I'm not sure when I became the Beavis to my husband's Butthead, but it was before I had my children, so this is one thing I cannot blame on them! I remember saying something to one of my classes about "Number two" and pausing for the laughter I expected to come because I forgot that it was COMPLETELY inappropriate and I realized that I was the only one thinking it--the fourteen and fifteen-year-olds seemed to have a better grasp on their maturity than I did. The thing is, before I met Just Another Tired Daddy, my mind didn't instantly go to the gutter. He taught me that. In fact, that day I was teaching about number two, I realized that my gutter-brain surpassed his--and THAT was a problem.
These days we seem to be on a similar wavelength. I automatically assume he is going to the bad place and he generally does [go to the bad place], but sometimes I am chuckling to myself and he is busy being the adult. I
hate that. The other day my son hurt himself while walking down the stairs. Yes-he hurts himself while walking down the stairs. And walking UP the stairs. And standing still. We really need to work on him, but you've MET me--he comes by it naturally! Anyway, after he cried to JATD for a few minutes, he came in to see me. I hugged him and let him cry for a minute (which is more than I usually do--I usually tell him he's fine and should shake it off--I'm one of those extremely nurturing mothers--I'm sure you can tell). So he tells me, "I hurt my penis on the side" to which I responded by stifling a giggle because my son said
penis. I know that it is important to teach kids the proper names of things and they should never be ashamed of body parts and blah,blah,blah, but it was the first time I heard my son
call it a penis, so it surprised me. I know I should have just left it alone, but my giggles came out--even
they don't listen to me--so I said, "We're saying that now? Penis? We're..um...okay...so your
penis hurts?" He turns to me with the most stoic expression. "Yes, mom--my PENIS hurts because I hit it on the railing (don't even TRY to work out the logistics--it will make your brain hurt--trust me!) and I don't know how to make it feel better."
Hmmm...
...still pausing...
Not sure what to do because I suddenly had an EXTREME case of the giggles and did NOT want to traumatize my son because of my immaturity. Couldn't speak...
"Well...you could..."
"I'm fine--I'm gonna go play now..."
Whew! Dodged THAT bullet. JATD wasn't so willing to let it go. It seems I have given HIM a difficult time about how immature HE is about things, yet I cannot even type the word
penis without giggling or talk about number two without referring to NUMBER TWO. I know--I'm not proud. Of THAT. I've not been on here in a while, but the last time I was I read a post on
Living in Kellies World about a
Home Invasion which was the HILARIOUS story of raccoons invading his home. He mentioned getting his
24-inch Stiff Stick to help combat the coons, and even yelled at me for being a pervert when I read it, but REALLY? It claims to be "...the firmest of all the sticks..." and it had me GUFFAWING for hours. Okay, maybe it was minutes, but it was funny nonetheless. That was when I realized that I had COMPLETELY crossed over to the dark side. I had become what I had made fun of my husband for being and he had become...me. I would have been sad if I hadn't still been laughing so hard at the
Stiff Stick...
So this morning I saw these dolls posted on facebook:
and I am certain that you are able to IMAGINE the types of comments and facebook fighting that ensued after these were posted. All I have to say is that when I was like eleven or twelve, my "Aunt"--we'll call her Hilda--(in Italian families EVERYONE is an aunt or uncle, so she wasn't an ACTUAL aunt, but that has little to nothing to do with this particular story. Why am I TELLING you then? Really? Do you not know me AT ALL?!) So Hilda had a baby and her husband filmed it and she gathered all of the children together so that we could watch the video. After all, it's natural, right? Shouldn't children be able to handle that? Nope. I was traumatized and all I kept thinking is "WHY? Why would she want anyone else to see it? Why would she think we would want to see it? Were we in trouble for something?" It was awful--I had nightmares about it for weeks--maybe even years. She also felt extremely comfortable breastfeeding in front of us which was a little bit more than my eleven-year-old self could take--especially after watching what could only be described as the most horrific video I had ever seen (and I
saw Leprechaun--that is pretty bad)...
The reason I am sharing this with you is NOT because I am against the whole "beauty of giving birth" thing or because I don't think that women should breastfeed in front of others. I think that women should do what they feel is right for them and for their families. I breastfed all three of my children--they nursed easily--I was lucky. IF there had been a problem or if I had gotten Mastitis (which I did get a few months after I stopped nursing my youngest child--who knew, right?!) I would have immediately switched to formula. There were times when I enjoyed nursing and times when I felt like a machine. I stopped nursing the first time each child bit me which seemed to be between nine months and a year for each of them. Oh--and it was free and convenient-- definitely two selling points for JAT M AND D!
When I nursed, I tended to go in a different room. Unless I was extremely close with the people present, I didn't feel comfortable nursing in front of them--mostly because I did not want THEM to feel uncomfortable. You see, although I believe it is my right to nurse wherever I need to (after all, I am giving food to my child)--especially in my own home--I do not think it is necessary to do so. I missed out on a lot of conversations and fun times because I excused myself to feed my babies, but I pretty much ignored them when we had people over (because everyone always wants to hold other people's babies and I had no problem pawning my children off on others letting other people take care of my babies), so it gave me an excuse to spend a little alone time with each baby while they nursed. No one ever made me feel like I couldn't feed my babies in front of them, so maybe that is why it was easier to make the decisions that I did. If anyone had given me a hard time, I would have had a stance to take, but the fact that all of my friends and family members were so accommodating made me want to respect them enough to know that they may not WANT to chat with me while my breast was exposed. By the time I had my youngest I would feed her under a blanket occasionally, but I didn't ever want to be the cause of someone feeling as mortified as I did when Aunt Hilda whipped it out when I was eleven.
My sister had a completely different perspective. She became a Lactation Consultant, had five babies--I believe all of them naturally (meaning no drugs--NO EPIDURAL--of course, the epidural didn't even work for me, but I wouldn't stop trying! The idea of the epidural was enough to keep me going. You would think that it would be the idea of holding my sweet baby that would keep me going, but you would be wrong. All I could think about was ending the pain as soon as possible and the epidural was supposed to be my answer. Stupid epidural...) and nursed them until they were toddlers/preschoolers.
The birthing babies above and the comments that I read really made me think about the different ways that video affected the two of us. People commented about the dolls saying things like, "It is a great way to show children how beautiful and wonderful it is to give birth" and that "the mommy is so happy..." Even the freakin' placenta is shaped like a heart! Others mentioned that they found it disgusting and appalling. Still others said that we will give our daughters the impression that birthing babies sucks.
I need you to pay attention to this next part because I think that too many people don't know it. Birthing babies DOES suck. It is NOT fun. Having a parasite in you and giving all that is good in you to that parasite is NOT the best thing for your body--I'm not trying to start a controversy here. People [generally speaking] do not become pregnant and give birth because it is fun. Conversely, people do not NOT get pregnant and deliver babies because it is NOT fun. People like MAKING babies. People like HOLDING babies. People even like CARING for babies. But even those women who claim to LOVE being pregnant and who have breezy deliveries are lying if they say that it was absolutely wonderful the entire time. No matter what anyone says, when you get pregnant, life stops being about you. Even the MOTYs who mistakenly think that they can go on like their lives are still their own and drink and smoke and do drugs when they are pregnant are giving up SOME things--involuntarily, maybe--because that baby in their belly is going to do what (S)HE wants in there--REGARDLESS of how well or how poorly (s)he is treated.
It is impossible to convey how truly horrible delivering a baby can be. In fact, I do not remember Hilda's delivery seeming to be that traumatic, though I DO remember watching the baby come out of her...down there (I know--issues!) and being grossly appalled. I am not proud--I know it is the most beautiful thing that can happen to us, but my eleven-year-old self was NOT feelin' it. I do remember it as being happy for them and I went into my delivery knowing that there would be pain, but there are no words to describe how much pain. I didn't even hate being pregnant with my first--and even through my second and third pregnancies, there were perks. EVERYONE loves a pregnant woman. That is nice. Still--NOT wonderful.
Does anyone go into the delivery room thinking that it is going to be fun? Of course, I did bring a bunch of crosswords, Scrabble, and cards for all of the "down" time I thought my husband and I would have with the first delivery. I am pretty sure that each of those things is still in the bag I packed them in eight and a half years ago. Even though I may have been naive about the amount of time I would spend in excruciating pain, I DID know that there would be pain and I was prepared for that.
Perhaps if my mother had purchased those dolls for me I would have been less intimidated and more comfortable with the whole birthing process. That is what many of the comments indicated anyway. As if young girls need to be encouraged TO give birth. There is even a SHOW called Teen Mom now. Makes me so sad...I am happy to see that we are becoming more accepting of things, but do we really need to glamorize something that steals our children's youth and sets them up for a more difficult life? Perhaps we need to modify the dolls to look like they are completely tormented and traumatized to at least scare girls into possibly waiting a few MORE years--because, let's be honest--whether they are happy dolls, sad dolls, or Chucky dolls, girls will always want to have babies--and boys will always want to make them.
