Teen Tidbit

Our youth now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for authority;

they show disrespect for their elders and love chatter in place of exercise;

they no longer rise when elders enter the room;

they contradict their parents, chatter before company;

gobble up their food and tyrannize their teachers.

 

--Socrates, Fifth Century B.C.

Always 21

A little girl goes to the barber shop with her father. She stands next to the barber chair, while her dad gets his hair cut, eating a snack cake. The barber says to her, "Sweetheart, you're gonna get hair on your Twinkie." She says, "Yes, I know, and I'm gonna get boobs, too."

The most shocking things in life always happen when you are doing something, like standing in the kitchen cutting strawberries. So, there I am, and 1st Daughter casually asks me when she should have sex. Keep in mind #1 daughter is 9 YEARS OLD!!! I am prepared for many technical questions about womanhood, but I had not given much thought as to when I would advise(?) my 9 year old daughter to have sex. I flummoxed my way through some kind of answer that clearly told her to wait a long, long, long time.

I was talking with some other moms about this last night over dinner. The mom of a 15 year old, who clearly had been asked all the questions, gave this advice, “Be it sex or drugs or whatever, the right answer is always 21 years old. 21 is always the right answer.” I was amazed that she could so quickly solve this dilemma and chalk everything up to being ready for action at 21.

I’ve been thinking about 21–and I like this answer a lot. I could absolutely tell my daughter about the first time I had an alcoholic drink (don’t laugh here, 21) or the first time I tried some kind of non-prescription, possibly illegal drug (don’t laugh harder, 37) or the first time I smoked (really, really don’t laugh, never), but sex? That happened much younger and maybe I should have waited for 21 to do that–I think I would of made smarter decisions about who, where, when and perhaps enjoyed it more.

I am terrible at lying. Years ago, I was a great lier. I could make up anything and have anyone believing it in a second–I had a great imagination and came up with some doozies. Now, I sincerely suck at it. If my daughter looks me in the eye, I’m afraid I am going to spill the beans. But sex is scarier now, considering AIDs and all the STDs out there. It’s so much riskier and it’s not so much about pregnancy, it’s about taking your health in you hands.

My biggest fears growing up about sex were pregnancy and a broken heart. Now it’s those issues plus the most important–life.

My BIG favorite South Park answer??? “There’s a time and place for everything–and it’s called college. ” Check out the episode Ike’s Wee Wee and you will get a better education on why drugs are bad AND circumcision.

Maybe I can say, “There is a time and place for everything.It’s called when you’re in college and 21.”

About

Welcome to Life With Birk.  I'm glad you stopped by.

I'm a 40 year old SAHM to three busy kids and a workaholic husband.  I organize the chaos, or at least that's what I'm supposed to be doing.  

I grew up in the midwest with mayo and white bread.  Now I'm in California with whole grains and avocado.  Just when I think I understand Northern California, I have to change hair stylists and take another look.

 

I Shop Therefore, I Am?

Well, it's been said before...I shop therefore I am. I guess according to all of the reports out there I'm one of the many people boosting the economy. I was boosting the economy even when no one was boosting the economy. It's not hard to do when you have three growing kids and you naturally like to shop.

And that all seems o-k when it comes to buying underwear, socks, toiletpaper or bread. Even if your kids sprout a size and they need new pants there are no real pangs of guilt, but somehow I am sometimes lured into that other kind of shopping. I don't often go to that dark place, but...

Yesterday, I did the kind of shopping where you buy three pairs of jeans that cost over $250.00 each. A beautiful, young, hip sales associate brings you pair after pair of jeans that are too tight, too loose, too saggy, too baggy. Jeans that make your rear look sucked in sucked up and poofed out.

I felt like I was on a quest. Could I find a pair of jeans? And as I watched the price tags grow from the ridiculously expensive to the 'I could never dream of spending that on one pair of pants expensive' I became sweaty, panicky and crazy.

Next thing I knew I was handing over the magic plastic and buying close to $800.00 of denim.

Later, back at home, I was trying on my jeans. This sickening thud came over me--even though I didn't love any of the pairs, I knew I couldn't return them. It was like we had formed a bond, and now that I had these groovy, expensive jeans, I wanted to keep them.

The sales associate had said to wash them, dry them and wear them around to see if I really liked them. That's my plan...even though my husband said I needed to take one pair back and that no one buys jeans that cost that much money.

This is more than the rent on my first house!