Take getting pregnant. Or trying not to be pregnant. I was so not in control.
Take getting kids to eat, sleep or poop (or not poop). So nothing you can control.
Friends? Forget about it. I'm barely holding onto control now.
Friends? Forget about it. I'm barely holding onto control now.
We thought we could shield them, at least for a while, from the GIRL stereotypes.
Sure. You bet. Easy.
And then I get a 4yo coming home singing "I'm sexy and I know it" and worse making sexual poses on the floor. Or singing "b- double OH-T-Y." Seriously. Where did she get it? The music on the bus on the way to school. Super.
Here, we have the shoulder thrust. We also have a three year old some how knowing how to do a model strut down a pretend runway.
I'm trying to subscribe to this strategy of "lets not talk about our bodies." Check it out. Sure, we can talk about how they work (see below), but we won't discuss them in a way that we have absolute control of them. We will take care of ourselves, but there are aspects outside of your control as well. Instead, we can talk about how they work.
My favorite convo recently on how they work was in the car with a child not to be named.
She asked me: mom, how does making babies work? Where do they come from? We discussed the eggs she had. But, you see, we had had that conversation previously. We talked as a group of girls about eggs and R (3) held her tummy and said: "oh mom, I must sit down. I need to protect these so they don't crack." I explained some more, and she kept holding her tummy and said: "this is such a great responsibility. God must really trust me to give me these eggs to carry for such a long time before I need them." True. You do have a responsibility to take care of yourself. In fact, that is our # 1 family rule. Your job is to take care of you first. Make sure you are doing all that is required for you to be/do/get what you need to be mentally, emotionally and physically sound. But, I digress.
Me and the question ask-er are in the car, having "the talk." I remember my talk with my mom, and remember her story about when my sister asked this question at a young age. When my sister asked, mom started to tell all the gory details when my sister simply wanted the "from a mommas tummy" answer.
With this knowledge in hand, I started slowly. You have eggs. And papa's carry another ingredient. And momma's and pappas have to mix up their ingredients to make a baby. And we started going off on a tangent about how freaking cool it is that we can, as "mortals" make life. Of course I didn't say mortals, but that was the spirit of the conversation. Again: why are we trusted with such power to make life? Her answer: "God is awesome. God must really think we are awesome and responsible."
But then, because my girls are awesome. And because I AM NOT IN CHARGE. I couldn't steer her away from the most important question: "But HOW, just HOW do those ingredients get mixed?" I paused. She continued: "I mean I know, or I think I know. I think mommas and poppas bump bellies. Like care bears. They bump bellies so thy can get their belly buttons lined up just so to get the stuff to mix up. That is why kids have outies, and parents have innies. To create a bowl for mixing."
I'll wait. Yep. Belly bumps. Care Bears no less.
I could have answered right away when she asked how. But the pause allowed her to continue and to discuss the care bear bop. I'm so excited that I waited for that. Infact, the pause might be one of my top 5 parenting go-to strategies. But that is for another time.
My answer to sumo-ing Care Bears?
"I really like that theory. That would make good sense to account for the transition from inny to outie as far as the belly buttons are concerned." She said "mom, I can tell by your voice that that isn't how it works. I'm guessing it is a different answer. I'm glad I got to ask this question in private. It gave me time to say what I was thinking."
Now let me remind you: my children are little. Super little. "I'm glad I got to ask in private..." Really? I tried to keep talking. To explain that this was an open conversation. She was done for the moment. I have since filled in some gaps, encouraged her that there is no mystery here. It is science and I am happy to tell her the full process. To which she responded: "I feel like sometimes you need to know some things, but not everything. I will come back when I need more of the story."
I can't even control when it is time to have "the talk." But we had time, we were alone and she was ready and willing to ask. At least for some of the details. And that, creating that space, that openness is something that I did create. I was in control of. And I'm happy it worked.
Now go out, protect your "egg carton" and bump bellies with the next care bear that strikes your fancy.
Sure. You bet. Easy.
And then I get a 4yo coming home singing "I'm sexy and I know it" and worse making sexual poses on the floor. Or singing "b- double OH-T-Y." Seriously. Where did she get it? The music on the bus on the way to school. Super.
I'm trying to subscribe to this strategy of "lets not talk about our bodies." Check it out. Sure, we can talk about how they work (see below), but we won't discuss them in a way that we have absolute control of them. We will take care of ourselves, but there are aspects outside of your control as well. Instead, we can talk about how they work.
My favorite convo recently on how they work was in the car with a child not to be named.
She asked me: mom, how does making babies work? Where do they come from? We discussed the eggs she had. But, you see, we had had that conversation previously. We talked as a group of girls about eggs and R (3) held her tummy and said: "oh mom, I must sit down. I need to protect these so they don't crack." I explained some more, and she kept holding her tummy and said: "this is such a great responsibility. God must really trust me to give me these eggs to carry for such a long time before I need them." True. You do have a responsibility to take care of yourself. In fact, that is our # 1 family rule. Your job is to take care of you first. Make sure you are doing all that is required for you to be/do/get what you need to be mentally, emotionally and physically sound. But, I digress.
Me and the question ask-er are in the car, having "the talk." I remember my talk with my mom, and remember her story about when my sister asked this question at a young age. When my sister asked, mom started to tell all the gory details when my sister simply wanted the "from a mommas tummy" answer.
With this knowledge in hand, I started slowly. You have eggs. And papa's carry another ingredient. And momma's and pappas have to mix up their ingredients to make a baby. And we started going off on a tangent about how freaking cool it is that we can, as "mortals" make life. Of course I didn't say mortals, but that was the spirit of the conversation. Again: why are we trusted with such power to make life? Her answer: "God is awesome. God must really think we are awesome and responsible."
But then, because my girls are awesome. And because I AM NOT IN CHARGE. I couldn't steer her away from the most important question: "But HOW, just HOW do those ingredients get mixed?" I paused. She continued: "I mean I know, or I think I know. I think mommas and poppas bump bellies. Like care bears. They bump bellies so thy can get their belly buttons lined up just so to get the stuff to mix up. That is why kids have outies, and parents have innies. To create a bowl for mixing."
I'll wait. Yep. Belly bumps. Care Bears no less.
I could have answered right away when she asked how. But the pause allowed her to continue and to discuss the care bear bop. I'm so excited that I waited for that. Infact, the pause might be one of my top 5 parenting go-to strategies. But that is for another time.
My answer to sumo-ing Care Bears?
"I really like that theory. That would make good sense to account for the transition from inny to outie as far as the belly buttons are concerned." She said "mom, I can tell by your voice that that isn't how it works. I'm guessing it is a different answer. I'm glad I got to ask this question in private. It gave me time to say what I was thinking."
Now let me remind you: my children are little. Super little. "I'm glad I got to ask in private..." Really? I tried to keep talking. To explain that this was an open conversation. She was done for the moment. I have since filled in some gaps, encouraged her that there is no mystery here. It is science and I am happy to tell her the full process. To which she responded: "I feel like sometimes you need to know some things, but not everything. I will come back when I need more of the story."
I can't even control when it is time to have "the talk." But we had time, we were alone and she was ready and willing to ask. At least for some of the details. And that, creating that space, that openness is something that I did create. I was in control of. And I'm happy it worked.
Now go out, protect your "egg carton" and bump bellies with the next care bear that strikes your fancy.
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