Aug 15 2008

My Grammy

Last Sunday (I originally wrote that as “Sinday” which I find utterly hilarious), my Grandmother called, as usual. She calls my parent’s house every Sunday night, and usually the phone makes the rounds and we all get a chance to say a quick hello.

Last Sunday, though, my father took the phone (it’s his Mom) and closed himself in his room. When he came out, he had already hung up. I knew something wasn’t quite right.

It turns out that my Grandmother has been having heart attacks. She went in for some pain in her arm and, upon running a few extra tests, the doctors discovered that she has had more than one heart attack in the recent past… and she never realized!

My Grammy will be 87 this month. I was already afraid for her, and now it’s even worse. When will the next one come? Will it be worse? What if, as stubborn as she is, she tries to blow it off?

Ive been campaigning to move her up here. She lives in Arizona, though, and moving to California would rob her of her community, her support network, that she’s worked all these years to build up. Add to that the disgusting state of health care in this town and… Let’s just say “Not likely.” If she was in need of great help or unable to fend for herself, it would be different, but I’d never wish those things on her just so that I could have her near me.

I also wish I could visit her more often, but flights to Phoenix aren’t the $40 they used to be. And now that Cole is old enough to need a seat too? A trip to visit becomes a seriously expensive proposition.

So I send pictures and emails. I keep in touch how I can. It’s not the same, but I’m at a loss of what else to do.

She’s just been on my mind a lot lately, understandably, I suppose.

Aug 15 2008

Boys Have Penises, Girls Have Mmphmms

Cole walked in on me the other morning as I was climbing out of my shower. Before I grabbed my towel. He pointed at my… um… “lower half” and said “What’s that?” Erm…

This isn’t the first time this has happened. The first time he asked, I told him “that’s just mommy” and he was willing to let it drop. This time, however, that explanation didn’t sit so well.

“This Cole’s penis, Mom. That you penis?”
“No. Mommy doesn’t have a penis. You and daddy have penises.”
“Daddy have penis?”
“Yes.”
“That mommy’s penis?”
“No, babe. Mommy does not have a penis.”
“Mommy not have penis?”
“No, baby. Mommy doesn’t have a penis.”
“Then what that?”
“That’s just mommy. Hey! Want to watch a movie?!”

So yeah. I avoided it. I was mere seconds away from saying fuckit and giving him the “Girls have vaginas and boys have penises” line, but all I could imagine was his daycare provider’s face when he yelled that one out in front of all of the kids the next day. I’m not ready for that.

But, at the same time, I don’t want to lie to him. Nor do I want to give him silly names for body parts. I want to be unashamed that I have a vagina. Not that I want to flaunt it and give him details about the inner workings of the female anatomy (not yet anyway, though I do think that all men and women should know these things before being sexually active), but I don’t want to treat “vagina” as if it’s a dirty word, either. Why am I being such a chickenshit?

So I’m turning to you. Have you gone through this? How did you handle it? Any tips for what to say to his daycare provider when she’s pissed that Cole’s been leading lectures on anatomy?