The epic tail of the first flow.
Life really has a way of humbling us at times, doesn’t it? This seems especially so when it comes in the form of our little princess mini me’s. Once upon a time, they were wearing our high heels and trying on our makeup – and now they are growing up right before our eyes.
Sometimes we don’t even realize how quickly they are careening towards tween-hood until we get the “Mom, I think I’m dying” phone call. And while I do regret the “why do you think you are dying now…” response, I would like to remind all readers I was truly not expecting her period at 10!
I managed to quickly pick my jaw up off the floor and save the conversation with Mommy words of wisdom, the promise of brownies, and the added bonus that, mercifully, Aunt Flow visited during e-learning at home versus at school during PE.
Now sitting in the parking lot, realizing that my 10 year old daughter is actually becoming a woman, I tried very hard not to be overcome by the frantic palpitations of my heart and blurry vision due to excess water running from my eyes – it must have been dust or something.
After all, it’s not like she’s old enough to date, or like boys, or think of boys. What if she has thought of boys. I’m totally not ready for that. What if she has question – oh my, definitely not ready for that. I need to tell her dad. Not about boys, but Aunt Flow. How is he going to handle that? Not only has my daughter gotten her period, but now I have to explain it to her dad, and her stepdad. Ugh! Ok, breathe, Momma. Focus. Woosahhhhh! Rub the ear lobes, and drive to the pharmacy.
Brownie mix, check. Always Teen Pads, check. Baby wipes, check. Feminine deodorant spray, check. Prosecco for Mom, check, check, check! Heading for check out.
Relief, for a brief second before realizing that now I need to start on calling the men who will undoubtedly behave like little girls, stick their fingers in their ears and sing the denial song, “La La La La La…”
Did the line cut out? Did he hang up? Did he just die…?
Priscilla Morris
With a resigned sigh, I called her dad and what better way to deliver news than cutting straight to chase, right? So I proceed to divulge the passing of age story and… silence. Did the line cut out? Did he hang up? Did he just die…?
Then I heard the most perplexing and utterly comical ranting of any person ever alive. “But how? Wait, I mean I know how, but why? I knew she was eating too much candy. No boys ever! What do I buy? How does she? I need instructions. Can you write some for me?”
I mean the range of emotions was all over the place, and I was not about to admit that mine were too – after all, Momma has to be strong. So of course, I offered to write him instructions on how change the flux capacitor. He didn’t find that nearly as amusing as I did.
Getting home, baking brownies, and talking with my now not-so-little mini me about “The Period” went better than expected – thank you, Dr. Prosecco. Definitely better than when I was a kid – not the Prosecco, but the period talk. Although, some of her questions really made me want to laugh out loud, but that would have been disastrous. Lord knows there is nothing worse than a pre-teen being laughed at who’s just been visited by Aunt Flow. There is just not enough wine and woosah for that.
The best question was definitely, “How many times a day does this period thing happen and for how long?” To which I replied, “About 5-7 days, and it happens all day and night until you’re about 40 something.” The reaction was golden. “I should just give up now then.” And then she reached for a brownie. This is why I love her so much!
All in all, she’s a trooper and handling it well. Even her cat has been wonderful – never leaving her side and always available for much needed cuddles. Her stepdad, on the other hand, didn’t handle the news so well. Emotional melt down doesn’t even begin to describe the man. Nonetheless, he has discovered a way to cope with the situation. One that my daughter fully supports, because it involves donuts. The deal is that no one talks about “The Period” similarly to Voldemort, and they go pick up fresh donuts each morning she has the flow-that-shall-not-be-named.
At the end of the day, my mini me is growing up, but she still needs mom for love and guidance. Her two Dads are terrified of the idea of boys and overwhelmed that Aunt Flow is here to stay. All I know is that we survived the first of many milestones to come thanks to brownies, donuts, a little Prosecco, and a lot of love – because hey, this is life-period.