Monday, May 21, 2012

The Only Parental Advice I'm Qualified to Give.

Being a modern mom must be incredibly stressful. Some people say the "Mommy Wars" only exist in the media, but one look at my Facebook wall tells me that every choice my friends make is under scrutiny. Women  seem to have this new attitude that other people parenting is not only their business, but that it's their duty to "correct" them, rudely, and in as public (and permanent) a way as possible. Which is pooey. Honestly, I think when it comes to parenting, most women are just trying to survive it, you know? At some point, the kids themselves are evidence: no single philosophy has a 100% success rate in well-adjusted kids.

And you can't control all their interactions, either. It doesn't just TAKE a village to raise a child, a village WILL raise your child, whether you want help or not. I've contributed to lots of kids upbringing, in a way. 

And I'd like it to stop. 

Here's the deal. I'm a busty lady. The girls are out there. It can't be helped. I've tried. I had a surgical reduction in high school. I'm still a mercifully perky H cup. My lacy bras look like butterfly nets, my college roommate compared a structured blue under wire to a cereal bowl. My life is a daily battle against cleavage and stereotyping and unwanted attention...and curious toddlers. 

This is my parenting advice: please, I'm begging you, take it. 

Moms. The first time your child points to your boobs and asks what they are- TELL THEM. 

If you don't tell them, they don't forget. The question doesn't go away. They become little boob-peeping kung fu students on the search for a master. Looking for someone who would know the answer, someone with obvious, ah, experience. Someone like me. And then, usually while jabbing a sticky, goldfish dusted finger into a breast, crane-style, so there's no possible confusion (probably because of the confusion there parents feigned), they ask "what are these". I was in middle school and a D-cup the first time a neighbor kid did this to me. I blushed and told him to ask his Mom. Guess what he said? "I did." I went to school the next day with a duct tape tube bra on. It's been happening a few times a year ever since. I'm  a little afraid to be alone with toddlers. 

And don't try to explain the "milk" thing. That just leads to even more awkward situations from thirsty kids and unfortunate phantom cow milking gestures when certain girls get on the school bus. Again, personal experience. 

Just be up-front. They're a body part that all women have and boys don't.You can cross the moobs bridge later. If you make them seem average and boring enough, they won't pry, but DO make sure to tell them it's not nice to talk about them. And I promise, keeping your child from talking about sex organs until puberty isn't repression, its manners. Your boy doesn't "need" the freedom of expression to act like a mini-pervert in public.

I assure you, they'll figure everything out when the time comes. Boobs are pretty user friendly.

No comments:

Post a Comment