I’m the mother of sons. I LOVE being the mother of sons. Although there are multitudes of awesome things about having sons, one of the things that I’ve always secretly smirked about was The Talk. It’s always been Mountain Man’s job to have The Talk. After all, he’s The Dad and it only makes sense for him to have The Talk.
Don’t misunderstand me. I’ve always answered questions straightforwardly and factually. I’ve occasionally confirmed that, yes, what dad says IS the way it really works. Yes, I know, hard to believe. No, he would not make this stuff up. And inwardly I would sigh with relief that all I needed to do was confirm the information that they had already heard spelled out in detail. So, so, SO glad it wasn’t MY job to initiate The Talk!
Last spring, I lost a dear friend to breast cancer. She left behind a much-loved husband, a 13-year-old son, and an 11-year-old daughter. The void she left in their lives can’t be described with words, only tears. Yesterday, I stopped by to have dinner with the little family on my way across four states to a family cabin for a week of vacation. As soon as I walked through the door, the dad pulled me aside and said the words I hadn’t even known to dread! “Melanie has so many questions. Will you PLEASE talk to her about periods? About becoming a woman? About (gulp) sex? Will you let her ask you questions? Will you reassure her?”
Gulp indeed. I could not believe it! My youngest two are almost 18 and I was SURE I was well out of the danger zone of needing to have The Talk with anyone! But there was little 11 year old Melanie, looking up at me uncertainly, trying to smile. So what could I do? I snuggled down in a comfy chair in a private area, pulled Melanie in for a snuggle (I don’t know who was more desperate, her or me!) and realized that the moment of truth had come.
Did *I* know where babies came from? Well, turns out that I do. I was able to matter-of-factly explain the mechanics of everything….with no giggling. I affirmed that yes, God did a great job of designing our bodies. Yes, it does actually work.
Melanie had to run all the weird and wild stories she’d heard from her friends at school by me to see if any of them were true. Most, I was able to immediately debunk. One or two, I admitted to never having heard before. I concluded by offering to answer any other questions on the phone, as they came to mind. We finished with a hug and I felt a tiny sob shake Melanie when she tucked her head under my chin. I really wasn’t the one she wanted to talk with about those private, personal things and we both knew it.
I had to laugh at myself. All these gleeful years of thinking that I’d dodged that bullet….and in the end, I needed to BITE that bullet and Have.The.Talk. God has a funny sense of humor sometimes. So funny, it makes me cry a little.