Monthly Archives: June 2015

I asked my daughter if she was glad I’m her mom.

Yeah, I went there.  Daughter and I was walking to the van from martial arts.  We were alone, so I took the opportunity to ask the question.

She replied, “you’re not one of those crazy mothers who keep telling you to study all the time and you’re not one of those that love their children so much as to say, I love you no matter what, even if you do drugs.”  I was like, there are mothers who say, I love you no matter what, even if you do drugs?  I guess there are, they don’t necessarily say those words, they just let the child do whatever it is they want.  These parents figure it’s the child’s job to figure out what’s right or wrong for themselves.

She said, I was just right, in the middle of these two types of mothers.  She said she knows I love her.  I asked how does she know that and she said, she just does.

I once asked if she was angry when I yell at her for not doing things.  She replied, no, because you are yelling at me to do something good for me.  She knocked me out by this response.  She’s wise beyond her 11 years.  I was touched that she recognizes where the yelling was coming from.  Of course I could try to express my feelings in a non-hostile manner.  Let’s just say, I’m working on it.

When the Birds and the Bees Go Wrong

Right before First Born entered middle school, it was time to have the birds and the bees talk.  It seemed natural that husband would give it and so he did.

A few months after the talk, but before middle school started, husband, I and First Born were sitting at the dining room table.  I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about when First Born suddenly chimes in saying, “Mom, you should be careful, you might accidentally drink some sperm.”

There I sat with my eyebrows raised, mouth opened in shock, no words coming out.  After a few seconds, that felt like hours, I asked, “what are you talking about?”  He went on to explain that daddy had told him that’s how women get pregnant, by accidentally drinking sperm.  I asked, “what exactly did daddy tell you?”  Meanwhile I’m asking WTF did he say in his birds and the bees talk.

First Born proceeds to tell me that daddy said “you need a part of a woman and a man to make a baby, an egg from the woman and sperm from the man and then yada, yada, yada and when the two mix, you get a baby.”  Since husband neglected to tell him how the two parts come together, First Born naturally thought that a woman must accidentally drink sperm in order to make a baby.

At that point, I told my husband he was fired.  We were going to leave it at that and hope that Middle School would finish the job.  One day after school in middle school, First Born comes home and says, “Mom, I now know how babies are made and I wish I didn’t.”

Now it’s time to do the same for daughter.  She asked if she could just wait for that chapter in health class instead of hearing it from either of us.  Husband said he could definitely do better this time.  I just don’t want to do it.  My women studies friend said she would do it for me.  I think I’m going to take her up on that offer.  It’s better for everyone around.

I feel like punching myself.

And “no,” you cannot do it for me.

I can’t figure out if I’m perimenopausing or not.  Aunt Flo is visiting this week and I’m feeling it.  I am on the verge of tears for no specific reason.  Sure I can always find a reason to cry, like my mother bothering me, but that’s business as usual.

I asked K (a.k.a. status friend or white girl) if I should take Lexipro, because Midol seems too tame.  Another mother on the PTA is on it and she always looks so happy and on top of everything.  K said stay away from it, I’d be a zombie and would not be funny anymore.  I agreed, my humor is completely based on my crankiness, without it I’d be nothing.  Besides, I’ve made my family suffer for so long, why stop now.

If I don’t do drugs, then I’d have to resort to homeopathic remedies.  K made a spray for me, but it spilled in my purse.  I’m going to sniff my purse.

My husband asked what I was stressed about.  Hello?!  Everything.  When am I not stressed?  What is there to be stressed out about besides the end of the world, kids, money…?  But even with all that, I know my life is good, that everything in it will be taken care of one way or another.  So why do I feel like punching myself?  Why do I feel like crying?  Why?  Why?  Why?  Is this the effects of menopause, extreme PMS?

Will my family and I survive this?