S is out for the night, and the kids are downstairs watching Incredibles 2, so I'll take the opportunity to crank out an entry on as many topics as I can.
First topic: Incredibles 2. It's running time on Netflix is 1:58 -- WTF?! Two hours for a kids movie?! Why? What could possible be that vital in a kids movie. Just cut 20 minutes out somewhere, anywhere. The kids won't care, I promise. I put it on at 6:45 pm, thinking it'd go to 8:15 or so, and I could have them in bed before 9:00. But now that's out of the question. Once I noticed how long it is, I tried to get them to watch something else, but they were ready to throw a dual-tantrum if I forced the issue. Plus, it took them like ten minutes and three fights to get them to agree on this movie, as it was. So, whatever. It's the weekend.
Speaking of kids movies, we went to "movie night" at the kids' school last night. It's a fun idea, you bring a picnic dinner to their little gym (which for some reason they call "the lollipop"), and watch a movie with the other families. In practice, it wasn't so great. For one thing the AV equipment is not exactly top of the line, so the quality of picture and sound was subpar. Then you have to sit on the floor or a metal fold-out chair the entire time, which I really struggle with. Lastly, the movie was Happy Feet, which is awful -- the part I saw, anyway. It was Robin Williams playing a penguin who talked like Elvis? I dunno. Like I said, the audio was really bad. Lil' S2 didn't last long -- he's hit or miss with movies -- so he started playing in the hall, and I realized it was my chance to escape, so I went with him. Then I just stayed there even after he went back. I stood in the hall and read (I came prepared with a book). I'm sure the other parents who passed me on their way to the bathroom thought I was some kind of weirdo -- either that or they were jealous they didn't bring a book as well.
The book I'm reading is Educated by Tara Westover. It's really good -- like really, really good. Maybe the best memoir I've ever read. It's a mostly serious, in many ways profound story of transformation, and yet somehow it reads like a breezy page-turner. I recommend it.
In other news, I had another great day at my Krav Maga class this week. We did a drill where one person grabs their partner's leg single-leg-take-down style, and then it's a battle -- either the person with the leg gets a takedown or the other person defends against a takedown with a cross-face (a move in which you put your hand across the attacker's face and torque their head to break their grip on your leg). My partner was this big tall guy. He's like six-foot-five, but he's gangly, and I was just schooling him -- taking him down every time I was the attacker; shucking him off every time I was the defender. At one point the instructor came around to watch, and I twisted my partner all the way to the ground with a cross-face, and the instructor made one of those "whoa!" whistling noises. And then my partner got up, and he was legit pissed, like he was actually going to really fight me or something. But instead he just yelled "fuck!" So, the instructor asked him what was wrong, and he said, "I just keep fuckin' getting outmuscled -- every time!" And then he gave me the stink-eye, as if I had done something wrong. He's a cool guy, though. After class he apologized for losing his temper, and we dapped it out. It's all good. I've been on the other side of that before, and it sucks. No hard feelings at all.
But, I'm paying the price now. I slept on my neck wrong and woke up Thursday in pain. I'm sure it's related to my class. It's super stiff and uncomfortable now. I don't think it's a serious injury, but I might skip class next week. That's definitely the worst part about doing Krav Maga -- constantly being dinged up. With that and with having to miss class due to a familial responsibilities, it's really hard to get a good consistent regimen going. But I go when I can, which is still almost always two to three times a week. I just wish I had started 15 years ago (although I couldn't have afford it). The recovery time is so much longer now than it was when I was younger -- and I'm not getting any faster on my feet either. But I more than hold my own in class against younger dudes, and there's an instructor who must be in his mid-50s, who can still whup some ass, so I might have some scrapping years left in me.
In other news, I had an impromptu sex talk with my kids the other day. I think it went well. I was reading them a book about hybrid animals like tiglons and zorses (real things), and there was a blurb about genes, and Lil' S1 didn't really understand it, so I was explaining how children are half of each of their parents. Being in an interracial marriage is helpful for this, because he can see that his skin color is between mine and S's: white and brown make light brown. But then he asked, "But how did you and amma make us?"
I hadn't really planned out a response to this question, so I made a split-second decision to just be factual. "There's something called sex," I said. "It's when a man puts his penis into a woman's vagina..."
He cut me off: "What's a vagina?"
At this point, S overheard our conversation and suggested we shelve it for a later date, but I didn't see the harm in having it now. I definitely knew what sex was at Lil' S1's age (and it mostly went over Lil' S2's head, anyway). So, I just gave them a quick, accurate run-down of how babies are made, S even got in on it, and then Lil' S1 said, "Oh, can you keep reading now?" And that was pretty much that.
It got me thinking back to my childhood, and I don't think there was ever a time I didn't know what sex was. Obviously, there must have been, but I can't remember it. I definitely knew in first grade because I remember getting in trouble for saying two kids in class were "humping in the bathtub." It's possible my parents had a conversation with me, and I don't remember it, but being that I called it "humping," it's much more likely I picked it up from a older kid. This would make sense since I spent a lot of time with my older sister and two older family friends back then.
Speaking of my childhood, S and I are two deep in the four-part Ted Bundy documentary on Netflix. (Well, S is more like one and a half deep since she falls asleep three-fourths of the way through. I'm not sure how you can fall asleep in a documentary about a serial killer and not have your dreams haunted, but she's on of those people who can fall asleep in almost any circumstance. I envy those people.) By the time I was a cognizant being, Bundy had already been caught and was on death row. But it was still a big story, given that he was a hometown kid. (The joke the day he was executed, when I was in fifth grade, was that the cafeteria was serving "Bundy Bacon.") So, I knew the basics, but it's really interesting to fill in the details. The only problem is that they use a lot of choppy, strobe-like, flash imagery for effect, and it gets irritating after a while. I actually didn't even notice it, but then S mentioned it, and now I can't not notice it. Anyway, it's not annoying enough to keep me from watching the last two episodes. I recommend it.
Okay, I think I hear kids coming upstairs. Until next time...
First topic: Incredibles 2. It's running time on Netflix is 1:58 -- WTF?! Two hours for a kids movie?! Why? What could possible be that vital in a kids movie. Just cut 20 minutes out somewhere, anywhere. The kids won't care, I promise. I put it on at 6:45 pm, thinking it'd go to 8:15 or so, and I could have them in bed before 9:00. But now that's out of the question. Once I noticed how long it is, I tried to get them to watch something else, but they were ready to throw a dual-tantrum if I forced the issue. Plus, it took them like ten minutes and three fights to get them to agree on this movie, as it was. So, whatever. It's the weekend.
Speaking of kids movies, we went to "movie night" at the kids' school last night. It's a fun idea, you bring a picnic dinner to their little gym (which for some reason they call "the lollipop"), and watch a movie with the other families. In practice, it wasn't so great. For one thing the AV equipment is not exactly top of the line, so the quality of picture and sound was subpar. Then you have to sit on the floor or a metal fold-out chair the entire time, which I really struggle with. Lastly, the movie was Happy Feet, which is awful -- the part I saw, anyway. It was Robin Williams playing a penguin who talked like Elvis? I dunno. Like I said, the audio was really bad. Lil' S2 didn't last long -- he's hit or miss with movies -- so he started playing in the hall, and I realized it was my chance to escape, so I went with him. Then I just stayed there even after he went back. I stood in the hall and read (I came prepared with a book). I'm sure the other parents who passed me on their way to the bathroom thought I was some kind of weirdo -- either that or they were jealous they didn't bring a book as well.
The book I'm reading is Educated by Tara Westover. It's really good -- like really, really good. Maybe the best memoir I've ever read. It's a mostly serious, in many ways profound story of transformation, and yet somehow it reads like a breezy page-turner. I recommend it.
In other news, I had another great day at my Krav Maga class this week. We did a drill where one person grabs their partner's leg single-leg-take-down style, and then it's a battle -- either the person with the leg gets a takedown or the other person defends against a takedown with a cross-face (a move in which you put your hand across the attacker's face and torque their head to break their grip on your leg). My partner was this big tall guy. He's like six-foot-five, but he's gangly, and I was just schooling him -- taking him down every time I was the attacker; shucking him off every time I was the defender. At one point the instructor came around to watch, and I twisted my partner all the way to the ground with a cross-face, and the instructor made one of those "whoa!" whistling noises. And then my partner got up, and he was legit pissed, like he was actually going to really fight me or something. But instead he just yelled "fuck!" So, the instructor asked him what was wrong, and he said, "I just keep fuckin' getting outmuscled -- every time!" And then he gave me the stink-eye, as if I had done something wrong. He's a cool guy, though. After class he apologized for losing his temper, and we dapped it out. It's all good. I've been on the other side of that before, and it sucks. No hard feelings at all.
But, I'm paying the price now. I slept on my neck wrong and woke up Thursday in pain. I'm sure it's related to my class. It's super stiff and uncomfortable now. I don't think it's a serious injury, but I might skip class next week. That's definitely the worst part about doing Krav Maga -- constantly being dinged up. With that and with having to miss class due to a familial responsibilities, it's really hard to get a good consistent regimen going. But I go when I can, which is still almost always two to three times a week. I just wish I had started 15 years ago (although I couldn't have afford it). The recovery time is so much longer now than it was when I was younger -- and I'm not getting any faster on my feet either. But I more than hold my own in class against younger dudes, and there's an instructor who must be in his mid-50s, who can still whup some ass, so I might have some scrapping years left in me.
[Demonstration of a cross face, but it's a little different than what we were doing in the drill. The attacker in the video is doing a double-leg takedown, for example.]
In other news, I had an impromptu sex talk with my kids the other day. I think it went well. I was reading them a book about hybrid animals like tiglons and zorses (real things), and there was a blurb about genes, and Lil' S1 didn't really understand it, so I was explaining how children are half of each of their parents. Being in an interracial marriage is helpful for this, because he can see that his skin color is between mine and S's: white and brown make light brown. But then he asked, "But how did you and amma make us?"
I hadn't really planned out a response to this question, so I made a split-second decision to just be factual. "There's something called sex," I said. "It's when a man puts his penis into a woman's vagina..."
He cut me off: "What's a vagina?"
At this point, S overheard our conversation and suggested we shelve it for a later date, but I didn't see the harm in having it now. I definitely knew what sex was at Lil' S1's age (and it mostly went over Lil' S2's head, anyway). So, I just gave them a quick, accurate run-down of how babies are made, S even got in on it, and then Lil' S1 said, "Oh, can you keep reading now?" And that was pretty much that.
It got me thinking back to my childhood, and I don't think there was ever a time I didn't know what sex was. Obviously, there must have been, but I can't remember it. I definitely knew in first grade because I remember getting in trouble for saying two kids in class were "humping in the bathtub." It's possible my parents had a conversation with me, and I don't remember it, but being that I called it "humping," it's much more likely I picked it up from a older kid. This would make sense since I spent a lot of time with my older sister and two older family friends back then.
Speaking of my childhood, S and I are two deep in the four-part Ted Bundy documentary on Netflix. (Well, S is more like one and a half deep since she falls asleep three-fourths of the way through. I'm not sure how you can fall asleep in a documentary about a serial killer and not have your dreams haunted, but she's on of those people who can fall asleep in almost any circumstance. I envy those people.) By the time I was a cognizant being, Bundy had already been caught and was on death row. But it was still a big story, given that he was a hometown kid. (The joke the day he was executed, when I was in fifth grade, was that the cafeteria was serving "Bundy Bacon.") So, I knew the basics, but it's really interesting to fill in the details. The only problem is that they use a lot of choppy, strobe-like, flash imagery for effect, and it gets irritating after a while. I actually didn't even notice it, but then S mentioned it, and now I can't not notice it. Anyway, it's not annoying enough to keep me from watching the last two episodes. I recommend it.
Okay, I think I hear kids coming upstairs. Until next time...
That's how we handle sex in our house too--straightforward and when it organically comes up we take the opportunity to educate and answer questions. And no cutesy names for genitals (although we do say balls and boobs sometimes--or J and I do--the boys are at ages where they are pretty mortified by any genital/sex talk with their parents). This is how we were brought up too which is probably why you don't ever remember not knowing. We got information in drips and dabs and answers when we asked. I have read that meeting kids where they are at is the best way to tackle the subject--take their cues and be mindful of not overwhelming or over-explaining either. Demystifying sex will help them make educated decisions when puberty hits and how can that ever be a bad thing?
ReplyDeleteYeah, S's worry is that they will repeat things at inappropriate times, like at school, but I figure, even then, I'd rather have them repeat something that's true than be misinformed.
ReplyDelete