after reading a blog from one of my favorite eloquent minds here... I realize that this might be the place to post my conversations with my daughter, where friends and family won't see it and get weirded out by us...
you see... my daughter grew up in a rather peculiar household. She knew about sex at a young age. We were both(my now ex, and I), perhaps a little too open, honest and graphic?
Mom wandering around the house nude was a regular thing. And me walking into the home and stripping on my way through the living room... well, again, that is just me.
Now, in a normal household, I would hope that the living room, family room, and kitchen are all communal areas, where everyone gravitates to talk and just spend time together... right? mean, of all those rooms, I love the kitchen the most. Cooking together, hand washing dishes, and a few other things are activities I cherish fond memories of still.
But, in my household... there is another room that is considered communal, at least, when I'm using it, it's fair game for anyone who wants my attention, advice or time, to just walk in and spend time with me... umm, besides the bedroom...
the bathroom was once where from babyhood to about the age of four, we took family showers Each of us taking turns holding her while the other one washed up. And we washed our wee one, together. Later, family showers included plugging the tub towards the end, so she could splash and play in shallow warm water while we did our own thing. It wasn't until she'd started preschool, and a distressed teacher came over with a piece of drawing paper clutched her chest, wanting to discuss a drawing she'd made in class. The subject... umm, her favorite family time. Her drawings weren't simple stick figures. Oh no... they included genitalia in detail... as well as round bellies and belly buttons, she'd places all of Daddy's man bits right there, for all to see... She'd place my breast where they belong with nipples and everything, and she'd put both hers and my own girly bits where they belong.
With a blush, chuckle and a smile, I explained I was a Hippy child, and that we have family showers. I explained that they'd started as convenience act, saving water, and helping both parents and child get time together; and to get clean, without whining and fussing, or juggling a child when slippery.
I then added that I guess she's a pretty good little artist for a three year old, to put everything in the right places, right? Her teacher was silent, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights. I sighed and said, I guess it's time for Family Showers to end.
They did. But the bathroom is not sacred grounds, of solitude for me, nor for her, when I'm home... Poor girl.
She just keeps reminding me, "Thank God, you didn't have a boy, Mom..." shaking her head enough to rattle the marbles out of her ears, "He'd be one messed up man, by now, having to watch his mom naked all the time hearing the sex noises through the heating vents, and how you and dad talked a bit much about sex. He'd either have been horny for his Mom and only want old women, or... most likely, he'd be GAY."
She's right. Thankfully I didn't have a son. Not that I didn't want to have half a dozen of the little demons... No, it's just that I would have had to wear robes and clothes all the time. No desire to traumatize a poor boychild.
Good thing she insists it hasn't scarred her. She said that now, when she wants to feel powerful, she does like me. Strips and just walks around naked in the apartment.
By the way, she's an adult, almost 24. And, she's a hoot. She really IS my a whole lot like me. She looks more like her father than she does me. But her voice is mine, except for my accent and husky raspiness. And her attitude.. when it turns into Sass-itude... is definitely something I'proud of her picking up from me.
So I guess THIS entry is just establishing the future posts of Conversations with K. These are real ones, by the way. We're a weird odd couple of chicks who're open sexually about our love lives and sexual experiences and tastes, with each other. Sometimes it makes my eye twitch... but it made that happen to her a whole hell of a lot, too.
Before she became comfortable being my Mini-Me. That, to be honest, was an honorary title bestowed upon her, by none other than Alex. He used to call her Special K, and she called him Monkey Butt. No one other than that girl could have gotten away with calling that proud gentleman something like that.
