Wiener Talk


Let’s face it. Moms aren’t good with wieners. (Well, I have to be kind of good, otherwise my husband and I would have never conceived a child.) But I’m talking about dealing with wieners. Ding Dongs. Whatever you want to call them.

When it comes to girls, I can handle that stuff. With our daughter, I can do “girl talk,” I can comfortably have a conversation about women’s hygiene, and I can explain the benefits of pads versus tampons. You get it. But with our son, I feel lost…hopeless…or maybe clueless is a better word.

My feeling of hopelessness all started when our son was born. One of the first things they ask you: Do you want him to be circumcised? Well hell, I don’t know. If the kid wants extra skin around his dinker, he should be able to have it…but he couldn’t tell me what he wanted. So I looked to his dad for help, figuring just once, I’ll let him have the final decision.

Then, came the diaper changes. Boys don’t wipe when they pee. But when you change a baby’s diaper, you wipe, right? Screw it, I did just like a girl would do. Diaper off, quick swipe of the wipe, new diaper; Boom, done! But it didn’t always go that smoothly. Sometimes, they getcha. You know what I mean. You think you’re just about done when the tiny winker starts spraying all over the damn place. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Dad, however, knew to ALWAYS cover the pecker. No matter what. (Picture my mad face here.) Lesson learned.

Next, it was potty training. Now, I will be the first to say that I am pro-choice. And every man, boy, or toddler, should have a right to choose! Does he want to sit perched comfortably upon the porcelain throne to pee, or does he want to stand up and pee all over the toilet? Obviously as a woman, I choose sitting. I truly don’t understand why you would stand, even with a penis. Isn’t it much easier not to have to lift the toilet seat, then clean up the pee when you didn’t make it, and put the toilet seat back down? But, it is what it is; and I stand by my decision to support a man’s right to choose. He just also better choose to use the Clorox wipes I left beside the toilet when he’s done peeing on the seat.

But as a woman, my first instinct is to teach my son to sit down. They even make special potty training seats for boys with a little shield on them that’s supposed to direct the pee into the bowl. (They don’t work, just FYI.) So obviously, that’s where I started. Then, like a woman, I would take the toilet paper and wipe off his pee-pee when he was done. But somehow he suddenly got the instinct to stand up. I have no idea where he learned this! Again, I had to support it, even though he was barely tall enough. He would stand with his crown jewels resting ever so slightly on the cold toilet bowl. Then, when he was done, he would proudly scream, “MOMMMMMYYYYY, I’M DONE.” And I’d come in and help him clean up…like a woman.

One day, I decided that I’ve had enough. He screamed his normal scream, and finally, I turned to my husband for help. I said, “Babe, I just don’t do man-stuff. You need to teach him how to shake it.” Those magical words were words I never thought I would ever have to say. But boys have to learn from someone, right? So Daddy did his duty, and guided him through the “socially acceptable” way. And now, he pees alllllll by himself. Thank the lord.

Think of the song by Good Charlotte… “Shake it once that’s fine. Shake it twice that’s okay. Shake it three times and you’re playing with yourself.” Who knew those lyrics were so meaningful?

Just as I thought my boy troubles were over, my son discovered that there is more to his pecker than meets the eye: peckerwood. An old-fashioned boner. Fuck. My. Life. This one is an adventure that Mommy just can’t handle. I won’t, and I refuse. So sorry, Daddy. You’re up!

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