I have been a parent for a decade. A decade. Double digits. I am the parent of a ten-ager.
A ten-ager is a ten-year-old that acts, moves, sighs, rolls their eyes, stomps, and wails exactly like a teenager. Yet, they are still technically three years away from all that. They don't seem to be at all consciously aware of this fact. and their parents certainly aren't ready for all that.
In only a matter of weeks, I have gone from a parent who chats about the moon and ice cream flavors and Lego building plans to a parent who chats about tampons and testicles and how to properly shave your armpits. Seriously. All three- very real- conversations in my house. Because that is what happens when you have a ten-ager. Your conversations turn a corner. They take a leap. Actually, they hurl you off a cliff into an abyss of unknown (and sometimes uncomfortable) language.
Here's how it happens.
One moment we are a family of three lackadaisically watching TV together. Because, for at least a half hour, we have found something we can all enjoy. At this point, there are only a handful of shows we can all watch. TV does not cater to a family consisting of a 40-year-old mom, a ten-ager, and a 7- year-old boy. We watch shows like Bizarre Foods America, The Goldbergs, Naked & Afraid (the 7- year-old is often kicked out of the room because he cannot stop laughing at the butt shots), Dangerous Grounds, and The Brady Bunch. That's about it. At one time these shows were safe from the aforementioned conversation cliff dives, but when you have a ten-ager, all bets are off. Because, damn it, they start to actually hear all the things their ears have been immune to for a decade.
One night, we were watching our very favorite show, The Goldbergs. Sidebar- This show is genius. I am constantly saying, "Oh my gosh! I had that!" or "Oh my gosh! I remember that!" My kids don't know it, but I actually watch the show for ideas to embarrass them when they are real teenagers. Thank you, Bevvy Goldberg, best "smother" ever.
This episode had Bevvy loving Nancy Reagan's "Just Say No to Drugs" campaign. At the very end of the show, the actual Adam Goldberg 1980-something footage showed him pretending to hold a giant joint, which he labeled, "Not drugs, a tampon." It wasn't even said aloud, it was labeled on the screen and...
Years ago, I'd gone & taught my kids to read. Damn me!
They read it. Aloud.
And then, screeching voices. "Mama! What's! A! Tampon!"
Suddenly, I became very interested in the couch cushion. To no avail. They just repeated themselves, only this time a little louder. Sometimes they think I am actually deaf.
There were only two choices by this point. Lie or jump off that cliff.
I jumped. Well, more like lolloped. And bucked. And plummeted.
There is a fine line when answering children honestly. You have to give them just enough information for their age and yet not too much information for their age. I think I am pretty good at knowing where this line is. I can't remember all of my hasty answer, but whatever I said sufficed for the most part. My answer had key words, such as "girls, puberty, necessity." There was a calm after the storm, so to say. The kids looked at me, slightly doe-eyed. They peeked at one another, and hastily turned away.
Then my daughter asked, "Mama. How do you know when someone is in the puberty? Because I think there are some kids in my class in the puberty."
To that I simply said, "You don't put an article in front of puberty." Some nights, you just have no more answers for a ten-ager.
The next time a cliff-diving conversation came my way, I was (unfortunately) no more prepared.
This time we were contently watching Bizarre Foods America. This show has a little bit of everything- geography, nutrition, and the gross-out factor. Trekking through the deep south, Andrew Scott Zimmern discovered a quaint restaurant that served "legendary"lamb testicles.
And... you know what came next.
"Mama! Testicles! What's! That!"
Now, this question is really my fault. Yes, I am the mother of a boy. And I am a teacher. You'd think that we'd have covered all the body parts and their names. But, until that very moment, I realized we'd never mastered testicles.
So, I sighed that cliff-plunging-conversation sigh and said, "Well, boys have them, but girls don't. Testicles are the things (I KNOW) on the side of your peep. (I KNOW!)"
One eyebrow cocked, my son looked at me and said, "Those things are testicles? I call 'em my brains!"
Stifling laughter, I inquired, "Why do you call them that, Bud?"
Very matter-of-factly, he replied, "Well. I can't see my real brain. And I just think these are what my real brain looks like, so I call 'em my brains."
Some day... some day... he will know the irony of his statement.
Conversations with children, especially as the years creep by, aren't always neat and simple and wrapped up with a pretty bow. But, I firmly believe we all need to take the plunge and have them. As uncomfortable as I might be (possibly even near panic attack as when my ten-ager asked me to teach her to shave her armpits... but I am not recovered enough to write about that one) you have to put your best words forward and steer your own course down that conversation plunge. Kids, even the ten-agers who think they don't, need to have sound advice and the correct information given to them. If you're lucky enough, you'll get a sprinkle of humor with those conversations. Kids gain understanding, confidence, and moral direction even, and most of all, they know we are there and we love them, no matter what question they might have.
