Vagina Monologue

And the vagina monologue with my wonderful daughter Susan continues.

 

So let me set this up for you:

 

Today, my daughter painted her hair in preschool (or her friend did it, or she accidentally slung it, depending on what story you believe) so she came home with stiff, blue hair. This was a decent amount of paint as her hair is dark brown and the color was still quite noticeable. She did however, pay homage to my friend Rane and her awesome, brightly colored hair. (Yes, Rane, you!!).

Also, while she was in preschool, she announced that I have a lot of curly pubic hair on my vagina to the world during snack time. For more details, see this post: https://parentingseatpants.wordpress.com/2014/06/03/my-mamas-vagina/

And, I’m training for a 5K, which means that about 3 times a week I get to disappear and run [the fuck] away from my family for about 30 minutes or so. Tonight was one of those nights. (Hooray!!)

Being the ingenious, smart, excellent-at-time-management parent that I am, I elected to shower with the paint covered four and a half year old to conserve both water and time. We showered and removed copious amount of sweat and blue paint from our persons in less than ten minutes: record time.

Of course, the Murphy’s Law of Children (which I really should get around to writing about – but Murphy ironically keeps getting in my way) dictates that for every situation well time-managed with children, there is an equal, but completely opposite situation that’s time is completely, the fuck, wasted. (I get that that particular “the fuck” doesn’t really flow well here. It’s a work in progress….but it bears emphasis)

So, because of old Murph, once we finish with the shower it takes my daughter nineteen hours to dry herself off and brush her goddamned teeth. While she’s doing this, I take stock of my private area and agree that I do, in fact, need to get out the weed wacker and calm some things down. So I figure since she’s taking a year to brush her teeth I’ll just do a little personal hygiene in the meantime. I dust off the mustache trimmer that my husband and I share for our various hair care and get to work. (For those of you that think “eeeeew” – I feel really, really saddened by your sex life…)

[I’m going to take this moment to address those of you that are skeeved out by me not only showering with my child, but also taking care of my “lady patch”, as it were, with her present. To those of you who feel this way I say this: screw you. I refuse to live in a world where it is unacceptable for my child to see my naked body. I feel no shame about it (okay, a little shame, but I’m really working on that for the sake of my daughters) and neither should they. I don’t believe in “introducing modesty”, I don’t think my child should be shielded from appropriate nudity, in appropriate situations/circumstances, by appropriate people (read: trusted adults, parents, doctors). I think that to teach my daughter to love them selves and not worry about the things that can plant seeds for eating disorders or lifetimes of poor self esteem and sadness, I need to be as comfortable in my own skin, in their presence, without fear or shame or a societally imposed sense of propriety as I hope them someday to be. Yes, even at four years old, do I feel strongly about this message and how my actions of hiding my naked (GORGEOUS) form from her may convey that message (that is frankly of far greater importance than that of ‘modesty’, if you ask me. Which you didn’t. But I don’t care). And yes, she often sees my husband naked, too. Nope, this is not wrong, either. The human body is normal, people!! NORMAL!! I want my daughters to grow up confident and comfortable with the words and sights and nuances of the human body. Jesus, she’ll have to have a pap smear some day, and she does not need the traumatizing experience that I had at fifteen. After I had already had sex. Go ahead: ruminate on that for awhile.
And point #2 regarding me shaving my junk with my child present: STFU. I don’t hide brushing my teeth from her. Or washing my face. Or nursing her sister. Or her dad combing his hair. It’s all about taking care of yourself. I certianly don’t go out of my way to ensure she is present as that’s a different kind of creepy. But if she’s there, I think of it the same way I do when I’m brushing my teeth which is: “Whatever. I’ve got like sixteen seconds to think about this shit and I actually should get it done so this doesn’t keep getting all in the way when my husband and I actually get around to doing it” Tooth brushing and pube trimming: it’s all the same ilk, inmyveryhonestopinion. Kinda like the breastfeeing/bottle feeding debate. Whatever, dude.
Okay, I think I’m done for the moment.
 *climbs off soap box*]
But I digress. Back to the incident at hand.

Anyway, I’m about halfway done (this process takes like 3.79 minutes) while Susan hasn’t even made a dent in six of her teeth….

and the power goes out.

 

 

 

 

I’m not even going to tell you what happens next. I think your imagination can probably fill in the blanks far better than I ever could.

 

 

 

 

 

I will mention that I may need to call my waxer first thing in the morning….

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