I grew up in a pretty conservative family.
A family where guts and hell were considered swear words, and I learnt all I needed to know about the birds and the bees from a green hardcover novel called (something along the lines of), “everything a teenage girl should know”, with a gild framed photo of a toe headed girl with long pigtails wearing a red skivvy on the front.
This alone would have me think the book was written sometime in the Brady Bunch era, not very relevant in the 90’s, and I don’t recall spending much time looking at it.
I was far more interested in the encyclopedia that has clear pages inside, that over each other showed you all the inner systems of the human body!!
And the book of things to make and do, where we learnt to make a musical instrument by nailing bottle caps to a broom stick!
I would come to learn the facts of life soon enough, (not fully grasping these until I was giving birth to G1), through schoolyard chatter and sex ed programs. A mate of mine, in year 7 mind you, came to one of these classes with an A4 sheet of paper, which was listed front to back, with all the different terms for penis.
I clearly paid little attention in these classes either, and instead came away with awesome graffiti on my sex ed Manila folders. My art work mostly depicted the life and times of my cartoon creations, an egg, looking all pretty in a skirt with a bow on her head, and the successful sperm, usually sporting a top hat and carrying a rose (my egg and sperms had arms).
Hehe, I remember drawing them on a romantic boat cruise in the Fallopian tubes! Mental, I know.
Anyway, I’ve been a lot more open with my girls and have had “the talk” with each of them. Silly to call it “the” talk, as you really have to have lots of talks as they grow and face different situations.
I have tried to be more laid back and throw around anatomically correct terms for body parts, but that’s pretty hard for a prude. Saying the P and V words still make me blush and giggle, and in turn the girls do too. Some habits die hard.
In order to further explain life’s workings, we have recently mated our dog with her half brother (don’t judge me, it’s called line breeding).
Now I’m no fool. I know what happens when dogs “do it”. They knot up. I’ve heard people’s stories, and I watch countless documentaries. But,
I was not prepared for it! It is a super gross process. Super gross. And disturbing. Quite.
Poor Hera, my pure, innocent fur child. She thought she knew what she wanted, then bam!!!!
Not so fun after all.
Of course Dan was at work when the deed was done, so it was up to me to supervise and be sure that no one got hurt. They say the bitch can savage the dog! That would have been less traumatising.
She yelped and cried and carried on! It was so sad! And then, just when you think it’s over, they’re stuck!
Half an hour! That’s a long time! And she just looked so ashamed! And sad, and whimpered, and tried her best to slink away.
Alas, it’s not possible. He, on the other hand. Didn’t bat an eye! If he had a watch he would have casually checked it! If he had a newspaper he would have slowly read it! What???
Your bits are swollen up, stuck and being pulled backwards! How can you not care?
3 times they did this, over Milo’s (the dog) 6 day stay. And it was just as awful, every time!
I didn’t let the little girls witness the “doing it”, but they seen them stuck and heard the carry on. G1 seen the works, hopefully scarring her enough to stay away from boys for a looong time.
And the getting unstuck!!! Eeeeeewwww! Just eew.
Now we wait for round 2 of life lessons.
Fingers crossed Hera’s lovely little eggs and Milo’s top hatted little sperms have ridden their Fallopian tube love boat up to the womb room, and we get to subject the children to the trauma of birth!
9 weeks. Who’s ready?!?!?