I have told you about our summer of hell do nothing due to my very huge pregnant belly. Well, it seems some of us will do crazy things when we have been trapped in a house, by record heat and waddling, watching nothing but Hannah Montana and Zack and Cody for over 4 weeks. Some of us actually turn on their own trash TV while young children are around, but excuse it by taking it as a chance to be educational and starting the talk about the birds and the bees.
I don’t remember if I ever got that talk. I probably just learned it the old fashion way through pop music, bad TV and the kids on the playground. I have planned to take a different approach with my kids, but the question was always how. Do you sit them down one day, launching into all the glory details, kiss them on the foreheads and leave them shocked and scarred? Is it a wait and see kind of thing where you answer questions as they pop up? Or do you just keep putting it off until your 16 year old sits you down for the conversation of a lifetime? Who knows? Nobody.
Amber has been exposed to sex in her so-called kid friendly shows. Miley Cyrus and iCarly are always talking about cute boys, hoping for dates and kissing, but in the grand scheme of things that is tame. Then comes Mtv with the hardcore reality, where all that mooning over boys, kissing and hoping that the ultra cute football captain notices you leads to you to 16 and pregnant. I am not much of a Mtv watcher, anymore. I remember the days when they actually had music videos and not skanky girls trying to hook up with anything with a pulse. However, this show caught my eye. I chalk it up to me being pregnant myself, although my show 36 and pregnant wouldn’t get much of a head turn. When I am pregnant I crave all things pregnancy, even the gory, morbid things. I have no explanation, but know that it might not die down once the baby is here. I will have a new place of residency, which will be the sofa where I will be pinned under a small, yet demanding nursing monster. I will need something to distract me while the little one goes to town on my breast.
Since Amber doesn’t take naps at the ripe old age of 7 years old, no matter how much I try to convince her otherwise, I have selfishly begun watching a few of these trash shows in her presence. I try to make it a little bit better by using them to teach her about the real world and how one can screw up their lives. While watching the pretty, popular cheerleader, whom Amber would normally look up to, and pointing out how she has lost her friends, dropped out of the squad and is crying because her life is a mess surely is an educational moment. Pushing the point home is the poor girl’s contorted face while enduring labor and then pushing out her baby. Don’t worry, Mtv is sensational, but not to the point of showing a baby shoot from the girl’s loins. Sure they can show scantily clad girls writhing on the beach during spring break, but nothing so racy as what can result from said writhing. But I digress.
Amber soon turns to me with her face in a mixture of shock, disgust and wonder, to tell me that she will not be having any babies until she is the age I was when I had her, 29 years old. I breathe a short sigh of relief, only to snap to reality, realizing that she says that now but what will she say when faced with that decision. Not enough time to get hung up on that when the questions start. “Mom, how do you know when your pregnant?” I pause searching my brain for the right answer. The one that won’t reveal too much and won’t spur any more questions. “When you stop having your period?” Okay, not the right answer, exactly, but maybe she will get distracted by something more interesting like candy or chocolate milk. Hey, you have to play up to your audience. Nope, she continues on. Again, face contorted, “A period? What is a period?” Okay, do I make a smart ass remark, like it is that small dot at the end of a sentence, which will just send her into panic mode when she gets a paper back and the teacher points out that she forgot a period at the end of her sentence? Nah, I just launch into some crude medical talk about the uterus preparing for a baby each month and when that doesn’t happen the lining is released in the form of blood. You would think this would freak her out, but since I get no privacy what so ever in this house, she just ask if she would need a band aid. Nope, just those evil things called mattress pads. Finally, her curiosity has been satisfied for the moment and she bounces off to do whatever 7 years old with new knowledge do.
I didn’t plan on telling my daughter anything about the birds and the bees at this age, or to be honest, any age. It is not a fun topic to talk about with your offsprings. Can’t they just be happy with the fact they are here and not worry about the gory details? Sure if you want them to come with you with the special news that you are the youngest grandmother on the block. It is one of the many parenting duties that are ugly, but everyone talks about without many hard and fast rules. So, at this point, I am taking it one day at a time with Amber. Going at it slow and hoping that this way makes her feel comfortable and secure with coming to me with her questions. I would say her dad, too, but that is a whole other fear that I would rather ignore for the moment. This is fine and dandy for her, but what about the boy? Sure he would have responsibility, but not to the extent of a female. Sad, but a true fact of life. I wonder if a mantra of “keep in your pants, son” is enough. Probably not, which means I have another fiery road of hell to travel in a few more years, once again. Hey, maybe with the second girl, I can just tell her to go talk to her sister. Yeah, I am sure that will work out just fine. *sigh*
Ah, “the talk.” I never got it either and had no big sister to aggravate because she was already having babies. I learned from health class during school. Yep they teach that pregnancy and STD’s are all diseases that will kill you. That’s public school sex ed for ya. Preach abstinence by scaring them into thinking they’ll be horribly disfigured or left for dead.
I’m so not looking forward to those talks, or even knowing my sons KNOW. Gack!
Goodness, I’m sure you were not expecting that conversation at the age of 7! I’m livid enough that my teenagers told my FIVE year old all about dating boys and marrying them. I had to do a little reverse indoctrination after that episode!
nature shows have helped with biology questions….and my kids fascination with each others parts…but c says she is gonna marry her brother..so I don’t know about that.
My preggo squat in front of the tv like jabba during the heat (and no where hot as your neck of the woods) has been CSI shows.
drives hubby nuts and leaves me splaining who the bad guys are to the kids when they join me on the couch