I live in a house of boys

For many years I was convinced that, despite my best efforts, my husband was an ass.This was before my second child ( a boy!!) was born. When he was born, I made a vow to his future soul mate, " I will raise a strong, independent man, a modern man, a man who communicates freely, a man who does not hog the remote". Well, future soul mate, I'm running a little behind on the timelines, and truthfully, I think I may have overesitmated my abilities, and may have to revisit that promise. I didn't count so much on the nature part of the nature/nuture theory. I now know that the very things that drive me crazy about my man are as ground into his genetics as the grass and mud on my son's knees.
When my daughter left home, I didn't count on the power shift, all of a sudden I was the lone female. I live in a house of boys. It isn't as harmonious as I envisioned, there are more grunts than riviting conversations, overflowing hockey bags , mini sticks and soccer balls co exist with my grandma's antique china cabinet, my scented candles compete with wet muddy runners and promptness has been replaced by the satisifaction of having arrived at all. I worry my standards have relaxed. My eyebrows rarely raise at burps, farts and belches, my son almost has me convinced that using his sleeve instead of a napkin saves the rain forests and peeing outside is the definition of recycling.
I hope I learn to honor this unique biology and live in peaceful co existance with the men in my life, each gender offering their gifts, but right now I've got a toilet seat to clean.