Um…No.
I mean, I guess we could if we wanted to.
But I don’t think we want to.
Funny…’cause we can (and do) talk about just about everything else. But sex. It just doesn’t seem to come up in our conversations.
I swear I don’t avoid it. I don’t really talk about sex all that much anyway. It’s nobody’s business. Especially my kid’s.
And, I think that goes for talking to them about my sex life or theirs.
Don’t get me wrong. They’re both adults and I totally hope they’re having sex (really). Wonderful, loving, satisfying sex. But I don’t tell them that.
And I figure they know I’m having sex.
(Why did I just picture them reading this and covering their ears shouting NANANANANA until the inevitable image disappears from their heads?)
But it’s true. Wonderful, loving, satisfying sex. But I don’t tell them that either.
I don’t know why.
Although I NEVER talked to my mom about sex. She was clearly uncomfortable discussing anything about sex, or those “intimate things we may or may not be doing behind closed doors.” Which for her…included everything from shaving her legs (which was a total mystery to me until waaaay into my teenage years)…to those other things she may or may not have been doing behind her closed doors.
I know my parents were totally in love with each other and were openly affectionate in front of me and my brother…but it never seemed…sexual (somehow). And God knows they never talked to us about sex.
But I guess it was implied…in the way they looked longingly into each others eyes, kissed longer than expected, or lingered for what seemed like hours in a hug. But it was never discussed.
Me…I was pretty open about just about everything when my kids were young. I was very comfortable shaving my legs in front of both kids (not wanting it to be a mystery to them)…or even walking naked around my room in front of them. UNTIL I could see it started to make them feel uncomfortable. And then I made sure I had on a robe in their presence (and started to shave my legs in private).
But that’s not SEX. That’s just being human, and comfortable in our human bodies (not always an easy thing – but that’s for another post!).
Sex is different. It’s private. It is one of the most intimate things we can do with another human being. And it’s not something I feel comfortable sharing (either way) as a mother (no matter how much of a friend I become) with my kids.
I just think we should all go about our own business…having as much wonderful, loving, satisfied sex as possible…and keep it to ourselves!
So there.
Nope.
Honestly, I really don’t see the need to. I guess we could talk about it, but I certainly don’t want to.
And I don’t think that she does either.
I think that there’s a very natural aversion to talking to your parents/kids about sex. Is this a bad thing? I don’t think so. I don’t think it has anything to do with shame or what’s appropriate or not. There’s probably a super interesting sociological perspective on it, actually, but what it comes down to (for me) is this:
I just don’t need to know about my mom’s sex life (eww), and she doesn’t need to know about mine, thankyouverymuch.
It’s not because either of us is uncomfortable with sex or anything. We’re both sexual (I guess) (also? I just shuddered a little bit, thus proving the whole “natural aversion” thing), we both have sex (I guess) (shudder), we just don’t need to discuss it with each other (thank god).
I don’t think that we’re really missing out on anything. We have a wonderful relationship, and I’m not left wishing for anything more, especially when it comes to this subject.
(I mean, even the Gilmore Girls didn’t really talk about sex.)
This doesn’t mean that my parents never talked to me about sex.
There are some essential facts that need to be covered between kids and parents (regardless of how comfortable the subject might be): like safe sex, the emotional and physical consequences of sex, consensual sex, and, you know, where babies come from. My parents never held back or skirted around these issues.
(I think I knew where babies actually came from before any of my peers.)
(Nope, didn’t make me as popular as you might think.)
But after that? I don’t think any discussion is necessary… at least not for us.
I know that I could probably talk to my mom about sex if I wanted to. Really, I believe that. And maybe we’ll decide to talk about it more at some point in our lives.
But really? For now? And the foreseeable future?
We can just keep things the way they are.
I have to admit…I take the whole gift giving thing pretty seriously.
In my world, gift giving is much more of an art than a science, and I’ve learned to appreciate the finer art of gift giving for a significant other.
It starts with listening. Listening to your loved one about what THEY like, what THEY appreciate, or what THEY would never get for themselves…but would love to get.
It’s supposed to be about THEM. Not US.
But the truth is…it’s downright tough to think about them and figure out what they’d like!
And I know this from experience. I wasn’t always good at this stuff.
I mean, no guy should have to get a sweater with leather patches on the shoulders and elbows each year for Xmas (sorry Brian). But then again… no woman should ever have to get a hot-air popcorn popper for her birthday (again…sorry Brian).
But I’ve learned (and so has Brian).
And I think now I’ve gotten pretty good at gift giving, especially for my significant other (lucky Matthew).
Cause I think I’ve figured out the rules.
Finally!
I mean, you’d think someone would have told us all the rules by now!!!!
So…in an act of community service during this 2010 Holiday season, I offer you…
The Rules of Gift Giving for A Significant Other
by Cindy Carrillo
Part 1: Rules for Giving Gifts to a Woman (Significant Other)
Rule #1…NEVER give a woman who is your spouse or significant other an appliance Of ANY KIND for a special occasion or holiday. I don’t care if the toaster/washing machine/vacuum cleaner just broke and she ASKED for a new one. Get it next Tuesday…but NOT for a holiday or special occasion.
Rule #2…If it has some utilitarian function…don’t get it. She can (and probably will) get it for herself. However, giving gifts of “experiences” (things SHE likes to do!) are like gold to a woman (‘cause then she doesn’t have to make all of the plans herself!!!!).
Rule #3…DON’T listen when she says she has everything and doesn’t want anything. But DO listen to what she talks about and shows interest in, and DO pay attention to what she pauses to look at in the store. Exception: collections are fun and all…but don’t take the easy way out and get her another cow or turtle or coffee mug (that’s what your other family and friends already get her!).
Rule #4…If it would make her feel pretty or special or pretty AND special…get it. It’s worth every penny!
Rule #5…It doesn’t matter if she already has 17 pairs of earrings, 12 necklaces, 15 bracelets and 6 rings. The new one you get her this time…will end up being her new favorite.
Part 2: Rules for Giving Gifts to a Man (Significant Other)
The rules for Men (I think) are somewhat different…but still…follow the same basic premises as above:
Rule #1…Never give a man an appliance as a gift…as if a woman would ever get a guy a washing machine for his birthday! Exception: Power Tools (unless of course he’s Jewish…in which case you want to give him a gift certificate for a handyman).
Rule #2…If it has utilitarian function…GET IT. Again…that whole power tool (or electronic) thing. Not sure why, but men seem to like stuff that actually does something useful.
Rule #3…I have yet to hear a guy be coy about what he wants, because men don’t play games like women do. So if he tells you what he wants, get it. He doesn’t need the surprise or for you to figure it out for yourself (like women do).
Rule #4…If he’s into lookin’ good…it’s worth every penny to help him feel that way with a great addition to his wardrobe. But if he doesn’t care how he looks…don’t get him clothes…or you’ll risk being thought of as his mother (which we all know is the kiss of death to a relationship!).
Rule #5…Unless he collects cufflinks or ties or sports team paraphernalia (or whatever!) …don’t get him stuff he already has. “Choice” just doesn’t mean the same to him. Think “the latest electronic” or gadget or game. He’d rather turn something on and play it, than wear it!
There you have it!
I hope you’ll follow these rules and have years of happy and fruitful gift giving between you and your significant other (and never receive a popcorn popper or leather patched sweater ever again!).
I’m speaking (mostly) from a girl’s perspective here.
(Obviously.)
Appropriate:
Something she wants, that she didn’t even realize she wanted.
Inappropriate:
Something you want, whether or not she realizes she wants it.
Appropriate:
Something she would never get for herself because it’s too extravagant.
Inappropriate:
Something she would never get for herself because WHO WOULD WANT THAT?
Appropriate:
Something she’ll use.
Inappropriate:
Something she needs.
Appropriate:
Something she wants that she explicitly asked for.
Inappropriate:
That mattress pad that she explicitly asked for.
Appropriate:
A book by her favorite author.
Inappropriate:
A self-help book about how to stop being a control freak, even if it’s by her favorite author.
Appropriate:
A gift certificate for a full day at the spa.
Inappropriate:
A gift certificate for a full body waxing… even at a spa.
Appropriate:
A cookbook.
Inappropriate:
A diet cookbook.
Appropriate:
Lingerie
Inappropriate:
Lingerie two sizes too large (or too small).
Appropriate:
Something for the house.
Inappropriate:
Something to clean the house.
Appropriate:
A DVD of a movie that you both loved.
Inappropriate:
A DVD of a movie that you loved but she fell asleep or covered her eyes through.
Appropriate:
Some nice lotion.
Inappropriate:
Nice lotion that has “anti-aging” or “clears acne in one week” on the bottle.
Appropriate:
A sweater.
Inappropriate:
A sweater your mom picked out.
Appropriate:
Candles in her favorite scent.
Inappropriate:
Scented candles for the bathroom.
Appropriate:
Diamonds.
Inappropriate:
Fake diamonds that you pretend are real.
Appropriate:
A new car.
Inappropriate:
A muffler to make her old car sound “manly”. (Mike asks me every year if I want one… Every. Single. Year.)
Appropriate:
A gift certificate for a massage.
Inappropriate:
A homemade coupon for a hug. (Unless it accompanies diamonds or a new car.)
You get the idea.
Of course, there are exceptions to every rule.
Maybe she really wants a muffler!
But, you know, better safe than (really) sorry.
{ Topic submitted by A. Mann }
Nuts. A Big Pile of Mixed Nuts.
Anyone who has had the absolute pleasure of meeting my family (and I’m talking my immediate as well as my ever growing extended family) would have to agree that they are all nuts.
But what family isn’t?
We’re not a big family. My grandparents had three girls and each of them only had two kids each. So we were manageable in size. But that just exemplified the nuttiness of each individual.
Way before I was born, my dad decided to take my mom away from the rest of her nutty family in the hopes (I believe) of gaining some sanity. They moved more than 2,000 miles from the closest nut, but it didn’t work.
The nuttiness seeped through.
But as a kid, I loved it. I loved the way we would all get together for family gatherings and everyone talked at the same time, yet were able to hear the juiciest details from the other conversations.
I loved the way the older generation would tell the same family stories over and over and over again as if they were telling them for the first time. And when the stories got too many to remember…they assigned numbers to them and would shout out “number 23!” or 48 or 51…and everyone would laugh hysterically.
I loved the way we would spend hours on end trying to decide which restaurant to go to…and always ended up at the exact same place each time we visited.
And, I loved the way each person had their own unique nutty quality about them that we would discuss openly and exploit whenever possible.
Now I feel like I’ve created my own little nutty family that’s grown into a hodge podge of family members and close friends, with its own little mixed up nutty combinations.
There’s our nuclear family, my extended (well documented) nutty family, Brian’s family -which added a whole new breed of nuts to the mix, Matthew’s wonderfully nutso family, and our combined friends who quite literally could keep mental health professionals busy for a lifetime.
But when you put them all together in one big pile…you get a richly diverse mix that feeds me every day of the week…and nourishes my soul. And I don’t know what I’d do without that.
Because it’s the week of Thanksgiving, I’m going to say my most favorite Thanksgiving food EVER.
Mashed sweet potatoes with melted mini marshmallows.
(It’s not just my favorite because it’s DELICIOUS, but also because it’s pretty much the only time it’s totally acceptable to put marshmallows on your veggies.)
How does this awesome concoction describe my family?
First of all: it’s a little odd. I mean MARSHMALLOWS? On POTATOES? It’s weird. It makes some people tilt their head to the side and raise their eyebrows and shake their heads…
(I just can’t be friends with these people.)
My family is the same way. We’re wonderfully – awesomely – weird. We freak people out. We make people drop their jaws. We get ourselves a whole lot of raised eyebrows.
(And not just when we explain the whole #divorcedkidneys extravaganza.)
And I love us for that, just like I love the sweet potatoes and marshmallows.
Secondly, the sweet potatoes and marshmallows make me happy. I mean, how could they NOT?? They taste yummy, they’re pretty, and I can convince myself that I’m being healthy because sweet potatoes are really, really good for you.
(Right?)
My family makes me happy. We laugh and smile and have a great time.
(They’re also really pretty.)
And we’re good for each other.
Really, really good for each other.
Finally, sweet potatoes and marshmallows are special. You don’t get to have them all the time.
(Well, I guess you could eat them more often, but you don’t get a free pass from judgment like you do on Thanksgiving.)
(Which is kind of sad… but also kind of good… you know, health wise.)
(ANYWAY.)
Even though I do get to be with my (immediate) family whenever I want, they’re still incredibly special.
We’re totally unique.
We’re not like any other family I know.
My family is full of really good people covered in sweet, gooey goodness.
(I mean that in the best possible way.)
And that? Is extraordinarily special.