Do you and dad have sex? I made her repeat this one because I just couldn’t believe that she thought there was a chance that we don’t. I mean she’s read enough YA books and has had sex education classes, I just assumed she understood that people actually do have sex.
Then I saw her reaction when I told her yes. The horror and disgust. Remember that? When you realized your parents were actually doing it. The poor thing.
Then she followed it up with:
How often do you and dad have sex? Oh boy. And you know what? I remember asking my mother this exact question when I was about her age. I also remember my mother showing no sign of discomfort or embarrassment as she answered me. So I tried to do that for my girl. Because my mother answered my preteen sex questions directly and without shame I was able to come to her for advice throughout my teens and 20′s. I want my girls to be able to do that, too.
So I told her twice a week, which may or may not be the truth, and she was once again horrified. “That’s A LOT!” Yeah, get back to me when you have your first real boyfriend and are having sex twice a day, kid. But of course I said nothing of the sort. I just shrugged my shoulders and hoped she’s let it go. Thankfully, she did.
What the hell is she going to ask next? Probably something I’ll be forced to answer with, “That’s none of your business.”
We took the train down to Portland last weekend. Big Daddy was running a game (Dungeons & Dragons, in case you don’t remember he’s a Dungeon Master) on Saturday. The girls and I thought we would tag along and make a weekend out of it.
We have been to Portland a few times, but only for a couple of hours on our way to San Diego or on the way back home. This was the first time we had a couple days to explore.
The train is so relaxing! About a million times better than driving. Particularly when your husband and children are sitting together and you’re alone in a seat behind them. Four uninterrupted hours of reading and drinking wine. And looking at this view:
I don’t know about your kids, but the best part about going anywhere and staying in a hotel for my kids is the hotel pool. We were staying at a Residence Inn in Portland, Oregon so of course the pool was a) small and b) indoors. My girls don’t care. They’d swim in a bathtub in a closet. It’s a pool, people. They’re going in.
Not pictured: the gigantic jackass who thought it was cool to do cannonballs into this tiny pool and splash water inches from where I sat with my laptop. No, I wasn’t sitting poolside. I was at a table as far from the pool as possible, however this space where the pool was located was about as big as my garage. I gave him the stink eye and he stopped his juvenile shenanigans and apologized. Lest you think I stink-eyed a child, this was a grown ass man. Of substantial size!! (still not over it).
Once I dragged them out of the pool we did a little exploring of Portland. First we hit up a thrift store we had heard about from our good friends, The Red Light Clothing Exchange.
Where Zeta found this rad jacket with spikes on it. She also got some leggings, Jemima got nail polish, Nita and I got shirts and I picked up a couple of shirts for Big Daddy.
If you enjoy a good book at all you must go to Powell’sBooks when you are visiting Portland. It’s awesome.
Zeta found this book and asked me if I wrote it. The smart ass. I could have written it of course. But 7 methods? Amateur.
We all chose a couple of books and spent a good long while exploring the store – it’s huge! – and then we had hot cocoa and cookies in the cafe. Well, the girls did. I had water. I would have preferred a martini but what are you going to do?
Big Daddy and I took the girls to play mini golf Saturday night. And not just your average mini golf either. Oh no, we took them to play underground, glow-in-the-dark mini golf! Because we are awesome like that.
I realize you can’t see a fucking thing – but you get the idea, right?
The next day there was more swimming, more books to be bought at Powell’s, beer, food, ice cream, and exploring the city.
It was a lovely train ride back to Seattle for all of us. Seriously, Amtrak beats the hell out of driving with kids.
I’m in the process of updating my website. I’m currently brain-storming ideas for a new tagline and I would love to get your ideas. I have been told by someone who knows about these things that my tagline should let the reader know what my blog is about. The tagline should also offer something with which they can connect.
Motherhood Straight-Up created by my BFF Lisa
Motherhood and Martinis . . . Shaken Not Stirred created by my friend Suzanne from Sprinkled Nest and
Parenting. It’s Not For the Sober created by yours truly
Straight-up Motherhood also the BFF’s
How To Parent Without Spilling Your Drink my friend Robert
Parenting with Humor and Vodka
Where Moms Stop Being Polite and Start Getting Real
I Self Medicate So You Don’t Have To
We Drink Because They Whine
Musings on Motherhood From the Edge
Stories From the Frontline
Please give me your ideas or vote on one of the 3 above. Thanks!
Hey! I’m over at Kludgymom today talking about tweens and the truth. Sometimes kids ask difficult questions and sometimes tweens ask really difficult questions. About sex and stuff. Head over to see what questions I’ve been asked by my tween and what answers I’ve given her! Telling the Truth to Tweens
When I was a kid we wore green on St. Patrick’s Day. That was it and that continued to be the it until about 4 years ago when we moved up here. That’s when I found out that if you leave your shoes out the leprechauns will put candy or cookies in them (gross, right? I mean have you seen/smelled the inside of a kid’s shoe?!)
Photo Credit The Crafty Pickle
Now the kids are making elaborate, hours-long in the making, intricate leprechaun traps and there is some sort of city ordinance which states all parents MUST leave candy, gold, fairy dust and a $5 bill inside the trap for your kids. Even if you aren’t Irish. (Ok,there’s a wee bit of Irish on my side and Big Daddy is about 1/4 Irish, but come on! Is this Jim Crow? One drop of Irish blood and you’re Irish?)
Photo Credit First Grade Chatter
Oh and of course there is the fucking Pinterest with all its fab St. Patrick’s ideas for your little one. Just go to hell already. Seriously. It’s bad enough I’ve got the Tooth Fairy jacking up the level of payment for a baby tooth no one wants and Easter has turned into another Christmas (which I flat-out refuse to do! If it’s not candy, fake grass or the size of my palm, it’s not going in your basket!), I’m NOT doing this whole leprechaun traps and goodies in the morning routine.
Bah humbug to that mess!
Tell me, did you do it up for your kids this St. Patrick’s Day? Be honest, I can take it.
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