Mommy, What’s a Penis?

Most parents can be a little skittish about talking about puberty with their kids. I completely understand this anxiety. After all, when’s the right time to answer certain questions? How do you most delicately prepare them for the changes that are going to happen to their body? How much information is too much?

I’m of the school of thought that telling the truth is better. Now, the only problem is that my husband strongly disagrees with me on this. My thought is, why beat around the bush and confuse them more? But my kids are young – nearly 5 and 7 – and their tender little brains can explode from the information I share with them. At least, that’s what my husband thinks.

The other day, as we sat around the kitchen table having dinner, both kids brought their questions on full force.

Nico: Mommy, when I lived in your tummy, how did I come out? Did I come out of your mouth?

I pretended to eat a piece of pasta in slow motion as I though of what to say. I was going to respond, but Shaila seemed to have the answers.

Shaila: NO, NICO!!! (She has a habit of getting very passionate, i.e. LOUD about anything more controversial than reciting the alphabet). EVERYONE KNOWS THAT BABIES GET SUCKED OUT OF THE MOMMY’S BRAIN!

I was shocked that they had both given it so much thought and was also disappointed that they would clearly not be joining Mensa.

I could see John looking at me from across the table and giving me a warning look. He knows when my instinct to just tell the truth is in overdrive. He was shaking his head at me from across the table. But that’s not how I roll.

Me: Well, you see kids, the way that the baby comes out is through the…

John: WHO WANTS ICE CREAM AFTER DINNER?

Shaila: Oooh, me!

Nico: Yes, please! You’re the best, Daddy!

The best? Geez, you would have thought his Daddy was the one who pushed him out of his vagina or something. Ok, that doesn’t make much sense, but still. Daddy’s the best? My ass. Speaking of asses, mine also didn’t fare too well from the whole pushing out two babies thing, just for the record.

John’s distraction technique worked – this time. And for now, the kids were appeased. As images of frolicking in fields with ice cream cones and sprinkles danced through their minds, they no longer cared to hear about what part of the body expelled a baby, and you could say that the crisis was averted, thanks to good old Daddy, aka THE BEST.

But the question will come up again. And I’m not saying I am ready to give them the answers either. I don’t want to talk to them about penises, vaginas and penetration. God, that’s like, gross. How mature do you think I am? But I do want to tell them that the baby doesn’t come out of someone’s mouth or brain. I want them to know that the mom does something really hard to bring them into this world. I think they should know that, for crying out loud. Mommy is under-appreciated enough – don’t you think they should understand some of the magnitude of what their mother does to bring them into this world?

I know we will only be able to distract them for so long but I will try as long as I can (even though I selfishly want Mommy to get a little more appreciation up in this joint). I think I am just going to have to use distraction techniques until I run out of appealing diversions. Oh, you want to know what a tampon is? Here! Have a gummy bear. OR Oh, your friend Sean told that you penises go into mommy parts? Now kids, I don’t know anything about that, but I sure would like a Happy Meal! Who’s in?

And after we eat reconstituted chicken, we can go somewhere like Chuk-E-Cheez where I’ll want to blow my brains out, but not be forced to answer any questions!

Perfect.

When I’m ready and they’re ready, I am hoping there will be some recognizable “a ha”moment. I imagine I will probably chicken out and it will go something like this:

Me: Have you heard anything about S-E-X on the playground or through your friends.

Shaila or Nico: Yes, Mom.

Me: So we’re good then?

And I will give them a thumbs up sign and run away.

Regardless, I promise not to keep them in the dark as long as my own parents did. Until I was in the 6th grade, I thought babies were born when you rubbed bellies together. It seemed to make sense. I had watched a lot of Guiding Light growing up and every time someone revealed something like, “I can’t leave him. I’m pregnant with his child!” I would put two and two together and get 5 (I suck at math) and think back to that creepy hot tub scene from the previous week where they kept bumping bellies.

I was just so grateful I didn’t get pregnant as a teen. I accidentally rubbed bellies A LOT and I think of how different my life could have turned out.

My question to you is, what are you telling your kids? When did you decide to tell them/decide you will tell them? How do you handle situations like when someone on the playground decides to tell them what a blow job is? How do you survive this?

Seriously. I really need to understand that whole survival part. Critically.

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