The Talk…Gah

Since Little Man had some sick days to burn, I decided to let him take a couple of mental health days and take him to the beach. It was just the two of us — and I drove, all on my own with the assistance of my navigation system, and parked in a parking garage and got out and made it back home — and we had a lovely time. We talked on the entire 3.5-hour drive down there about everything under the sun, hung out by the beach/pool the whole day on Thursday, and talked most of the trip back home on Friday.

During all of that talking, Little Man told me about a scene in a book he was reading where one of the kids referenced their teaching doing sex education with them. He mentioned something about one of the kids passing out and wanted to know what would cause that reaction. I explained how a lot of kids’ parents don’t really talk to them about the appropriate names for their parts and how a lot of kids (at least everyone in my sixth grade class) act like hearing the words “penis” and “vagina” are simultaneously the most hilarious and scandalous thing of the century.

“Oh. Well, you’ve taught us that stuff…”

“Yep,” I said, feeling all proud of my awesome parenting skills (ignoring that I only started consistently using the proper names for their parts three-ish years ago), “it’s important for parents to be open and honest with their kids.”

“Oh, really?” Little Man asked, with a smirk on his face.

Son of a bitch. What did I just walk into? And did he set this up?

“Really.” Sigh.

“All right, then…now are you going to tell me where babies actually come from?”

Little bastard.

“Babies are delivered from a woman’s vagina or by C-section,” I said, but I knew that wasn’t what he was really asking. I’ve told him that women have the eggs and men have the fertilizer, so to speak, but I haven’t told him how that actually happens. And I definitely did not want to do that as we were waiting on the pizza delivery guy to bring our food.

“No, I know how they get out. I want to know how they get there,” he said, pointing at my belly.

Here we go.

“You might be a little young for this…” I never got The Talk, not officially. My grandmother told me that I could become pregnant at any time when I started my period, and my dad told me “guys want one thing and one thing only — don’t do it” when I was 16, but that was it. What’s the right age? Surely not 10?

“Mom, come on,” Little Man pleaded. “Just tell me. I already have theories.”

Theories?! 

“Okay.” I gave him the details.

His response: “Wow…does that hurt?”

“Uh…generally, no it does not.”

Next question: “Well, what happens to the eggs that aren’t made into babies?”

I’m pretty sure I’d already touched on menstruation before, but I gave him the full recap, anyway.

“Wow, that’s so cool.” He was seriously impressed with the whole process of shedding the lining and stuff. He thought it was amazing that women’s bodies know exactly what to do every single month.

He then wanted to know about what age you should have sex. Godamighty, come on pizza guy. “I don’t know…it depends on the person. You should be old enough to understand all of the consequences and be able to make an informed decision. It’s not something to take lightly. And, also, some people want to wait until marriage for religious reasons, so you can if that’s something you feel strongly about, but if not, that’s fine. You just have to wait until the right girl comes along. Or guy,” I added, not wanting to send the wrong message.

“Guy?”

“Well, you’re young and haven’t started going through puberty and having those thoughts and feelings yet, I don’t think, so when the time comes, you  may be attracted to guys. Or girls. I don’t know. Whichever sex you’re attracted to is fine, of course.”

He nodded and was quiet for a few moments.

Come on pizza guy, before he asks something else, for the love of God.

“Thank you for finally giving me answers,” Little Man told me. “Now I know that one of my theories was correct.”

“Ah…so this is what you put together?”

He nodded. “Yep. When you didn’t give me a straight answer before, I thought about everything that I know about men and women and how babies are made and came up with my own answers. My first theory was penis to vagina; my second theory was butt to butt; my third theory was penis to butt; my last theory was that maybe my balls…well, testicles, but I like to call them balls…had a device that would come out when it’s time to make a baby and be like a cannon that shoots the fertilizer at a woman’s eggs like cannonballs.”

I died laughing. When I relayed the conversation to my husband later, he said that was an image that would be burned into his memory forever. And I guess that’s as good a reason as any to go ahead and tell a kid how things happen when he asks — so he isn’t left thinking he has testicular cannons. Thank god he didn’t Google that.

I wrapped up The Talk by telling him to let me know if anymore questions come up and that I’ll be straight with him. He had no further questions at the time. The pizza came a few minutes later. He turned on the TV to a repeat of The Big Bang Theory, and for fuck’s sake, it was an episode talking about masturbating. By the grace of God, he didn’t ask about that.

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S, T, U, and V are for…Nope

Smelly Turds, Ugly Vaginas?

Slack Tyrant Undermines Vagrant?

Nah, even I’m not skilled enough to pull something out of my ass for this catch up post. Unless you guys want me to do Smelly Turds, Ugly Vaginas, anyway. In which case, I could find some pictures on Google, share them, and possibly get my site shut down by WordPress.

I’m close to needing a people break. Sometimes it seems like everyone’s issues and drama just happen at the same time, and it’s hard to handle. I’d love to disconnect my phone, shut off my cell phone, and turn off the computer, making it impossible for anyone other than the people living in my house to get in touch with me for a full week. (Of course most of them live within 10 minutes and could pop in, so I’d have to build a moat, too.)

The boy is having a hard time in school. His former best friend really screwed him over in an effort to get other kids to stop picking on him. He started giving Little Man shit constantly to make himself look cool and get laughs out of the other kids. LM knew what he was doing and why and ignored it because he felt bad for him. Letting it slide ended up being the wrong move, since a clique of sorts has formed and now the kids that were giving the former friend shit are all piling in on LM.

I have a meeting with his teacher tomorrow. We’re thinking about moving him back to a regular school next year, for his last year of elementary school. We had been kicking the idea around already — it’d be nice for him to get used to being in a regular classroom and make some friends before middle school (he won’t go to the same middle school as the kids in his current school). Between finding out that the amazeballs teacher he was supposed to have next year is leaving and this thing, we’re leaning towards moving. We’re well aware that this shit happens everywhere, but it’d probably be a little easier on him to not be stuck with the same 15 people, with no options to form new friendships.

Four and a half weeks of school left for LM. Two and a half for Baby Girl. The Monday after he gets out, we’re going on a cruise. It’s going to be interesting to see how BG does. She goes from pretending like she’s in “The ‘Hamas” to talking about being too scared to go on a boat and how she’s gonna stay in the room the whole time. Girl, we’ve got an interior room, a very limited Internet connection, and no cable…we ain’t staying in that room outside of sleeping hours.

I booked a couple of excursions — snorkeling and a dolphin encounter. LM got to pick, and this is what he went with (after verifying that dolphins couldn’t eat humans if they wanted to). I was kinda hoping he’d go with Atlantis, but I told him he could pick before I read about Atlantis. It’ll just be LM and me for the dolphin thing, so yay for mom-son bonding time.

That’s all I’ve got now. See you guys for W, X, Y, and Z!

R is for Rekt

We have officially entered the phase where Little Man is embarrassed by his parents. Or at least me, anyway, and it’s so not for a reason I would’ve expected.

Lately he’s been talking about how corny everyone is. He regularly reports all of the corny puns or comments his teachers make. “Mrs. L said, ‘Full steam ahead, class!’ in STEAM today. Can you believe that? That is so corny. I just shook my head.”

A couple days ago, he had to use crutches because of a nerve problem that was making it hard for him to walk on his left leg. One of his teachers came out to talk to me about it while I waited in the car rider line and told me how she had asked what happened. She said that when he led up with, “I went to the doctor…” that she interjected with a joke, “And did he say ‘no more monkeys jumping on the bed?'” She said he didn’t get the joke (which sometimes happens because he’s so literal, which we have talked about before) and she had to explain that she was referencing the 5 Monkeys rhyme.

After LM came out and we left, I mentioned that the teacher stopped by to chat and then he launched into telling me about how she made the corniest joke at recess about his leg. “…and she said, ‘And did he say ‘no more monkeys jumping on the bed?'” Can you believe that, Mom? I just stared at her in disbelief that she would say something so corny.” Oh dear.

Today I was told how corny I am. 

“Ugh…Mom…it’s so corny when you say that your food is good,” he told me after we left the restaurant we had an early dinner at.

“What?” I was confused. What’s wrong with saying that your food is good?

“It’s just…when the waitress asked how your food was, you said it was really good.”

I still did not see the problem.

“If you can’t see how corny that is, then I don’t know what to tell you,” Little Man said.

I really thought he was bullshitting me at first, but no.

“The waitress asked how the food was. The food was good. I told her so. How on earth is this a negative thing?”

“It’s just corny! You said it was good with voice.”

Fucking hell. “What kind of voice?”

He copied me. “It’s really good!” he said in what seemed to be a happy, polite tone, which is exactly the way you’d act if your food was good and you were enjoying it.

“It’s just corny,” he reiterated.

“How could I have expressed that the food was good in a less corny way?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Just not like that.”

Good grief.

“So…was that as corny as you talking about ‘getting rekt’ all the time?” I asked. Boom. Roasted.

“Hey! No one thinks ‘rekt’ is corny,” he protested.

“Oh, yeah, they do,” I told him. “Anyone outside the ages of 9 and 12 definitely thinks that’s corny. Actually, it’s worse than corny — it’s cringey. And dabbing is, too.” Boom. Roasted again.

He huffed. “Just forget it.”

Hopefully I don’t embarrass him with my politeness again. And hopefully he’ll stop saying “rekt” and dabbing 50 times per day. If that happens, then being told that I’m corny will be worth it.

Q is for Quiz

Today’s post for the A to Z Challenge brings you facts about me. If “Anxious Mom” is ever a category on trivia night, you’ll do very well.

A) What does the last text you sent say? And to whom?

“Have you made a final decision about the phone?” To my mother-in-law, who is interested in purchasing my cell phone.

B) What does the last text you received say? And from whom?

“Leaving. Call when I get to the car.” From my husband, who is leaving work. (Exciting texts, huh?)

C) What time do you wake up most mornings?

Around 7:00. After the kids go to school, sometimes I lay back down for a nap, though.

D) Are you afraid of walking alone at night?

In my house? Not anymore. Outside? Heck yes.

E) What do you do to relax at the end of a stressful day?

Watch “The Office.”

F) Where did your last kiss take place and with whom?

With my husband this morning.

G) Do/did you get into trouble a lot at school?

Nope, despite trying. Yes, trying. I didn’t want to finish high school super squeaky clean, so I tried to get a detention. No amount of tardies or doing stupid crap in front of teachers could nab me one.

H) Do you enjoy your job? If unemployed, are you content being so?

I’m a freelance writer, so I sometimes enjoy it, depending on what I’m writing. Other times I want to stab my eyes out with a fork, but money’s money.

I) Do you often pick up on double entendres and innuendos?

Of course. Usually I’m the one making them.

J) Have you ever been offered drugs but declined?

Yeah, my sister offered me weed a few times and I declined it most of the times. Otherwise, no one has ever offered me drugs. Despite the promises from parents and teachers in high school that I would get offered free drugs in a ploy to get me hooked, that never happened.

K) Have you ever met someone who has completely altered your way of thinking?

I don’t think so. There have definitely been people who made me reevaluate my beliefs — and sometimes change them — but I wouldn’t say anyone has ever completely altered my way of thinking.

L) Have you ever been offered drugs and accepted?

See J.

M) Tell us something weird that turns you on.

My husband dressed as a hobbit.

N) When did someone last admit romantic or sexual feelings for you? Was the feeling mutual?

A guy that I dated for a while brought up his feelings again when he found out that I was engaged to my husband. It was a “Just want you to know I’ll always love you and be there if it doesn’t work out” kind of deal. We’re still Facebook friends, and I’m happy to see that he’s been in a relationship for the past couple of years. (And boy, the stories I could write on that guys…he had most of our mutual friends trying to guilt me into going back to him for a while.)

O) What is something you have given a lot of thought to lately?

My desire to become an author. I’ve been writing a lot lately and am trying to make something happen.

P) When did you last swallow your beliefs to avoid an argument or confrontation?

With my dad a couple weeks ago. He bitched about my husband taking my daughter to the restroom, and I just ignored what turned into a transphobic rant because I didn’t want to deal with it.

Q) Do you usually initiate hugs?

Ha. No.

R) Are you a very affectionate person?

I’m pretty affectionate with my kids, somewhat affectionate with my husband depending on my mood hehe, and not affectionate with anyone else.

S) Can you roll your own cigarettes?

No. I don’t smoke.

T) What are you looking forward to?

Someone telling me they want to publish something I’ve written. How’s that for optimism?

U) Do you have any tattoos. Do you want any/more?

I have four. I do want more — I’d like to get a mosaic owl type tattoo. Maybe some song lyrics.

V) Are you mentally strong?

Sometimes.

W) Are you physically strong?

I do okay.

X) Do you think you’re a good person?

Pretty good.

Y) Name one thing you wish you could change about your life right now.

The amount of money in my bank account.

Z) What do you usually eat for breakfast?

Nothing. Sometimes I don’t eat anything until around 4:00.

P is for Phone

I’m a happy girl. I upgraded my phone this week — got the iPhone 8.

See how pretty it is?

This phone cost me more than it should have. After my iPhone 6 started crapping out on me, I researched the cost of a new phone and found that the new iPhones were going for $600+. Whoa. Since my last new phone was purchased in 2014, which I paid $150-$200 for, I was shocked. And I was adamant that I wasn’t spending that kind of money on a new phone.

I bought the iPhone SE for about half the price (well, I did the 24 month payment thing), which I tried to convince myself that I liked, but really didn’t. My hands were too cramped texting, and we can’t have that. It also wasn’t pretty, and even though any phone I own will be in a case that prevents me from seeing it in its entirety, we still can’t have that.

So I sucked it up and bought the iPhone 8 on Monday. I paid off the remaining $300 balance on the SE (I’ll get about $200 after I sell it, so I’ll eat $100) and got the new one. Lesson learned: sometimes it’s better to just get the impulse purchase out of the way so it doesn’t end up costing you more in the long run. For a measly $15 per month, I could’ve had what I wanted four months ago. Fuck trying to be a responsible adult.

I bet you anti-iPhone people are hating this post by now. I’ll give you something to make this post worth your time, though.

Do you guys like the word “fuck” as much as I do? And do you get sick and tired of autocorrect changing words to “duck,” “ducking,” or “ducker?” (Or maybe even “motherducker.) If so, here’s the life hack to end all life hacks:

Yep, the entry “fuck, fucking, fucker” is in my contacts list. Why? Because autocorrect recognizes it as being what you meant to type, so it doesn’t change it. (I put “ducking–>fucking” in the dictionary once, but it didn’t help the “fuck” situation.) And, yep, I typed this post late last night. Sleep and I are still mortal enemies.

Go ahead and update your contacts list and do a test text. I’ll wait.

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.

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Now how awesome is that?