I was just reading my blog about truck testicles, which made me think that the perfect blog would be about my experiences being a first time mother with a son! Funny how the mind changes gears, isn't it! Maybe this will be helpful for other first time mothers of boys.
When I found out I was pregnant with Zach I was very excited. When I found out it was a boy, I was even more excited. As I sat in the hospital in labor, trying to give birth, I got very scared. What the heck am I supposed to do with a boy??? I am not good with children, I don't know anything about children, I really don't even like children. Let alone little boys with their dirty little faces, carrying around worms, and playing with cars. Although I wanted to change my mind, the Dr. told me that it was too late.
As an only child, I'm lucky to have married a man who loves kids and was raised in a house with four of them. He's been my mentor for parenting. Here are a few lessons I've learned.
1. You can use baby wash as baby shampoo. During a post-partum breakdown, I came undone over this. If the baby wash bottle says "use on body and hair", why the heck do they make baby shampoo? What the heck is the difference? Eric told me to step away from the baby bath products and relax. Apparently you can use either. I think this is a crock, and just a big Johnson and Johnson conspiracy.
2. Even baby boys get erections. This typically happens in the morning. I went to change Zach's diaper one morning and was shocked at what I saw when I removed the pamper. I stumbled back and screamed for Eric. He looked and said "Oh, it's just a morning wood", and walked out of the room. I tried my best to wash Zach off and put a diaper on without going anywhere close to that "thing".
3. If your child overhears an inappropriate word on television and asks you what it is, you CAN say "I'll tell you when you are older". You needn't panic and make something up. Case in point #1, Zach was watching Waterboy. Someone cracked a joke about the Waterboy being a virgin. Zach asked me what a virgin was. In a panic I responded "A virgin is someone who doesn't play football very well". Later we were at a grocery store, it was close to Superbowl time. The check out clerk asked Zach if he liked football and he said "No, I'm a virgin." She said "That's good to know!" and looked at me, I could only give her the "don't even ask" look. Case in point #2. Eric and I were watching a stand up comedy act while the boys were watching a movie in Zach's room. The comedian was talking about wet dreams and we hadn't noticed that Zach walked in the room. When Zach asked what that meant, I told him that it meant the guy had a nightmare and pottied in his bed. You guessed it, a couple weeks later Zach woke up crying and screamed out, "Mom, I just had a wet dream!"
4. If men shouldn't be expected to buy their daughter's feminine hygeine products, women shouldn't be expected to buy their son's protective sports gear. When Eric sent me on a mission to buy Zach's first set of hockey gear, I had no idea what I was in for. I now know that these little devices are called hockey jocks. They are specific to hockey, and had I known this, I would have been able to say it very easily. Instead, I walked up to the clerk inside The Stick Shack who was no doubt a hockey player himself.
Clerk: How can I help you?
Me: Well, I am, well, I need some um, "protection" for my son. (I did finger quotes and everything)
Clerk: Oh, like a chest protector? Maybe some arm guards?
Me: Um, no, not those types. I need um, .... "lower protection" (again with the finger quotes)
Clerk: Oh, sure. The shin guards and hockey socks are this way....
Me: Oh, well, I don't think that's what I need. I need more like "mid region protection". (By now I'm giggling, waving my hands in a circular motion in front of my lady parts and using finger quotes.)
Clerk: Breezers? (Breezers are the padded shorts that hockey players wear).
Me: *sigh*. No. Um... "private protection?" (finger quotes)
Clerk: OH! A cup!
Me: Oh god! Shhhh. Yes, that's what I would like to purchase please.
Clerk: Well, we have a cup that fits in a strap, but you'd probably prefer a hockey jock. It's much easier.
Me: I really don't care. I have no idea. Um, wow, I'm really out of my league here.
Clerk: Ok, I'll help you. (I think he could see my horror by this point). What size do you think you need?
Me: SIZE???
Clerk: Yeah. How big is your son? (obviously he wasn't thinking "big" like I was thinking "big", or maybe it wouldn't have been so embarassing.)
Me: Oh, sure. Um, I don't know, I guess..... (by now the clerk can see me trying to estimate the size of my son's package with my hands).
Clerk: No, how old is your son I mean?
Me: OH! He's 4.
Clerk: Ok then.
He then pulled out these weird biker short looking pants (AKA Hockey Jock) and a cup. My face turned bright red when he pulled that out of the cabinet. He then went on to demonstrate how the cup slid into the hockey jock and so forth. All the while I was mortified.
I went home and told Eric that I would NEVER do that again.
More stories will soon follow in regard to motherhood, I'm sure. Until then, I'm going to soak up every little moment, embarrasing or not, because it will be over before I know it.
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