I feel like my week has been overtaken by feminine hygiene, vaginas, peckers and topics that I’d like to NEVER have to speak to my daughters about.
Sure – some of it is clearly my fault. I mean the 6 year old never would have asked what tampons were for if I hadn’t left the whole box on the counter, right?
Last night Rambo was peeing with the door shut (like a good parent) and the 6 year old thought it was me in there so she barged in
(you know – because moms don’t need or deserve to pee in private) – screamed bloody murder like she had seen a zombie – and ran back out to her sister to loudly proclaim,
“Watermelon – I just saw Daddy’s bad spot.”
I wanted to yell AMEN! You got that right. Let’s carry that theme through until you’re at least 40. Anything in that general area on a boy is a bad spot and you must never go near it or be enticed by it.
Ah and then there were the hat tricks the day before. I can’t believe how many of you knew what that was! And obviously – now I get Rambo’s ridiculous play on words. I am now willing to admit that a hat trick is not something John Wayne did back in the days of the Old West. Fine. I was wrong.
Vagina woes continued on well into the evening.
Watermelon will be 12 soon and I got the dreaded, “Mom – come sit down – I need to talk to you” request from her. She said, “Um. Mary at school. Well um. She has a ziploc bag. She keeps it at school. For um. You know. When that thing might come. In case it comes at school. I think she has pads in it. Can I have one of those bags in case it happens to me at school? Um. Please?”
No – because when I look at you – you will always be a tiny infant who needed nothing more than a clean diaper and undying love from me. You cannot be old enough to be thinking of periods and pads. I refuse to believe that is happening despite my best efforts to stop you from growing up.
Check with me again next month after I’ve moved out of denial. It’s 1 mile south of Care Bear Land where I live on the weekends.
You’d think that’d be enough for the night but nope. Her and I were watching Say Yes To The Dress and there was a bride on the show who just had to talk about wearing white because she was pure and had high morals and was a virgin.
I wanted to shank her through the TV. I watch the show for the fashion. That is all.
But bonus – happy day for me – courtesy of this “fashion” show - I got an invitation to talk to my 12 year old about morals and virgins and white dresses.
Because no sooner had the bride said virgin and Watermelon said, “Mom – what’s a virgin?”
F*ck a duck! Really? Do we have to do this now? While I’m vegging out and losing my sanity in front of mindless reality TV? You want me to be a parent during this?
What’s next? You’ll ask me to cook supper, won’t you? The demands placed on me are neverending.
Le sigh. You cannot say or even go near the word sex with this kid or she turns 85 shades of red and giggles for an hour. Her and all her friends are at the age where they are all thinking about it but are still too embarrassed to say that they are or even say the word or ask about it.
Not kidding – someone kisses on TV and she covers her eyes like they’ve been stabbed and yells, “EEEEEEWWWWWWW, is it over yet?”
But sure. Here we go. Let’s discuss the definition of a virgin.
I should have told her to google it.
I tell her a virgin is a person who has not had sex. And of course proceed into why women wear white on their wedding day and purity and all that. She wants to know if “off white” or “crème” counts?
What??? THAT is your only question after that whole speech? After your mother is covered in hives?
God love her for caring more about fashion than caring about asking what color of a dress her mother wore all those years ago.
I will have you know that all this talk that I’d rather avoid is good for something. Just to get away from any more questions or words like virgins, periods and bad spots – I got on the treadmill. Hid there for an hour.
It was my first day on Weight Watchers yesterday and apparently I was being tested or something.
No problem. I aced it. Stayed within my points. Worked out for an hour. Avoided a sex talk with my 12 year old and put the fear of God into my 6 year old regarding “bad spots” on boys.
All in all it was a pretty productive day.
Today is shaping up to be damn good itself. Food planned and feeling good.
Maybe I’ll even conquer that whole “hat trick” thing tonight using Rambo’s “bad spot”. Do not think badly of me though. I am no heathen. I’m a good Catholic girl.
I wore white to my wedding. Duh.