Get serious...

I have tried to make it a point to never lie to my children. Sure, there are the things that someday they may think were lies...the Tooth Fairy...Santa...Elf on a Shelf...all those things that give all of us great joy! So, I don't look at those things as lies. I'm talking about things in parenthood that I know some parents are tempted to lie about to make certain explanations easier. Going through the ebbs and flows of life over the last few years, questions have come up that have made me think about lying. There are many questions that strike fear in my heart when they are asked. And I have never known what to say, but I have always crafted the answers to those questions extra carefully. Such as, "Mommy, how did daddy die?" I haven't wanted to address this with my kids so I carefully always give my scientific answer. "Well, his brain stopped working, and his heart stopped beating and he stopped breathing and he just died." Not a lie...and I'm saving the deep part of that truth for when I know it's the right time. Everyone tells me I'll know when that time is, so I'm trusting that and sticking with my scientific not-lie for now. Sometimes, the no lying thing gets me in a bit of trouble. Especially when I have a super-smart six-year-old. And sometimes, the no lying thing makes me laugh and reminds me that my dear, sweet Amelia is just six. Tonight as I was tucking Amelia into bed, she says, "Mommy, just one more thing, please!" "OK, Amelia...make it quick though. You need to get to bed." "Oh, nevermind Mommy. I know you'll say no..." These conversations also strike a little fear in my heart because it's usually something that she wants, and she's going to guilt me into getting the answer. But I pressed forward, bravely. "Go ahead, Amelia." "It's a very adult conversation and I know sometimes you're not ready to answer those questions." "Try me." "Ok...well...how to you make a baby?" Oh no!! She is six years old...and I was not prepared to have this conversation with her, especially right before bed on a night when we're not feeling so great. So, I prepared my standard "dodge the topic" statement. "Amelia, that is a very important question, and I know that you are looking for an answer. I cannot talk about that with you tonight, but I promise you that we will have this very important conversation sometime when you are older." Please feel free to use this statement! I read in a magazine article somewhere that children don't necessarily want to know the answers to the questions they are asking right then in that moment. They just want the reassurance that you will discuss it with them at some point. I use this answer when talking about our lives three years ago, or how Brian died, or now how babies are made. So, please feel free to use this when you feel it is warranted. It does work! "I knew it...I understand mommy. Maybe I'll ask when I'm more mature...like when I'm seven." "Uhh...yeah...maybe then..." as I'm thinking or NEVER! "I just need to know when you are going to talk to me about it." Huh?? This had never happened. Usually the topic just goes away until the next time she asks, but she's never asked me to commit to a timeline. "Well, Amelia. I am not sure when I will be ready to have this conversation with you. I can't guarantee that it will be when you're seven. Or even eight. I just need to see where we are in life and then I'll decide when to answer." "OK, mommy, but just to let you know, you are making me less smart." "What? What does that mean? How am I making you less smart?" "Well, I have a giant space saved in my brain right now to hold that answer to that question, and it's taking up blank space right now, which could be used for reading or math or more information about bats, but instead, it's just staying blank until you tell me how babies are made." "Ok, Amelia. I'm sorry that I'm destroying your learning, but that isn't going to make me tell you how babies are made any sooner. So, I love you, and I'm sorry your brain is going to be blank, but it'll just have to wait." and I kissed her head and started to walk about of her room. "Mommy...it's OK. I'm sure you'd just tell me something that wasn't true anyways like the time I asked you how babies got out of mommy's tummy. So, nevermind...I'll just wait." "OK, Amelia. I love you!" "I love you too..." And now, I need to share THAT story. Because if telling her how babies are made is half as funny as telling her how babies arrive, then I should just tell her now! I was watching an episode of Private Practice when she walked into the living room. A lady was having a baby, her legs in stirrups. Nothing was visible, but you could tell that something was going on. At the end of the scene, Addison flopped the newborn baby onto the mommy's tummy. I turned to glance at Amelia and she was standing there, eyebrows furrowed, nose wrinkled, mouth open... "Um...mommy? How do babies get out of their mommy's tummies?" My heart sank as I paused the show and looked at her. We discussed that this was a private mommy conversation, which Amelia and I have discussed that we don't talk about such things at school with friends. That this isn't something that other children should find out about from her, but from their own mommys when their mommys think they are ready to know. I told Amelia I felt like she was ready to know, but that I would be angry if I found out she told anyone at school because, seriously, I don't want her to be "that kid." She agreed that she wouldn't tell anyone and that if she had questions about it, she would wait until she could ask me. So, I told her how babies get out of mommys' tummies. From start to finish...her expression never changed. At the end of the process, she was still mouth open, eyebrows furrowed, nose wrinkled. I began to panic that I shouldn't have told her...that it was too much for my little girl and I had crushed her innocence. I just started back at her and said, "Are you ok?" "Mommy...I am trying to have a serious conversation with you. And if you are just going to make up ridiculous stories like that, then I will wait until you can be serious with me..." and then she walked away! She thought I was joking. She thought I was teasing her. She thought I was lying. I really, really wanted her to ask me how babies were made because I think that I could get that whole conversation out and she would think that was the most ridiculous thing also. I laughed, started my show back up again, and enjoyed the fact that my baby was just six. Knowing that she thought my story was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard made me glad to know that she is still just a little girl, and I don't want her to grow up too fast! So, I'll continue to use my statement to postpone the things that I'm not ready to talk about. I'll dodge the questions I don't want to answer right now. I'll put off answering the things that she is still too little to hear about. And I will trust that my mothering instinct will know exactly when to reveal that information. Because, honestly? I don't want her to ever know how her daddy died. And I don't want her to ever know how to make babies...because I want her to be my baby forever. I know that those two conversations will have to happen at some point. But for now, I want her to worry about whether she should write a story about a fairy or a mermaid. Or wonder what is for lunch tomorrow. We've had enough of the heavy converstaions. We've had enough of the conversations that I thought I would never have with my children. I just want her to be a child. To enjoy being little and playing and pretending. So, for now..."I'm not ready to have that conversation with you" is where we settle. And she's just fine with that and she knows that when mommy is ready, we'll talk about all those things...mommy just needs to get serious first...