"When I grow up and get big, I don't wanna be a mama," she told me.
"That's fine. You don't have to be a mama."
"I don't want to have babies in my tummy."
"Well, then, you don't have to," I told her.
"But what if a baby gets in my tummy anyway?"
"It won't. Don't worry. If you don't want to be a mom you don't have to be. You can be whatever you want. But, you might change your mind. I loved having you in my tummy. You would kick my belly every night when I sat down to eat dinner."
"And what'd you do to me?" she asked, perfectly well knowing the answer.
"I'd rub your little bum to calm you down. Alice, why don't you want to be a mama?"
"I don't like how babies get out of the tummy from the vagina."
"I didn't like it either. But you can still be a mama if you want. You don't have to grow the baby in your tummy if you don't want to. You can adopt a baby that needs a mama. Like your Aunts did."
With an upbeat tone she exclaimed, "That's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna get a baby that already has a name."
Showing posts with label vagina. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vagina. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
Only Alice
Hand in hand, I lifted the latch and we entered the tot lot. All around were tricycles, plastic ride on cars, balls, plastic playhouses, and a small playground. I saw the tooth fairy, a bat, Snow White, Anakin Skywalker, a super hero, a baseball player, and numerous other children dressed in their favorite costume. They were all having fun, riding and running, laughing and shrieking. Orange, purple, and black balloons tied to the gazebo greeted us as we walked in. It looked and sounded like a fun birthday party.
Alice, dressed as the most adorable version of one of our favorite characters in Alice in Wonderland, clung to me for dear life. To her the party looked intimidating. Everyone already in play mode, after a long crying fit at home, we were walking in thirty minutes late. After several attempts to ease my daughter out of her shell, I stopped trying. I socialized with the other parents, periodically trying to pry itty bitty fingers from my own. Looking around, all the other children were behaving like "normal" children at a birthday party. Adults were standing around, children were playing together. Not Alice. She bounced from my leg to Hatta's leg, holding tight. Her friends from school called to her.
"Alice! Alice! Come play!"
I encouraged her to play. I reminded her we arrived late and the party would be over before she knew it. I walked with her to the playhouse where her friends were climbing and chatting together. She ignored them and hid further behind my leg. I talked to her friends, hoping she would see me having fun with them and join in. That plan was not successful. Finally as a last ditch effort, I took Alice aside.
"Alice. You know how I tell you that sometimes it's okay to be stubborn and sometimes it's not? How sometimes it gets in the way of you having fun? This is one of those times. You're being stubborn, refusing to play, just because. You know that if you just allow yourself to play you will have fun. These are your friends. You play with them everyday at school. So stop being stubborn and let's play or we are going to have to leave the party early."
I walked with her, holding her hand so she had no choice, to the playground. I made us walk up the steps to the top. And there I encouraged her to go down the slide, promising I would go down right behind her. And finally, just like that, she did it and all was right in the world again. She ran to the steps, climbed to the top, and happily slid down the slide again. She was playing. Upon her insistence, I took my turn down the slide and waited for her at the bottom.
I'm hoping this is what the rest of the party goers saw. My adorable child finally allowing herself to have a good time. You wanna know what I saw?! Naked four year old vagina.
OH! EM! EFFING! GEE! My daughter was dressed head to toe in sparkly tulle, sliding down the slide on her naked ass. I swear, only my child would be devasted because her black bow headband wasn't completely centered on her head but could care less that she was out on the town with her naked parts out there for the world to see. In her crying fit of rage at home, we had neglected underwear. You may remember how my daughter has a fondness for going commando. She wasn't wearing underwear when I helped her dress into her costume and I, just wanting to get out of the house, completely forgot.
Luckily I'm a prepared mom and I had a skort in my bag. I grabbed her hand and walked a bit out of the way of the party, all the while scolding Alice for going out in a dress without underwear. She's four. She has to be aware of these things. I can't possibly be in charge of everything! With the skort slipped discreetly under her costume, Alice was free to run and play.
I have to say, I am a teeny bit worried about Alice's naked vagina showing up in some unsuspecting mother's photo stream. There was this one mom that was blasting her iPhone like she was the paparazzi. Please say my daughter is not on the Lindsay Lohan track.
Alice, dressed as the most adorable version of one of our favorite characters in Alice in Wonderland, clung to me for dear life. To her the party looked intimidating. Everyone already in play mode, after a long crying fit at home, we were walking in thirty minutes late. After several attempts to ease my daughter out of her shell, I stopped trying. I socialized with the other parents, periodically trying to pry itty bitty fingers from my own. Looking around, all the other children were behaving like "normal" children at a birthday party. Adults were standing around, children were playing together. Not Alice. She bounced from my leg to Hatta's leg, holding tight. Her friends from school called to her.
"Alice! Alice! Come play!"
I encouraged her to play. I reminded her we arrived late and the party would be over before she knew it. I walked with her to the playhouse where her friends were climbing and chatting together. She ignored them and hid further behind my leg. I talked to her friends, hoping she would see me having fun with them and join in. That plan was not successful. Finally as a last ditch effort, I took Alice aside.
"Alice. You know how I tell you that sometimes it's okay to be stubborn and sometimes it's not? How sometimes it gets in the way of you having fun? This is one of those times. You're being stubborn, refusing to play, just because. You know that if you just allow yourself to play you will have fun. These are your friends. You play with them everyday at school. So stop being stubborn and let's play or we are going to have to leave the party early."
I walked with her, holding her hand so she had no choice, to the playground. I made us walk up the steps to the top. And there I encouraged her to go down the slide, promising I would go down right behind her. And finally, just like that, she did it and all was right in the world again. She ran to the steps, climbed to the top, and happily slid down the slide again. She was playing. Upon her insistence, I took my turn down the slide and waited for her at the bottom.
OH! EM! EFFING! GEE! My daughter was dressed head to toe in sparkly tulle, sliding down the slide on her naked ass. I swear, only my child would be devasted because her black bow headband wasn't completely centered on her head but could care less that she was out on the town with her naked parts out there for the world to see. In her crying fit of rage at home, we had neglected underwear. You may remember how my daughter has a fondness for going commando. She wasn't wearing underwear when I helped her dress into her costume and I, just wanting to get out of the house, completely forgot.
Luckily I'm a prepared mom and I had a skort in my bag. I grabbed her hand and walked a bit out of the way of the party, all the while scolding Alice for going out in a dress without underwear. She's four. She has to be aware of these things. I can't possibly be in charge of everything! With the skort slipped discreetly under her costume, Alice was free to run and play.
I have to say, I am a teeny bit worried about Alice's naked vagina showing up in some unsuspecting mother's photo stream. There was this one mom that was blasting her iPhone like she was the paparazzi. Please say my daughter is not on the Lindsay Lohan track.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Going Commando
I have taught my daughter a lot of things. A LOT!
I taught her to walk by bribing her with a box of off limit small chokey items. I taught her to dress herself. I taught her Spanish. Wait, no. That was Dora. I did teach her the ABC's and her numbers and all that smarty-arty stuff. And let me tell you, she's smart. Too smart sometimes, you know, for being 4. Given all that, I have never been as proud of her as I was today.
A shining moment of motherhood.
Alice and I were preparing to go to the gym. I was sitting on the top step lacing my running shoes while she was going pee. When she finished, she came to join me on the stairs. She stood before me, lifted her sundress and said, "Look, Mama. I put on underwear. Ariel ones."
I smiled so big, a tear of joy almost formed in the corner of my eye. I was ecstatic. I had finally taught her quite possibly the most important life lesson a girl can learn...when you're wearing a skirt or a dress, put on undies before you leave the house.
See, Alice dislikes wearing underwear. She loves underwear! She has more pairs than I could ever dream of. Elmo, Zoe, Dora, Ariel, Cinderella, Aurora, and Rapunzel to name a few. She hates wearing them. It's nothing for her to walk around the house, lift up her dress and surprise! Vagina! Or she'll lay back on the couch and her skirt will fall up and, oops, naked vagina. It's so common place in my house, the surprise, that our close friends aren't even caught off guard anymore. It's a way of life around my house, toys on the floor and naked 4 year old vagina.
With all the nakedness, I've been concerned for future Alice. I think it's technically called the Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton crotch shot phobia. These girls were not taught the life skill I was determined to instill in Alice. To prove this, I contemplated posting pics to these girls exposed out in public crotch shots. But then, this isn't that type of blog. You can google if you don't remember or live under a rock. The last thing I want for my daughter is to be photographed because her vajay-jay is out for all to see. Now, I know the odds of Alice being famous enough for people to care if she's going commando under her mini skirt are low. It doesn't matter. Good girls wear underwear under skirts and dresses. Period.
Unless, of course, you're married and trying to spice things up a bit on a date. Then, maybe the out in public surprise is acceptable.
Until then, I'm glad she finally caught on to my begging and pleading and put on undies unprompted.
I taught her to walk by bribing her with a box of off limit small chokey items. I taught her to dress herself. I taught her Spanish. Wait, no. That was Dora. I did teach her the ABC's and her numbers and all that smarty-arty stuff. And let me tell you, she's smart. Too smart sometimes, you know, for being 4. Given all that, I have never been as proud of her as I was today.
A shining moment of motherhood.
Alice and I were preparing to go to the gym. I was sitting on the top step lacing my running shoes while she was going pee. When she finished, she came to join me on the stairs. She stood before me, lifted her sundress and said, "Look, Mama. I put on underwear. Ariel ones."
I smiled so big, a tear of joy almost formed in the corner of my eye. I was ecstatic. I had finally taught her quite possibly the most important life lesson a girl can learn...when you're wearing a skirt or a dress, put on undies before you leave the house.
See, Alice dislikes wearing underwear. She loves underwear! She has more pairs than I could ever dream of. Elmo, Zoe, Dora, Ariel, Cinderella, Aurora, and Rapunzel to name a few. She hates wearing them. It's nothing for her to walk around the house, lift up her dress and surprise! Vagina! Or she'll lay back on the couch and her skirt will fall up and, oops, naked vagina. It's so common place in my house, the surprise, that our close friends aren't even caught off guard anymore. It's a way of life around my house, toys on the floor and naked 4 year old vagina.
With all the nakedness, I've been concerned for future Alice. I think it's technically called the Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton crotch shot phobia. These girls were not taught the life skill I was determined to instill in Alice. To prove this, I contemplated posting pics to these girls exposed out in public crotch shots. But then, this isn't that type of blog. You can google if you don't remember or live under a rock. The last thing I want for my daughter is to be photographed because her vajay-jay is out for all to see. Now, I know the odds of Alice being famous enough for people to care if she's going commando under her mini skirt are low. It doesn't matter. Good girls wear underwear under skirts and dresses. Period.
Unless, of course, you're married and trying to spice things up a bit on a date. Then, maybe the out in public surprise is acceptable.
Until then, I'm glad she finally caught on to my begging and pleading and put on undies unprompted.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Baking Bread
Alice has an ouchie vagina, yeast infection to be proper.
Side Note: I'm afraid to say, I think today's post is one that will come back to bite me in the ass when Alice is old enough to peruse the Internet. I'm quite confident she will not like me talking openly with everyone about her nether region, but then again, I didn't exactly like how she treated mine 4 years ago. Maybe now we'll be even. Come to think of it, 21 hours of later, 4 hours of pushing...not even close to even yet.
It started over the weekend, the complaint of an ouchie vagina. I love that my daughter uses the word vagina. I know some parents elect to name genitals silly nicknames or just refer to them as privates, not me. Years ago I taughter her, her leg was called a leg, her elbow was called an elbow, and her vagina was called a vagina. It was a simple parenting decision for me.
Back to the ouchie va-jay-jay...I had her lie down so I could inspect the situation, see what was really going on. You know what I determined as a card carrying member of the vagina club myself? I had no clue what the inside of a 4 year old vagina was supposed to look like. It was a weird predicament to be in. I'd diapered her for 2 years and bathed her every other day, ahem, every fourth day, and yet I had no clue what her healthy, um, inside was supposed to look like. I knew that hers, on Sunday, didn't look exactly like I thought it probably should. I know the anatomy. There are 3 holes down there, and one of hers looked a little out of sorts. And it was oozing a bit, I think discharge is the appropriate term. Still though, I wasn't sure. Maybe that's just what it looked like? I called in back up, my eldest sister. Alice was completely comfortable. Freely holding her own legs up in the air for all to inspect what's supposed to be the most private of parts. No modesty what so ever. After further inspection, it was confirmed...her vag didn't look right.
Upon further complaints Monday, I spent the better part of the evening researching all the possible causes of my poor girls pain and hoping to find research to convince me I did not need to spend Tuesday morning sitting in the germ infested pediatric office.
Tuesday morning I found myself in said office, holding my breath hoping my daugher for once would not be the kid screaming as soon as she set foot on the premises. Until Tuesday, June 12, Alice had screamed and cried every single mothafokking time she had visited the doctor. I don't just mean a little whimper. I mean, regardless of shots or no shots, she cried from the moment we walked back towards the office until we walked down the hall to leave the building. Until Tuesday, my pediatrician had never heard Alice speak a word except "Mama! Mama!" And she's been talking since 9 months old. I think they hate us there.
Anyway, the good doctor confirmed, yeast. Apparently, little kids are unhygienic filthy beings. And their dirtiness can cause bad things like pink eye and yeast infection. Maybe if Alice would heed my constant advice, "Front to back, for the love of God, FRONT TO BACK!!" she wouldn't be dealing with a funky, painful crotch, now would she!? From the words of Mother Gothel, "Mother...knows best!"
Side Note: I'm afraid to say, I think today's post is one that will come back to bite me in the ass when Alice is old enough to peruse the Internet. I'm quite confident she will not like me talking openly with everyone about her nether region, but then again, I didn't exactly like how she treated mine 4 years ago. Maybe now we'll be even. Come to think of it, 21 hours of later, 4 hours of pushing...not even close to even yet.
It started over the weekend, the complaint of an ouchie vagina. I love that my daughter uses the word vagina. I know some parents elect to name genitals silly nicknames or just refer to them as privates, not me. Years ago I taughter her, her leg was called a leg, her elbow was called an elbow, and her vagina was called a vagina. It was a simple parenting decision for me.
Back to the ouchie va-jay-jay...I had her lie down so I could inspect the situation, see what was really going on. You know what I determined as a card carrying member of the vagina club myself? I had no clue what the inside of a 4 year old vagina was supposed to look like. It was a weird predicament to be in. I'd diapered her for 2 years and bathed her every other day, ahem, every fourth day, and yet I had no clue what her healthy, um, inside was supposed to look like. I knew that hers, on Sunday, didn't look exactly like I thought it probably should. I know the anatomy. There are 3 holes down there, and one of hers looked a little out of sorts. And it was oozing a bit, I think discharge is the appropriate term. Still though, I wasn't sure. Maybe that's just what it looked like? I called in back up, my eldest sister. Alice was completely comfortable. Freely holding her own legs up in the air for all to inspect what's supposed to be the most private of parts. No modesty what so ever. After further inspection, it was confirmed...her vag didn't look right.
Upon further complaints Monday, I spent the better part of the evening researching all the possible causes of my poor girls pain and hoping to find research to convince me I did not need to spend Tuesday morning sitting in the germ infested pediatric office.
Tuesday morning I found myself in said office, holding my breath hoping my daugher for once would not be the kid screaming as soon as she set foot on the premises. Until Tuesday, June 12, Alice had screamed and cried every single mothafokking time she had visited the doctor. I don't just mean a little whimper. I mean, regardless of shots or no shots, she cried from the moment we walked back towards the office until we walked down the hall to leave the building. Until Tuesday, my pediatrician had never heard Alice speak a word except "Mama! Mama!" And she's been talking since 9 months old. I think they hate us there.
Anyway, the good doctor confirmed, yeast. Apparently, little kids are unhygienic filthy beings. And their dirtiness can cause bad things like pink eye and yeast infection. Maybe if Alice would heed my constant advice, "Front to back, for the love of God, FRONT TO BACK!!" she wouldn't be dealing with a funky, painful crotch, now would she!? From the words of Mother Gothel, "Mother...knows best!"
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