The Vine: July 23, 2008
I really don’t know if there is a solution to this problem, but you give good relationship advice and don’t seem too squicked by grossness, so here goes.
How do I get my boyfriend to stop blowing his nose in the shower? He likes the way the steam releases his sinuses, and I can’t really blame him for that since I tend to blow my nose IN TISSUE after a shower. He says he covers his nose with his hands completely and then rinses the snot/boogers down the drain. If this were true, however, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. It’s when I go to clean the bathroom or, worse, take a bubble bath that I have a problem.
Do you know how hard it is to scrape dried boogers off a porcelain tub? It’s a lot more difficult than you’d think. And I’ve found the boogers in various places. By the drain. On the ledge. Stuck to the wall. Blech. I’m perfectly fine with the division of labor in our house and really don’t mind cleaning the bathroom, but how do I make him understand that this is cruel and unusual punishment? I told him the next time I have to scrape a booger I’m going to put it in his food.
Soap Scum Is Fine. Boogers Are Not.
Dear Boog,
“Boyfriend, I understand that you like the way the steam cleans out your sinuses, but I have to ask you, again, to make sure that all the boogs get rinsed down the drain.It’s too hard to clean them off the tile, and it’s not real sanitary besides, so from now on, if I find a dried rocket, I’m going to have to ask you to take care of it.…I know you don’t care; I’m telling you that I care, and asking you to respect that.”
It takes two seconds to check the walls and make sure there isn’t anything untoward clinging to them; say “please,” use “I” statements, but make it clear that you don’t want to have to nag him about this, and won’t.You find dried snot in the shower, you leave him a map of the offenders and he cleans them.
He may not respond the way you’d like, in which case this is one of those times where you have to decide whether it’s more important to you to have it cleaned up or to win the battle, but even if you do have to choose between being happy or being right…you’re right.This is basic shared-shower etiquette: no hairs on the soap, don’t leave a bunch of mung in the drain, bring your own razor to the party, and if you’re slinging loogs, where they end up is on you.
Sars,
I need help, and I think you give out sound, common sense advice so I hope you have some for me.My problem is about a friend of mine who has two issues:bulimia and excessive drinking.Not a good match.Sorry this is kind of long but I think you need to know the whole story.Here’s what’s happening.
1.She has been bulimic for at least 10 years.Everyone knows it, her husband, family, and our friends, but no one talks about it.She knows that everyone knows too.
Now, I know this is her personal thing and I can’t make her stop, but it’s affecting me because every time she comes over to my house and eats, she goes immediately to the bathroom and purges and she usually leaves chunks of food on the toilet.I had a party Saturday and I had to keep an eye on her to go check the bathroom after she ate so my guests wouldn’t be subject to the mess. She got up immediately from eating and went to the bathroom. Then she later had the nerve to tell me how good the food was. I have had guests tell me in past visits they found a mess on the toilet and even in the bathroom sink.
So, I am annoyed and my husband is sick of spending money on food that gets wasted.We used to have watch parties at my house all the time but now I’ve quit inviting her over and I’m sure she is wondering why.It’s really gross, and to top it off even at my house or if we are at a bar/restaurant in a group setting when she does it, she comes back with a mess on the front of her shirt.It’s so obvious!
Do I say something?Do I bring her in my bathroom and point out the mess she made?I mean, that would be embarrassing but her problem is affecting my being able to hang out with her.
2.She’s an alcoholic, I’m not gonna lie. Her brothers call her a drunk.Again, this is common knowledge but no one will confront her.The way it’s affecting me is that since she never has any food in her belly, she gets wasted very easily.The problem is, her husband will leave her or drop her off at the bar or friend’s house, assuming that “someone” will bring her home.At my party on Saturday, her husband left!Her brothers asked her how she was getting home and she said either he would have to come back and get her or else she would “sleep here” (MY HOUSE).I never invited her to sleep over or said she could sleep over!Her brothers ended up taking her home and they were not happy about it. She was so drunk she could barely walk.
Sometimes my husband and I have taken her home from a bar because she was dropped off. Her husband doesn’t ask anyone in advance if they will take her home.He just knows someone will because someone always does.
Because of #1 and #2 above, my husband and I agreed that we do not want her at our house any longer unless her husband is with her and staying there to take her home later.But then that decision got blown by her husband leaving her unattended at our party.So really I just cannot have her over anymore.
3. We had a pool put in our backyard this year and so far this friend has dropped in unannounced and uninvited twice to “hang out” at the pool.The first time I had another friend over (who WAS invited), and she found out about it and had her husband bring her over, stopping at Wal-Mart on the way to buy a bathing suit.My friend and I were out by the pool and suddenly she and her husband walked outside (with beer in a cooler).When they showed up at the front door, my husband assumed I had called and invited her, but I didn’t.The husband then announced he was dropping her off!Oh my gosh, I was stunned at the rudeness!
We were about to wrap it up because we were going to dinner so we told them they would have to leave in about 30 minutes.It was so rude, she just showed up not knowing what our plans were and had no invitation.The second time it happened, my husband invited her brothers over to swim.The guys were out back having guy time, and I was in the house doing laundry.I had no plans to go outside.About 10 minutes after the brothers arrived, she showed up!I was like, oh what are you doing here?She responded, “Oh hanging with the guys.”I know the brothers had told her on the phone they were coming over so she decided to come over too!
I’m at my wits’ end with trying to decide how to handle this.We have a very close-knit circle of friends of which she is a part, along with her brothers. All the guys play on a softball league together so we are all together frequently, hang out every weekend at our local watering hole, et cetera.For reference, this is a 31-year-old woman.
Any ideas? I have a lot of issues with this girl and I don’t know where to begin.
Joy
Dear And Pain,
I know that dealing with a person’s addiction(s) is not easy, and that it can often feel very much like the diseases are being done to you; they just start to become the focus of every gathering, every conversation about every gathering…I get it.But I don’t get a lot of sympathy from you here, and it sounds to me like this woman is in serious trouble, not least because her husband dumps her on other people for “wife-sitting,” and because neither he nor her siblings or friends will even point out that she has boot chunks on her clothing.You seem more concerned with the “embarrassment” than with what a pathetic existence that must add up to for her.
And again, I get it.I’ve been there; many of us have.But if nobody will say anything to her about it?If nobody’s going to sack up and tell her, listen, I don’t judge you, but these behaviors are really out of control and you need to get some help?
Because that’s what you need to do.If this really is a friend of yours, you need to spend more time with her in settings where she’s not going to drink, and where she’s not going to binge/purge.Go shopping.Take a walk.See a museum.Stop centering your social time around bars and meals.
And when she does act out, you’re going to have to start calling her on it.Point out that she has vomitus on her clothing, and send her home, husband or not.Point out that she’s made a mess in the bathroom, ask her to clean it up, and send her home, husband or not.Sit her down and say, your drinking is a problem; you can’t control it.Your bulimia is a problem; you can’t control it.Kick it Intervention-style: “Your addictions are affecting me in the following ways: you’re grossing out my other guests.You’re getting so drunk that we basically have to draw lots to see who takes care of you.”
I’d love to know what in the Sam Hill her husband is thinking, because this seems like attention-seeking behavior on her part and the guy is doing exactly the wrong things in response, kind of (and if you do nothing else, give him to understand that she’s not anyone’s job but her own, and he can do as he likes but you’re not covering the service for him anymore), but if her family isn’t going to give her the business, well, that doesn’t mean you can’t.
But understand: she needs help, and that should be why you’re taking this up with her.Not because she’s embarrassing you or she’s a pain in your ass; not because you’d rather just cut her off, but you can’t, because of the social circle.Think about what it’s like to be her, even for one day.Think about how fucking wretched she is, how beyond the pale she’s acting; think about where eating disorders come from and how alcoholism might play into that.She hates herself; she’s acting this way, on some level, so that the rest of you will hate her too and she can be right about how little she thinks she’s worth.Think about what it’s like to hold yourself in exactly zero esteem.
It’s tough when someone is like this; I don’t judge you for getting fed up with how it’s affecting you.I’m just saying, remember that, as miserable as she’s making the rest of you, it’s a tiny fraction of what it’s doing to her — and it’s going to kill her.This is not about presumptuous use of the pool.If someone doesn’t get out in front of this with her, her kidneys are going to do it before you have a chance.She’s sick enough that she can’t act right.You need to operate from there.
Friends of ours are expecting a baby later this month. My four-year-old daughter is thrilled and has been playing mommy by putting baby dolls under her shirts for months.
Today when she asked “I know babies grow in mommies’ tummies but how do they get out?” I was truthful and said “our private areas” — our word for “vagina.” My daughter had no problem with this other than to ask “does it hurt?”I said sometimes but getting a beautiful baby makes all the hurt worthwhile. And that was the end of that or so I thought.
When I repeated the conversation to my mother she was livid. She told me I might as well have told my daughter there was no Santa Claus. She went on to say that kids have no filter and what if she repeats this at school or on the playground?
I still don’t feel I did anything wrong, but maybe I’m missing something here? Did I just drop the ball? Or is my mom overreacting?
Bad mom in NJ?
Dear Mom,
I think she’s overreacting.I mean, it’s accurate information.Okay, maybe not the “tummies” part, but you have to pitch it to their age and what they can reasonably understand, and “uterus” is maybe a little more nuance than a four-year-old can do, so: I think your answer was just fine.It’s correct, and it’s appropriate for your daughter’s age.
As for their not having filters…eh, so what.Ninety-eight percent of people understand that preschoolers just make announcements about whatever: Wall-E spoilers, what kind of juice they drank at lunch, “that lady SURE IS FAT, MOMMY” (my mother just cringed without knowing why) (the lady was, no joke, right next to us in line at the supermarket) (wherever you are, lady, I’m really sorry).It’s an age where they like to know things, and they like to show you they know things, but then “tact” is not on the list of things they know yet.Or “whispering,” sometimes.Times like…1976.Sigh.
Anyway.Certainly if your daughter is in a setting like school or a playground, an announcement about babies coming from private areas is probably not the most egregious thing they’ve heard that day, much less ever.If your daughter were telling playmates that there’s no Santa, that would be one thing, but this, I think you handled just right.
As far as what to say to your mom, tell her you appreciate her concern, but you told your daughter the truth — or as much of it as she needs, at her age — and you don’t think it’s going to be a problem.Then change the subject…to how much ruder this advice columnist you read was at the same age.Heh.
Tags: etiquette friendships health and beauty kids the fam
I can’t imagine what “bad mom’s” mother thinks she should have told the child. And you are totally right Sars… 4 year olds are world class blurters. Every parent knows at least one kid who has gone through a phase of loudly educating all and sundry with crucial information like “I have a PENIS because I am a boy and mommy has a VAGINA!” And that, my friend, is a treat on a 9am subway.
I was that kid who told everyone that there was no santa on the kindergarten bus. Sorry, old kindergarten friends.
When I got pregnant my 4-year old nephew shouted out “You have a baby inside you because Uncle Jerry put his sperm inside!”
And he pointed at my husband’s crotch when he shouted it.
Believe me, you did nothing wrong.
Yeah, when I was six, I explained very patiently to my friend on the school bus home that Santa Claus didn’t exist, and only Christian parents lied to their parents about that – Jewish parents like mine told their kids the truth. I got such a tongue lashing from my mother, and my friend’s mom brought him over so I could explain to him that I had lied and of course Santa Claus existed and I was just jealous because he didn’t come to visit me. I still get an upset stomach when I think about it.In my defense, I thought I was helping by telling the truth. To a five-year-old. Yuck.
Oy. I was starting to eat lunch while reading the Vine today, but the booger letter just grossed me out. That’s just nasty, and a dumpworthy offense in my opinion if it continues.
No further comment on drunk/bulimia woman — Sars nailed it.
And yeah, NJ Mom, your mom totally overreacted. You did just fine. What did she expect you to tell her? Sounds like you’ve got a smart little kid on your hands and you’re better off being honest with her. I’ve always tried to be honest with my son (you just leave out details that they can live without, as you did), who is now 11 and still asks me the “tough” questions, because he knows I’ll answer truthfully.
My niece at age 3 one day proclaimed, “Boys have peanuts and girls don’t.” Heh.
Bad Mom: I’m not really sure what your mother is going for, here. It’s not like you showed the kid a Jenna Jameson video in response to “how did the baby get there”.
jam: Actually, I’m surprised that they believed you. I know that I wouldn’t have. “Whaddya MEAN there’s NO Santa Claus? Who gives us all the TOYS then? JESUS CHRIST?”
I have a friend who answered all “But where will the baby come out?” questions with a bright, cheery “Why, in the hospital!” (But that was largely because she had pregnancy complications that were making a C-section likely, and she didn’t want to have the “when a man and a woman love each other very much, they make a baby in her tummy and then a doctor guts her like a trout” conversation.)
Seriously, as the mom of an almost-two-year-old, I think you did it just right. Simple, accurate, age-appropriate.
I had a cousin that was breastfed until he was old enough to ask for it, and he would go around pointing out every woman’s “nibbles”. Hee.
And my 2 year old godson knows what a bra does and will “point” (meaning poke) where it is.
Pretty much if they aren’t imitating your cursing, you’re lucky.
Oh, PS: I’ve got a flex head on the shower, so I just snot ’em out on the wall and hose it down. Indeed, maybe Booger’s boyfriend’s problem is that he just isn’t containing the things as well as he believes; perhaps he should, instead, just lean close to the wall and farmer-style it, then wash the whole chunk away as a piece.
My daughter asked about babies in kindergarten & just kept asking & asking & asking questions. “Mommy has an egg and Daddy has a seed” was not enough for my curious 5-year old. So I told her everything, drew pictures, etc. The next day at kindergarten, she told all the girls – her teacher saw my sweet little baby girl draw a perfect erect penis in the sand! And none of the other parents called, there was no fallout whatsoever.
It’ll be okay, Mom.
And booger boy should clean that bathroom from now on, IMHO. Every single time he showers, no exception. Ewwwwww!!!!!
I told everyone at a party once that my mom was “spayed and neutered” when I was five. What I meant is that she got her tubes tied, but I didn’t know the words. I have never lived it down.
How is the truth about the life cycle, in totally non-gory, appropriately termed detail the same as telling a little kid about Santa Claus?
I mean…while Santa Claus is OF COURSE TOTALLY REAL, telling other kids that he’s not can hurt their feelings. How do feelings get hurt talking about how babies are born? Either they know, or they don’t, and if they don’t, it’s interesting, truthful information, not the dashing of their hopes and dreams for Christmases Yet To Come.
Incidentally, my parents took me to Zipperhead in Philly when I was not quite two, and I took one look at the (pierced, mohawked, pink-haired) clerk behind the register and said, “Look Mommy! Silly clown!” My parents almost had strokes, but the dude was awesomely cool about it, apparently. And then gave me a balloon with the Misfits logo on it.
I also told my ballet classmates that there was no Santa. My parents never pretended Santa was real when I was little, but they then reversed course and went to great lengths to fake it for my three younger siblings after the dance class incident.
I found out how babies are born from one of the natural childbirth books my mom had when she was pregnant with my sister, who was born when I was five. I could read pretty well when I was four, and the book was really well illustrated. And yes, I shared that info with any kid who would listen. I was a little unclear on the details of how the baby got in there for a few more years since the book didn’t cover that part. I guess they figured if you were reading the book, you already knew.
I’m the oldest of four and I was two and a half when my brother was born. When Mom told me the baby “was coming” I asked where the baby was now? She said “In my tummy.” She thought I was cool with that but apparently I was just mulling the concept over. And, like Sars, I chose the crowded supermarket line to shout at the top of my toddler lungs “But Mommy! Why’d you eat the baby??”
From that day on, my mother said, she decided we were going to learn the word “uterus” regardless of how old we were. She wasn’t going through THAT again.
Good Mom in NJ, you made the right choice.
Perhaps ‘bad mom’ has a mother who’s more a fan of the ‘found under a cabbage leaf’ or ‘left by the stork’ school of thought when it comes to explaining where babies come from. Guess she thinks people should still think and act that way. ‘Bad mom’ handled the situation fine. She gave her kid information that answered the immediate question, in language that the child could understand. And yep, she will undoubtedly blurt out her newfound knowledge at the worst possible time. That goes with the territory when you have a preschooler.
I have a 4-year-old, and I think what Mom in NJ told her daughter was exactly the right thing: She told her the truth, without using goofy metaphors, and used terms that she could understand. Therefore: so what if she shares that information with her pals at school? Half of them already know it too. Mine doesn’t yet, but if she came home from school and said that another kid told her that babies come out of our tummies through our private parts, I would just tell her that she was right.
Also, excellent response to “Joy”–my first reaction was that this friend is a royal pain and needs to be cut off, but after reading your response, I realized that you are absolutely right. This friend is in serious trouble, and if no one says anything or tries to help in any way, they may end up really, really regretting it in the near future.
So…what WOULD your mother have told your daughter, Bad Mom? The stork brings them?
My friend’s son and his cousin once sat around loudly naming all the people they know who have a penis. It’s that age. *shrug*
I told my montessori school how babies were made in vivid detail when I was four. Fallopian tube and placenta level detail. Nobody from my class is a serial killer as a result to the best of my knowledge.
The time my little cousin told my aunt, “You and daddy shouldn’t touch my privates anymore!” in a large echo-y marble bank lobby after a special talk on bad touches at school was more traumatic. If they didn’t change banks, they did change branches.
Re: the boyfriend with the boogers: I also blow my nose in the shower (yes, I just admitted that on the internet) but I blow it into my hands, just as I would if I was not in the shower and had a tissue in them. Then I rinse and wash my hands. All gone, no more boogers. Problem solved!
I think it’s perfectly acceptable to say what “Bad Mom” (and you’re definitely not a bad mom) said to a four-year-old, as long as he/she can understand it, but there’s also nothing wrong with clarifying that it’s not really something you need to talk about in public. It’s true that four-year-olds don’t always have filters, but they also can grasp what’s an appropriate topic of conversation and what’s not.
Oh boy. While our teacher was reading us a fairly-long-for-our-age chapter book I told everybody the ending. In class. I mean I interrupted the teacher so I could tell the ending. The teacher was actually pretty cool about it, but even at that age the rest of the kids wanted to kill me.
Hey Shower Boogers: a trade may help. Surely there’s something you do that you feel is trivial but really bothers Boyfriend. Offer to actually stop doing it, if he’ll rinse the tub better. Trust me. Six months after the vows and yet another stupid argument, Husband and I made an agreement: I put the teabags in the canister the way he likes; he puts the silverware in the drawer the way I like. The marriage has rocked for eleven years. Also, to Joy: when your friend’s husband drops her off, ask him for the taxi fare to get her home. It doesn’t solve the problem, but if all of you do this, maybe a hint will start to penetrate his bone head.
When I was 5 I was riding the subway in Boston with my mom and asked in that piercing voice only toddlers have “But Mom, how does the sperm get OUT of the penis?”.
You did just fine.
Hee. That made me remember when I was three, and we were in church. A lady went up to the front for something, and I announced to the ENTIRE CONGREGATION, “Mommy, she’s a fat lady!”
Gotta love kids, man.
(Sorry, church lady.)
@Annie: I got a similar book so my parents could prepare me for Mr. S. The illustrations were, like, photos of paper figurines…it’s hard to explain. In any case, the actual making of the baby was glossed in one page, which was appropriate given that I was five, but the reproductive-systems explanations were QUITE detailed. Little paper veins and everything.
Mr. S himself waited until I had a few friends over to enlighten me as to the correct terminology for my special place: “Sar, it’s a BUH-GINA.” Thanks, Professor.
I will let you guess which one of us solemnly informed our grandmother that sometimes his/her poo had peanuts in it.
“Bad Mom,” I can’t see anything wrong with how you handled your daughter’s question. She sounds like she’s fine with it, and she’s the one who counts. As pretty much everybody here has already said, kids are going to say whatever comes to mind anyway, so at least she’s got the right info!
I recall kids on the playground blurting out, “You came out of your mother’s stomach!!” After I’d chuckle, I’d think, “Yeah, were’d you come from, asswipe?”
Aww, Not-Bad Mom, you’re awesome. You did great.
When I was a kid, my mom was determined never to discuss these things with me, ever. She did, however, give me stacks of books on the subject, which I loved, bookworm that I was. One day, after re-reading the one that was my favorite for the umpteenth time (which, by the way did indeed go into terrific detail about fetal development, but discussed neither delivery nor intercourse), I posed the same question to my mom that your daughter did. She answered by pointing. I must’ve sensed her discomfort; I didn’t press the subject, because to my wholly uninformed childhood self, I couldn’t imagine how such a thing could actually work. I mean, the logistics are crazy! Infants are way bigger than any opening I know of! But I took her word (or gesture) for it, and trusted that.
Your kid will, too.
Mom in NJ did fine. I have a five- and a two-year-old, BOTH of whom are fond of informing visitors (and people at church, and grandparents, and strangers passing by in the store) that they have “peenuses”. I whispered one day in Publix that I needed to go to the bathroom, and my two-year-old giggled and said “Mommy’s PEENUS hurts!” HELLO, checkout lady.
That one anatomical term is the only big biological one they use, because my husband and I saw no sense in teaching them the correct terms for “elbow” and “ear” and then instructing them to say “Mister Winky” for that one body part. My mom taught my sister and me to call our ladybits “cookies”, and our butts were “streakers”–which made preschool snacktimes quite amusing. “Who wants a cookie?” “EWW. Mine’s in my pants.”
As a grown up I take after my mom in that I have really large breasts, so perhaps fate will someday do to me what I did to her.
I was six and went with my parents to see Who Framed Roger Rabbit. When Jessica Rabbit entered to sing her song I shouted out, “Wow mom! Her boobs are even bigger than yours!”
Oh Sars! Hee! And here I thought my family was the only one with a peanuts story.
Oh my goodness, Sars, I had that same book with the paper figurines. Later on, my mom got another picture book that was much more generous with the “how the baby was made” explanations…including silly illustrations of happy, smiling sperm on their merry little way. But it left no questions about the process unanswered for the picture-book set.
My boyfriend is also a shower booger blower. We went round and round on the issue and it NEVER got fixed. He still kept doing it, and I still kept gagging. The only way we were able to solve it was by buying a house with his and hers bathrooms.
Oh god, my family was the uber-Christian family on the block who didn’t do the Santa thing. I recall my little brother getting in a heated argument with the next door neighbor girl, who was tearfully defending the existence of Santa Claus while my brother very firmly insisted there was no such thing. This argument resulted in the girl’s mother coming over to yell at my mom. I also remember Nicole in third grade who insisted she’d seen Santa with her own eyes and I was like, “whatever – you crazy!”
When I was about 4, one of my dad’s friends came over for dinner. I had heard my parents discussing his ongoing divorce, so during dinner I piped up with, in as condescending a voice as a 4-year-old can manage, “Poor Dirk, he’s GETTING A DIVORCE!” I’m sure I said other things that mortified my parents, but that’s the only one I remember well enough to be embarrassed myself.
I have been laughing so much that the kitten jumped off my lap after it segued into a coughing fit. When I was six, our family was on a cross country RV trip (Hi, old Winnebego!) and had stopped at Yellowstone. It was thoroughly and exhaustively explained that absolutely no food could be left out or discarded due to bears, but as we were standing in line, a young woman ahead of us finished eating an apple and casually dropped the core on the ground.
WELL! I marched straight over, snatched it up, and in a shriek more indignant than Carry Nation’s, pronounced “WE DON’T THROW FOOD ON THE GROUND!”
My parents were so embarrassed they nearly spontaneously combusted, but none of us were torn apart by bears, so there.
And I highly recommend the book “Where Did I Come From? ” for kids once they reach reading age (7-8 years, usually.) It’s very thorough, age appropriate, and actually covers the fact of sexual intercourse in a way that makes it sound non scary but something grownups may like, like martinis and the watching the news, but that kids dismiss as “boring adult stuff.” Go, non-bad mom!
When I was in kindergarten, I remember quite proudly announcing to the class during arts and crafts, “I came out of my mom’s vagina!” We were making something for Easter, and the subject of chicks and eggs came up. The teacher reprimanded me, and I still cringe a little when I think about it.
My own kids-have-no-filters story: when my parents brought my baby brother home from the hospital, my mom’s aunt asked me how I liked my new brother. Two and a half year old me: “He’s nice, but he’s not staying.” My dad still laughs when he remembers the horrified face my aunt pulled.
I wonder if NJ Mom’s mom was concerned about how politically correct things have become even for little kids? Pre-schoolers are getting suspended now for kissing other kids. Maybe the grandmother is just concerned that if her little granddaughter goes to school and starts talking about (and maybe even showing by way of explanation) her private areas that there would be some trouble? Only reason that I can think she for concern… but all that excessive politically correctness is crap if you ask me. NJ Mom did a great job of answering her daughter’s question.
I found out how babies are made following an incident in which a friend of mine explained how she was conceived, but she seemed to think it was a hilarious accident, kind of like “One time, my dad put his elbow in my mom’s armpit.” So if I’m recalling correctly, I retold this hilarious incident to my parents, and they took that opportunity to explain that no, this was how it was supposed to work, and it worked that way for everyone.
But don’t go by me; my parents taught sex ed.
@JenV: I am barking with laughter over here. That may have to go in the Official TN Rando Lexicon with “HM/WB.”
Talking about this subject, it’s clear to me now that the big yaps of the under-six set is how my grandmother got the bulk of her information. There was an edict handed down at some point re: our not letting on to Grandma about the living arrangements of my uncle and his then-girlfriend, V — the idea being that she wouldn’t be pleased that they were cohabiting sans marriage.
Naturally, a Bunting preschooler marched riiiight up to her and wanted to know what “living in sand” meant.
“Why do you want to know, Cousin Who Isn’t Sarah?” (…Seriously, it wasn’t. For once.) “I’m not supposed to tell you, it’s a secret.”
Not anymore it ain’t.
Let us not forget either the “in my house, we say ‘GODDAMMIT'” story, which was quoted to me as recently as last week: https://tomatonation.com/?p=455 My mother now claims she was mostly relieved that that’s *all* I said.
So… does BoogerBoy’s head just… explode in the shower or what? How hard is it to contain the snots in the hand and steer them down the drain? The mind boggles.
My own kidlet is just about to be two, so I’m dealing with the random cursing instead of the blurting. Can’t wait, though.
@Jen M. – when my parents brought my little brother home, I said “Take him back and get me a puppy!” Five years later, they got HIM a dog. I am still angry, even though we’re 8 or 9 dogs away from that now. Hrmph.
Oh my lord. The comments on this one are so worth it.
When I was about 7 my mom dragged me inside after hearing me scream at the neighbor “You’re just mad because your girlfriend won’t give you the blowjob!”. I had NO IDEA what it meant, I had just heard older kids talking about it and probably wanted to sound more worldly. Around the same time I called my dad a “dildo” and was asked where I had learned these words. Needless to say, I wasn’t allowed as much freedom to hang around with the older kids in the neighborhood.
This thread is a riot.
My aunt was a toddler in the late 1940s, at a point when Seattle was racially a fairly self-segregated city. She was riding the bus with her mother, and upon seeing an African-American passenger for the first time, shouted in awe, “Mama, look at the CHOCOLATE LADY!”
For what it’s worth, she’s been a devoted Obama campaign volunteer this year. :)
I’d like to add to the friend of the bulimic/alcoholic: An illness DOES NOT GIVE HER THE RIGHT TO TREAT PEOPLE LIKE SHIT. If you do manage to talk to her, and she doesn’t respond well, then seriously. Cut her off, Intervention-threat style. Putting up with that shit is crazy.
I grew up in a very small town in Ontario (read: very white town in Ontario). My parents were both from Toronto, and I can remember visiting one of my aunts in Scarborough when I was about three. We took a trip to the grocery store, and as we were standing in line, I announced to my aunt and the entire store, “THERE SURE ARE A LOT OF BROWN PEOPLE HERE, AUNT LAURA!”
Can someone explain the HM/WB thing? I’ve seen it pop up in a few comment threads, and even though I’ve been a casual reader for a few years, I’m lost.
When my little brother was about two, we were in an art museum, quietly walking around, when we came around a corner into a room in which there was a sculpture of a nude female torso. He immediately stood up in his stroller, pointed joyfully, and shouted (echoing through the near-silent crowd): “MOMMY!!!” She started wearing bathrobes after that.
My little niece and nephew are the current font of inappropriate penis-and-vagina announcements in my life. I love it. Kids are the funniest things ever.
As for the bulimic/alcoholic friend, I have to say that that is very good advice. I’m a little bit horrified, to be honest, that she is married, has family in town, and is part of a “very close-knit circle of friends”, and yet not one single person in her life has seen fit to pull her aside and tell her she has PUKE ON HER SHIRT?
@Sars: Your grandma story reminds me of when we told my grandparents that my brother was moving to NC to be with his girlfriend (now wife). We neglected to mention that they were living *together.*
Grandpa: Oh, are their apartments nearby each other?
Grandma: I’m sure.
You couldn’t fool Grandma, but Grandpa was often cutely naive.
Robert Roy MacGregor: Did you boys know there’s going to be a new addition to the family?
Duncan MacGregor: Is it inside you?
Mary MacGregor: Yes.
Duncan MacGregor: How does it get out?
Robert Roy MacGregor: Same road it got in.
Hee. The ads at the top are for scrubbing bubbles & a link to a website for parents with nose-picking children.
Awesome.