T-A-M-P-A-X?

Boys are interesting creatures. If you have ever lived with one, you know how they are. Raising one, or as in my case two of them, means that every day is full of revelations into how their little minds work. I did not have the luxury of having a brother growing up---I know some of you who know my sister think that having Chrissy around was pretty close to having a brother, but under all that camoflauge and her shotgun, she really is a girl..I promise!--and I think I have a bigger learning curve when it comes to parenting boys because I didn't have a brother.

For example, their obsession with their "wee-wee"s and with passing gas perplex me--and the fact that they never outgrow those obsessions is not lost on me either. In fact, having little boys in the house often makes my big boy act like them, too! My boys are very typical--they love to wrestle, run, jump off of tall objects, climb trees, play in dirt and mud, pee in the yard, belch their alphabet and do arm-pit farts. And I am pretty sure they are born knowing these things because I don't condone belching or arm-pit farting under any circumstances. And though Maggie is only 14 months old and does her best to keep up with her brothers, I can tell that her "girlness" makes her think and react differently than they do.

Their "boyness" and my lack of knowledge about it doesn't just stress me out to the point where I feel the gray hairs sprouting from my scalp, but it also makes it hard for me to know how to have relevant conversations with them in an age-appropriate way. Today's adventure is a perfect example. I am washing dishes when Ian yells to me that Maggie is pulling things out of the cabinet in the bathroom (which she has access to because Dennis the Menace broke the child-lock in half last week). When I get there, Ian is holding up a "stick" in a purple wrapper and says, "Hey Mom, what is T-A-M-P-A-X?" I am immediately faced with a major decision. If I simply say "Tampax," he is going to ask me what it's for. If I tell him that it's used during a woman's cycle, he is going to ask me what that is and we will have to halt life as we know it for a full-fledged biology lesson, which I am not ready to have (even though the pediatrician says I need to have the FIRST TALK by age 9. Really, 9? The thought  of it makes me want to throw up!). So I decide I am not ready for the full talk to happen at that moment but I also know if I just say they are mine, that won't satisfy him. And, if I tell him that contraption has any other purpose other than it's true purpose, when he does have the FIRST TALK, he will remember that I wasn't honest about the true purpose of Tampax and think I am a liar about everything. (Don't you feel the gray hairs sprouting just reading this!?!)

So as I am desperately trying to make the right decision, Ian is looking at me impatiently for an answer and so I blurt, "It's Tampax, Ian. It's a stick filled with cotton and women use them when they have their menstrual cycle. It just helps out with that process." He looks at me with wide-eyes and asks "Does that bicycle thing you were talking about have something to do with having babies?" "Kind of. It starts much sooner than when you should have babies but---" He cuts me off while shaking his head and says, "Thanks for being honest with me Mom but all you had to say was that it was yours and it was cotton," tosses me the tampon and walks out of the bathroom. I am left standing there partly embarrassed that I obviously made the wrong decision and wondering how in the world I am ever going figure out how to be honest without saying too much. And after thinking about it all day, I still don't have an answer. I can only hope that I tell them what they need to know, when they need to know it and that in the process, I don't damage them so badly that they need therapy for most of their adult lives because mom talked too much, too soon about Tampax.