I was watching the end of the movie Juno yesterday when CJ wandered into the room. I have seen the whole movie before and really enjoyed it, but yesterday I tuned in near the end. Fortunately the part I did see included my favorite scene.
There is a part where June is troubled by the relationships she sees breaking up around her. She goes into the kitchen where her dad is repairing some appliance on the kitchen table, and he asks her what is troubling her. She explains that she wonders if any relationship ever actually works out. Her dad asks if she is having boy troubles and includes that he thinks dating a boy in her present condition seems a little wrong. (She is pregnant, if you have not seen the movie.) He defines it as skanky, skeevy, and tore up from the floor up. I love that! He goes on to give June the perfect fatherly advice about relationships which answers all of her life's questions.
That is the kind of dad I want to be. One who has all the answers to life's questions, but can still be funny in the process. It is a tough balancing act that plays out way better in the movies.
As we wrapped up the movie, CJ asked me how June got into her condition. Hmmm. I wondered if my 13 year old meant, "How did she get pregnant?", and in what way did he mean it? Did he need the meat and potatoes of the birds and the bees? Did he wonder how someone so young was able to get pregnant? Did he wonder why she was pregnant but giving up her child?
I found out later that he was asking what happened to the father, but that did not calm my brain down. I know we have to start talking about this stuff more, but he only wants snippets of it. I have not figured out if he is just uncomfortable with the whole topic, uncomfortable discussing it with dad, or fatigued at my use of sarcasm in every discussion.
What I am learning is that there are times when being funny works, and times when not so much. When he had a bad day of school on Friday, it was cool to joke about cow farms, finding ponies, and having a couple beers to take the edge off. But when discussing anything to do with girls or sex, humor is not working. As we headed off to the local street party dance last night, I asked him if he had his wallet, his phone, and his condoms in case he got lucky. He gave me that look and asked mom if I had a mute button. What? That is funny stuff right there. Okay, maybe only to me.
So, I will keep learning and maybe figure it out as I go. Or perhaps it will be like trying to figure out women, it will remain one of life's mysteries.
To close with something else I am finding hilarious, but CJ does not, here are a couple of photos of a bad hair day. That is funny stuff right there. The look in photo number two is him asking mom (with his eyes), "What is so funny?"
As a 20-something year old, I will tell you that at the age of 13, he and his friends have most likely begun to talk about sex at school. One parent tells their kid about it and then it spreads like wildfire. I remember hearing about it at school first.
ReplyDeleteYou probably already knew this and might have even had "the talk" but I just wanted to give a heads up just in case! Good luck!
When my Thing 1 turned 13 and got his first girlfriend, I gave him The Talk. Now that he's 18 and starting college in a week, I still give him The Talk every time he goes out at night. And just like when he was 13, he responds with a complete and utter lack of humor on the subject and would really prefer not to hear about That Stuff from his mom. Which is why I continue to do it.
ReplyDeleteAnd obviously, I'm a different Kelly than the first one to comment.
Yep, at 11 years old and in middle school, I learned waaaaaaay more about sex from my friends than you would think kids at a middle school would know nowadays. Comforting, isn't it?
ReplyDeleteAt least he asks you those questions sometimes, which I see as a good sign. No parental advice here, seeing as I stick to only raising cats. And I cut off all useful items on their bodies to making more kitties before they can even ask me where babies come from.