I am like a cat.
I'm lazy and self-indulgent. I eat when I'm hungry and sleep when I'm tired. I am moody and I can barely bring myself to be civil to my boss long enough to keep a paycheck coming in, let alone be nice to the population at large. Schedules? What the hell are those?
I am also responsible for the care and upbringing of a young boy.
You can stop laughing now.
It's a good thing he's damn cute 'cause the poor kid is really gonna be messed up. He doesn't have a set time for meals or bed. Sushi for breakfast? Sounds good to me. Midnight showing of a movie? Let's go. I can only imagine what his future psychiatrist will say about some of our conversations.
I play marbles with his Bakugan and demolition derby with his Hot Wheels. Meanwhile, on his own, he has learned Origami, can animate stick figures on the computer and is teaching himself to write in Japanese.
Here comes the scary part.
Until he moved to L.A. about 5 months ago, my son's father had a semi-regular part in his upbringing. He had asked that he be the one to educate the boy about sex and relationships. Sounded good to me. What do I know about explaining stuff to a boy?
I fucked up on that one.
How was I supposed to know that a man who was a total slut and looked like walking sin would be such a prude when it came to teaching his son the basics? So much for having a male role model.
I have learned my boy is very naive, had a lot of bad information and that my 10yr. old didn't even know about puberty!
Since I do not believe in hiding things from my kid and feel that there is no such thing as a bad question, this has led to some very interesting conversations. (Some parents have a college fund. I have a future mental health needs fund.)
A couple days ago my son comes racing into my room, spazzing out because he found a hair on his penis. I fought a magnificent battle to keep a straight face. Went over the basics of puberty....again. He remained staunchly unconvinced this was a good thing and was sure he was going to be a freak.
Eventually I just ended up pulling a bunch of pictures out of my files, (not nudes, I am not THAT bad a parent) and showed him that adult males came in every possible combination of body type and hairiness. This calmed him down and we returned to our staus quo.
Last night we went out to dinner at a steakhouse. Shells on the floor kind of place. So my boy is happily munching peanuts and has a plateful of shelled ones in front of him that still had the skins on. The waitress came by to deliver my drink and he pipes up, "Look, my nuts are pink!"
I may not survive.