Sunday, November 22, 2009

Stupid Apple...

That's right I said it.
Their are many "joys" of having little girls. There are the raw, unbridled emotions and the meltdowns that are a direct result of said emotions, the struggle to balance a sense of modesty while still teaching them to love, and be comfortable with their own bodies, the constant worrying about when the right time to buy the riffle um...
Then there are all the questions about all the uncomfortable topics, all the icky things that go on that you have to find someway to put in a happy, excited way, so your little girl doesn't start loathing the fact that she was born with indoor plumbing.
And then there are the things you don't plan for... or the things that I don't plan for like the sudden uncomfortableness to talk about certain topics.
Topics that were previously explained in great detail when she was obviously much to little to understand.
Topics that now seem taboo and too grown up for a little girl, my little girl, even though it's painfully obvious that her girlie hormones are starting to destroy her work their magic.
The questions come though she's not quite sure what she's getting at, but I'm smart enough to know eventually it will come to "IT": the mechanics questions. The ones I don't want to answer. My own knowledge of such things destroyed my outlook on life and also resulted in my brother inheriting all my George Micheal tapes... ew... he was singing about that!?! Thanks so much backyard neighbor boy, I could have gone on without that knowledge for years... so nice for you to enlighten me when I was five. Jerk. Misinformation by the way. Seriously, for an embarrassing amount of years I felt dirty and was worried that one day when I was big enough to get my period I'd be pregnant because we "played doctor" with our clothes on. Thanks to the only vaguely informative sex ed classes in elementary school I also thought I'd only get my period one day a month ... you know because they just say once a month... and they really don't get into the whole ovulation/fertilization thing.
Colour me embarrassed...
Moving on..
So the questions come.
3 year old Rowan E.{who wanted to have 10 babies btw}:
"Mom how does the baby come out?"
"Babies come out of your junk."
"Not out of MY junk!"
So I find a very unoffensive pencil drawing on the internet, I show her, she cries, I wasn't kidding, she never wants to have babies.
Recently the questions have been more egocentric, like she's trying to figure out her place, or figure "something" out but hasn't quite figured out the right questions to ask or what "it" is.
Things like:
"Why is my dad my dad but Hilary is the boys dad?"
"Because, I had you with your dad, and I had the boys with Hilary, duh"
What? I never claimed to be wholesome.
The newest and scariest question, scary because it's so close to the things I don't want to talk about:
"If you and my dad weren't married, than how did you have me?"
Thanks so much for that bags of worms sister dear.
Ah! Help! Seriously.
I realize I could have just answered by saying;
"You don't have to be married to have babies, but you should be married. And done with college. And 30."
And honestly I probably did at the time, but this question is so scary because of the "how"... it's so close to the actual question that I panicked. Normally such states of panic lead to ranting in Hilary's direction {he tends to pretend to listen} about how they should totally make age appropriate books on this subject matter, to save poor mommies like me the hassle of figuring out what is okay to say. Sometimes I go on to say that I would go ahead and write them myself, but of course I would feel "weird" attempting to be the authority on how to talk to children about sexuality and such.
So then I find myself at the library, and it hits me. "DUH... the library has books."
Yes, I'm a genius.
So if the library has books, maybe, just maybe they'll have something similar to what I want, something that will aid me in talking to my daughter who is on the cusp of pubescence about all things related to her girl parts; without having to look her in the eye. Much.
So I peruse the children's non-fiction section. Of course, I don't bother to ask the librarian for help or use the digital card catalog. Oh, the scandal. I eventually find the shelf dedicated to this taboo topic and look through the titles with the discomfort of the first time I had to buy my own tampons.
I giggle out loud at my silly anxiety and start skimming through the books
" I can do this I used to talk like a sailor, I'm comfortable speaking about all things genitalia related. In mixed company. Crudely even. This is going to be a breeze. I can do this!"
And then my mouth drops open.
"Holy descriptive diagram"
"Why don't they just put a big blinking sign that says 'Put penis here'!?"
Oops! My inner monologue totally became screaming rhetoric. In the children's section. So of course I look around quickly, praying no one heard me. I sigh and keep looking through the books each one worse than the one before it. I think that maybe there isn't anything here for me. Stupid library. Then I come across a book that looks kind of cartoon-y and has a bit of humor, which works for me, humor is my coping mechanism. So before I even get through half of the book I decide that it is definitely the one.

So, I check out. I pat myself on the back, I am a good parent. I'm doing what I should even if it makes me uncomfortable, even if I don't think she's ready or too young. I will do this, and I will make sure that while I read the book that I speak matter of factly, & be uber nonchalant so she thinks it's no big deal and is comfortable talking about these kind of things with me. I am super mom.

Then I get home and read the whole book. Everything seems good enough... until I get to the part that says "places penis in vagina" or something to that effect. Seriously, do I have to tell her that... really!?!? I really thought "special kind of touching adults do" was enough explanation on the mechanics for a six year old. I cringe, I sigh, I get over it. If it has to be done I'll do it. I certainly don't want a 9 year old boy fresh out of his first session of sex ed to misinform her the way I was. So I keep reading. Apparently the book also thinks that kids should know the definition of masturbation. Oh book, why must you torment me so? I find resolve in myself once again. These things are important. I want her to talk to me about things like this when they come up and she's old enough for me to worry about it. I have to do this.

So I put the book in my closet. That was a week ago.
Yes. I am a sissy.
But really it's more than that.
Reading that book... well it's like eve eating from the tree of knowledge - Once we go there there is no going back. That tiny bit of knowledge is going to put my baby girl on a whole different level. I won't go as far as saying that she will lose her innocence... but she kind of will. I can't imagine her hearing the word sex with out giggling, or cringing, or making some comment about how it is gross. I most certainly will have to be very careful not to speak so openly in front of her, as her blinders, her naivety will be gone. One conversation... the apple, and my little girl will be part of the grown up world with no way to go back to that happy garden of ignorance.
can you blame me for stalling?
Stupid apple.


Mama4Real said...

UGH!!!! I dread the day we have to face this. While we've already faced the effects of this stuff thx to someone else's kid, we've not had THE talk yet... I don't know what the right answers are. I don't think you have to tell her EVERYTHING. It's YOUR choice if what you tell her now and what you tell her later. Just simply answer her questions, no more than that. That's what I'd do.

Tina said...

For some reason, my daughter thinks that I "pooped" her out and I have yet to correct her. I may take a trip to the library myself.


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