Day 99: Never Too Early

Today some packages arrived from Amazon. The kids love packages, so they gathered around, waiting with excitement, to which I responded with some amusement.

"Guys, calm down. It's just some light bulbs and condoms."

 

You know.  Basic household goods.

 

Chaz cocked her head and looked at me quizzically.

 

"What are condoms?"

 

"Well, you know how sex works? Penis goes in vagina?"

 

My daughter, at the tender age of seven, has decided all things sexual are inherently super gross, and she makes a face that can best be described as fighting the urge to giggle and vomit at the same time.

 

"Okay, well, condoms are thin rubber that gets rolled down over the penis, so no fluid passes between your bodies.  It keeps you from getting sick, and it also keeps women from getting pregnant."

 

"But Elliot can't get pregnant."  His sister, ever the keen observationalist, points out.

 

"No, but he can get someone else pregnant, and that would make the baby just as much his responsibility."

 

Elliot nods seriously.  "Right."

 

I take a moment to appreciate how sincere he is in that agreement.  Thank you, goddess.  Then I keep going.

"So, when you guys get older, and decide you want to have sex, what are you always going to use?"

 

"A condom!" Both my children chorus gleefully.

 

"That's right."  I say.  "And not just to keep from having a baby, either.  Even if you're with a boy, Elliot, or you're with a girl, Charlotte, and you can't have a baby, you still should use a condom so you don't get any diseases."  I pause for a moment.  "I mean, Chaz, you should use a dental dam.  But it's the same idea."

"What's a dental dam?" she asks.

"Sometimes adults like to put their mouths on each other's jimmies--"

"EWWWWWWWWW!!!"

"Look, I'm just telling you what a dental dam is!  It keeps you from getting fluid transferred, like a condom for your mouth."

"I AM NEVER DOING THAT."

"Hey, I'm not saying you have to!  I'm just saying, if you do..."

"Use a condom." She is decisive, and I feel confident she's gotten the point.

"Right."

"But," Elliot wanted a clarification, "what if you WANT to have a baby?"

"Look, bud, when you're an adult and you're ready to take care of a baby, that's a decision you can make with your partner.  But for now, if you're gonna have sex, use a condom.  Got it?"

"Got it."

"Chaz?"

"Got it."

BOOM.

 

Look, I know probably some of y'all are horrified that I'm talking about this with my nine and seven year old.  But all I'm saying is, when they've grown into sixteen and fourteen year olds, they're gonna already have the information they need, because I'm going to have given it to them all along the way.

And I am wicked content with that parenting choice.

Now, what's the over/under on me getting a call from their principal, asking why my kids know what a dental dam is?

Day 98: I Am Angry

I am angry, my loves. 

I am so angry that it's taking over every aspect of my life.  I cannot get through a day without constantly fighting the urge to just let it out, in whatever way presents itself to me.  But I know that wouldn't be fair, or right, so I choke it down, and it returns to my belly where it simmers and waits to erupt. 

I cannot find a healthy way to vent this anger, either, because I am angry about things that have no obvious or easy solution.  Do I need to list them?  Aren't you all angry, too?  That skin color is still a source of hate, that religion is still such a divisive thing, that whether or not one of your chromosomes has an extra tail on it is such a big damn deal? 

Aren't we all angry?

I look at the news and I see disaster everywhere.  Nazis are rising in America.  White people STILL haven't figured out racism is our problem.  Women are having laws passed that oppose their medical health.  The poor are going to lose their insurance. 

The planet is headed towards being uninhabitable by humanity, and we watch helplessly as coal and oil money buys us another few minutes on the doomsday clock.  Countries sell their rainforest to developers, we back out of climate agreements, we still can't fucking agree on simple facts!

Two mad men with nuclear weapons are playing chicken.

WHAT THE HELL, PEOPLE?

AREN'T WE ALL ANGRY?

I know it's unlike me to leave it like this.
Normally I try to turn to hope.  To joy.  To something that reminds me of the good.
But not this time.
This time all I've got--all I keep telling myself--is that anger is better than despair.

So I suppose I'll just keep being angry.

Day 97: War of the Woodards

Lesser historians believe that the war began on the first of August, 2017.  In reality, the open shots were fired the night before, in a skirmish so mild that, initially, it didn't register as the open salvos in an epic conflict.

Pre-War, the family at peace.

Alas, such peace was to be short lived.

It is recorded that Monday, July 31st, the matriarch of the Woodard family declared cheerfully that tomorrow would be room cleaning day.  The children responded with little to no alarm, a reaction that--at the time--the matriarch regarded positively.  Little did she know that this was a black ops tactic, designed to throw her off her guard.

So it was that, on August 1st, the very next day, she was completely unprepared for the shit storm that descended when she once more broached the "room cleaning" front.

For three days the family engaged in direct military action, from mild skirmishes up to pitched battle.  During the conflict the matriarch sustained damages such as bruising, bite marks, and a sudden onset of the desire to drink herself into a coma.  The children lost most of their screen time and spent many hours entrenched in their emotional foxholes, where they drowned in self-inflicted misery.

Negotiations were attempted, but resolved nothing.  The children staunchly declared that for liberty, freedom, and--above all--fairness, they would never yield in the war.  The Matriarch leveled her famous quote in response:

Oh, yeah, I'm so unfair.  I only take care of you, feed you, clothe you, keep you from running into traffic, and clean this whole damn house.  How dare I ask you to clean up 80 sq ft filled with nothing but your own personal shit? 

When the youngest of the children announced that this was obvious sarcasm, negotiations were completely derailed and all attempts at reconciliation were abandoned.

Not til Friday, August 4th, was a tentative peace declared.  A third party suggested a piecemeal attempt at cleaning the rooms, and the matriarch--with her resources exhausted and an ever growing conviction that she was going to need valium to survive this week--acceded to a trial process.  The children attempted to circumvent the agreed upon terms several times, by first simply moving everything from the area they were supposed to be cleaning into another area that was not yet needing to be cleaned, and then later by crying and declaring they "could not" and would the matriarch please not relent and allow them to live in squalor.  The matriarch held firm, however, and by noon that Friday the process of cleaning had at last begun.

The children came through the conflict relatively unscathed, and in fact were arming for a new war mere moments later.

The matriarch is seriously considering running away and joining the circus.