Yesterday I wasted a few brain cells trying to figure out where I stand on the issue of having "grown-up time" while "Aunt Flo is visiting."
Or, you know, playing hide the salami, churning the butter, crashing the custard truck, drilling the ditch, sweeping my chimney, makin' bacon, parallel parking WHILE driving in a red car, surfing the crimson tide, fighting the crimson crusade, hitting the 57, not praying, seducing the vampires, falling to the communists, etc.
What I'm saying is that I'm 35-years old and I really have no clue whether I love or loathe doing the naughty while I have my period. I have no frame of reference for it at all. Baldman just woke up happy and let me know it was Business Time and I lay there frozen to my pillow. I literally couldn't remember if I've ever done that before, which quickly devolved into me freaking out about not being able to remember, until it finally occurred to me:
I've had MAYBE ten periods during the last dozen years. At the most.
At first it was because I was too obese to ovulate. Then once I lost weight and started cycling again, I got pregnant with Alex right away. Then I was pregnant and/or nursing for more than five years and I've had my magic IUD ever since.
I spotted a little bit last month, but this is literally the first real period I've had in nearly six years. No wonder I have no idea what to do! I asked Joel where he stood on the issue and all he said was, "You need to get a new IUD."
Even weirder was walking into the bathroom to find my kids playing with my tampons and then having to explain to them what they were for.
"Uh..." Part of me wanted to tell them "THOSE ARE MINE. PUT THEM AWAY!" and be done with it, but I'm just not that kind of parent. I want them to know they'll always get answers from me when they have important questions, so I just went with it.
"Every month my body makes an egg and when I don't use it to make a baby, it has to come out."
I was trying to simplify it as much as I could.
"And there's some, uh, padding that also needs to come out. Of my uterus. Where my body grows babies." I pointed to my lower abdomen.
Alex's eyes got big and Genoa's got even bigger.
"It's kinda gross, though, and I don't want it to ruin my underpants so I have to use, like, a sponge to catch it."
I took one of the tampons they'd opened and ran it under the bathroom faucet so they could see it expand. They were enthralled.
"They go in your crotch?" Genoa scrunched up her nose with disgust.
"Yes, Genoa. They go in my crotch."
"I want to see one of the gross ones!" Alex begged.
I can think of a lot of ways I might potentially scar the child for life, but that will never be one of them. Genoa just wanted to know if it hurts. I'm not sure she believed me when I told her it doesn't hurt any more than peeing. But SERIOUSLY. I feel like I'm 11 years old again! It's all new to me again.
How did you tell your kids about this stuff? And more importantly, do you close for business when you're checking in to the Red Roof Inn?