I've always been a pro-proper-term-for-the-genitals kind of mom. You know the type: no "wee-wee" or "pee-pee." In our house, it's always "penis" and "vagina." An unpredicted, but nonetheless welcome, side effect was when my grandmother had a near-aneurysm when Thing One saying, perfectly poised, "sex is when a penis and vagina unite!" She was 5. Thing One, I mean. Not my Grandmother, who choked her lovely 77-year old head nearly off*.
However, a few weeks ago, Thing One asked me what a labia was. I was a little taken aback, as this was a word I hadn't known until high school (and only after the various and sundry right-wing zealots on the school board were forced to allow something besides abstinence-only sex ed.)**. However, I did what any good pro-proper-term-for-the-genitals-mom would: I pulled up Wikipedia.
This was a rookie-move, apparently, as Thing One's response would suggest. "That, that's what...that's what it looks like when you're grown up?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"I don't believe you."
I should have answered by saying "Quiet, Girl! Do you think Wikipedia would lie?" However, I did the whole hippie mother thing and assured her all would be well.
But a week later, out of the blue, as Fort Awesome and I were driving the Things home, a voice called out from the backseat: "Fort Awesome, can I see your vagina?"
Things Two and Three thought this hilarious, and have since taken to asking friends (not all of them female) if they can see their respective vaginas.
*****
Thing Two, several months ago in the Target restroom: "HEY! I have a foreskin!"
*****
In September, at the First Name School's Family Picnic:
"Fatally Hip Mrs. Friend Two, why are some of the women so standoffish to me now?"
"You mean the Coterie of Married Moms?"
"Yes."
"Oh, they're just jealous that we're single mothers."
"They are?"
"Yeah. Because they know we get new sex. Lots and lots of new sex."
[pause]
"You're totally the guy in your relationship with the Dark Horse, aren't you?"
[sheepishly] "Yeah."
"Poor Dark Horse."
"Poor nothing! He should be lucky he has me!"
*****
A few nights ago, on the phone with Friend R:
Friend R: I hear that some girls get landing strips.
Me: Landing strips? I thought they were called racing stripes.
Friend R: Wouldn't racing strips be horizontal?
Me: Ummm, no.
Friend R: They'd look like merging signs.
Me: Or traffic signals in Canada. I hate the traffic signals in Canada!
Friend R: Yeah.
Me: But they're not horizontal. Because then how would any boy know where to go?
Friend R: If the boys you're dating are that stupid, they don't deserve it.
Me: Me? Who said I had a racing stripe?
Friend R: Landing strip. And you should do something.
Me: I should?
Friend R: Yes. A little upkeep.
Me: Jesus Christ, why are we having this conversation?
Friend R: Now, I could lend you my tools.
Me: Tools?
Friend R: You know. My beard trimmer...
Me: [chokes on own tongue]
Friend R: ...but I think maybe that would make us a little too intimate.
Me: Oh, you think?
Friend R: So, you should just buy your own.
Me: Friend R, aside from all the things that are just wrong with this conversation, there is no way I can justify the expense of a hair clipper for that. I just can't.
Friend R: Well, why not?
Me: Because it would be for one thing only. And not even a necessary thing.
Friend R: Well, you could trim Thing Two's hair with it.
Me: Jesus! That's awful!
Friend R: What? He's been between your legs once.
*tm
*This post makes me sound all violently-inclined to my Grandma. But she's very cool and I love her dearly.
**It still took them several years to stop banning books like The Color Purple and 1984.
***I know. A pun. The lowest form of humor. But if you can't float a pun on your own blog, then where can you, I ask. Where?
My kiddo has always had a penis. Never a wee-wee or a pee-pee or a thing-a-ma-gig or a ding-a-ling either. God. No wonder some people are so . . . confused? Yuck.
About married mothers and thier attitude toward us, single mothers. My opinion is this, they're bored. They shop too much. Drive SUVs. Gossip. And don't masturbate nearly enough.
I assert this opinion based on the upper-class moms that live in the neighborhood down the block from me and whom bring thier kids to the same school as I take Kiddo.
If I listen to them speak to one another five minutes, I become nauseated. I'm sure I'd have the same effect on them, you know, if they were interested in speaking to me or listening to my opinion. Alas, most aren't. Probably because they wrongly assume I'm just dying to fuck thier husbands.
Posted by: Alana | January 21, 2007 at 01:32 PM
People are too hard on puns. They're really quite wonderful.
http://diminishedfifth.blogspot.com/2005/05/church.html
"As he steered the car, John wondered if Nikki trimmed and shaped her pubic hair. He decided that she did, and that she left just a small little patch at the top. Probably a little triangle."
Posted by: Friend Omega | January 25, 2007 at 01:25 PM
See, the weird thing about this entry is that it got a ton of hits, however, very little comments.
Alana and Omega, I suppose you two are the only brave ones. I Pfft! at the rest of you!
Posted by: Terrible Mother | January 26, 2007 at 04:22 PM