughter’s a marriage and family therapist, so she’s trained to stare at you without emotion, even when she’s in the LMAO mode.
“So,” she deadpanned. “How often do you and dad practice these routines?”
“Oh, about once a month.”
“That’s interesting.” Which is code for, ‘I can’t wait to get back to work and tell this to all my therapist friends.’
“It’s a good idea to be prepared,” I said for no good reason. And because I’m a mother and have a college degree in Guilt Management, I added, “When’s the last time you thought about what you’d do in case of a fire?”
She pursed her lips as if she were seriously considering my question. “Second grade.”
I haven’t checked, but I’m pretty sure three out of five of our children conduct regular home fire drills—guess which ones don’t.
I never read the book Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, but I’m thinking of buying a few copies and handing them out at our next family function.