I guess you could say I’m a worrier. I’m definitely a planner. I like to think ahead, to prepare for any contingency. Parenthood seems to be full of those. And as with live TV, you know things can change very quickly. I’m trying to come up with strategies ahead of time. Some of these are important, some not. Either way, they must be dealt with.
The other day I was picking Stella up from her nanny’s house, and we were talking kid stuff. I forget how the subject came up, but she mentioned that they were teaching her kids the proper clinical names for private parts. That got me thinking about what we’ll do, as we haven’t gotten around to discussing that at our house yet (it seems we have some time since she’s still choosing to not speak to us in a language we can all understand). I guess we’ll go clinical? I don’t know. I’m on the fence. I know they need to know those names eventually, if for no other reason than to pass junior high health class (or is it now kindergarten health class?). I personally don’t like those words. They feel yucky to say. “Hoo ha” or “girl bits” sound better to me than “vagina.” “Wang” or “ding dong” sounds better than “penis.” Yes, it’s all the same body part(s). I just don’t like the proper words for them.
I also am already thinking and worrying ahead as to how we’ll explain death. Or I guess it’s not the explanation that I dread, but the comforting afterward. At the very least, we have 3 cats and a lizard that will probably leave the family at a point where she’ll be aware of it and miss them. None of those animals will live forever. As a scientific person, death is a clinical and natural thing. The person or animal ceases to register any kind of biological function. But of course it’s not that cut and dried. And then there’s the how do you explain life (the beginning of, specifically). Once again, I know we have some time for this stuff. But it’s good to be prepared. Too bad trying to think about this stuff makes me feel neurotic, perverted, or maudlin.