There is no reciprocity in Florida for therapists from Missouri. So, my mom, much to her chagrin, has been “forced” to take a few college courses so that she can oh-so-willingly sit for her counselor’s license – again. First off, she hates taking tests and secondly, she’s been licensed for over ten years I believe (if not longer). Needless to say, she is not thrilled.
If I had given it more thought when she was looking for the classes she needed to take, I would have realized right then and there that Mom’s class work would most probably involve me to some degree. First off, she is not a fan of writing and since she has a daughter who loves that, it works well that I get to edit all of her papers. This experience has reminded me that I too am not a fan of AP style … really is a royal pain in the butt.
I’ve also had the pleasure of answering Christian questions presented in a couple of her classes and offering my perspective (even if unasked) on whatever topic she was researching.
This last (and final) class she has though has proven the most fun for us all. The state of Florida requires that all therapists take a Human Sexuality course. So, now when most of my friends are probably talking to their moms about golf, over 50s groups and shopping; my mom is showing me diagrams in her textbook of, well, various human-sexuality-related items and talking to me about how we as a society refer to and represent our viewpoints on sexuality.
Who knew when she started this class that I’d get homework as well? She needed a sex survey filled out and well, being new here; she wanted my help to find more women to answer these questions. I have to say … I was pretty proud of my friends and bible study gals who helped out.
I actually don’t mind. I was raised to be quite open about sexuality. My parents didn’t make it taboo and therefore I don’t see it as taboo either to talk about sex. Of course, when in the presence of the proper age group (my peers).
Mom was recently assigned the task of reviewing a blog or some sort of medium. So, she reviewed this blog. In her review she pointed out that in fact, I don’t mention anything about sexuality – ever. And suggested that I did. So, I’m rising to the challenge and, well, here we go.
Here’s the thing. I’ve not posted anything on sexuality really because in my house it hasn’t really presented the need just yet. I’ve not been graced finding my kids discovering God-made “rocket ships” and no one talks yet about how the shrinky dink … grows.
I’ve of course had many conversations with my friends on the looming topic: when to discuss sex with your kids. I’ll tell ya, as open as I am and plan to be on the subject matter, I’m pretty content that I don’t believe NOW is the time to start that conversation in my home. ;)
So I’ve not had much to discuss on the matter. I can tell you with the fun conversations I’ve had with many friends … boys seem to enjoy the toy God made for them … and that’s normal. Which is good to know for when my boy find “it.”
Really, thus far in my parenting journey, I’ve only had one big thing to deal with … what to call “it?”
It was years ago when I began potty training Saylah. I wasn’t sure what to call the little girl part. I asked my friends who also had girls and really no one has a great answer. Some call it, “your girl part,” or “your pee pee,” or nothing at all. But no one had a wonderful answer for me. As a starter-Mommy, I used to call it a “who” … which I really don’t know why I started that. But that was great … super cute … and worked well … until … Saylah started talking. She’d say something I didn’t quite catch and I’d say, “who?” to which she replied, with a giggle, “no Momma, not my who … “
Plus, around Christmas time when the Grinch showed up on TV and the Whos in Whoville came to town, I kind of thought that might be a tad bit disturbing to Say. So we had to change it. We changed it to a shortened version of the big “v” word. Which was okay until Saylah realized what its real name was, and then had no problem speaking the word in it’s fullest whenever we were anywhere. Yep … we became THOSE parents. You know the ones who teach their kids the proper name of the parts? It wasn’t intended … we simply didn’t have a better option. So, we use the real word – and I think we are weirdos for that.
But I came to grips with being a weirdo and all was well. Until now, when I’m faced with potty training Isaac. Here’s the deal: I just can’t bring myself to call it a penis to him. It just seems weird. When he was a newborn I told the girls that was what it was – since they were incredibly curious about that little “tail” he had that they didn’t. And I thought it was hysterical when one night when eating a dessert that contained peanuts, Audrey piped in with “Isaac has a peanuts.”
But with Isaac in the parrot stage (you know, where he repeats every new word he hears) I’m not so sure I’m down with my 22-month-old saying penis. So, like I swore I never would be, I’m just non-descript about it. Which has turned out odd, because well, now he calls it a bug. I can’t quite figure out why he calls it a bug. But I’m pretty sure that can’t turn out well, since his sisters lately have also been all about teaching him to squash bugs when they are outside. I can see a rather bad outcome on this one.
So, alas, there it is, this is where we are on sexuality at my house. I’ve got great plans and strong beliefs about the importance of talking to kids about sex. I believe both mom and dad should talk to both our sons and our daughters about the matter. That we teach them our morals and values about sex and that we keep it so that it’s not viewed as the forbidden fruit … because we all know what happened with the forbidden fruit.
I’ve got big plans for them on this matter … but when they are older. Until then, I’m going to relish that my biggest sexuality issue is what to call Isaac’s thing.