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The Sex Talk

I am a terrible mother. Not for the usual reasons that I think I’m a bad mother, though those are many.

I don’t give my daughter all organic food, and if the truth be told she’s seen the inside of several McDonald’s (*astonished gasps from the audience*). Before she was even close to being old enough to read, she could easily recognize the large billboard logo of the corporate evil that is Wal Mart.

Plus, much to my mother’s dismay—and besides the fact that my mother was neither Catholic nor Jewish, she had a corner on the guilt market—Leah slept in my bed on and off until she was ten-years-old, probably increasing her need for therapy. She doesn’t always go to bed on time. I am constantly worried that I don’t expose her to enough fine art, quality literature, and great culture. Sometimes (wait for it here) we eat in front of the television.

All of those maternal shortcomings, however vast they may be, are not why I’m losing sleep of late. It’s… S E X.

I have read all of the parenting books that tell me I should talk to my child naturally and often about sex. I watch shows that suggest I use popular songs and media topics as a springboard to bring the subject up naturally into conversation.

What ends up happening is something very different. I wish there were scripts to follow for this (like Sex Talk 1, Sex Talk 2, and so on) or maybe a Sex Information Camp I could send her to which would absolve me of the responsibility (I picture it being something like the Cheerleading and Horseback Riding camps I’ve sent her to in the past only they’d learn all they needed to know about smooching and...everything else.

As I often do when faced with a difficult solo parenting problem, I ask myself WWLGD (What Would Lorelai Gilmore Do?). She would probably handle the issue with humor, ease, style, and finesse. However, my efforts have been more like a cross between Lucille Ball and June Cleaver. It makes me uncomfortable, and Leah senses that and feels uncomfortable too. It usually goes something like this:

Me: Hey that song reminds me that girls are not just sex objects, ya know? (trying to sounds hip and cool)

Leah: (horrified) We’re not going to talk about this again, are we?

Me: Well, all the books say we should talk about sex a lot and I want to make sure you don’t have any questions. Do you understand how everything works? (putting my hand on her arm)

Leah: (rolling eyes) Yes, I do. Mom, I get it. I’m a unique and special snowflake. I’ll kick anyone who tries to do something I don’t want, ok?

Me: That’s not all honey. Sex is beautiful when it’s right, but I just want to make sure that if you have any questions you can ask me. I could never ask my mom.

Leah: (double eye roll) Puhlease don’t tell me about the book that Granny bought for you and my aunts again. If I have to hear about the pictures of flowers getting pollinated one more time…and I know that’s not how people do it, ok?

Me: (uncertain) All right, but I love you so much.

Leah: I know mom, now can we go to Hollister?

I’ve asked friends for advice and they’re not much help either. One girlfriend said that she went into her daughter’s room every day and announced, “If you’re going to have sex, use a condom.” Another recommended a book, which I held off on ordering for a long time since I did in fact have bad memories of learning about the “Birds and Bees” from the book my mother gave Mary, Allyson, and me. While very colorful, it wasn’t exactly the most accurate piece of scientific information.

I finally bought the book which is called s.e.x. and it is by Heather Corinna (her website is here), and I have to say that Leah and I are both learning something. I will tell you that Corinna is more progressive than the birds and bees book and maybe more on the liberal end of the spectrum than some people would like. However, for us, I think it’s good. She deals with everything from homosexuality to kissing to sexual abuse to cybersex to friends with benefits. She EVEN has a chapter on Internet dating.

Most importantly, I think Lorelai would approve.

copyright © 2010  Tiia Jones

MILF Part II

So as you might recall in Part I of the Saga of The Lawyer and the MILF, I was dating Richard. Richard is an attorney I met online who had a prenuptial agreement with his first wife that specified he could leave her if she gained more than ten pounds. Plus, he disagreed with my parenting techniques and had trust issues.

Then I slept with my next-door neighbor, Graydon, who was twenty-two to my thirty-five years. I know, I know. While not doing much for increasing Richard’s potential feelings of confidence in the relationship, it did a great deal to increase my own feelings of self-worth.

My best friend, who is also a lawyer, was surprisingly glad to hear about my new Cougar Mom status. But then, Arianna has never been much of one to let pesky ethics get in the way of what she wants.

Lawgirl03: I can’t believe you! I’m so proud of you!

Tchr8888: UR proud of me for having sex with some guy I barely know and for CHEATING on my bf??!?

Lawgirl03: Oh yea! For once, you’re taking control of the situation.

Tchr8888: No taking control would have been just saying that I didn’t want to see him anymore.

Lawgirl03: Baby steps, my friend, baby steps.

Tchr8888: How do I tell Richard?

Lawgirl03: Just be honest.

Tchr8888: That hasn’t worked so well this far.

Lawgirl03: Well try it, you might like it. Are you going to see cutie pie again?

Tchr8888: IDK—he is SOOO hottt and SOOO young. Do you know he’s closer to my students’ ages than mine?

Lawgirl03: LMFAO—he just wants a MILF!

Unfortunately, old habits die hard. I kept trying to find the courage to tell Richard about Graydon. It seemed like there was always something in the way. There was something he needed to tell me or we had someplace we needed to be and I put off the conversation. I really hate confrontation.

As it turned out, I was spared having to tell Richard myself since he discovered an email to Graydon on my AOL account (which he was apparently reading—doesn’t anyone respect my privacy? **insert false sense of indignity here**).

Subj: Integrity
Date: May 14, 2004

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

I have been lied to enough. I hope you and G have a good fling together. Lying to me is definitely not a good idea. I hope that someday you figure out what integrity means. Right now, I don’t think you have a clue. You will have a very lonely life without it. The only kinds of people that you will ever attract for any long term will be other people without it and those who continue to tell you how to live your life.

I am someone that doesn’t trust easy. It takes a long time for me to trust someone. Without that trust, I am captive to my fear and anxiety. You hurt me.

Richard

I made a vow to work on my integrity AND to be more assertive. In the meantime, privately glad I didn't have to worry about that last seven pounds I needed to lose, I crawled into bed with my daughter to watch "Gilmore Girls.” **Insert undeserved tears of self-pity and bags of Doritos here**

Single Mom Summer

With summer looming ahead of us, my daughter and I prepare for a lot more “togetherness” time—which is both good and bad. I look forward to spending more time together when we don’t have to fuss over homework or place as much strain on our time.

I enjoy lazy pajama days when we can sleep in and watch back to back episodes of Gilmore Girls.

It’s nice not to be an underpaid chauffeur who rushes from track practice to horseback riding to sleepovers to movies to fill in the blank here. The life of a teenage girl is nothing if not a demand for stimulation. As a single parent, you get to do all the stimulating.

Plus I’m glad when I don’t have to police her time so much. As in, "You can only use Facebook from 7:30 – 9:00,” and “We need to spend more time on math and less time on texting.” I tactfully leave out the part that a certain boy’s number seems to come up an awful lot on the Verizon bill. Summer means we can both relax.

I have to say, though, I miss the days when she wanted to spend time with me. There was a time when I thought, if only I can get five minutes to myself, I’ll be able to breathe. Most moms who are doing it solo can relate. People said that eventually I’d miss the days when she had separation anxiety and couldn’t let me out of her sight. My sisters said someday I’d want her to be clinging on to me again. I didn’t think it could ever be possible.

And yet, here I am.

“Would you like to watch a movie with me?”

“No, I’m talking to some friends online, but thanks.”

“Do you want to go shopping? I’ll take you to Old Navy. It’ll be a Girls’ Day Out!”

“Can one of my friends come? We can meet up with you later.”

“Want to cuddle?”

“Not right now. I’m IM’ing with Kenzie.”

*Sigh*

I realize it’s normal and natural.

When I am very lucky though, and usually when I least expect it, she’ll snuggle up into my arms briefly while I’m cooking or writing and bury her head into my shoulder. I smell the vanilla of her new body spray. But underneath it, I can still smell just the faintest hint of baby shampoo and crayons. I inhale deeply. I make sure to cherish those times because they might be gone soon too.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones