The day the penises took over

A few weeks ago the day came when I had been a mother of twins for a whole year. And with that important milestone came the realisation that I had been outnumbered by penises for just as long. Within my own house, that is. I don’t count the ones I may pass on the street and that, thankfully, I rarely see.


Let me explain. When my partner and I moved in together there was only one penis. It belonged to the cat. My partner and I, both being female, felt in the ascendance. After a few years, I decided that we needed to be more of a lesbian stereotype, so I got a another cat. A male cat. That made two of us (women) and two of them (penises). Things felt balanced.


Then, after a house purchase and a civil partnership, my partner and I somehow decided that we were sufficiently grown up and responsible to become parents. I can’t quite remember how the conversation went, but I think I was drunk. Jump forwards 18 months and we became the ridiculously proud parents of two baby boys, who for the purposes of this blog I shall call A and R.


After a fraught and premature end to my pregnancy the tiny little mites spent nearly three weeks in intensive care. This made the day we got to take them home even more momentous, and for many reasons. The way we fell in love with them all over again. The pride I felt at seeing my partner rocking our son to sleep. The never-again reached level of cleanliness in our flat.


And the fact that while from then on there were two of us (women) and four of them (penises), things still felt balanced.

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