The talk

Sep 18

I am the child of hippies. And as such, I grew up with a working knowledge of all kinds of things that straighter parents didn't pass on to their kids. Oh I'm sure that Dude's parents explained the physical differences between boys and girls to him at a very young age, but was he privy to a book that explained the differences and showed nude photographic examples of boys and men/girls and women at varying ages? I'm guessing no. Of course, I also thought smoking pot was no different than smoking cigarettes - just something that some adults do. And I'd seen those special cigarettes rolled and felt confident that I could successfully roll one should the opportunity arise. No biggie. It was all cool. Groovy even. But let's get back to the naked thing. I've always thought that I'd be a pro at explaining these sorts of things to my girls. Yesterday, I got my first crack at it.


I've mentioned casually to Belly and the Bug on several occasions that boys and girls are anatomically different. They didn't seem to express any interest in the subject, so it was left at that. But lately? Buggy is veeeerrrrrrrrrry interested in the fact that her daddy has a little something extra going on that's different from what she's got. And since the three of them take a shower together every night, I decided it was time to sit down and have a formal conversation about it.

I set up the bowl of tortilla chips and the juice and invited the girls to sit with me. I asked if anyone wanted to have a talk. Belly's eyes lit up and she said, "YES, Mama!" Buggy said, "Sure! Do you want to talk about Sesame Street?" I suggested that we talk about how boys and girls have different body parts. Buggy gave me a total "whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis" look and Belly crammed about forty chips in her mouth. And so began their first "talk" about this sort of thing. They listened intently (amidst the chip crunching) and interjected thoughts here and there. I felt like it went as well as can be expected when having this discussion with two nearly-three-year-olds.

When all was said and done, I asked, "Any questions?"
Belly: "What letter does penis start with?"
Me: "Penis? It starts with a pa-pa-pa sound. What letter makes that sound?"
Belly: "P."
Me: "That's right."
Buggy: "Okaaaaay. But then, what does hippopotamus start with?"

Yes. Those questions instilled the confidence that I explained things perfectly. They clearly understood and processed their new knowledge immediately. I anticipate that this immediate changing of the subject will be par for the course when we have conversations such as these over the years. Ugh. And there will be so many. I'm dreading the teen years so fiercely already. Assuming we all make it through three....

Saturday, September 18, 2010 | Labels: , , | 1 Comments  

"Hi. I took some poop out of my diaper...."

Sep 03

Words cannot express how I feel about hearing that statement and dealing with its aftermath. Oh no. Words do not contain enough power for that. If you could see how tightly my teeth have been clenched, then maybe you'd understand.

Friday, September 03, 2010 | Labels: | 3 Comments  

I can smell three

Sep 01

The girls turn three in just under two months. I can smell it and it sorta stinks. Oh wait - maybe somebody pooped in her diaper because YES THEY ARE STILL WEARING DIAPERS. God help me if they're not potty-trained soon. Over it? Why yes. I am.


Anyway - there has been such a shift in behavior lately that it has to be the prelude to three. I heard all throughout the trenches of two that three was worse and I thought, "HOW? How is that possible?" Now I realize. It's possible because they are so much better at articulating their thoughts, emotions, pissiness, defiance, dislikes and general malaise. They can say stuff like, "I'm just being rude. I like rude. If you don't like rude, I'm sorry." Or... "No, thank you. I don't want to get off my sister. Yes. I hear her screaming but I'm having fun."

On the other hand, I don't feel as guilty about doling out punishments because they clearly understand that there are consequences for their misdoings. This morning we didn't get to go to musical storytime because Belly wouldn't eat breakfast. Buggy was pretty pissed at her, too. Come to think of it, I was pretty pissed at her. I wanted to see our friends. Instead we watched Sesame Street so I didn't have to come up with a project or something to otherwise fill the time we would've been out. I'm good like that (read: lazy like that).

God I sound whiny. And of course I am - this is where I get to vent that shit. But can I give you an example of what I'm dealing with?

Today, 5:14pm - we're all in the kitchen

Belly: "Mommy! I have to go to the bathroom!"
Me: "Great! Let's go upstairs!"
Buggy: "I'm taking my hairbrush."
Belly: "I need my special baby. Where's my special baby?" Starting to whine and cry. "I can't go to the bathroom without Charlotte!"
Me: "Skip Charlotte. If you have to use the bathroom, let's go now."
Belly: "NOOOOOOOO!"
Me: "Fine. Then I guess you don't really have to use the bathroom. We'll stay down here and you can play with Charlotte."
Belly: "NO! I have to go!"
Buggy: "Mommy! I'm upstairs already!"

Ugh. So not cool. I grabbed Belly and we ran upstairs, without Charlotte.

Today, 5:18pm - Belly is on the toilet. Buggy is trying to brush her hair.

Belly: "Bug! Give me some privacy!"
Buggy: "Let me brush your hair."
Belly: "Buggy! Give me some space!"
Buggy: "No. I'm brushing your hair."
Me: "Buggy. Move away from your sister. Go out in the hall or play in your room until she's done in the bathroom."
Buggy: "No thanks, Mom. I'm fine brushing her hair."
Belly: blood curdling scream out of frustration

I remove the Bug from the bathroom and yell at Belly not to scream.

Today, 5:20pm - Belly is still on the toilet. Buggy is throwing diapers all over the hallway.

Me: "Buggy. Don't do that with the diapers. Stack them up where they were, please."
Buggy: "No. I don't have to." And she dances down the hall to her room, a diaper wake behind her.

Today, 5:23pm - Belly has successfully peed in the toilet and is washing her hands. I have convinced the Bug to try to pee, too, and she is now perched on the toilet.

Buggy: "Belly, stop washing your hands. I want privacy."
Belly: "No. I'm not done yet."
Buggy: "Yes. Stop washing your hands. You have to."
Belly: "No! I'm not done yet!"

Both girls start whining and repeating their lines until I tell everyone to knock it off.

Today, 5:29pm - Buggy is washing her hands even though she didn't pee and I'm now going about my business on the toilet. Belly is throwing diapers as high as she can in the hallway.

Me: "Buggy. You have enough soap. You have enough soap. YOU HAVE ENOUGH SOAP."
Buggy: "Okay. Now I need more water." And she turns the water up all the way, splashing it all over the counter and floor and squealing because she knows I'm wiping as fast as I can to yank her away. Which I do.
And then she says, "Sorry. Don't be angry. I love you. Clean up my mess."

That, my friends, is a random 15-minute snapshot of my day. Nothing too terrible. Nothing too great. Just average. And relentless - so motherfucking relentless. Ugh.

Wednesday, September 01, 2010 | Labels: , | 1 Comments  

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)