Coincidence

So, I saw The Vagina Monologues on Saturday with the monologue about different names for the vagina.

And on Sunday, apparently, during OWL class, the kids talked about different names for breasts, vagina, and penis.  And all the kids in class decided that was GROSS.  But at least they learned the appropriate names and also the ones they should never use.  Apparently, they came up with all the ones I could think of, and many more.

Can't decide if that scares or impresses me.

Not Harry Potter's OWL

Our kids began OWL classes.

No, much to their disappointment, this was not Hogwarts's Ordinary Wizarding Levels.  Instead, it was the Unitarian Universalist Association's Our Whole Lives curriculum on sexuality, identity, and health for elementary school kids, including tools on coping with the expression of these in popular culture.  (It's not the mysterious film we watched in segregated groups in 5th grade that was nothing more than a Kotex ad.)  Mama and I were thrilled this was a topic that the UUA addressed and knew the kids would be taking it before they were even born.  Our first congregation hadn't offered it in years, just one of the reasons we switched.

And so Sunday morning, before church, found them sitting in the OWL class.

No, I don't know how it went.  "What happens in OWL, stays in OWL."  They can tell me what they learned but not what other kids asked.  The two teachers--especially trained by the UUA, a man and a woman--had given us parents a detailed handout about the different sessions (on such topics as puberty, sexual orientation, "lovemaking," health and safety, decision-making), complete with vocabulary list so we all used the proper terms.

Of course, hearing that many of their peers and classmates hadn't discussed sex or the like with their folks (and these are UUs!  I expected it of my Catholic friends, who have begged me to tell my kids not to say a word to theirs, to preserve their "innocence."), we wondered if we had said too much too soon.  Being a non-traditional family that created their children in a less-than-natural way, however, the topic arose pretty early.  They asked; we told. In fact, they both read the main book of the course, It's Perfectly Normal, last year.  (I highly recommend it; that, and the American Girl one, The Care and Keeping of You 1 & 2.)    Now, as fully informed as any fourth graders, they just roll their eyes at me when the topic arises.

Most of the time.

"Mom," Sis asked on Friday, "why do all the songs on the radio talk about sex?"

Um . . . because it's geared to (and often performed by) hormonal teenagers who are exploring their bodies, identities, and relationships and/or adults nostalgic for (or stuck in) that phase??  Sis thought the song "Animals" must be about fluffy bunnies or something--not people smelling and preying upon and "eating" (I kid you not) each other--because she couldn't understand the lyrics.*

OWL came just in time.

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*excerpt from "Animals" by Maroon V

Baby, I'm preying on you tonight
Hunt you down eat you alive
Just like animals, animals, like animals-mals

Maybe you think that you can hide
I can smell your scent from miles
Just like animals, animals, like animals-mals

Sex, VD, and Porn*

Or, the topics of three conversations I've had with the kids in three days!

That's the blessing and curse of being an ask-me-anything parent.

First it was the mating penguins at the aquarium.  Then it was a t-shirt in Boston that said, "I got crabs in Boston."  Finally, it was an unfortunate internet search.

At least, since we've been having such conversations for years (and here and here and see "THE TALK" below), so a.)  I almost never blink anymore before launching into the information, managing (almost) to keep it age-appropriate and not talk too much, and b.) they don't flinch at hearing whatever and soon grow rather disinterested.

Besides, we've realized that whatever they ask, it's just better to answer--they'll find out one way or another and we'd rather give them correct information and our family values upfront.

Which included, this time, always wear protection!

(*Can you imagine the hits I'm going to get with that title?!?)

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THE TALK

I can't believe I never blogged this--maybe because it happened the day before we left for Disney World last year.  I did put it on FB though, and here's what I said:

OMG, I just had THE talk with the kiddos, over lunch, completely inadvertently (you know how I talk and get on tangents--but they asked directly and there was nowhere to go but through it!). I'm not sure I can look at fries and onion rings the same again--and I didn't even use them as props. (No worries, classmates' parents, I told them not to share their new knowledge. And they're pretty good about that.) Though, in truth, I'd rather have this talk than the Santa Claus one.

Continued in comments . . . .

 I guess time will tell how it went. It's promising, though, for now: Bud said "ewh!" Otherwise, I did probably talk too much, as I often do--just after the talk, when they asked about the athlete Pistorius on tv, I ended up talking about apartheid and violence in South Africa! But how it started: we were talking about our "mom" calendar and how it excluded 2-dad families, then we moved on to birth dads, and thus birth. And they asked directly how women get pregnant, both in our case (easy--doctor's office!) and usually. So I launched into the explanation--sex, egg, semen, sperm, vagina, penis. They very pointedly wanted to know how the sperm got to the egg (previously, when discussing this, we'd mentioned "ingredients" coming together generally to make a baby--like cooking! Easier. But kinda silly.) I also made some references to safe touches (via the program at school), safe sex and disease, menstruation (they do have 2 moms, after all), and even pleasure--but only for loving and consenting ADULTS!  I told them we'd be talking about this again and again as they got older as it was important, that they could ask us or their uncle anything, and had a right to privacy and to talk about it alone without their twin around. They had no more questions and ran off to play "Phantom of the Opera." Whew. Truthfully, it was easier than talking about cancer or Newtown.

 

Gleefully I Roll Along

As usual, I'm coming late to a trend: I watched my first episode of "Glee" a few weeks ago. And I love it! I'm simultaneously watching the beginning of the first season and the current new episodes, more for the music than the plot. Though, in its almost surreal wackiness (the musical numbers, of course) and humor it reminds me of "Northern Exposure," which I liked a lot too.

Last night's "Sexy" episode particularly caught my attention for its deft handling of sex. Straddling (tee hee) between the over-the-top (and in relationship to high school students) over-the-hill sexuality of Gwyneth Paltrow and the geeky, daresay (and they did) frigid Chastity Club, the episode delivered both some important PSAs on STDs (To paraphrase, "When you sleep with someone, you sleep with everyone they've slept with. And everyone has a random.") and illegality of sex tapes of minors, and two very touching scenes, both involving same-sex love, but really so much more than that. The most talked about sex-talk scene was between gay crooner Kurt and his supportive dad, who told him:

You’ve got to know that it means something. It’s doing something to you, to your heart, to your self-esteem, even though it feels like you’re just having fun…. When you’re ready, I want you to be able to do everything, but when you’re ready, I want you to use it as a way to connect to another person. Don’t throw yourself around like you don’t matter. Because you matter, Kurt.

I have a few years to memorize that because I think it's perfect. Which is why this Glee episode was so powerful: amid all the usual songs and humor were these real jewels. Sure, both ends of the sex spectrum were exaggerated, with the "do-it" end receiving more attention and less ridicule, but any student--gay or straight or questioning--and their parents, could find something in it. And since most Gleeks will watch it over and over again, the message will hopefully sink in.

Okay, back to the other scene, between Santana and Brittany, who are exploring each other and themselves. Santana realizes why she's angry and bitchy all the time. It's because she's scared to realize her feelings for another woman and even more scared of the labels. "I can't go to an Indigo Girls concert. I just can't." (I love that the IG are still a current pop culture reference some 20 odd years on.) And Brittany turns her down--she loves her, but she loves her boyfriend, too. If you've ever had your heart broken, as all teenagers have . . . . Mama would say straight girls will break your heart every time (I did. But I fixed it. Maybe Brittany will come around, too.)

All this musical watching (and I caught both High School Musical 1 and 2, neither of which have the depth of "Glee," but have talented casts and peppy songs. Yes, I like pop.) had me remembering the high school musical of my own era (the genre seems to have a long pedigree. Think West Side Story)--the movie version of Grease (I saw the stage show as a young girl and remember being asked after by an older woman if I'd learned any new words, since it was quite graphic. I lied and said yes. My mom thanked me later!). Talk about a completely different show. I was listening to it, gulp, with the kids, as I realized the lyrics of the songs I was singing out loud--"you are supreme, the chicks'll cream"--mercy. How did I not notice that for 30 years? Sure, it's got the sex continuum from Sandra Dee to the T-Birds, and even an unwanted pregnancy, just like on "Glee", but I won't be quoting it to the kids as advice.

We'll just dance around the living room to it. And all the other high school musicals . . . .