The guy who wrote the book about men being from Mars and women being from Venus didn’t have to write a book to convince me. Both planets have some fine points, but the same, they are not.
Should we be surprised? Warning: If to feel good about yourself you need to believe that men and women are exactly the same except for plumbing (ignoring the bothersome fact that every single cell in their bodies is different because of their “chromosomal patterns”), you might want to stop here.
Research, with no ax to grind and no bias toward the citizens of either Mars or Venus, the guys or the gals, seems to show, time and again, that most guys don’t multitask as well as most gals.
I’m not sure why we needed to pay for such research. Just go into a grocery store, dads, with a shopping basket and three kids. Your wife will handle that task unscathed and even bring all the kids home intact. Try it yourself, and you will need sedation.
You will forget half of what you went for. You won’t be there twenty minutes before you lapse into survival mode, praying with poignant fervency just to get out. Once your prayer is granted, you’ll discover that you have to go back in because, in the fog of war and as you were refereeing a fight between the other two, you left a man behind “in country.” Little Bosco is still in the shopping cart and the manager is dialing social services.
Don’t even try to throw yourself on the mercy of the court, your wife. She knows she can text on her cell phone, make a call to her best friend, buy the groceries, get good deals, shuffle a stack of coupons, keep the kids in line, deny multiple requests for goodies, referee skirmishes, and plan the evening’s meal—all at the same time. (I don’t know how she texts and talks at the same time, but since she has only one phone, she’s still nine fingers and one ear ahead of the game. You, sir, will never be ahead of the game.)
Your wife is wired with multi-circuit precision. You are wired for high voltage but only one line, and you will burn out about seven years sooner, still unable to figure out how multi-circuited, multitasking folks like your wife do what they do.
The closest I ever get to what my wife does all the time is when I preach. I’m speaking. I’m checking notes. I’m watching for cues. I’m talking to myself while I’m talking. “Good, Bob’s got his Bible app open on his phone. Jane’s with me. Oops, looks like Sue’s bored and, yea, verily, that’s not Holy Scripture she’s texting. Jim’s eyes just glassed over; he’s heading into a coma. I better go for a little humor here. Wake-up call. Uh oh, lost another one. Ah, rats! There’s a ‘watch check’ and Ted just almost broke his jaw trying to hide a yawn. Better land this thing.” And so on.
So maybe I do break into multitasking on occasion. But I’ll never understand how my wife could take all the kids to the store and come back sane.
I can’t even begin to imagine how the God of the universe watches over sparrows and tides and oceans and amoebas, spins this world, and, with all of his heart, loves you and loves me. All at the same time. Now that’s multitasking!
You’re invited to visit my website at http://www.CurtisShelburne.com!
Copyright 2015 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.