I don’t know if it’s because I watched too much Oprah, or maybe it’s all the Celebrity Rehab I watch….
or it might because Ray Donovan and his brothers are totally troubled because of an evil priest from their childhood.
I am just very, very afraid that my children could be molested. It’s not something that people openly speak about, and it’s not something that I want to imagine or think about either. However, it seems like every time I watch the news I hear of some sadistic person doing something horrible to children.
My solution to this has been to openly talk about it – some might say too much. When the kids were quite young, I started to explain that nobody should ever touch their private area. When they were young the boys called their penis a “pee-pee” but then as they got older I shortened it to “peep.”
Mr. Gaga and others have said that my concern with potential troubles borders on ridiculous – but I say it’s best to have an open dialogue about this sort of thing.
Any time the kids seem down or come home from school in a bad mood- I immediately think the worst.
“How was your day?” I ask as they trudge in the door. Michael will often shrug or mumble that his day wasn’t great.
“Did something happen?” I’ll ask in a panic.
“No Mom!” he’ll answer with annoyance.
I usually grab him by the shoulders and stare deep into his eyes. “Michael, if someone at school touched your peep – you can tell me.”
Thank God the answer has always been no.
Recently, I walked upstairs around bed-time to find Michael in his bed crying.
“Oh my God! What’s wrong?” I demanded as I threw myself onto his bed next to him.
“Leave me alone!” he cried into his pillow.
“What’s wrong?! You can tell me!” I begged.
“I hate my life!!” he screeched. “Now leave me alone!” he sobbed.
I called Mr. Gaga upstairs. He stood at the end of the bed looking at us.
“What’s up?” he asked disinterestedly.
“Michael is crying and says he hates his life!” I explained with eyeballs wide open trying to signal to him while I rubbed Michael’s back that something horrible was clearly happening.
After prodding and asking for 30 minutes, I finally had to ask. Even though I knew Mr. Gaga would kill me.
“Michael…..you can tell us whatever is bothering you.” I said slowly. I looked at him intensely.
“How about this? Does it rhyme with “Someone kouched my jeep?”
“MOM!!” Michael screeched.
“You are so inappropriate.” Mr. Gaga said shaking his head…..
I left at that point. I couldn’t take it any more.
A half hour later, Michael confessed that that he was upset that he had accidentally broken one of his LEGOs, and that was what he was upset about.
Well, better safe than sorry….
So after all of this diligence to protect my children from child molesters, I was faced with quite a dilemma a couple of weeks ago at swimming lessons. Anyone who knows me – is aware of my hatred of swimming lessons. This year I was faced with a brand new reason to hate them.
We started a new session a couple of weeks ago. In the past, I would bring the boys with me into the women’s restroom after their lessons to change. Seeing as they both grow like weeds, and Michael has body odor, it seemed slightly weird to walk in with them, but I have no choice! They are seven and nine years old! Why shouldn’t I be able to walk them through the bathroom?
Of course, mothers instantly were giving me filthy looks.
“Hurry up and keep your eyes down.” I muttered under my breath as they changed in the bathroom stall.
The next week after their lesson was over, the boys flat-out refused to step foot in the women’s bathroom.
They had been mortified when the women in the bathroom had looked at them (and me) with disgust.
I looked at the men’s room door fearfully.
“Mom, please! We have to go into the men’s room!” they pleaded, dripping in their wet bathing suits.
“Ok fine,” I conceded, “But stay together and keep your eyes down. If someone tries to touch you or look at you – run for your life. It’s 5:15 right now. You have five minutes to get changed and get back out here. If you don’t come out then I am dialing 911.”
They agreed to the terms.
I paced outside the door. As the sixth minute approached they burst through the door. They looked ashen.
“What’s wrong?” I shrieked.
They started walking towards the exit of the facility with shocked looks on their face.
“Did something happen?” I asked as we pushed open the glass doors to exit.
“YES!” Michael said in a hushed tone.
“Did someone try to touch your peep?” I demanded.
“NO MOM!!!” they screamed in unison.
“Were there people their with naked peeps?” I whispered as we approached our car.
“YES!” they answered.
“OH MY GOD!” I couldn’t believe that it had really happened. “I told you to keep your eyes down!”
“We did!” Michael explained, “But we just looked up and like this old man was naked and he was walking right towards us!”
“Mom – it was like I just looked up and a wrecking ball was coming right at me,” Sam said with despair.
“WHAT???!!!” I screamed.
“Yes Mom!! This old man got out of the shower and just walked out naked and his peep was out and it was huge!” Michael confirmed with despair.
I was speechless.
“Can you believe it?” I demanded of Mr. Gaga when we got home and relayed the story to him.
“Oh yeah, that’s what they do,” Mr. Gaga said unfazed. “I don’t know why.”
“WHAT THE HELL?” I screamed. “We have to quit swimming then!”
Mr. Gaga shrugged.
“They are going to drown!” I announced.
He shrugged again.
So that’s where we are. We are quitting swimming due to weird men’s bathroom etiquette.
I wasn’t aware of this phenomenon – but apparently weird old naked men in the locker room is par for the course and there’s nothing we can do about it.
STAY WARM AND KEEP YOUR CLOTHES AND UNDERWEAR ON PEOPLE!! CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE
MOST VIGILANT FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA