Penis Paranoia

Here's the thing about a boy: They have a penis.

This is something that this mom of previously all girls was quite frankly terrified of until about a month ago.  I swear in John's chart at the doctor is states, "Mom has penis paranoia" because for the first few months of his life I asked a LOT of questions about it.  "Will I hurt it?" "How do I clean it?"  "Does it hurt when I clean it?"  "Am I touching it too much?" And while the doctor replied "no" to all of my fears about touching and cleaning it without hurting or fondling, I still made a promise aloud to never tell his tween/teen/adult self how up close and personal I am with his baby junk.

Marin is starting to connect the dots about the penis, too.  Hmm.  John has that.  Emilie and I have this.  Now whenever Marin's pants gather below the waist when she sits, she worries that people are going to think she is a boy.  Turns out that she has a little penis paranoia too.  There is a pun I could write here involving the nut not falling too far from the bush.  But this isn't that kind of blog.

And you know that thing shoots straight up.  I will pretend that I haven't had urine sprayed on my face and in my hair at just about the first diaper change and on.  You don't leave your men alone out there, if you know what I mean.  They need coverage or they'll shoot and someones gonna get hit.  And that someone is your mama.  I don't have a peepee teepee.  I admit that they are adorable and the concept is marketing genius.  But who has time?  By the time you fish that thing out baby boy has half emptied his bladder and is just smiling up at you happy as can be.  I just have learned to hurry up and cover it with the diaper.

Potty training is going to be hilarious.  I fully intend to skirt the coming of age questions of why it stands on attention all by itself.  And Jason is going to have to take over all question answering at age 13.  Because, as I imagine the medical records show, this mom has penis paranoia.  Who's with me?