Dear Elli,
Yesterday, we had the birds and bees conversation.
Why do they even call it that? I have no idea how sex relates in any meaningful way to birds or bees, but I'm a traditionalist every blue moon, so we'll go with it for now.
I really didn't want to have this particular conversation quite yet. I was hoping for at least another year or two. But I had to do it, and I'm gonna tell you why.
Before yesterday, I really have no idea how exactly you thought babies were made. I always kept it pretty general, and told you that God blesses people with children. And then they grow inside a mom until it's time for them to be born. So I think you thought God just makes women pregnant with the wave of a magic wand or a lightning bolt or something. And that was pretty much fine with me. Until you started thinking about what that notion implies.
So your first observation of concern to me happened a couple months ago. There was something on the news about a teen mom. She had a baby at sixteen. I made a passing comment about it, and said something along the lines of, "Well, mothering a child is probably not the best use of your time at sixteen years old".
You swung your head around immediately and vehemently defended teen motherhood. "Mom, what is she supposed to do!?!? It's not like she could help getting pregnant!"
You're right. Silly me. God blessed her with His magic wand and lightning bolt.....
I didn't actually say that. It was more of an awkward throat clearing and a quick change of the subject. But that's where this whole birds and bees journey began. With teen pregnancy.
Over the past couple months, you've had numerous observations and questions, all of which have made me very aware of the fact that you really should know how things really work in this world, and very soon. And yesterday, the blockbuster hit.
We were in the car, driving home from your soccer game in Minerva. Who the hell lives in Minerva, anyway? It's the most asinine location close to absolutely nothing, and it's a pain in the ass 48 minutes to get there. So anyway, we had lots of time to talk.
You said, "I don't really understand why males exist, Mom. They don't have anything to do with making babies. I guess they help protect us because they are bigger and stronger, but I really don't know why the world needs them, or why they were created."
Wow. Bombshell. Mic drop. Holy hell in a handbasket.
I couldn't do it anymore. How in the world am I supposed to allow you to think that your daddy, grandpa, and every other man who helped shape everything we love in this world is profoundly irrelevant and biologically worthless?
Nope. Sue me if you think an almost nine-year-old shouldn't know the truth. Cause, I don't know about yours, but my men are important. And screw birds and bees. We're discussing penises and vaginas today, baby!
So I told you how it works. Very scientifically, and very accurately. And, quite frankly, it went really well. Your first response was, "Are you just messing with me, or are you actually serious?"
(Totally serious, kid. Like, coronary episode serious.)
Next came, "YOU did that? With DADDY!?!? When and where did this happen!!??!!"
(None of your business, Nosy Rosie.)
After the initial shock, I literally watched your brain connect the dots between a thousand questions you've been pondering for months that all became clear to you immediately. And you understood. You agreed that it all makes a lot more sense now.
You concluded our conversation with the following, "Thank you for knowing that I am mature enough to know this secret. I will keep it to myself. Now, do not speak of it again for the rest of the day. And I'm never getting married or having babies. I might adopt a baby someday instead. I'm going to be an independent woman."
Done.
And now you know how important both women AND men are in this world. You know that we cannot have one without the other. And now you know your father is more than an irrelevant genetic mutation.
I don't even bother to pretend that I do this mom thing correctly most of the time. I screw most things up on a regular basis. But this one just felt right. And you heard it from me first. Way better than on the school bus from some misguided child with lollipop residue and a shitty grin on his face.
I'm proud of us, kid. I'm proud that we can have a conversation like this without it getting all awkward and weird. Because these conversations are only going to get more difficult as the years go by. But we're doing something right. And instead of worrying about those tough years ahead right now, we're going to go hiking in the sunshine. With Daddy.
I love you.
Mom
Comments