The TMI Edition

Yes, I’m going to be mentioning that monthly visitor in this post – Aunt Flo, Dot, red-headed friend, “friend”, period, menses, whatever your pleasure.

OK, show of hands: how many of you remember watching your mother take care of bathroom business when she had her period (my word-of-choice) when you were oh, say, four? Or seven? OK, any age at all? [Scans crowd. Hmm, it’s hard to count from here.]

Well, I’m here to tell you that I have absolutely no recollection of my mother being a “woman” while I was growing up.

My children, however, seem to be quite well-versed on the topic. Not because I’ve taken the time to educate them, but because they won’t leave me alone! I get followed into the bathroom (or any room, for that matter) and have become way too accustomed to an audience when dealing with the flow.

I have been using the Diva Cup for about 8 months now, and Krystal especially loves to say it, as in “Are you using your Deeeeva Cupppp?” in a lovely sing-song voice. Belle loves to get me fresh pantiliners, even on days I don’t need them.

I suppose, since they are girls and will be dealing with this first hand in fewer years than I’d like to think, that this isn’t such a bad thing. But I am looking forward to having time to myself in the bathroom.

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2 responses to “The TMI Edition

  1. ROTFL….Oh my goodness this one brought tears to my eyes. I guess maybe it’s cause I got boys, but I kick them out, in fact I refuse to do any business (during that time of the month) if they’re in the bathroom with me when I have my period. They can barge in but I’ll sit there until they leave. LOL. And you’re right, I can’t recall anytime from growing up where my mother was on her time at all…

  2. No, I was never privy to that info. I never even saw where she kept her pads until I started myself (at age 13) and she gave me some to use. Mind you these were the kind that you had to use with a belt. I think the self adhesive kind were available then, but we didn’t have them.

    But I’m like you – I am not allowed to go to the bathroom by myself. I had been just ignoring their presence, until DeBoy offered to help. Now I lock the door and deal with the screaming. The Mountain Man objected until I explained that I didn’t think his 3-year-old son needed to see something he himself had never witnessed (nor does he want to). He cheerfully carted the screaming DeBoy away and read him a book.

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