Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Almost four months later and this post still cracks me up. A prime example of think before you insert your foot in your mouth.

When people ask me about my kids I stop for a moment and wonder. Do they mean my kids, his kids, do they mean our kids? Depending on who they are and how well I know them, my answer will differ. I have two, my husband has two, that makes four. We don’t have any together, wait, yes we do, we have FOUR children.

I met my step daughter Augie Dawgs when she was 12 and her father introduced me to her as his girlfriend. Awkward for anyone, even more difficult for a prepubescent 12 year old girl who’s world was rocked by her parents’ divorce and rocked yet again by this intruder that now had her daddy’s attention and part of his heart. I watched enough TV and read enough self help books to know that it was important not to try to be a mother to her and her 9 year old brother.

We made cookies that day and I looked at Augie Dawgs and said to her, “I’m not your mother, I won’t try to be your mother, but I would like to be your friend.” We’re 15 years apart she and I. I’m technically just barely old enough to be her mother, my own kids were 4 and 2 at the time. I knew nothing about parenting a teenager, I was a teenager myself not that long ago. But I could definitely be her friend, we listened to the same music, wore the same style clothes, like a lot of the same TV shows. We would eventually become friends.

Augie Dawgs and I have been through a lot together these past 20 some years. I went from being her dad’s girlfriend to being her step mom. I was there when she bought her first home and I helped her decorate.

She got a puppy.

She met a guy.

She got pregnant. She came to me to ask about getting her tubes tied right after the baby was born. Like any good friend, I told her to wait and think about it long and hard. She might like being a mom so much that she’d like another baby someday. She waited.

She had another baby.

Now she knows she’s done and we’ve talked more about permanent birth control. I suggested to her that it might be much easier for Durwood to get snipped. Shorter recovery time, more simple procedure. The wheels are in motion and Durwood’s procedure is scheduled.

The other day we were talking about it and she mentioned something about a scar. Well sometimes I forget that in addition to being her friend, I am actually her step mother, the woman married to her father. Before even thinking about the words about to flow from my lips, I said to her, “oh don’t worry, you can’t even see the scar.”

** crickets**

It was then, during that uncomfortable silence, that I realized not only did I just divulge to my step daughter that a) her father had had a vasectomy, but also b) that my face was close enough to his nether region to determine that there was no visible scar.

There was no going back, I had just given her wayyy too much information about our intimate life. The poor girl was pale and I was beet red, because the only thing more embarrassing than knowing your parents are still sexually active is learning that your children are. I just hope that she’s not damaged for life and that we can still be friends, that is, if I can ever look her in the face again.

This was an original post to the now defunct Chicago Moms Blog on April 6, 2010. Although my time there was short, I loved it and have no regrets whatsoever. Thank you everyone at SV Moms Group, you are beyond classy.