Posts Tagged ‘ penis ’

Toddler Question: How Do You Birth A Baby?

Wednesday, January 8th, 2014

My good friend Courtney is pregnant. When I was pregnant with Emmett, Fia was only 2 years old, so she didn’t really “get” what it all meant. In fact, the first time Fia came to the hospital and saw Emmett, she looked like she had been hit by a bus. Bewildered would be an understatement.

Now she’s 4 and can actually grasp the concept (perhaps too much) that her best friend Teddy is going to have a sister. The other night we were lying in bed. Here’s how the conversation went:

“Mom, how did the baby get in Courtney’s belly?”

“Well, Courtney and Brian and God (threw that in on the fly) made the baby,” I said.

“Mom, I know that,” Fia replied indignantly. “I mean, how did the baby actually get IN the belly?”

“Um, well, it’s hard to explain,” I stammered.

“Why is it hard to explain?” she persisted.

“It just is,” I said, hoping to change the subject.

“Well then how does the baby get out?”

Oh dear. My brain was being taxed on this one.

“Courtney pushes it out of her belly,” I said matter-of-factly. Then held my breath.

“She pushes it out???” Fia says quizzically. “Where does it come out?”

“Of her stomach,” I replied, knowing this conversation wasn’t getting any easier.

“But there isn’t a hole in her stomach!! Silly Mama,” she says.

At this point baby was put in a corner. As was I.

I had the choice to make something up–like the baby comes out of her bellybutton–or, try harder to change the subject, or explain all about Courtney’s vagina. The latter of which frankly felt a little weird.

I told her it was bedtime and we would talk about it another day. I think she was tired of not getting answers, so she let it go. For now.

I want to be as open as possible with my children. We don’t call her body parts a “lady bit” “minnie” or “vajayjay”. We don’t call Em’s a “willy” or a “wee wee.” We use vagina and penis. At first that felt strange to me. But in researching, they say it’s best to use the clinical name, for various reasons. One is to help prevent your child falling victim to a sexual predator. It indicates to these criminals that your child is comfortable with openly talking about their body parts, including sexual parts.

So when Fia was asking about Courtney’s future baby taking a trip down the canal, it’s not that I didn’t want to use the word vagina. It was more because I suspect it’s a hard-to-imagine concept. I didn’t want her to get freaked out by the power of the vag or start obsessing about how something other than pee could come out of it. Maybe I’m wrong on this. But you tell me. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before the subject comes up again. I need to get my birthing bullet points  in order.

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Rosie Pope Solves Your Parenting Dilemmas
Rosie Pope Solves Your Parenting Dilemmas
Rosie Pope Solves Your Parenting Dilemmas

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Keeping It Real: A Note From a Friend

Thursday, March 8th, 2012

My "Remarkable" Boy

So a good friend just emailed me and our other mom friend. She and her husband are having a boy. Her email was so real to me that I had to share. I wrote her back and told her about all the good things a boy brings. And how now, I can’t even imagine my world any other way. But I felt the same way she did at first. I don’t like sports or trucks. I don’t have a relationship with my father (and my relationship with my mother was troubled at best). And Fia, while not into dresses and tutu’s like her daughter, is also a mini-me in her own spitfire ways. Her email made me laugh and cry. Sometimes words just work. And need to be shared. Thanks for humoring me. (Names changed for confidentiality.)

Girls:

It’s a BOY!!!!!! A boy. Jill–it’s a boy. I’m having flash backs to last spring, sitting with you in the park trying to make sense of a boy. How can I be growing a mini penis and balls? Why didn’t I pay more attention during the, “He pees on me,” emails you sent? Oh Lord, a boy. It took me most of last night and an emergency call to Heather–plus the promise of one more kid (after this one)–to lure me from the edge. But I’m starting to get excited. I’ve also been able to (after a night of no sleep) recognize why I have such a fear of little boys. Want to hear it? Probably not but I’ll share anyway.
1. I’m not close with my father (borderline dislike him) and have a gay brother. I don’t “get” men or boys and I’m unsure of what to do with him (and them).

2. I’ve never been the type of girl to have “boy” friends–I always ended up sleeping with them or at the very least making out with them, thereby dissolving any friendship.

3. I hate sports, video games, and trucks. I’ve never watched Thomas and I don’t want too.

4. And finally the biggest reason, I’m afraid I will love him with my whole heart only for him to grow up and not return my calls, marry some inappropriate girl from California who insists on living there, have children of his own who I never get to see- in short I’m terrified that I will not occupy an important place in his life.

I have to raise a son and as tough as (my daughter) can be, she is all girl. Make-up and nails and dresses. Oh, and tutus. And she carries her purse and picks out shoes!  In short she is a mini-me and I love her for that. It feels like rain or shine she will always be mine- not to be shared with some….”boy.” Even when she’s married.

But this little man I’m now incubating might just turn out to be the love of my life–and Oh my God, what if he leaves me??? I literally am now in tears thinking of having to let him go–and please know that as I type this I already know what a psycho I sound like. I remember, Jill, when you found out Emmet’s sex you told Dan and me that besides your husband, the men in your life are unremarkable. We say that line around here daily. So you can imagine when the tech said “It’s a boy,” my reaction was to climb off of the table and deck her (I mean that in the kindest way possible).

Last night Dan asked me to name one (straight) man that I love besides him. All I could come up with was my friend James, who I do adore and love. He said that when I get scared to think of him and James–and that is helping. But I could use some motherly advice form the two of you who have boys–how will you let them go? Do we have to? And what are fun things I can do with him that we can do as he grows up? I want to get ready for him, and I want him to be my friend someday, and mostly I want him to be remarkable.

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Penis Anger

Wednesday, February 22nd, 2012

He looks so innocent....don't let him fool you!

The penis is killing me. I will soon need anger management. I have followed the advice of other moms but I am still getting bathed in urine. As are my walls, Emmett’s body–even his face. Today it happened three times in a row. What am I doing wrong?

Here is what one mom wrote to me:

1. Open the front of his diaper for a few seconds to let the air hit his penis; the temperature change is usually what triggers the peeing;

2. Lay the front of the diaper back over him and wait a few seconds to see if he’s going to pee;

3. Proceed with diaper change.

I have not been peed on since I learned this trick over two years ago.

———————————–

I have tried this trick. The problem is, I pull the diaper back, then wait a few seconds. I proceed with the change. And 8 times out of 10 I still get hit.

Emmett poops a ton. And I am still battling this diaper rash. It turned bacterial. I got prescription ointment. Added an anti-fungal ointment in there as well, by my own accord. It went away. But now it’s back.  I don’t want him to sit in the poop for even a few minutes, as that seems to be what made it come back, despite the 10-inch buffer of creams + aquafor + triple paste.

So he poops, I change. 10 minutes later he poops again. I change. This goes on for about 30-45 minutes and up to five diapers. Somewhere in there, we both get a golden shower. Maybe three.

At about 4 a.m. this morning, we had simultaneous poop-pee-barf. Yes, baptism by fire with a newborn. But with Fia I only really dealt with the barf/reflux. She didn’t poop 5 times in 30 minutes either.

I am going to look into a pee tent, but honestly, he wiggles so much, even a burp cloth doesn’t work. It would have to be a tent that you use in a circus to cover the whole area. Oh, but then I’d be under it and get sprayed anyway. I’m also trying to dry out his bum each time, which adds to the length of time we both become moving targets.

This morning I texted my husband. I told him I was sorry to break the news to him, but I may become a lesbian or a nun as I am beginning to hate the penis. He hasn’t written back. He’s probably too terrified to come home.

Now I’m off to swimming lessons with Fia. Where I won’t get peed on because a) the instructor is in the water with her not me; b) she wears a swim diaper; c) she has a vagina. Thank the lord!

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I’m Having A…..

Thursday, August 25th, 2011

BOY. Working titles: Little Leroy.  Wayne Sanchez Junior. Baby Oops. Found out at 11 weeks when we got the CVS results back.

Fia Gets a Brother

Fia Gets a Brother

I knew from the moment I got pregnant that it was an XY. I am usually not one of those people with a second sense for this sort of thing. But somehow I just knew.

When the genetic counselor called to tell us that the chromosomes looked normal (whew), she asked if we wanted to know the sex. Yes!  I had rehearsed this moment for the past 2 days. I know she is going to say boy, but maybe just maybe, she’ll say girl.

Nope. My instincts were right. Boy. Oh boy.

If I’m being honest, there was a moment of disappointment, of mourning. Maybe it’s because I think we have a better chance of another great baby if it’s the same sex as Fia. Maybe it’s because I wanted her to have a sister. And maybe it’s because I am already so familiar with her.  Change is scary.

There’s also a nagging fear with a boy: the most modern of medicine still can’t test for Autism and the rates are so much higher with boys. My husband’s nephew is severely autistic, which I know adds to my worry. But I know there is nothing I can do about it, so just like this “unexpected” pregnancy, I am going with it. I have to. I’m grateful for the tests we could do. And if something is wrong, we’ll deal.

In the weeks since the CVS I have wrapped my head around “boy” much more. Boys love their mammas. They are big snugglers. And puberty will probably be easier to deal with.

But in the meantime, do I really have to look forward to a penis peeing on me when I change his diapers? That doesn’t sound like very much fun.

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