Being a mother to a boy has already proven more challenging than I expected. Last week, we had an, ahem, weiner problem. I won't go into the gory details, but it ended up with a frantic evening visit to the doctor's office and a even later pick up at the drugstore. I have always said to my husband that since I don't have the parts, I can't be counted on to know that much about it, so it's his deal. I honestly expect him to do the potty training because he is the subject matter expert. Well, he was underway, and the boy had problems, I had to act. Turns out it wasn't a big deal and even though we got a perscription, it was really only for B's comfort and quicker recovery than a real issue.
As the doctor explained that these things are very common and "there's just a lot of skin down there," I was thinking to myself, what is this kid going to do when he is older and I don't necessarily see these issues. I sure wasn't going to tell my dad and problems I was having in that region. I mean, it's not like my husband won't be around at all, but still when the weiner crisis hits and he is underway, what am I going to do with a 12 year old boy who has no interest in his mom knowing about it.
Not only is he going to be embarrassed, but so am I. I could barely keep myself from giggling as I was explaining the specifics of the problem to the after hours nurse. I just couldn't help it, I was listening to myself talk about it so clinically that I found it hilarious every time I said the "p" word. Real grown up, I know. Needless to say, both of us will be a mess when this problem hits later in life. I know that I am just going to have to be up front with him as he is growing so that he does feel comfortable coming to me when his dad isn't around. I also know that I need to make sure I act in a mature manner when these issues arise. But, I still can't help but giggle when I look back on it and I still get red in the face when I explain it to my husband.