Saturday, April 23, 2016

Adventures in Flying with an Addict or Jesus Doesn't Want You to be an Asshole

The other day I was flying home. It might surprise you to know that I’m really more of an introvert; all of the jobs I’ve had require me to be an extrovert so when I’m not working, I tend to be quiet and keep more to myself. I was plugged into a podcast when my seatmate looked over at me and mumbled something. I unplugged, answered his question and plugged in again. And again, he leaned over and mumbled something.

Me: “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Him: “This is my first flight. I’m on my way to rehab.”

I sighed and knew that I would be engaging with this person the whole flight and was already calculating how long this was going to take. As our plane taxied for take-off, my seatmate shared with me a quick synopsis of his life so far. Four kids, married for 15 years but about to divorce (she doesn’t know it yet), first kid at the age of 17, crack addict, 17 charges against him, born in the south, heading to a $60k rehab in Fort Lauderdale. That’s a lot to accomplish by your early thirties. Heading to rehab? So there’s a super great chance he’s either a little high right now or is in withdrawal. His jitters could be from drugs or nerves or maybe a bit of both.

One of the few things I’m good at is being the cheerleader, providing the pep talk. And here’s a man who is pouring his heart out to me that might just need one. I’m no Nicholas Sparks and hate being sappy, but at the same time, I felt like maybe we were sitting together so that he could hear that he was making the right choice.

Turns out crack addicts do not have a filter. Or maybe they just are really vulnerable. Or maybe they just don’t know social cues and overshare. Look at it however you wish – I thought all three during this 90 minute flight. Robert (we shared names halfway through his flight) couldn’t believe I was traveling alone and wondered if my marriage was on the rocks. Nope, I’m just capable of traveling on my own and someone has to take the kids to school if I’m gone. Robert loves his kids and repeatedly tells me this is for his kids and I agree, as parents, there’s nothing we won’t do for our kids. If the loves of your life don’t motivate you, nothing will.

Since we were flying in a filter free zone, Robert leaned over after we’d had a riveting conversation about cell phone carriers and asked if I believed in God. Nothing like a new topic without a segway. At the same time, that’s what was making this conversation most entertaining – having no idea where the heck this train was headed. And I thought, what an incredibly personal question. And where was Robert on this – he’s southern, isn’t this all they do down there?

Me: “Well, yeah, I believe there’s a higher power. I was raised Catholic but am between religions right now.” 
Robert: “I want to believe but a lot of time I don’t want to believe there’s a God.”

Good Lord. I don’t want to get into a whole religious conversation. I’m not that person. So here’s how the rest of this went.

Me: “I think there are a lot of things happening that are hard to explain and there’s probably something behind them. But I don’t think there’s one right or one wrong religion.”
Robert: “Yeah, I’m sure there’s a God. Right?”
Me: “Well, I don’t think there’s a judgy God up there. I just think that we are all supposed to be good people. Just be a good person and you’ll be fine. Don’t be an asshole. That’s what I think it’s all about, regardless of who you are and what you believe.”
Robert: “I like that. Not a judgy God. I’m a good person. I may not seem like it and I haven’t made good choices, but I’m a good person.”

He says this like a person clinging to a life raft and I realize that this conversation might mean something to him later. Shit.

Me: “Of course you are a good person. Look. We all fuck up. We just have to try our best every day. And some days our best sucks. But the next day we just try again to be a good person.”

Robert is nodding along and I feel this responsibility to not screw this up. Like he needs to know that what he’s done thus far in his life doesn’t define him.

Me: “So just do your best, be a good person and don’t be an asshole. I think if you follow that, you are good.”

Worst pep talk ever. But I realized this is what I believe. I don’t care if you are Catholic, Methodist, Buddhist, Muslim or an atheist. Be a good person and if you aren’t, try harder tomorrow. Maybe it isn’t as complicated as we all like to make it. Stop judging others. If you do believe in God then let him handle that. I feel like Jesus is up there face palming and shouting down “Don’t be an asshole!” (My Jesus swears.) So now I take my own advice. I stop being a pretentious asshole and remember that I’m engaging with a human being. I tell Robert he’s brave for going to rehab, for admitting to his oldest daughter that he is a crack addict, for doing something scary. He nods more and seems to need to hear it. And then our flight lands. I am relieved it is over because I don’t want to screw Robert up. He asks where I’m heading next and then I explain how to find your next gate at the airport. He offers me some sunglasses which I decline. And we disembark.

We bump into each other again at the departure signs and I help him figure out his next gate. He wants me to walk him there and I walk a little ways with him and then tell him the rest is on his own, much like the next part of his life. But that he can do it – he can find his gate, he can handle rehab, he can be clean for his kids. I wish him luck and I mean it.


I have no idea if Robert made it to rehab or if he’ll stay clean afterwards. Fort Lauderdale seems like a pretty stupid place for a rehab center – I’ve watched MTV Spring Break. But even if Robert fucks up again, he gets a new chance to make good choices tomorrow, because isn’t that what it’s really about? 

Saturday, April 9, 2016

After School Specials and PSAs or Does Someone Have a Banana

Warning: This post is full of alphabet soup – TMI, NSFW, you name it - which means, it’s probably a pretty fun read.

Things that make me queasy: hang nails, Band-Aids, splinters, sex talks. There are two ways to approach these four things. You can slowly take care of them or you can rip them off. Either way is painful so you just have to figure out how long you want to endure. 

As a parent there have been a few things I’ve dreaded dealing with: sucking snot out of baby noses, belly buttons falling off and explaining where babies come from. I knew the day would come where I would have to talk about the birds and the bees and while I really wanted to be enlightened, brave and evolved enough to handle it maturely, I had absolutely no experience with it. My own experience with “the sex talk” was less than ideal.

I was a senior in high school and was going to my very first OBGYN appointment because I had my first yeast infection (warned you about the TMI…) At the appointment, I got a prescription for medication and paid for it myself, which was probably the first time I’d had “adulted.” I called my mom from school…on a pay phone. (Yes, I’m that old.)
Me: “I got a pill. It was like twenty bucks.”
Mom: “Well that’s your choice for your decisions. If you need a pill then you’ll have to pay for it.”
Me (thinking this was a little harsh for simply being sick with an infection I didn’t want): “Huh? I have an infection…”
Mom: “What? Oh. Well, okay then. I’ll see you at home.” Click.

Good talk Mom. It took me about five minutes to realize she thought I meant The Pill. Poor Mom. If I put myself in her shoes, she was either caught off guard or the complete opposite – preparing for the worst. Now to my mom’s defense, I was 1) her first born, 2) a girl, and 3) we were Catholic. Pretty much the perfect storm for an epic fail of a sex talk. As an adult reflecting on that special Hallmark moment, I was determined to do a better job with my kids. I was raised on the Church of Oprah damnit! Oprah says we have to talk openly about this with our kids! (Great advice from a woman who has dogs for kids – all she has to do is drop them off at the vet and the sex talk is over!) Even 15 years later, it still bothers me that I missed the Oprah show that was advertised as “the one you can’t miss!” that detailed all the crazy things kids were doing these days (these days being the very early 2000’s). I frantically asked my friends what information was covered. In hushed tones, I was told about rainbow parties, jelly bracelets, and scary things on buses. And this was just for middle school kids! Even though I wasn’t even pregnant, I was already sweating.

Fast forward ten years. I’m pregnant with the Squirrel and the Moose was noticing that I was blowing up like Violet in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. And then it happened. It was six a.m. and my little five year-old asks “How is the baby coming out? How did the baby get in there?”
And I panicked. Granted, I was decaffeinated and it was six a.m. But still, Oprah says I should always be prepared for The Talk. I stammered and said “They just come out. Do you want a pop tart?” Epic Fail! I could feel Oprah frowning. I spent the better part of the next week trying to come up with a response for the next time I was asked. I consulted mommy friends and was told whatever you do, don’t tell him the doctors take it out of your tummy with surgery because then he would worry if I was safe! Use real terms! Don’t tell him anything! Babies come out of belly buttons! My mommy friends weren’t as helpful as I would have liked – isn’t there protocol for this? I was determined to do better next time I was asked a Major Life Question in the wee hours of the morning because I’m evolved! So naturally, when the Moose asked me again a week later, I did no better. “Um….that’s a great question. Um….let’s talk about it tonight.” The Moose, who is of course very intelligent, could not figure out how I could not know how a whole baby showed up in my tummy. But at least I had bought myself 10 hours.

That night I informed him that babies come from mommies and daddies making decisions to have a baby (Oprah fail) and that they come from a place on a mommy that is under our swim suits. This was not my finer moments. I just could not say the word “vagina.” But at least I hadn’t said that they come from belly buttons or from major surgery so hopefully he wouldn’t be scarred for life, right? Of course the Squirrel was born from a very scary emergency surgery that led his dad to promptly have a vasectomy so he would never experience a birth again. Thankfully the Moose didn’t ask why daddy had peas on his crotch.

Now that I had two boys I realized I just have to take this bull by the horns and figure out how to do The Talk. I decided that it needed a strategic approach and would treat it like a larger After School Special followed up with mini PSAs. Oh, I am a child of the 80s…#themoreyouknow

It’s a careful line to walk between not telling them enough and going into details about a mucus plug, although that thought would put me off sex for a while so maybe that’s how we have a safe sex talk. I’m not saying I’m doing this correctly – in fact, if you google it, I’m sure you’ll find I’m completely botching it. But even if I don’t get each mini PSA correct, at least I’m keeping the conversation moving and from becoming a taboo topic in the house. Because the more you know, the less you’ll be inclined to hide stuff from me and we all know you can only hide a pregnancy for about 6 months. My rule is if you ask, I will answer. So let’s see how this has worked so far….

Jenny’s Attempts at Sex Talks:

The BIG One, Part 1
I overhear the Moose say the word “humping.”
Me: “Do you know what humping means? It’s a pretty crude word and I’d rather you not use it. And if you are going to use it, you should know what it means. Should we talk about it?’
Moose: “NOPE!”
Me: “Okay then, then don’t use it until you want to talk about it.”
END SCENE

The BIG One, Part 2
The Moose and I are having a fairly benign conversation and he starts pussyfooting around asking A Question.
Me: “If you have any questions, I will answer them. You should always just ask me rather than get ‘information’ from your friends because I will tell you the truth every time.”
Moose: “Nope, no questions!”
Moose: “Well…”
Moose: “Okay, where DO babies come from?”
Me (deep breath because my moment is finally here): “So you know boys have penises. Well women have vaginas, which are located under their underwear….”
I’m proud to say we had a full discussion that traveled from the living room, to the dining room to my bedroom. And when he got to the part about “but HOW is a baby made” I actually talked about sperm coming out of a penis and then got into how cool genetics are.
END SCENE

And then for the mini PSAs…

PSA: Wear a Condom
Me: “Look, your brother isn’t at the dinner table yet which gives me a chance to explain the fourth Golden Rule, always practice safe sex. You can get awful diseases if you don’t practice safe sex, including HIV. That’s why you have to always practice safe sex. There are these things called condoms and you should always use one.”
Moose: “MOM!”
Husband: “You know what they say, no glove no love.”
Me: “Ooh, high five! I’ll have to get a banana to show you one day.”
Moose: “SQUIRREL! COME TO DINNER!!”
END SCENE

PSA: Sexting
Me: “Squirrel isn’t at the table yet, so I’ve got to talk to you about something important. I know you are thinking of texting a girl so let me just say, never text a naked picture of yourself. And if you get one from someone, delete and tell me. Never forward it on.”
Husband: “Geez – I don’t think he’s even thinking about this stuff yet.”
Me: “You can never be too careful. You can get busted for child pornography if you forward a picture on!”
Moose: “Oh. My. Gosh.”
Squirrel: “Hey! What’s for dinner?”
Me: “I’m just saying, don’t send one and delete one if you get one!”
END SCENE

PSA: Boobs
Squirrel: “You know, girls have nickels.” (Interpretation: nipples – it’s too cute to correct)
Me: “Yes, girls AND boys have nickels. You have nickels.”
Squirrel: “Girls have booves too. But boys don’t have booves.” (Interpretation: boobs – again, cute!)
Me: “Boys and girls both have breasts.”
Squirrel: “But girls have booves.”
Me: “Girls have mammillary glands in their breast area so their breasts are larger, yes.”
Moose, giggling
END SCENE

So that’s how I’m fighting Dick Pics, one PSA at a time. Ladies, you are welcome. Hopefully by taking an open and matter-a-fact approach to all of this, we keep sex from becoming a taboo topic. Is this easy? Nope, not at all. I am swimming in a world of discomfort. But I am raising men. And we all want world full of considerate, responsible men. Don’t get me wrong - I sincerely hope that I never have to talk about oral sex, the female orgasm or masturbation – but I also realize that I might have to one day and I’m going to remember that the pain of talking about it is worth the trust and open communication I’m hoping to foster with my boys. When it comes down to it, sex talks are really all about science and respect. So I’m actually just pushing that STEM agenda that we hear so much about. Big Bang Theory meets Aretha Franklin!


Good luck my friends. We all are going to need it.