Tween Twins Growing Up (Also, Corbin Bleu Has Armpit Hair)

Cookie and the Pork Lo Maniac are growing up.  Which means, in turn, that I am getting older.  But that's not the problem.  I'm fine with getting older. In fact, I don't know who these nutty women are who weep when menopause starts.  I, personally, am going to do a dance of joy.  In the "women's hygiene" aisle of Walgreen's. Also, I am going to be a crazy cat lady.

But that's not the topic for today.  The topic for today is that my little girls are turning into "tweens."  In doing some extremely unscientific research for an upcoming post on Britney Spears' skanktastic new clothing line, I inadvertently let it slip to the girls that they are "tweens."  The good news is that they think the word "tweens" is some hilarious version of the word "twins."  

The tween thing is creeping up on me in some strange and insidious ways.  The Pork Lo Maniac, who always been the least girly of my girls, suddenly started brushing her hair.  In front of a mirror.  This was completely unheard of behavior up until a couple months ago.

Last month, their Judy Blume binge culminated in both of them reading Are You There God? It's Me Margaret.  (Good news: that classic has been updated to feature adhesive sanitary pads instead of the belted numbers they wore in 1970.)  I was on the fence about letting them read this book because I don't want my nine-year-olds to feel like they must, they must, they must increase their bust.  I decided to allow it because, well, it's just a really good book.

Besides, Cookie and the Pork Lo Maniac were already hip to the whole menstruation information scene.  About a year ago they noticed that High School Musical actor Corbin Bleu has armpit hair, and that sparked a Major Talk.

Because I spend so much of my time being serially pregnant, Cookie and the Pork Lo Maniac knew from a very early age that women have a uterus; I never wanted to say there was a baby in my tummy, as if I had eaten a baby.  They knew that women have ovaries, that make tiny little eggs.  And the eggs can turn into babies, just like chicken eggs can turn into chickens.  Assuming you don't eat them.  (See, that's why you have to explain about the uterus.)

You know how all "the experts" tell you to just answer the questions kids ask?  And not go into more detail?  Because kids ask when they're ready?  Sometimes the experts are complete frauds mistaken.  Because my kids never asked what part that daddy plays in all that egg-hatching. 

My children clearly believed that mommies are so all-powerful, that they can just decide to hatch that egg, and have a baby.  I can see how they could come to this conclusion.  I decide what to make for dinner, and I make it.  I decide where we're going today, and we go there.  I decide that The Doodlebops are too annoying for words, and we no longer watch it.  I am Mommy, hear me roar.

Plus, they know that families come in all kinds of formats: there's the popular mom-and-dad plan, which comes with 2.5 kids standard.  (We obviously paid extra for the upgraded four-child model.)  We are also are friends with families with two mommies, families with single mommies, and families with a mommy and a grandma.  Common theme here?  Mommies.  Unfortunately, we don't happen to know any families with two daddies, or (full-custody) single daddies. 

So, by the time Cookie and the Pork Lo Maniac were eight years old, and asking about Corbin Bleu's armpit hair, and interested in talking about breasts and menstruation, it was time for me to tell them about the sperm part of things.  They were fascinated, but not horrified, so hopefully I did an okay job of explaining things.

Here is what they asked me about it: "When do you do that?  Secretly?  While we're sleeping?"

I picked my jaw up off the floor and replied, as straight-faced as I could, "Yes. Secretly. While you're sleeping."  And they never asked to sleep in our bed again.  What a happy little story!  I should have told them about this years ago.  Like when they were 18 months old, maybe.

Ah, but then they would have grown up too fast.  As it is, everything about our society pushes girls into growing up before they should.  They're nine!  They should be playing outside and riding bikes and being goofballs.  But also, they are nine.  Which means things will change.  And I want them to be prepared and confident, not mystified and disgusted. 

So, they do those things: they play outside, ride bikes, and act like goofballs.  And then they brush their hair. In front of a mirror.