The Birds & The Bees

It’s about that time that my daughter and I had a little talk.

Yep charity’s not the only thing that should begin at home. 

So does sex education.

I’ve learnt that the hard way.

Oh it was innocent enough- My Beloved decided we deserved a break from the constant bickering that had punctuated our Saturday morning up to that point, so he shut the bedroom door on the kids saying he wanted 5 minutes alone with mummy to give her a quiet cuddle. For a change that’s what he actually meant! 

Didn’t quite realize how it sounded to another’s ears until our 6 year old told a caller that “Mummy can’t come to the phone right now, she’s busy in the bedroom having a hug with daddy.”

Well, didn’t my friend give me grief when I got hold of the handset?!

I really don’t know who was more embarrassed or amused when Miss V knocked on the bedroom door to pass the telephone over and I was greeted with giggles from my friend, followed finally by an explanation of the mirth (also the background comments from said friend’s husband that Fathers’ Day was still weeks away and was he getting an early gift). It wasn’t like that at all. (Heaven knows we have learnt to schedule those sessions for when we’re least likely to get interrupted i.e. when kids aren’t home!)

But with our son now approaching the age where school sessions are scheduled to ensure the information is delivered in a factual and fun way (whatever that means), it means that the adults in the house are having “that” discussion about whether the children are really ready for it.

Here’s the thing. We’ve never used euphemisms or silly nicknames for body parts- we’re both big on calling a spade a spade (or whatever’s the relevant term for the item in question)- and have discovered real issues when our offspring bring home titles like “willy”, weener”, “doodle”, “family jewels”, and “front bottom”. (Front bottom? Seriously, what is up with that??)  And I’ve even had to have a quiet chat with my son at the request of another mother that terms like “balls” are really not appropriate to use in conversation with girls in the classroom.Unless it's in the context of sport.   

♫Awwk-waaard. ♫

I have to say though, that the very thought of having to sit down and have “The Talk” with my daughter immediately brings up memories of my mother attempting to do the same with me as a child. Being the youngest of three girls in an all-female household, there wasn’t a lot left to the imagination (think nudie runs from bathroom to bedroom simply to keep the schedule of all those women in a one-bathroom house), and of course we were exposed to the schoolyard discussions of what’s under other’s clothes or the private stuff that goes on in two-parent families. Ours didn’t exactly fit the perfect model of mum-dad- and-the-kids, my sisters and I never had the opportunity to accidentally expose what really goes on in the marital bed (and both my therapist and I thank our lucky stars every day for that, just quietly) so mum had some explaining to do.

I distinctly remember the extreme embarrassment mum and I felt when she took me into her room, brought out the tried and trusty copy of the puberty book (you know, I can’t for the life of me remember the name of it, only that it had a garish yellow cover– must have blocked that one out as a painful memory!) and sat me down and started to read. I still shudder at the thought of my mother nodding wisely at the advice that relations between a man and a woman are a special thing given by God, or words to that effect. I was so innocent and embarrassed that I couldn’t even come up with a clever comment like “So that’s why people call out His name?!” at the time.

But we both survived it relatively intact.  And now it’s my turn. With my little girl who has yet to embrace the fashion and makeup and all the bling things that others her age are well and truly into.

My turn to find the appropriate text to take into the bedroom and sit her down for that chat.

One can only hope that no one rings at the time or else my son might just tell them I’m unavailable because of something to do with sex!

Jx

©2010/11

Faking it

Yes, yes, we’ve all heard the statistics- every woman at least once in her life will fake it.

Today it was my turn.

Having been part of the school Parents & Citizens Association for the past couple of years and having somehow held the position of Vice President for that time I was included on the VIP list for the official opening of the new classrooms. (Here I have to come clean and confess that I only accepted the role of VP because it offered the least commitment of any of the Executive, and had so far successfully avoided any events whereby P&C reps were required, so I felt a little like a fraud.)

Today, with due diligence, I primped and preened and put on something a bit better than the usual outfit for the school-run (jeans, top and comfy shoes, and maybe some makeup by home time).  And since it was a special occasion, I thought it wouldn’t look too cool if I was hobbling along trying to keep up with the official party, so I decided to suck it up and leave the crutches in the car.

Unfortunately, politicians being what they are, ours was running a little late for the event and as soon as she arrived our principal set off at a cracking pace for the tour of the new buildings. Luckily there were others older than myself in the group so at least I wasn’t last. In fact after we’d done the obligatory inspections I found myself seated in prime position alongside the principal and school captains, right up front of the entire school.

Which put me in direct line of sight of not one but both of my children.

It was while I was exchanging winks with my daughter and pinky waves with my son that I realized the whole event was being filmed for posterity and it now seemed certain that the school had caught me on camera behaving in a not-so-VIP way.

But the best was yet to come.

After all the various speeches and ribbon-cutting we then had to stand for the singing of our national anthem.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I have always been slightly amused at the televised close ups of representative sportspeople and the like at national events as they mouth the words of our patriotic tune.

Not so funny when the camera was possibly on oneself and one doesn’t know all the words as well as one should. The school stood as one, the opening strains had begun, and so far so good.

Until they started the second verse.

It was a classic case of that Mr Bean episode (minus the candy) as I sang the words I knew, and mumbled the phrases I didn’t…

♪ Beneath our radiant Southern Cross, we’ll toil with hearts and hands, something Commonwealth of ours, renowned of all the lands, hmmmm mmm mmm hmmm across the seas, something something plains to share, mmm hmm hm hmm hmm hm  hmm mm Advance Australia Fair, in joyful strains then let us sing Advaaaance Austraaaaaylya Faaaaaair! ♫

OK, so perhaps not as confident at Mr Bean, but at least a little better than the Penguins of Madagascar, smile and wave boys, smile and wave.

And fake it like a pro.

Jx

©2011