I remember the first time I hung out with a large group of teenage guys.

That is, most of my friends in middle and high school were guys, but we tended to hang out in groups of two or three. Right now I’m thinking of the first time it was me, another girl, and ten guys.

I wasn’t expecting to be surprised – after all, I knew guys, right? But apparently two guys hanging out with a girl aren’t nearly as rough or crazy as ten guys ignoring two girls. I pretty much sat on the couch and stared.

I’m thinking of it because I’ve become largely acclimated to living with two teenage boys. I don’t flinch or worry if they start beating one another up on the couch just behind me, I’ve stopped questioning their appetites, and I’m surprised if the TV isn’t on to a sports game or comedy.

More, I miss them when the house is quiet. I’m bummed if the soccer game is postponed. And, as with all women with JMS (Jewish Mother Syndrome), I’m thrilled by little chances to feed them – and amused if I accidentally blow something up in the process, much to my older nephew’s delight.