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Generation Gap

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Dec-1-2004

I’m am well aware of the fact that in many, many ways I have been and still am quite spoiled. For example, I came of age in the mid seventies, a fine old time to come of age. Imagine, hitting that mile post during the sexual revolution but before AIDS reared it’s decimating head. Lucky chook indeed here, to have fit right within that cozy little period, that perfect little time frame for raging hormones. Generations of humans, past and future, must envy my good fortune.

It did, however, leave me with one serious handicap which will most definitely be a problem within a few years, when I have to sit down with the cherished offspring and discuss AIDS and protection and all that sortof stuff. Although The Father did agree, once, very long ago, that he would take on the job.

But then, he said he would do the church stuff if I did the diaper stuff, didn’t he ?

The other day, The Father sent me an email saying that Left- Hand Man had thrown out his back. Did we have any muscle relaxants left , would I check it out ? No problem, I said and headed off to our bathroom.

I went through the various shaving kits, stored in the cupboard under our sinks, which we take when traveling, but no sign of the familiar, pink pills. Now, the cupboards under our sinks are messy, uh, very untidy indeed. But I like Left- Hand Man fine and knew that The Father wouldn’t have asked me to check this out if it wasn’t important, so I started rooting through the debris in the cupboards. Plenty of toothpaste, sent up by the Italian branch of the family, box after box of scented ( atchoo!) bathing products, old Christmas gifts to me. And then, in the far corner, my fingers touched a small, square packet. I pulled it out and rubbed my fingers along the foil surface. And nearly broke out in laughter.

They have always had that affect on me, so perhaps french letters are the best protection around, in my case. The sight of one in action makes me guffaw to the point of tears. I kid you not. A wilting experience, I assure you.

No, I shall never be able to have a serious conversation with any of our children if it involves me having to explain a rubber. Too many absurd images will come to mind, I will laugh to the point of wheezing…gasping. And, and, what if I have to show how it is used- har ! a cucumber perhaps, a banana?

And I know, I know, I know rubbers are very serious business these days. But I can’t do it. This is all beyond my capabilities. The Father will certainly have to do this one.

It’s a generational thing for me, no doubt.

  1. Sivani Said,

    This one calls for a private email to you.
    And not one that I can write at work either.

    *giggling like a school girl*

  2. Catherine Said,

    ‘Plenty of toothpaste sent up by the Italian branch of the family’


  3. sue Said,

    She works for a US company that makes toothepaste. We must have forty tubes of the fruit flavored children’s stuff. Yukkes.

  4. Karen Said,

    Han will certainly have to do this one gives me a mental image that is highly inappropriate for children.

  5. sue Said,

    ( walked right into that one, didn’t I, Karen ?)

    he-he !

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