As I write this my darling hubby is outside in the pitch dark shoveling more than two feet of snow off our long driveway and front walk. He has been out there for almost two hours. At what point should I be worried that he is stuck in a snowdrift? He was also out there this afternoon for an hour. I either naively underestimate the magnitude of the shoveling job, or he is out there drinking beers in the shed. Either way it is freaking cold out there…and dark…and cold…and dark. Add this to my list of Reasons That I Am Glad I Am Not Male. Also on my list is jock itch, the inability to create social opportunities, and having to shave your cheeks. Me? I am inside snuggled under a warm blanket, watching Oprah on the DVR, and eating ice cream (ok, it’s fat free - but still…).

My husband has had a similar list about women since I met him. He had his way before I created mine. And his is much longer than mine. And he is way more verbal about his. Every few weeks I hear him say “another reason I’m glad I’m not a woman.” He has said it after watching me deliver each of our kids, upon watching my nipples repeatedly stretch across the room while pumping, and when he hears talk about waxing, bras, ob/gyn exams, the glass ceiling, the “bitch” label for women in the workforce who are strong, ambitious and outspoken…and the list goes on.

But I think the fact that his list is so much longer than mine validates the fact that we women are the stronger sex. We go through a hell of a lot more than they do - and they know it. Even if they don’t say it often, they know it. Just ask your husband, brother, or father if they’d rather be a woman - you’ll get your answer. So let’s be happy and proud of all we do, and instead of thinking we got the raw deal, think of all the things we get to experience that men never will…the deep female friendships we have, crying like a banshee during movies like Terms of Endearment (OMG - remember when Debra Winger was saying goodbye to her sons!!! I’m crying just typing it!), and most importantly, the feeling of carrying, delivering, and feeding a baby. After that, the physical connection we moms have with our children just continues. My kids are like a drug to me - when I smell them, hug them, or kiss them, they are intoxicating to me. Although I don’t know first hand, I’m pretty sure the smell of my son is more powerful than acid, crack, and heroin combined. And I’m sure I’m not the only mom who feels that way.

In truth, my husband is in awe of all women and all that we are capable of. Like many men, he is a huge admirer, advocate, and supporter of women. He just wouldn’t want to be one. I can understand that. So…I’ll let him have his long list. I’ll let him think women have it rough and men are better off. We all know the truth.J