Help! - I'm Outnumbered

Two writers on what it’s like to be surrounded by the opposite sex in their own homes

ELENI KYRIACOU lives with her husband, Andrew, and their two sons.

Nobody can prepare you for living in a houseful of men. My sons weren’t a total surprise – Andrew and I had been trying to adopt and were thrilled when Ryan, six, and Aaron, four, arrived. Despite the fact my own family, up to then, had been very female (one sister, no brothers, four nieces, five aunties, 10 female first cousins), I didn’t think twice about being the only woman in the house. Boys... girls – we’re all the same, aren’t we?

No. What first struck me was their sheer energy and physicality. I’d never seen anything like it. All gangly elbows and knees, the rough-and-tumble play of their early days left an impressive procession of bruises (on me). Then there were scrapes, bumps and heart stopping accidents as they fearlessly hurled themselves around the house, ‘playing’ with us and each other (four ER visits in 10 days was our personal best).

Now 20 and 18, their strength and size (both over 6ft) still astound me... which leads me onto food. It’s a relentless cycle of demand and supply you can never conquer. I know growing girls can eat huge amounts, too, but boys make food disappear like some freaky sleight-of hand magic trick. Watch, ladies and gents, as I fill the fridge, leave the house for the day, return and... ta-da! It’s empty.

Then there’s the Toilet Seat Thing. I don’t want to talk about this, except to say anyone outnumbered by men soon the benefit of a fancy soft-close seat that doesn’t slam, regardless of how hard you put it down. Or how often.