Thursday, February 14, 2013

Speaking of Love....

It's Sex-Ed week at the jr. high. I can think of no better way to insure the pre-teen set doesn't get too close to one another at the Valentine's Dance than to have them sit through 5 hours of class on the reproductive system and the diseases you can catch from getting acquainted with said system.

The school sends home a little information sheet and a permission slip that has to be returned before students are allowed to participate in the class. Our kids have all gone to the same jr. high and they've all attended the same sex-ed classes, not a big deal, but suddenly, this year, my husband was a lot more interested in the curriculum. There's been a little bit of a shake up around here lately as he adjusts to the idea that the rules have to be the same for his sweet girl as they have always been for her older brothers. His strong-willed baby princess is going to be the death of him. Walking home from anywhere after dark-- fine for the boys. Not a snowball's chance for the girl. (For the record, I am personally opposed to ANY of them walking home in the dark, I'm over protective like that.) Making gross body noises or crude jokes--WAY super funny when the boys do it. Not so much for the girl. (I myself am not a fan of gross body noises or crude jokes no matter who is making them. I'm a stick in the mud like that.) Sex Ed class at school--never even thought twice about it when the boys brought home the form. The girl? Oh my gosh!! How dare they (the school district) assume that we would want them teaching our angel the facts of life! The gall!

Never mind that we speak pretty freely about these things in our house and our little darling has known the facts of life for a few years now.

Finally, after way more discussion than we even had about having kids in the first place, it was agreed that she could go to the classes, as long as her father's written reservations were noted and displayed on the refrigerator door. (We used our Homer Simpson magnet to hold the list of objections. Seems fitting, right?)

On the way to school yesterday, Ivy told me about the first lesson. Her teacher had asked them to tell some of the names they may have heard used when talking about a girls who found themselves pregnant in high school. "It was so fun, I got to say harlot in class! The teacher didn't even care that we were using words like that!"

Apparently our daughter is being raised in an alternate universe by June Cleaver. I don't know that I've ever said the word harlot, and I have certainly never used it to describe teenage pregnancy. I'm not sure whether to be glad she's survived to this age without being exposed to names a whole lot worse than harlot, or worried that I need to step things up a little before she gets to high school and the world becomes a very shocking place to her.

In the meantime I'm glad jr. high sex-ed class is there to fill in some of the gaps for me. Harlot indeed.

One more thing, because what good is a Valentine's Day post that doesn't mention basketball? No good at all that's what!

Before you head off to eat that giant box of candy your husband gave you for Valentine's Day because he's trying to help you increase your self control by giving you opportunities to exercise it, (Or was that only MY husband? Bless his heart.) would y'all joining me a moment of silence for Nerlens Noel and his knee? While we're at it we might want to go ahead and grieve for all of Kentucky's 2012-2013 basketball season. Even a loyal fan has to be able to see what's plain as day- this year for sure ain't last year, know whut I'm sayin'? I'm gonna miss Nerlens............and his hair. It just won't be the same without them. I know he'll be rockin' that do from the bench though, and who knows, with support like that the season might not go down the crapper after all.

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