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| Girls, this is a uterus. It looks happy, but... source pinterest |
Motherhood is never going to get any easier. This week I
received two texts from two different friends. The first friend's daughter started her
period. Her period. First of all, we are not old enough to have daughters who
menstruate. Also, this friend's daughter is only eleven years old. What in the world? My second friend text to say that her daughter asked to shave her legs. Shave
her legs? Let me repeat, we are not old enough to have daughters who have periods or shave their legs. Or maybe we are. The leg shaving daughter is just four
months older that my oldest. Lord help us all.
It suddenly occurs to me that motherhood will not get any easier. I was naive to ever think it would. Just about everyone I know has casually said that motherhood just continually gets easier as the kids get older. Just wait until they can go potty by themselves (I'm still waiting on
this in some form or another), just wait until they sleep through the night
(kids do this? in this life?), just wait until they "insert whatever big
kids do that makes life easier'. The truth is, once your daughter can wipe
her own butt, it's just a matter of time before you will have to show her how
to shave her legs or how to put on a pad properly. A good friend of mine at work has a teenage daughter and she told me a hilarious and horrifying story of how she tried to show her daughter how to insert a tampon. Horrifying, if I'm to let myself think about my future in just a few short years when pads and tampons will be a discussion topic. My husband literally can't even these days with the cute boy shorts at Justice. Imagine when he realizes that those tampons are not mine. Insert nervous his breakdown here.
It's not just the fact that my daughters will one day get their periods. Its the fact that with the discussion about "becoming a woman", we also have to talk about the ramifications of being a woman. I'm not just talking about equal pay and affordable birth control. I'm talking about sex. Let's be real, if you can bleed for three to seven days, that uterus can also house a baby. Babies having babies. This shit just got real. Talking about sex is not something I'm even remotely ready for, and either is the husband. At this point, all under carriage issues and care default to me. And while I know my vagina pretty well, it's up to them to know there own. Have I mentioned that being a woman is the best thing and sometimes the worst thing?
As far as motherhood goes, you'd think we'd get a layover at some point in parenting land. Just enough time to allow us to relax,
drink a latte, take a nap, but sadly no. As cliche as it sounds, motherhood is
a marathon. The longest damn marathon of our lives, and so we do what mothers
do, we keep running for our lives. Will eventually buy pads and chocolate and chips, and talk about how being a woman is so amazing and kind of fucking awful at the same time. We teach our daughters to always carry an arsenal that includes pads, tampons, extra panties, and a sweatshirt for around the waist. We buy an
bottles of Nair or an electric razor because our eight year olds are still a
little sketchy with scissors, and good Lord there is no way we are going to hand her a razor.
Is it really the time to start discussing lessons in hair removal and hygiene.
Sadly it is, I recently bought some "natural" deodorant from Trader Joe's
because there is no way my beautiful daughter is the one who smells like a
fraternity boy at a flag football game. These are just a few of the problems that
fell mothers of daughters, and for that I consider myself lucky. My neighbor has three boys and, in casual conversation, said that her sons tell her about their morning wood.
Oh Lawd have mercy.
This must be why I don't have boys. Mothers of boys will be my own personal
heroes around puberty. Like that scene in bridesmaids where Rita talks about
all the stiff and sticky sheets. I don't think I'd have the strength for boys. The worst I will ever have to
explain is the inter workings of the vagina, and in that event I can refer them
to this blog. Yes, my darling daughters, your mother has been talking about her
vagina for years. Cue the years of therapy they will need when they realize their mother overshared their life!
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| I literally can't even with this! source pinterest |
Parenting children is hard no matter the age. How do I know this? I've already realized that I would trade early
morning fights about clothes and shoes for middle of the night diaper changes
and feedings. I didn't know that then, but damn if I don't know that now. One
day I'll look back and wish it was a simple fight about wearing too many layers
in the Fresno heat, instead of trying to leave the house dressed like Miley Cyrus on the first day of freshman year. Those days are on my horizon, and I'm not saying I'm dreading them,
but I'm a little fearful of my future mothering life.Teenage girls are a unique brand of crazy, and since I'm almost certifiable on my best days, I guess I should start praying now.
Let these words sink in dear friends. Periods. Leg shaving. Nair. Deodorant. Stiff and sticky
sheets. Morning wood. Watch out moms, these phenomenons are coming for us.
Ready or not. How will we prepare for the land of pubescent children? Wine, we are all going to need more wine, and possibly Xanax.
