Let's Talk About Sex

When the time came to talk to my daughter about sex, I envisioned a pleasant conversation. One in which I would assume my role as the wise, mature elder, put aside my uneasiness, and offer up valuable information that would help her navigate adulthood by making intelligent, educated choices. One that would start with a small lecture and be followed by a lively Q&A. I've been trying to have this talk with my daughter since she was 8.

She's now almost 12.

We had "the talk" last night.

Sort of.

In a crowded burger joint with her father and brother distracted by sports, we began a discussion... well, not quite a discussion, and not quite we, me. It was more an interrogation... or so you'd think from the look of her non-blinking eyes, clenched jaw and rigid body. It was as if a bare light bulb hung above her head and I was speaking in foreign tongue.

I blame my friend. Earlier that day she visited with her daughter who is also 11. The sex conversation came up and the other girl knew all about how babies are made, the physical logistics of S-E-X, the consequences, distinguishing truth from fiction. If that didn't put me to shame, their younger boy, 8, the same age as my son, knew it all as well.

It's not like I haven't tried to educate my daughter. Ohhh, I've tried. At ages 8, 9, 10, 11 and umpteen fractions of a year in between, I've attempted to do my parental duty. But my daughter is stubborn (don't ask me where she gets that from) and no matter my plan of attack approach, be it conversation or books, she shut me out. Immediately. Swiftly. Ears plugged singing lalalalala, books tossed at my chest, door slammed in my face - shut out.

So, over the years, as her body developed, I'd pitch snippets of information about breasts, body hair, or menstruation whenever I could; as she ate a cookie, brushed her hair, or tucked into bed for the night. I had a maximum of 30 seconds before the gates of cooperation snapped shut but I always managed to stick my foot in the opening for an extra second to offer an invitation to talk to me about anything, anytime.

Last night, feeling like I'd failed my daughter, I seized her the opportunity to give the big spiel. The whole super-size happy meal. Well, not quite. Maybe it was the kids meal. While she sat trapped in her chair, frozen in fear, I came at her full speed with the what, the how, the when. Only, in my nervous exhalation of facts about the penis, the vagina, the sperm and the egg, I forgot to mention dating, romance, relationships, love, and birth control. I was a game show contestant trying to beat the buzzer. My attempt to teach her about self-respect and waiting for the right guy came out, "...and if a guy ever asks you to have sex you say no...no one touches your body unless you want them to...and even if you want them to, well, you need to think...because sometimes it's okay and sometimes it's not...you need to know the difference and sometimes it's hard to know...you should talk to me first...because it's a big decision with big consequences... look what happened to Jamie Lynn Spears..."

Yes, that was me during a huge milestone in our lives, a moment I'd mentally prepared for since before she was born, vomiting it all over in undigested, incoherent chunks.

I blame my mom. She never had the sex talk with me. Had I not read Judy Blume I would have thought I was dying when the red streak showed up in my underwear. When I confessed to my mom she handed me sanitary napkins, said "mazel tov," and mortified me by telling my father. Years later, during dinner at a crowded restaurant (this time it was Chinese - what is it with me and restaurants?) I revealed that I was no longer a virgin. My sisters had been teasing me about being prudish. I'd been having sex since I was 17, for two years already, but no one had ever asked. I'd been waiting for a moment to show everyone I wasn't the young, innocent they thought I was. I thought my mother would be surprised, maybe even hurt that I'd kept it such a secret, but instead it was me who was taken aback when she casually remarked, "Well, I certainly hoped you would have had sex by now," and moved onto another subject.

So, you see, though I love my mother, she wasn't exactly an ideal role model for this sort of thing.

It doesn't matter who I blame, my friend, my mother, the checker at the supermarket, I need to get this right. So in a few days, with some time to think and perhaps a glass of wine to calm my nerves, I hope to sit my daughter down and fill in the blanks. I'd like to share my values and beliefs, teach her about making smart choices, the importance of trusting your instinct, and how to say no (without having to call her mommy).

But before I do, I call out to you, my fellow idiots moms:

What worked for you?

Advice welcome.

Unrequited Love

Candid Carrie gave me link love on Friday with her Friday Foto Finish and I thought I returned the favor in my post, but alas, linky love was not in the mood, so please visit CandidCarrie, her blog is always cool, especially on Friday's.

My apologies, Miss Carrie.

Where the Hell is Matt? (Harding, not Lauer)

Talk about going global! If you haven't seen this on YouTube it's a really cool video. You can see more of his dancing and videos on YouTube and follow his world travels on www.wherethehellismatt.com

Make Yourself At Home, Peanut

I could get used to this

A MESSAGE FROM OUR SPONSOR


NOW IS THE TIME! If you are thinking of bringing a dog into your life.

Because of the rise in housing foreclosures, there have been a huge number of dogs dropped off at shelters after closing and abandoned at the side of the road. Many are healthy dogs, beautiful dogs, dogs with owners that just didn't know what do to with them in these desperate times.

Rescue organizations are in dire need of foster families and families to adopt. Many family pets are being kept in the shelter because there's just not enough foster homes in which to place them. We are on our third rescue and all have been great.

Please consider adopting before buying from a store or a breeder. There are so many amazing dogs that need homes. Not only will you save a life, you'll save yourself hundreds or thousands of dollars!

Thanks.

Lucky Dog

Greta and her new baby sister

Welcome to the family, Peanut

This photo is so damn cute, it deserved a post all to itself.
Besides, I want to include it in Candid Carrie's Friday Foto Finish Fiesta.

You can check out her other guests this week and her cool blog here.

Greta and Peanut: The Honeymoon

These are your new digs, Peanut.
Not quite the dusty backyard and chain link fence you're used to but I think you'll like it.

Let me give you a tour.


Wait up!



This is where I chase that nasty squirrel I was telling you about.

Okay, Peanut, you look north, I'll look south.

Don't worry, Greta, together we'll catch that squeaky little chew toy.


Dinner!



Remember, I go first!

I wonder what's on the menu'?
Do I get seconds?

Hmmn, she didn't leave anything for me...we're gonna have to have a little talk.


You didn't mention anything about dessert?
Yesiree, I'm gonna like it here.

Greta and Peanut: The Introduction

Who's that babe?










Heyyy, what's going on here?








I'm not so sure about this...I thought we were going to the park?



Yeah, well I'm not so keen on you either.


What about this guy over here? He looks nice...



Nice, sure. But his gas'll make your eyes tear.


Give me another try, I'm nice, I promise. Look! She wants me. Come on, hmmn? hmmn?


Hey! Cut it out. That tickles. Ok. Ok! I'll give you a try. Just stop it already, will ya?


Dude, let's show 'em what a good team we are... I need my own place. Truth, how's the food?


Paw-lickin' good, my friend, but I call first dibs: food, couch, doggie lovin', everything... you can go first at shower time... and ear cleaning. Man, she likes to clean those ears! Deal?


You drive a hard bargain, my raven-haired, canine. Deal.
I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.


* Stay tuned for Part Two of the Greta and Peanut Story: The Honeymoon