Mom Said

Time for the Talk

One mom's sex-talk adventure

-Michelle Kemper Brownlow

I was dreading the day. I didn't want to do it, but I knew it was coming. I dug my heels in and tried to make it stop. It wouldn't. It was inevitable. Someone. Help. Me.

My oldest son (who just turned 11) started asking those kinds of questions ... oh, you know the ones ..."What did she mean they were ‘trying to get pregnant'?" "What are the facts of life, and why won't you tell me what they are?" There were more burning questions, but I am sure you are getting the point!

So, we had a sex-talk date! Although, that's not what I told him it was. The 'date' was simply a way for me to get him away from his siblings long enough to delve into a subject he would need quiet time to digest. He knew it was coming. My daughter's friend (my daughter will soon be 10) clued her into what a period was a couple weeks ago. So I had gotten my feet wet with this "grown-up" chatter when I gave her all the ins and outs of bleeding to death once a month. My son had walked in and she proceeded to fill him in "those things in the box that sit on the back of Mommy's toilet. They are NOT medicine! They are for ... " He gagged and went running.

So, my oldest, in his infinite wisdom, figured there was MORE to this story and although horrified by Part I, insisted he was ready for Part II. I tried to get out of it said, "Bud, listen, there is no rush for this. My only deadline for having the Part II conversation with you is that I be the one to tell you and NOT your friends." His response, "Then you'd better tell me this weekend."

Oh, God help me!

My husband was oh-so-happy to feed the other two dinner on 'date night' - he was just tickled pink that he was getting out of having to do it. My son and I giggled and chatted the whole way to Ruby Tuesday's. He is not used to having me all to himself. No sister or baby brother, no TV or iPod. I was praying he would forget all about Part II enjoying it too.

The waiter took our drink orders, strawberry lemonade in a fancy glass for him and a whole slew of shots large unsweetened iced tea for me. I have no idea what we talked about ... I was just composing THE speech in my head: "horrible diseases ... pregnancy ... not until you are married ... horns will grow out of your eyes if you do and then I will know and you will be grounded until you are married!"

I was ready. Bring it on! Please forget!

The waiter took our orders. My son leaned across the table, took my shaking, clammy hands in his and said, "So, ya gonna tell me the facts of life or what?!"

I took a deep breath and started with God. "You have heard the word 'sex,' (he nods) well, sex is something God created for married people to do to show how much they love each other. It is also something they do to make a baby." (The room started to spin ... WHERE ARE THOSE SHOTS?!) More was said, and then I moved on.

Chapter 2 of Part II: Sperm

Chapter 3: Review of periods, eggs and such.

Chapter 3: The sperm has to find the egg to make a baby.

This is where the smoke appeared. The gears in his brain were fighting this connection tooth and nail! His eyebrows formed shapes I had never seen before. And then it got gory. I gave it to him. The whole shebang. There is something wrong with saying "P - - - -" and "V- - - - -" to your 11-year-old son. I even asked him weeks prior, "When it comes time for "the talk" who would you be most comfortable with, me or Daddy?" Hands down, I won that one! So, here I was, "P - - - -" blah blah blah "V - - - - -" blah blah blah DONE!" I know both of us were wishing we were somewhere else.

Of course, RIGHT THEN, the waiter came to drop off his mini-cheeseburgers and my salad bar plate.

My son's head dangled between the palms of his hands, held up only by his elbows on the table. He looked at me with a glazed over, not-so-sure-what-to-say stare. He continued to stare. His mouth dropped open a bit and before the drool started to form in the corners of his lips he uttered six words I will giggle about for as long as I live, "I am so sorry I asked."

Seeing his need to have some time to puke under the table make sense of it all, I said, "Do you want me to go grab my salad and give you a minute?" He nodded as well as he could; the pressure of his hands on his temples may have caused a bit of brain damage.

When I got back to the table, he had changed positions although this one was quite close to the fetal position and he had moved to the corner of his side of his booth.

"You OK?" I asked, "Any questions?"

"Yeah. Is that the ONLY way to make a baby?"

"Uh, yeah, it is, bud."

He shook his head a bit, I believe trying to clear the visual he was then seeing! "Um, well, that is the GROSSEST thing I have ever heard of. I am NEVER doing that. Well, actually, I will do it ONCE but ONLY ONCE! I want at least one baby of my own that is from me and my wife but after that I am SOOOO adopting! Can we change the subject?!"

He ate NOTHING that night. We took his whole dinner home in a box. He was nauseated and horrified and has no interest in S-E-X! He now gags whenever Ruby Tuesday commercials come on TV!

Two words ...

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

Have you had the sex talk with your child(ren)?

Michelle Kemper Brownlow is a freelance writer who doesn't usually talk to children about sex. She lives in southeastern PA with her husband and three kidlets. You can read more of her ramblings at My Semblance of Sanity.