Chaos in My Kitchen
If I held to my motto: "do the dishes first", I would not be blogging today. Or likely tomorrow.
There are a lot of dishes.
Carnevale was grand.
But man, we have a lot of dishes. Not including the 15 small soup bowls I borrowed from The Neighbor. Those are clean now.
There's more to tell, most of which will be done over on the food blog later. But really, I'm distracted by the lack of empty counterspace.
The Child and I went to see "Juno" yesterday, at the darling little cinema in our darling little shopping district. Wow. The movie, I mean. Yeah, I should probably work up a proper review.
Later, while The Spouse watched the Superbowl, The Child and I watched the Food Network. And during commercials we talked about "Juno". Because she kept bringing it up. You see, as much as the parent in me would love to latch on to this "teachable" opportunity about the perils of pre-marital sex and unwanted pregnancy and making choices, the used-to-be-a-teenager in me knows that if I initiate that conversation, this time, in response to this film, the conversation will go like this:
Moi: "So, Juno really blah didi blah didi blahdiblah blah. What do you think, Child?"
Child: "Yeah. Can we listen to Radio Disney?"
Understand, I'm not afraid of having this conversation with her. We've been talking about sex, age-appropriately, of course, since she could speak. Because that's how you're supposed to do.
One day, when she was in the second grade her teacher, Sister Barb, pulled me aside to say that the class had been studying life cycles and that day they had talked, in 2nd grade appropriate fashion, about how babies are made.
"We just cover the basics, you know, but every year there is one child who asks the question and this year it was The Child". She said this very brightly, with the sort of look reserved for the parents of child prodigies.
"And the question?" I asked. (I myself, a prodigy not so much).
"Well, I was explaining about sperm and eggs and how they need to get together to make a baby. But I don't go into the details, of course. The Child was the one who asked how the sperm and eggs actually get together".
"Oh!" I exclaimed (proving that I'm not squeamish about sex education). "And how did you respond?" (Because, you know, if this came up later I wanted to be on the same page with teacher).
Sister Barb smiled, beatifically. "I told her it was an excellent question and she should be sure to ask her parents when she got home".
I looked at Sister and said, "$4,800 a year in tuition and I have to answer the question?"
Of course, I was teasing. Sorta. I didn't mind. And I understood the logic...it was a weighty question and not every family was going to be down with their 7 year olds getting the "whole story".
That afternoon I was taking The Child to choir practice, anticipating the question every time she opened her mouth but she just chatted on brightly about this and that. As she got out of the car at church she turned to me and said, ever so casually, "Oh, yeah, and mommy, we were talking about sperm and eggs today and I want to know how they get together".
"Can we talk about this after choir?"
"Sure!" and she ran off. I spent the next two hours thinking of what to say. (Let's face it, this is a classic case of "what do they really want to know and how much information is too much?").
On the way home from choir, she sat in the backseat, chatting again. I waited, not intending to bring up the subject. I wanted to see if she really had a burning interest.
"So, mommy, what's the deal with the sperm and the egg?"
"I'm happy to tell you, but why don't you tell me what you know, first". Not hedging, just wanting to verify her facts and make sure that she's really asking what I think she's asking.
(You know the old joke: "Where did I come from?" Long explanation, blanched face of child...punchline: "Timmy said he came from Chicago..." ba da bump).
She had her facts. Men have sperm. Women have eggs. Sperm has to meet egg to make baby.
"But how does the sperm get to where the eggs are?"
Moment of truth. "When a mommy and daddy love each other very much.....", I began, and then proceeded to give her the most basic of facts.
There was silence from the backseat for a moment.
"Well, that's just gross," she said.
"Yes, it is gross to you now. Because you're 7. When you grow up and graduate from college and travel in Europe for a year and work at a great job for a while and then meet the man you love and marry him, it won't seem gross at all". (Not that I have a vision for her life plan or anything but you do what you can).
"It's still gross".
She's taking a mental health day today. I wouldn't mind one, myself. But there's still a ton of good times to clear up. Best get to it.
There are a lot of dishes.
Carnevale was grand.
But man, we have a lot of dishes. Not including the 15 small soup bowls I borrowed from The Neighbor. Those are clean now.
There's more to tell, most of which will be done over on the food blog later. But really, I'm distracted by the lack of empty counterspace.
The Child and I went to see "Juno" yesterday, at the darling little cinema in our darling little shopping district. Wow. The movie, I mean. Yeah, I should probably work up a proper review.
Later, while The Spouse watched the Superbowl, The Child and I watched the Food Network. And during commercials we talked about "Juno". Because she kept bringing it up. You see, as much as the parent in me would love to latch on to this "teachable" opportunity about the perils of pre-marital sex and unwanted pregnancy and making choices, the used-to-be-a-teenager in me knows that if I initiate that conversation, this time, in response to this film, the conversation will go like this:
Moi: "So, Juno really blah didi blah didi blahdiblah blah. What do you think, Child?"
Child: "Yeah. Can we listen to Radio Disney?"
Understand, I'm not afraid of having this conversation with her. We've been talking about sex, age-appropriately, of course, since she could speak. Because that's how you're supposed to do.
One day, when she was in the second grade her teacher, Sister Barb, pulled me aside to say that the class had been studying life cycles and that day they had talked, in 2nd grade appropriate fashion, about how babies are made.
"We just cover the basics, you know, but every year there is one child who asks the question and this year it was The Child". She said this very brightly, with the sort of look reserved for the parents of child prodigies.
"And the question?" I asked. (I myself, a prodigy not so much).
"Well, I was explaining about sperm and eggs and how they need to get together to make a baby. But I don't go into the details, of course. The Child was the one who asked how the sperm and eggs actually get together".
"Oh!" I exclaimed (proving that I'm not squeamish about sex education). "And how did you respond?" (Because, you know, if this came up later I wanted to be on the same page with teacher).
Sister Barb smiled, beatifically. "I told her it was an excellent question and she should be sure to ask her parents when she got home".
I looked at Sister and said, "$4,800 a year in tuition and I have to answer the question?"
Of course, I was teasing. Sorta. I didn't mind. And I understood the logic...it was a weighty question and not every family was going to be down with their 7 year olds getting the "whole story".
That afternoon I was taking The Child to choir practice, anticipating the question every time she opened her mouth but she just chatted on brightly about this and that. As she got out of the car at church she turned to me and said, ever so casually, "Oh, yeah, and mommy, we were talking about sperm and eggs today and I want to know how they get together".
"Can we talk about this after choir?"
"Sure!" and she ran off. I spent the next two hours thinking of what to say. (Let's face it, this is a classic case of "what do they really want to know and how much information is too much?").
On the way home from choir, she sat in the backseat, chatting again. I waited, not intending to bring up the subject. I wanted to see if she really had a burning interest.
"So, mommy, what's the deal with the sperm and the egg?"
"I'm happy to tell you, but why don't you tell me what you know, first". Not hedging, just wanting to verify her facts and make sure that she's really asking what I think she's asking.
(You know the old joke: "Where did I come from?" Long explanation, blanched face of child...punchline: "Timmy said he came from Chicago..." ba da bump).
She had her facts. Men have sperm. Women have eggs. Sperm has to meet egg to make baby.
"But how does the sperm get to where the eggs are?"
Moment of truth. "When a mommy and daddy love each other very much.....", I began, and then proceeded to give her the most basic of facts.
There was silence from the backseat for a moment.
"Well, that's just gross," she said.
"Yes, it is gross to you now. Because you're 7. When you grow up and graduate from college and travel in Europe for a year and work at a great job for a while and then meet the man you love and marry him, it won't seem gross at all". (Not that I have a vision for her life plan or anything but you do what you can).
"It's still gross".
She's taking a mental health day today. I wouldn't mind one, myself. But there's still a ton of good times to clear up. Best get to it.
Labels: Carnevale, cleaning things, The Child
cobbled together by Moi at 6:25 AM
16 Comments:
I thought it was gross, too, after I received my lesson.
I'm wondering about taking The Girl to Juno. I think she's ready to see it, but I might need to preview it.
"That's one doodle that can't be un-did, home skillet." C'mon, that's just funny.
SPOILER ALERT: What I really liked about Juno was how balanced it was. Yes, she was a smart-mouth, but she also had moments of real vulnerability and was clearly overwhelmed by her situation. Okay, an dthis is the spoiler ... Throughout the film, I was afraid that, at the last minute, she'd decided to keep the baby herself. I know it happens all the time, but I didn't want the film to send the "message" that it was an impossible thing to do. And yet, I was relieved to note that, when she did give the child up, she reacted with not a few tears, because while it's not impossible to do, it's also (I'm guessing here) not the easiest thing in the world to do, either. Okay, enough with the spoilers.
Oh, and Entertainment Weekly thinks that Jennifer Garner should have received a nomination for Best Supporting Actress. I can't say I disagree.
Anne, there was a little more language in the film than I expected and some rather frank talk, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but you know, you always feel a little weird about that stuff when you're sitting right there with your kid. We ran into some neighbors who were there with their 12 year old daughter.
But it's a film that certainly bears watching more than once so go see it yourself first.
Red: I will carefully respond to your spoiler so as not to spoil...I too feared as you did and felt that the outcome was handled quite realistically. Jennifer Garner was terrific and if there is anyone more dorkishly charming than Michael Cera I don't know who that is.
Oh, I love the way you handled that. I am so stealing your speech for when my son finally asks me about it.
Michael Cera will always be George Michael Bluth to me.
But let's get back to this sperm and egg thing, because I read your whole post but I'm still a little confused. How DOES the sperm meet the egg?
Please write a Juno review. I want to see it and your opinions, which I value, will help me decide whether I go to the theater or wait and go to Netflix.
Help yourself, Kimberly Anne.
He's rather George Michaelish in "Juno", so it's easy to love him. As for the other thing, JP, there are really a few methods. Sometimes it involves a turkey baster, sometimes a high speed train leaving Tokyo at 3:15; of course, the old fashioned method involves dinner and cocktails. I'll call you later to explain in detail. I'm a giver.
OK, Twisi, I will, but just because you asked so nicely. Plus, it'll give me fodder for tomorrow. 'Cause I'm pretty sure the continuing saga of lamb grease and hand-washing cordial glasses isn't going to keep 'em coming back for more.
Loved your line about the tuition. Geez, how 'bouts a little more bang for your buck, Sister?
I was that child who asked Mom for the hard facts at age 4. Mom carefully crafted an age appropriate answer, actually with lots of details for a youngster as obviously brilliant as I, and then asked, "So honey, do you have any questions for Mommy?" to which I (brilliantly) replied, "Yes. Are there such things as elves?" Maybe mom exaggerated that brilliant bit. Just a bit.
I haven't yet seen the movie, but have spoken with Teen Demon about it (which was actually some good conversation), and afterward decided to allow the son see it as well. With his girlfriend. (ohjeez.) Who is a smart enough cookie that she has already informed the son she will marry him for happily-ever-after, AFTER she gets her medical degree and has a house. (Yes! that's what I like to hear.) I want to watch it at home though, with the both of them, so we can talk about it.
Good deal on being open with the Child -- parents who are closed about that stuff usually end up with that method backfiring severely.
PS: watching it "the both of them" obviously referring to the son and the daughter, not the son and his girlfriend. No thank you.
Wow. Non-child owner that I am, I forget about moments like those. It must be a big help to start and keep up the talking.
I admit, the age appopriate thing is not really going on in this house. I tell way too much, way too scientific, and the kids just say u-hu. Both of my kids got the "talk" in our public school-- 5th grade health. My daughter came home and said what I told her was perfect, because the teacher said the same things. My son said I forgot to mention that sperm looks like Aussie leave in conditioner...
One Christmas wen daughter #1 was about five, she asked what a virgin was. I told her that Joseph didn't help Mary get pregnant like daddy helped mommy. She responded, "I didn't know daddy had anything to do with that!" The next day while standing in line at the grocery store, surrounded by neighbors, she asked, "Just what did do to help get you pregnant?"
Wait a minute..So,you're saying...EWWWW!
That's gross!..although,it does explain a few things.
.I need to wash out my laptop with soap.
Y'know, now that I think about it, I am pretty sure I never asked where babies came from--being an only child, and not having friends with infant siblings, I guess it just never occurred to me to ask. Hence, Mom never sat me down for The Talk.
Instead, when I was ten or eleven, she bought me "The Life Cycle Library," a four-volume set designed to answer all a kid's potential questions. What it didn't answer was how one was supposed to read it when one was too damned embarrassed to open any of the books...
(Don't be silly, of course I read them. But it took me a while...)
So kudos to you for saying the right things at the right time!
Cowbell, I agree...the whole "if we don't talk about it they won't" thing is CLEARLY not the way to go.
It's a good flick...I'll be interested to see what you and the kids think.
Booda, I do appreciate being handed those opportunities.
Mouse, oh. Thanks for THAT visual.
Oh, Mom, don'tcha just love it?
Yeah, Sling. It explains things like kids. And grandkids.
Use something mild. Otherwise the keys will stick.
Syd, I'm emailing you right now with another story that I just can't bring myself to detail here.
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