From the mouths of the babes…

Somehow I’ve known all along that kids don’t stay kids for long (I know I’m a genius), but I didn’t expect to get ‘educated’ about various sexual subjects by a twelve-year-old boy.  More importantly… my twelve-year-old boy.  When this school year started, so did the questions, comments and many many talks about girls.  And recently he started to offer his version of what sex is, how and why it’s done.

Don’t get me wrong, I am very happy that he is talking about it at all and especially with me, however he seems to be not only extremely opinionated but also very confident in his understanding of sexual activities…  Today he announced that he understands why boys are always supposed to do nice things for girls, but you never see girls doing anything nice for the boys.  When I asked why that is he whispered: “Girls do nice things for the boys in the bedroom, Mom!”

Not only did I throw up in my mouth a little upon hearing this, I also decided that as much as I wanted to know where, how and who told him that, I probably should end the conversation instead…  Unfortunately for me, my son was not about to let it go as he continued to inform me that he is about to be a man (with his impending Bar Mitzvah coming up), and therefore has the right to talk about sex!  God help me.  So, I went ahead against my better judgement and asked where he heard that, to which he immediately replied: “My friend Michael!  He knows everything Mom”.

Oh well, when you got a friend like Michael… who needs proper sex education?

Hooters, children and me being the greatest parent that ever lived…

Yesterday was the last day of my children’s freedom, and incidentally the last day of my imprisonment.  As I counted down the dwindling hours of winter break, I was also counting down the hours till my head was going to stop throbbing and my voice would sound human again (oppose to a hissing, barking, and squealing-female version of a prison guard type of a voice).

So, I decided to reward my boys with a lunch at Red Robin (mainly because I had a coupon) to celebrate their last day of vacation!  Even though they didn’t seem to appreciate my goodwill and sarcasm about the whole thing, they still agreed to go.  What a tough life!  Poor little children being taken out to lunch after having endured two weeks of fancy shmancy activities, trips, restaurants and who could forget not one but eight nights of Hanukkah.  Next year, I already told them that they will be taking a little trip to Skid Row for the holidays; and later I will re-wrap their already played and forgotten toys for Hanukkah.

After being seated along with the many other Moms who had the same exact idea, I tried making conversation in between Atari’s Breakout and NimbleBit’s Tiny Tower; yes they are over Angry Birds and Plants vs. Zombies or whatever the hell their names are.  Let me tell you, it requires some serious mad skills to be able to carry on a conversation with your Mother while building a whole condominium at the same time, and don’t get me started on those pesty little people walking around needing something every ten minutes, the alarm on Tiny Tower is the most annoying thing I’ve ever heard in my life, right next to a child crying and whining at the table next to me while I’m trying to enjoy an ‘Adults Only’ dinner.  Why is it that its perfectly alright for the child to throw a fit in a public place, but it is NOT alright for me to come over to it and smack it on the head?  My theory is if the child’s parent isn’t going to do anything about it, that clearly means they want other adults to do something about their annoying child’s behavior.  You with me on this?  Good, moving on.  Oh wait, one more thing before moving on…  As my Father likes to say quite often, “When I was a little boy in Lithuania (FYI, we lived in Latvia, but that’s not the point) if a child ever talked or cried in public, any adult was allowed to come up and shut that bastard up!  End of story.”  Alright, so I added the last part from myself but you get the point here.

Somehow I managed to get my kids’ little eyes away from their iPods long enough to have a five-minute dialogue about our adventures in Florida back in the day.  Specifically, my oldest wanted to know why I took him to a ‘HOOTERS’ restaurant in Orlando one day.  His words: “Mom, I just don’t understand.  I was only like 7 or 8 at the time!  Why would you think it was appropriate for me to see girls in very short shorts and boobs everywhere serving me food?  If I wanted to see that, I’d stay at home and look at you.”  First of all let’s get something straight, I’ve never in my whole life worn short shorts or shorts of any kind.  My idea of shorts are pants that come up to my calf, I believe they are called ‘Mom shorts’ a.k.a. Capris.  Second of all, I have never until that day been to a Hooters restaurant, nor have I heard much about it.  Sure I’ve heard the name, but didn’t know what it was about.  Believe me, as soon as we walked in I realized it was not your typical place to eat.  Maybe we stayed because I was curious, and maybe it was because we were both starving and the other closest restaurant was not close by.  After explaining such to my twelve-year-old, he seemed pretty satisfied with the answer and immediately after went back to destroying aliens, or building a house for them, not quite sure which one.  After a minute, he looked up and added this interesting fact: “It’s OK Mom, I am not mad at you.  Turns out most of my friends have been to Hooters with their Dads anyway, so it wasn’t just me that was put through that torture.  And to tell the truth, I like girls now so its OK.  Let me know if you’d like to go there again.”  Oh thanks son, make me feel like the worst parent ever, then reward me with that little announcement…

My six-year-old caught wind of ‘boob talk’ and decided to chime in, specifically wanting to know where there’s such a place with girls in short shorts and boobs everywhere, and more importantly why I’ve never taken HIM there?  Oye, how can one brother be so different from the other?  One is all about the rules and structure, and the other only wants to have a good time.  Boy I sure hope the older one doesn’t find out about my new tattoos, there is a lecture I’d like to avoid.  Last time it only lasted a week, who knows how long this one will take…  I plan on keeping a shirt on whenever taking him to the pool, beach and anywhere else that requires a swimsuit.  Stay tuned for that conversation, I am planning on recording it…

 

A man’s equipment…

It has been years since I’ve watched old episodes of ‘Seinfeld’. I usually come across it, watch for a few minutes then move on.  Today’s show, however made me pause and think.  It was the one where Elaine tries to change a homosexual man into a heterosexual unsuccessfully.  The following conversation between her and Jerry Seinfeld is what got me thinking: “Here’s the thing.  Being a woman, I only have access to the ‘equipment’ what 30, 45 minutes a week.  And that’s on a good week!  How can I be expected to have the same expertise as people who own this equipment, and have access to it 24-hours a day; their entire lives!”  To which Jerry replies: “You can’t.  That’s why they lose very few players…”

If you think about it, that is very true.  How can any woman compete with a man’s vast knowledge of his own “equipment”, and please him in the same way?  Women like foreplay.  Women like to take their time and take it slow.  Women need to be “warmed up”.  A man can accomplish the goal in a matter of seconds, minutes if we are lucky.  Men don’t need foreplay, or to be warmed up.  They are always warmed up and ready to go.  I can only imagine what goes on when men are left alone without any supervision!  On second thought, maybe I don’t want to imagine that…

It seems to me that it would only be natural for a man to be with a man, doesn’t it?  Follow this logic:  Only a man knows exactly how to please another man, right?  A woman knows nothing about what feels good for man.  A man knows what feels good for him.  So according to this theory every man should be homosexual, just like every woman should be also.  This could be just another absurd theory of mine, but somehow it makes a lot of sense.  What do you think?

Boys and their animal instincts

What is it about children that makes them want to jump all over people, me in particular?  I am sitting on the couch, minding my own business when out of nowhere my six-year-old son decides to pounce on me.  Not only pounce like a cheetah, or a lion or pick your own animal but start climbing all over me.  Why?  Is it a boy thing or do girls do the same thing?

Is this where boys start, with their Mothers and then it continues into adulthood with them pouncing on every living and breathing female they see?  If it’s a purely a subconscious male behavior that starts out in their very early years, I guess I understand it.  Sort of.  But do they have to be so physical and rough?  If I didn’t move fast enough, I am pretty sure I’d have a bloody nose right about now.  And when I try to reason with him about being gentle with girls and ladies of all ages, he tells me he can’t help it because he loves me so much he just can’t control his body.  Crap, it’s starting early.

Can you imagine a man leaping at some woman in a bar, his only explanation that he is so enamored with her that he can’t help but give into his animalistic instincts?  I can imagine it going extremely well…

On the other hand, my eleven-year-old never behaved that way.  He did and still to this day loves to cuddle up next to me on the couch watching a movie.  Yes, sometimes he forgets that he weighs about ninety bounds and is made of pure bones and muscle.  There isn’t a single ounce of fat on that kid, and considering I don’t weigh that much more than him at about five feet nothing, it certainly hurts when he lies down on me.  I cringe with pain, but pretend it doesn’t hurt only to keep him next to me because I know he is turning twelve in a couple of months, and am certain his desire to lay next to his Mother will end the same exact day!  At least he doesn’t use me as his own personal jungle gym like his brother…  I am hoping his instincts, and everything I’ve drilled into him for the past six years will keep him from climbing over some pretty girl at school.  I can only imagine his reasons for doing it: “But my Mom let’s me doing to her ALL the time, and she doesn’t complain!”