Wednesday, June 15, 2016

It Really is a Hoot

The last time I was up for critique at my writing group, I gave them a piece having to do with menstruation. The point of the piece is still out there somewhere--a little beyond my grasp at the moment--but I'm working on it because I think it has potential to find a home someday. But as I looked over the comments from my Plot Sisters, I was struck by one scrawl in the margin next to this sentence of mine, "My son knows what a tampon is and that someday, he might have to buy them for a friend or a spouse." "This is not normal," my friend had commented. "Your house must be a hoot!"

Well, in this house, it is normal. I know my friend didn't mean to offend me by the first half of that comment (and I wasn't offended). She's just informing me that in her experience, boys don't necessarily know what a tampon is and how it works. (I forgot to show her this masterpiece by that same son.) But many people don't grow up with an anatomy and physiology instructor mom who talks so openly about the body and how it works.

Which means that I agreed with the second half of her comment fully. Our house is a hoot sometimes. And if I were a fly on the wall, this is what I'd be laughing about right now:

1. The tampon microphone that rests in the console of my car. Yes, it's true. A few weeks ago, I found an open (but unused, of course) tampon in my purse. I didn't have the heart to throw it away, but realized that I could not use it for its intended purpose. I also recognized that its slim structure lent itself to a very comfortable microphone.

You might be wondering why we'd need a microphone in the car, especially one that can never work. Well, it's for our dance parties, of course. So picture this: a fantastic song begins on the radio, I look back at the kids, slip my hand into the console and pull out the purple microphone. We all sing and laugh and pass around the tampon. And when the song is done, that microphone goes back to it's home. Brilliant idea, if you ask me.

2. The sand sarcophagus my kids created a few days ago. After clearing out dead plants from the sand box, we dumped 12 bags of new sand in and the kids went to town. In short order, Melina ran into the house: "Mom! You need to come see how we covered Aaron!" I walked out the back door and stood at the edge of the box. Okay, I thought, You covered Aaron. And then, I noticed the place where his feet should be resembled something with which we're all too familiar around here. That this structure was not a simple sarcophagus, but a genitalia-shaped sarcophagus.

Don't know what that is? Follow the shape of the outline and you'll get it.
Yes, our house is a hoot. Feel free to come spend some time with us.

2 comments:

T said...

Not normal? That summarizes why so many couples I see in therapy fail.

Christina said...

But as you and I both know, there are varying degrees of normal, right?