The Big Talk (or explaining “doing the sex”)

So the other day Demon Spawn came running into the kitchen to tell me that his older brother had decided to make two characters from the Sims game he was playing “do the sex”.

“Do the sex?”

“Yes!” Demon Spawn said enthusiastically. “He’s trying to make them DO! THE! SEXXXXXXXXX!!!!!”

I sat there slightly stunned, trying to think of how to handle the situation, when it occurred to me that there was a good chance that neither Demon Spawn nor his big brother really knew what it meant to actually do the have sex. So I walked into the living room and asked the oldest what he thought “doing the sex” was.

“Kissing and hugging… and stuff?”

“What kind of ‘stuff’?”

“I don’t know…”

“Yup, that’s about it. Don’t make your Sims do that. I’m going to cook dinner.” And that’s how I planed on leaving the conversation until he stumbled upon internet porn.

My wife on the other hand decided, after I told her the story later, that this would be a good opportunity to have the sex talk. The anatomical sex talk. Not the “where babies come from” sex talk, but the “what it physically entails” sex talk. I told her that she was wrong and laid out the internet porn idea which she quickly struck down while also starting a conversation about how it may be time to put the parental locks on all the things.

So the talk it was.

The next day we gathered the two oldest in the livingroom and I let my wife do most of the talking, “So you know where baby’s come from right?”

“Right?”

The oldest finally decided to answer, “Um… Yes? Sex? A man… ? And woman get… together? And, um, do sex? And a part of the man combines with part of the woman,” and then the stuff he understood came out much easier, “and then the egg is fertilized and one cell starts multiplying in the momma’s belly, uh, uterus, and eventually it makes a whole baby that comes out of the vagina.”

“Ok, do you know what having sex actually is?”

At this point in the conversation I thought that I had never been more uncomfortable in my life.

“Kissing and hugging and… stuff?”

At least he’s consistent, I thought.

My wife started again, “Kissing and hugging is part of it…”

“Well that really depends on…”, I was cut off with a look. “Never mind. Go on sweetie, you’re doing great!”

“Anyway, kissing and hugging is part of it, but do you know what the other ‘stuff’ is?”

“No.”

“Well the other stuff… Is… Well the other stuff is the actual act of sex which is… So you know boys have a penis and girls have a vagina? Well… Um…”

I decided to rescue her, “The man puts his penis inside the vagina and that’s how the male and female parts, sperm and egg, get together and make a baby!”

“So, wait… I’m going to have to do THAT!?!?!”

“If you continue to like girls there’s going to come a time when you’re going to really want to do that.”

“So I’m just going to be all like ‘oh look, there’s a vagina, I would like to put my penis in it’?”

And I was wrong earlier because that was most uncomfortable I ever felt in my life…

Video Games: A Rant

What follows an approximant account of the lecture I found myself giving my two oldest children last night. I want to state right now that I have no problem with video games and am actually quite fond of playing them myself, but there’s only so much a dad can take…

No! No! NO!!!

I will NOT get you through the rest of this dungeon!

No I will NOT beat this boss for you!

Do you think I had someone to get me through the hard parts of games when I was a kid?!?!

You think Nana or Grandpa ever beat a boss for me?

No.

No they didn’t.

My generation was the first to have complicated games and we didn’t have parents that knew how to play.

My parents played Pac-man and Pong and pinball!

We didn’t have the luxury of living in a house with someone who’s played games for 25+ years and who knew how video game logic works.

No, when I was a kid, WHEN I WAS A CHILD, we had to figure out how to get through things ourselves dammit!

WE didn’t even have the INTERNET!

Yeah, that’s right! No internet.

Let that shit sink in.

If we were lucky we had a friend who had played before us or we knew someone who knew someone who was able to save up enough money to buy a Nintendo Power magazine that might, MIGHT, have an answer to a question about the game we were playing in it!

When I was a kid, when that old man between the fires in the beginning of Zelda said “take this, it’s dangerous to go alone”, all he gave us was that sword, because we, we were truly alone out there in the shit man.

WE figured the puzzles out ourselves!

To US, every “secret”, be it level, weapon or what have you, was an actual goddam secret that you either stumbled on yourself by chance or you had to research and hunt down  like it was the Ark-of-the-MOTHERFUCKING-COVENANT!

WE DID THAT THAT SHIT OURSELVES! 

WE, WE HAD GAMES THAT NO ONE WE KNEW COULD BEAT!!

WE WERE THE LONELY MOTHERFUCKING WARRIORS OF VIDEO GAMES AND WE ARE BETTER PEOPLE BECAUSE OF IT, NOW STOP ASKING ME TO PLAY YOUR GODDAM GAMES FOR YOU!!!

Um…

I’m sorry, Daddy didn’t mean to…

Please stop crying guys…

I didn’t mean to…

How about I get y’all through those levels and we just don’t tell Momma about this?

Ok?

I… I love you… 

 

One For The New Year

People I know have been asking me recently why I’ve stopped posting. Usually I come up with some bullshit answer like “nothing interesting is happening” or “I’ve been too busy”. Truth be told there are multiple reasons and most have to do with something I’m notoriously uncomfortable with: emotions.

Stupid, stupid emotions.

See, I’ve been avoiding writing anything because I don’t like to talk about feelings. Not real feelings anyway.

I want to write light, funny antidotes about the cute, comical little things my kids do while growing-up. And I want to write light, funny antidotes about the ways kids suck sometimes but it’s all worth it because of…

Well, I guess there’s the problem.

Things have started to feel a lot less light and funny.

I wake up looking forward to bed time. 

I react the same now to one of my children screaming in pain as I do to one of my children laughing hysterically in joy (if you’re wondering, that reaction is indifference (or annoyance depending on how loudly the crying/laughing is)).

I’m morose and generally unpleasant to everyone.

So what I’m trying to say is that I’m becoming, or have become, an unbearable dick.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to read a post written by an unbearable dick. 

But, it is a new year, and as I saw yesterday written over a picture of Robert Downey Jr. rolling his eyes, “It’s Time for that New Year, New Me, bullshit”.

So here’s me taking the first step and admitting that there is a problem, and saying that it’s time for me to start actively trying to stop being so fucking miserable all the time, start writing more often, go fishing more often, stop looking at life like it’s a burden and appreciate it for the love, beauty and all the other mushy emotional shit it provides and maybe lose a few pounds while I’m at it!

And if bootstrapping doesn’t work, there’s always antidepressants.