Thursday, January 7, 2010
Adventures in Real Parenting: TMI Thursday
Story Number One: I Blame Testosterone
Scene: It's early morning, during the recent holiday break. MathMan and I are in bed. My cell phone rings. I hesitate to answer it, then decide that since one of our children spent the night elsewhere, I'd better answer it.
Me: Yes? Is everything okay?
Me, getting impatient: Okay. What. Spill it.
Nathan: The police made me call.
Me, now getting a bit panicky: POLICE? What the hell? Are you okay?
Nathan: I'm fine. We just got busted for jumping off the roof of the clubhouse at Claw Woods.
Me: Oh. Well, that was stupid of you. Do we need to come get you? Where are you?
Nathan: We're back at B's house. No, you can come get me at 11:30.
Me: All right. I take it you didn't get arrested. Do we need to do anything?
Nathan: No, but the back of the cop car is really small.
Me: That's good to know. We'll see you at 11:30. Then I want details. How stupid you guys are.
Nathan: Okay. It took four cop cars and eight cops to apprehend three fourteen year olds who were sitting on a sidewalk.
Me: They must not have had anything to do. Still - you guys are idiots. We're going to be talking about this later.
Nathan: I know.
Me: By the way - this better be the first and last time you call me to tell me you've been picked up by the police. You interrupted Daddy and me in the middle of morning sex.
Nathan: Mom!!! Is that my punishment?
Me: Did it make you want to throw up?
Me: Then yes. It's a start.
I punched the off button on my cell and said to MathMan over my shoulder. "That's the last time I answer the phone in the middle of sex."
"I still can't believe you answered it this time," he said right before he...
Story Number 2 - I Still Don't Know How She Knows, but She Knows
Sophia walked into my office a few days ago and stood next to me. I could tell that something was up, but I was in the middle of writing and tried to deflect her. I hate it when I forget to shut my door when I'm working.
She wasn't going to budge so I finally engaged. We chatted about this and that, but it was clear that we'd not yet hit on the real reason she was hovering over my shoulder. I decided to simply ask and here is what she told me..."There is a used condom in the leaf pile by the fire pit."
Curiosity about how she knew what it was flickered through my brain, but hey, she's almost eleven and it's a world that only allows us the illusion that we're shielding our kids from the grown up stuff, so I skipped that question and inquired with the morbid "Did you touch it?'
"Gross, Mom! No! It's mixed up in the leaves."
"Well, who does it belong to?"
"How should I know?" Her eyes were bugging out of her head.
"I wonder how it got there," I thought out loud. "So why did you want me to know?"
"I want you to go get it and throw it away."
Ah. Okay, so there it was. The real reason. She was grossed out and wanted it disposed of. Seemed reasonable enough to me. "Go tell Daddy," I smiled and pointed toward the door. He has a penis, condoms should be his department. If it were a tampon, I'd be called to duty, right?
She shook her head and left.
But that was not the end of it. She did mention it to her father and he responded with an alacrity to match my own.
She mentioned it at least six times every day.
Fast forward to Tuesday. Chloe was pulling out the driveway on her way back to school. We'd had a wee bit of a cry and many hugs. As she drove away, I sauntered out to the leaf pile. It only took me ten seconds to see the deflated, transparent and definitely used sheath lying there amongst the dry, browned and curling oak leaves. An ewwwww escaped my lips.
My cellphone rang. "Hello."
"You're looking for that condom, aren't you?"
"Gross. What did you do with it?"
"Kicked some leaves over it."
"You know it."
I turned around and walked away.