Over the holidays, Daughter 1 and I went shopping for her a new dress that she could wear for her choir concert and any other dress-worth occasion she might have. Basically, we bought her a dress to wear one time because no other times are worthy of dresses in her little mind!
As we entered the dressing room and Daughter 1 kicked off her shoes, I was completely overcome with stinky feet stink.
"Oh man!" I whispered so as to not embarass her in front of all the other dress-tryer-on'ers, "You've got some stinky feet, sister!" I would soon learn that her feet stinch was the least of my worries.
I settled in on the 6-inch-wide bench inside our little 3 foot by 3 foot dressing room. Daughter 1 stood right in my face (which was the only place for her to stand) and took off her shirt.
"Did you use your deodorant?" I whispered to my very stinky daughter.
"Why? Can you tell?" she whispered back.
Oh. My. I was going to have to have "the talk."
Daughter 1 just turned 10 last month, but well over a year ago, I bought her a book that basically had "the talk" written out for her to read to herself. I figured she could read and ask questions, then when the time was right we could have "the talk." No. That's not right. I hoped that she'd read the book; it would answer all her questions; she'd explain it to her sister and without my having said a word, I'd have well-rounded, well-informed pubescent daughters. I said that's what I HOPED...
My back-up plan was that she'd get "the talk" from the school nurse and then I could just answer any questions she had. This seemed like a very viable plan except that "the talk" was scheduled for the day that Daughter 1 goes to her gifted pull-out program in a completely different building across town!
I just shook my head and took a deep breath as I contemplated having "the talk" with Daughter 1. And when my eyes filled with tears and I started gagging from the B.O. imminating from Daughter 1's pits, I knew "the talk" would have to be soon!
Very well then. That very evening as we drove home, Daughter 1 sat in the passenger side reading Black Beauty on the kindle. I almost mourned for the loss of innocence "the talk" was sure to bring with it. Eventually, she set down the kindle and I took my chances...
"Ummm... Daughter 1, " I began, my voice full of uncertainty, "Do you know why you need to start making sure you use deodorant every single morning?" And then the information just flowed...
... much like the periods she'd have every 28 - 32 days once Aunt Flo made her appearance. I told her about periods and cramps and odors and hair growing in all kinds of unwanted places. I kind of, sort of touched on S E X, but not in such detail that I talked myself out of grandkids in about 15 years or so! I talked for about 40 miles when I decided to take a breath and open the floor for questions. Silently, I congratualated myself on a talk well spoken.
For the first time since I began my hall-of-mother-fame speech, I briefly took my eyes off the road and glanced at Daughter 1. She sat hunkered down and leaning against the door with her long legs pulled up in front of her. "So, baby girl," I spoke softly contemplating just how much she'd grown and matured. "Do you have any questions?"
"Yes," she whispered barely audible with just a slight shake in her voice.
I sighed. I knew that my talk had opened the door for us to have wonderful, open conversations about anything this life will through at her. I grinned in the darkness and said, "Good. You can ask me anything, anytime. What's your question?"
It was now her turn to sigh, then speak, "Momma," she began, "Are you done talking now?"
I'm going to hope my talk was just so good that she'll never have any question every again! I said HOPE...
