Adventures in Parenting, Episode 2: Girls Do Not Have Penises!

I'm not quite sure how to start this. The beginning is probably a good place to start, but, it's just so...awkward. Oh, I guess I should let those of you who have a sensitivity to TMI that this may be one of those blog entries that you don't want to read. I'm pretty much an open book, but not everyone is like that, so if you are at all offended by the mention of genitalia, don't continue to read. But, then again, if the title to this blog entry didn't tip you off, you're not going to listen to me anyway. So...here goes...

As I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out of the shower late this morning, I heard a young voice say, in a very alarmed tone, "Mama, where's your penis????" (oh look, there's a question I never thought I would have to answer, let alone hear!) My first instinct was to grab a towel, cover my nakedness, and remind my older son (aged 5) to KNOCK, PLEASE, and then just ignore his inquiry as to my absentee male appendage. I did not want to have this conversation right now.

You see, every time my elder son learns a new word, he makes a song out of it. If it doesn't get much of a reaction, he moves on, but if it warrants a response ("Jack, please don't sing about butts at the dinner table/Church/to your grandmother over the phone!") it could go on for months. When he learned the word "penis" he made sure to tell everyone at Church he had one. *sigh* So, rather than explain to him how girls are different from boys (and risk having him walk up to every little girl at Church and ask to see their princess parts for comparison, or worse, regale them in song with every word he can think of that rhymes with vagina), I decided to pretend I hadn't heard him ask.

I should have known better. Jack is just like me in so many ways, and one of those ways in which we are alike is that when we ask a question, we expect, nay, demand a response. I could have said,"I don't know", but then he would have initiated a search and rescue mission the likes of which the world has never seen in order to reunite his dear mother with her tragically misplaced penis. I can see it now, out playing with his friends he would tell one of their mothers, "My mommy's penis is missing. Have you seen it?", and at Church "Um, you know, Father, my Mom lost her penis. Pray that she finds it soon. I'm afraid she won't be able to pee"...and word would spread like wildfire throughout the state that Jack's Mommy was some sort of sexually deviant freak. Oh Lord...I really had no choice but to answer the question. Our little exchange went something like this:

"I don't have one." Trying to sound matter of fact and make this as boring as possible.

"You DON'T??!" He sounded incredulous.

"Erm...no." I was hoping this would be the end of it.

"Where did it go?" No such luck.

"Nowhere. I never had one."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a girl."

"Well, my friend Katie (changed the name to protect the innocent) has one."

"No, honey, she doesn't."

"Why?"

"Because she's a girl, too."

"Oh. (Insert awkward pause here) Mom?"

"uh-huh?"

"How does she pee?" Oh, Jesus, save me!

"Girls have parts that help them to pee."

"How do they pee without a penis?"

"Girls have different parts from boys, but they can still pee."

"Okay...um, Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" I am really getting uncomfortable, here. Where's something shiny to wave around when you need it??

"What parts do they have?"

Aw, damn! I thought I had dodged a bullet, but apparently I was mistaken. *sigh*

"Girls have what is called a vagina."

"That's a silly word!" He giggles, and goes downstairs to play with his cars. End conversation. I let out the breath that I hadn't realized I was unconsciously holding throughout this exchange. I'm seriously lucky I didn't pass out.

So there are no lyrics for "Ode to the Vagina" yet, but I'll keep you all posted.

Yeah...once again, I don't really have a scripture reference for this one. If you can think of one, don't tell me, I don't want to know!

Adventures in Parenting...The Entire Neighborhood!

This week my 5 year old son is on Spring Break. God bless Spring Break. I despise Spring Break. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy spending time with my children, really, I do. I'm just not fan of shrieking, screeching fights breaking out between a 5 and 3 year old before 7 AM over one specific toy, or refusals to use a public restroom unless I "promise not to flush" until they are outside the restroom...even though I'm not the one who had to go, or my older son (the 5 year old):

bringing EVERY bleeding, crying neighborhood child who has fallen off his or her bike/scooter/skate board to our door, even though their mothers are home, because "my Mama's got a red cross card in her wallet", or bringing home every neighborhood child he wants to play with so he can give them whatever kind of goodies we have in the house (I'm an advocate of sharing, but if the kids are hungry, their Moms are home, they should go eat lunch...I am not the neighborhood lunch wagon), or my son coming in every 5 minutes asking for more snacks/drinks for his friends (and can he give so-and- so the spiderman cup?), or my son coming in every 15 minutes or so because someone knocked him down, or called him a name, or wouldn't play with him (probably because after the 2nd snack for 5 children [4 of whom are not my own], I said no, two is plenty).

I'm also not a fan of being deemed the judge for disputes between neighborhood children. It goes something like this:

*Clairessa is sitting peacefully in front of the TV, watching Desperate Housewives, contemplating how much her ribs hurt because of her burgeoning pregnant belly, when, for about the 800th time within the space of 2 hours, the doorbell rings...incessantly, punctuated by knocks on the door. She hefts herself off the couch with great effort, comes to the door and is bombarded with the story of woe from one child, while the alleged offender stands there, shaking their head, and frequently interrupting with exclamations of, "Nuh-uh!" and "You're lying!" Why they come to her, she's not sure, because THESE KIDS HAVE PARENTS, AND THEY'RE HOME!!!!*

Help me out here. These kids live in fear of my reprimands, but mooch food, and come tattling on each other to me for some of the pettiest things I have ever heard. So...is it just that they don't feel like going inside to consult with their own parents, or...???? I am truly mystified.

I love children, and I believe they are all gifts from the Lord, but I also believe that parents need to be responsible for the upbringing of their own children, and I despise the "it takes a village" philosophy. I honestly want as little "village" interference as possible! No, it does not take a village, it takes a parent who pays attention and is not willing to put up with shenanigans, a parent who is willing to discipline in love, not anger (which I'll admit, I often struggle with). Am I just being cranky about other people's kids, or what?

Sorry, can't think of a scripture that really applies to this particular entry. If you can think of one, post the scripture and reference in the comments section below.

Thanks for reading!