When god gave women the ability to bear children, some would also say that god gave us the privilege to bear children. It wasn’t until I first held our son did I really come to that recognition. Sure, after two hours of intense labor and equally intense bitter rage, I swore to whoever would listen, especially my husband, that I was NOT going through that again. And I know I’m not alone in that thought process.
But, there I was, not two years later, pushing out number 2. I have to say, the thought did occur to us to consider number 3. But after some head-banging, we realized that even though we assumed we would have the necessary stamina at 45 (very debatable now), would we really WANT to force the issue at 50? I have to admit, though, I just loved being pregnant. I loved feeling my belly as it grew and maneuvered around. I loved the anticipation of a newborn. I loved reading each chapter of
To this day, I sometimes catch myself looking at my kids with disbelief that they actually came from within. Not just because I question their behavior choices at times OR their senses of humor. I know EXACTLY where each one got those traits (along with a number of others), but because I am in awe of the whole process, yes, even starting with the “nurturing” of the egg. But I was always a late bloomer when it came to our bodies, ourselves….It would happen in time.
I’m sure I received the same home-schooled “sex education” transcript that we were all privy to at various ages during our upbringing. I call it a transcript because it certainly wasn’t a discussion. If there was ONE area in my upbringing that I would say “fell short”, it would have to be the one time my mother attempted to teach me about the “birds and the bees”. I think I was all of 10 when she sat me down and presented me this book, “Where Children Come From” (I think that’s the name), a picture book, and with each turning page came the familiar motherly expression, “ok?” “OK”. I’m certain I didn’t understand enough to even phrase a question, so I nodded in agreement. I’m still nodding….
And growing up in a family of all boys didn’t expand my resources either. My older brothers certainly didn’t share their escapades with me, and there weren’t but a few girls in our neighborhood. For awhile, I was one of the boys. I had the nickname, “Lefty” because I could throw a wicked baseball with my left hand even though I was right-handed. When I came home from school, my biggest delight was heading to the football field for a pick-up game, or the sidewalk for a game of running bases. I didn’t know from dolls or dress-up and didn’t have time for make-up. And everyone knew when it was my time of the month because “Norma has her pocket-book this week. It must be her time.” Is it any wonder, then, that I didn’t marry until I was 37? Didn’t have children until nearing 40? Didn’t have sex until….. “never mind”.
It just wasn’t my time, yet.
When my husband and I decided we were going to move in together just before our wedding to save expenses, I went to my mother and asked her if she minded. It truly was an exercise of respect. It really wasn’t meant to be framed in the form of an honest-to-god question. Who would have thought she would say “if you’re asking, then I’ll tell you that I prefer you didn’t”. Who’s asking?? I’m telling you, I wasn’t in search of permission. A “blessing”, yes, but certainly not permission. I was in utter disbelief. I was 37 for god’s sake. It was time. My younger cousin, by a good 10 years, was living with her fiancé at the time. When I raised THAT issue, I was promptly told, “she isn’t my daughter”. Is it any wonder that I couldn’t even tell my father, without blushing, that we were pregnant? I was 38! He was practically a grandfather by that age. But my time had finally come.
Of course, as a parent, I am extremely proud of my virtues, obviously passed to me from my parents. OBVIOUSLY. And of course, as a parent, I take the responsibility of sharing these virtues with my children. But, how much do you share, and when do you share? When do you know its time?
I recognize that my kids are much more advanced about so many life experiences than I was at their age. Certainly not because I have shared my wisdom with them (AND I won’t let my husband share his). But, for better or worse, television and the internet have become the text. It’s amazing what they have learned from the George Lopez Show. It’s amazing what I have learned from the George Lopez Show! As a result, we have had discussions (a little sooner than I was prepared) about our anatomy and how babies are born, not to mention conceived. But unlike in our time, the conversations have taken on much more sophisticated concepts, like “safe sex”, sperm implantation, not to mention terms like “hooters” and “headlights”.
What to Expect When You’re Expectingdutifully following with each month, never reading ahead. And I loved going to Buy, Buy Baby. I still find giving birth to be the most amazing experience that I could ever perform, just ahead of the fax machine.
To this day, I sometimes catch myself looking at my kids with disbelief that they actually came from within. Not just because I question their behavior choices at times OR their senses of humor. I know EXACTLY where each one got those traits (along with a number of others), but because I am in awe of the whole process, yes, even starting with the “nurturing” of the egg. But I was always a late bloomer when it came to our bodies, ourselves….It would happen in time.
I’m sure I received the same home-schooled “sex education” transcript that we were all privy to at various ages during our upbringing. I call it a transcript because it certainly wasn’t a discussion. If there was ONE area in my upbringing that I would say “fell short”, it would have to be the one time my mother attempted to teach me about the “birds and the bees”. I think I was all of 10 when she sat me down and presented me this book, “Where Children Come From” (I think that’s the name), a picture book, and with each turning page came the familiar motherly expression, “ok?” “OK”. I’m certain I didn’t understand enough to even phrase a question, so I nodded in agreement. I’m still nodding….
And growing up in a family of all boys didn’t expand my resources either. My older brothers certainly didn’t share their escapades with me, and there weren’t but a few girls in our neighborhood. For awhile, I was one of the boys. I had the nickname, “Lefty” because I could throw a wicked baseball with my left hand even though I was right-handed. When I came home from school, my biggest delight was heading to the football field for a pick-up game, or the sidewalk for a game of running bases. I didn’t know from dolls or dress-up and didn’t have time for make-up. And everyone knew when it was my time of the month because “Norma has her pocket-book this week. It must be her time.” Is it any wonder, then, that I didn’t marry until I was 37? Didn’t have children until nearing 40? Didn’t have sex until….. “never mind”.
It just wasn’t my time, yet.
When my husband and I decided we were going to move in together just before our wedding to save expenses, I went to my mother and asked her if she minded. It truly was an exercise of respect. It really wasn’t meant to be framed in the form of an honest-to-god question. Who would have thought she would say “if you’re asking, then I’ll tell you that I prefer you didn’t”. Who’s asking?? I’m telling you, I wasn’t in search of permission. A “blessing”, yes, but certainly not permission. I was in utter disbelief. I was 37 for god’s sake. It was time. My younger cousin, by a good 10 years, was living with her fiancé at the time. When I raised THAT issue, I was promptly told, “she isn’t my daughter”. Is it any wonder that I couldn’t even tell my father, without blushing, that we were pregnant? I was 38! He was practically a grandfather by that age. But my time had finally come.
Of course, as a parent, I am extremely proud of my virtues, obviously passed to me from my parents. OBVIOUSLY. And of course, as a parent, I take the responsibility of sharing these virtues with my children. But, how much do you share, and when do you share? When do you know its time?
I recognize that my kids are much more advanced about so many life experiences than I was at their age. Certainly not because I have shared my wisdom with them (AND I won’t let my husband share his). But, for better or worse, television and the internet have become the text. It’s amazing what they have learned from the George Lopez Show. It’s amazing what I have learned from the George Lopez Show! As a result, we have had discussions (a little sooner than I was prepared) about our anatomy and how babies are born, not to mention conceived. But unlike in our time, the conversations have taken on much more sophisticated concepts, like “safe sex”, sperm implantation, not to mention terms like “hooters” and “headlights”.
My 9 year old wants to go to Hooters just to see the waitresses. How does he know from that?? Just yesterday I was helping him study for a quiz on parts of a flower and found ourselves referencing parts of the anatomy as a guide. Almost like a “cheat sheet”. According to the text, each “perfect” flower has a “male” part and a “female part” (who knew?). It’s the female part that attracts the bees. Of course. And, what’s more, the female part comprises of, amongst other things, a tubular piece running from its “entranceway” where the pollen (sperm-like features) has made its way from the “male”, to its ovary. He asked me if the "entranceway" was the vagina. I nodded with amazed revelation. And there was no question that the “male” part looked very similar to a penis. This too, was pointed out to me by my son. I nodded in agreement.
We don't need no stinkin book about where babies come from. We've got the flower! I guarantee you that the school system has no idea that sex education is taking place in 3rd grade. Its obvious that we don't get to choose when the time is right. The test is today, at least on the flower.
Do you ever wonder, though, how your kids know when its the most inopportune time to ask anatomical questions? We were amongst friends in a social setting when one of my kids, out of no where, questioned me about a friend’s decision to freeze her eggs. OK, maybe he overheard me while on the phone days prior, but ask me then. Not now! This was soooo not the time. In another instance, I found myself at a dinner table with other families when one of my kids wanted to know why his penis stuck out in the mornings. After my initial response of “excuse me?”, I turned to my husband with the look that indicated “this is your time”.
We don't need no stinkin book about where babies come from. We've got the flower! I guarantee you that the school system has no idea that sex education is taking place in 3rd grade. Its obvious that we don't get to choose when the time is right. The test is today, at least on the flower.
Do you ever wonder, though, how your kids know when its the most inopportune time to ask anatomical questions? We were amongst friends in a social setting when one of my kids, out of no where, questioned me about a friend’s decision to freeze her eggs. OK, maybe he overheard me while on the phone days prior, but ask me then. Not now! This was soooo not the time. In another instance, I found myself at a dinner table with other families when one of my kids wanted to know why his penis stuck out in the mornings. After my initial response of “excuse me?”, I turned to my husband with the look that indicated “this is your time”.
And on a separate occasion with 5 minutes to go in our car ride, our youngest brought up the issue of homosexuality, and proceeded to tell me that he just learned what it meant. My first instinct was to “eye” my oldest son through the rear view mirror with disdain. I was sure he shared certain beliefs that were not only inaccurate but highly inappropriate. Of course his returned expression was one of “dumb-foundedness”. Without any preparation for this moment, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and with trepidation asked, “really?” My initial thought was that at least we were alone, and whatever he said I wouldn’t cringe out of embarrassment. So, I took the bait and asked what he thought it meant. “Its sex at home”, he proudly proclaimed.
Yeah, its time....
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