This blog entry comes with a warning, for all of my delicate readers- this blog post contains anatomically correct language. If you just felt your knees buckle or your head just got all swimmy, leave this blog post now, go here instead where they are making “baby bling” out of recycled toilet paper rolls- it’s a safer bet.
I recently walked into the kitchen where I found Sydney, Sam, Ellie & Shep hanging out and the Doc was just down the hall in the man room, otherwise known as the “Petri dish". The man room is within ear shot of the kitchen so it is quite easy to carry on a conversation between it and the kitchen. As it turns out, I walked into the kitchen just as Syd and the Doc had wrapped up a conversation- Sydney turns to me and with a smug look on her face says “Papai just asked me when is Shepard’s birthday.” Now you can imagine the look of amusement and the “can you believe your baby daddy just ask when his boys birthday is?” look on her face- she was enjoying this. For a moment I felt a twinge of “no he didn’t just ask when Shep was born?” he did, after all, deliver him. But being the ever present dotter of “I’s” and crosser of “T’s” I cut to the chase and asked “and you told him….?” She replied “January 17th.” Hmmm….off a day- I quickly call out "Honey, Shep was born on January 16th, not the 17th!” To which the Doc, otherwise known as "the guy who clearly lost his freaking mind," draws a bold breath and with the confidence of someone who woke up on the brave side of the bed retorts “well I said it was the 17th, the insurance document says the 17th and so did Sydney.” OH- and there ya have it folks, never mind that I toted him for 9 months, lost sight of my toes for months, spent countless nights tangled in a death trap of sheets as I flung my big self around in bed at night trying to get "us" comfortable, that I ate almost everything that was not nailed to the floor and that I walked around for months with a belly button that appeared to have an erection! The Doc, the insurance document and the daughter say he was born on the 17th, must be true then, right? HA! Without thought or hesitation and from the very core of my being, (you know that guttural place, that place where your confidence resides and just waits for the right trigger to come along to launch) I belted out with authority
“well he flew out of my vagina, I think I would know when he was born!”
and there it was- that statement- the one that left jaws on the floor- minds reeling to comprehend………………..silence……………the statement hung there……………..like a mushroom cloud that results after a bomb is dropped….only it wasn’t just any ole bomb that was dropped, I had dropped the “V” bomb, there in front of the entire family.
At this point, Sydney is basically on the floor laughing hysterically-Sam is asking “are we going on an airplane” (obviously the only word that registered with him was “flew”) – Ellie was inquiring “who’s angina?” while Shep runs around plugging both ears with his fingers and was saying “lalalalala” trying hard to pretend he did not just hear the details about his arrival (ok, I made this part up) and from the man room, nothing. In reality, what is there to say after a statement like this? How do you argue with this? How tragic for him- there was nothing that he could say in that moment- or for the rest of his life for that matter- that will ever trump that declaration. He continued to sit quietly in the man room searching, wondering, speechless. Eventually he emerges with a bit of a grin on his face that was almost masked by concern "what is with the language you are using in front of the kids?" asks THE DOCTOR! The language? As if years of medical school, months of OB/GYN rotations and catching 3 of his own children had not done the job of de-sensitizing him! The language? I suppose we will forever reference “it” as a “tee-tee.” Does anyone know where I can score tickets to the Vagina Monologues? We have some more work to do in the area of desensitization. THE DOCTOR was horrified and embarrassed that I had used the “V” word in the presence of him and the teenage daughter…the teenage daughter, on the other hand, was on the floor laughing begging me to blog about it- what is wrong with this picture?
Fast forward a week when the Doc and I are conversing about the blog and I announce “I think I am going to post the blog about Shep’s birthday" (didn’t want to make reference to “the word”) and he replies “I don’t know about that, the language may be too much.” Ha! But for who?