It’s scary, the first time you hold it in your hands. It’s so fragile. It’s so breakable. Sure I’ve been around one or two before, but I’ve never been responsible for one. I don’t even have a pet and now, now I have to take care of this thing.
When the doctor said, “It’s a boy!” all I heard was, “It’s a penis.” I’ve just given birth to a penis and now I have to take care of it.
Growing up, the joke was always that I lived in a house full of girls but we lived on Boies Court. Even our cat was a girl. And so, when my son was born and out came this BOY, I felt at a loss to say the least. With the actual baby in hand came the realization that this baby won’t be a baby forever, he’s going to grow up someday. I have to take good care of his parts.
Not one to scare away from a challenge, I approach the penis with confidence. I’ve seen these before, I think. Sure I’ve never actually cared for one, but it can’t be that difficult, right?
Our first pediatrician visit goes off without a hitch until the doctor examines the baby. “You have to clean under the top,” he says while pushing back the part that looks like the rings on Saturn. He looks at me with one eyebrow raised as if he’s telling me something everybody knows but me. Suddenly I feel like the bad Mom on an episode of “Dateline.” I’ve been Penis Shamed.
My son will have the cleanest wiener in town, I think as I dab and scrub him during bath time. My husband walks by and informs me that I’m scrubbing so hard, even his penis hurts. “Well the doctor said I had to clean it better, “ I tell him to which he responds, “He said clean it, he didn’t say kill it.”
I take the Zen approach. I’m no longer scared of the penis. In fact, I feel like we’re old friends. So when my son starts to bond with his penis, I take it personally. “I’ve been taking good care of this for you and now you’re going to ruin it by grabbing and pulling,” I tell him while trying to divert his attention from the vice-grip hold he’s got on his new favorite toy. Uninterested in my suggestion, he moves his hand back to his friend and giggles as he pees on himself while grabbing with both hands. At this point, I have nothing to offer except the words that every new parent practices saying to their kid thousands of times while trying to teach them boundaries, ‘Gentle” I tell him. “Gentle with your penis.” I move his hand away and offer him a rubber ducky instead. He seems content. And for the first time, I feel like I’m in charge of the penis, its not in charge of me.
Deep down inside I know it’s not the penis I’m scared of, it’s the kid attached. I can’t escape the thought that this baby is actually a future man, future husband, and father who will someday raise his own penis…I mean child. He’ll be a good or bad person based on the job I do now. And as much as every new parent jokes about which of their parenting choices will send their kid to therapy, deep down inside it’s no joke. There’s no do-overs in parenting and I just hope I’m up to the challenge.
But since I can’t raise the man all in one day, I can only help this sweet faced boy through this day’s challenge. And since he’s long since dropped his duck and grabbed his dick, I repeat those words over and over again. “Gentle, gentle with your penis” I say knowing I need the lesson far more than he.
`
When the doctor said, “It’s a boy!” all I heard was, “It’s a penis.” I’ve just given birth to a penis and now I have to take care of it.
Growing up, the joke was always that I lived in a house full of girls but we lived on Boies Court. Even our cat was a girl. And so, when my son was born and out came this BOY, I felt at a loss to say the least. With the actual baby in hand came the realization that this baby won’t be a baby forever, he’s going to grow up someday. I have to take good care of his parts.
Not one to scare away from a challenge, I approach the penis with confidence. I’ve seen these before, I think. Sure I’ve never actually cared for one, but it can’t be that difficult, right?
Our first pediatrician visit goes off without a hitch until the doctor examines the baby. “You have to clean under the top,” he says while pushing back the part that looks like the rings on Saturn. He looks at me with one eyebrow raised as if he’s telling me something everybody knows but me. Suddenly I feel like the bad Mom on an episode of “Dateline.” I’ve been Penis Shamed.
My son will have the cleanest wiener in town, I think as I dab and scrub him during bath time. My husband walks by and informs me that I’m scrubbing so hard, even his penis hurts. “Well the doctor said I had to clean it better, “ I tell him to which he responds, “He said clean it, he didn’t say kill it.”
I take the Zen approach. I’m no longer scared of the penis. In fact, I feel like we’re old friends. So when my son starts to bond with his penis, I take it personally. “I’ve been taking good care of this for you and now you’re going to ruin it by grabbing and pulling,” I tell him while trying to divert his attention from the vice-grip hold he’s got on his new favorite toy. Uninterested in my suggestion, he moves his hand back to his friend and giggles as he pees on himself while grabbing with both hands. At this point, I have nothing to offer except the words that every new parent practices saying to their kid thousands of times while trying to teach them boundaries, ‘Gentle” I tell him. “Gentle with your penis.” I move his hand away and offer him a rubber ducky instead. He seems content. And for the first time, I feel like I’m in charge of the penis, its not in charge of me.
Deep down inside I know it’s not the penis I’m scared of, it’s the kid attached. I can’t escape the thought that this baby is actually a future man, future husband, and father who will someday raise his own penis…I mean child. He’ll be a good or bad person based on the job I do now. And as much as every new parent jokes about which of their parenting choices will send their kid to therapy, deep down inside it’s no joke. There’s no do-overs in parenting and I just hope I’m up to the challenge.
But since I can’t raise the man all in one day, I can only help this sweet faced boy through this day’s challenge. And since he’s long since dropped his duck and grabbed his dick, I repeat those words over and over again. “Gentle, gentle with your penis” I say knowing I need the lesson far more than he.
`
