If someone asked me what my faults were, probably the first thing that would come to mind would be my mouth.
I'm not a sugar-coater or a side-stepper. There are occasions where--after forethought--I might skirt around a subject for the sake of feelings or common decency, but if I haven't thought that far ahead, what you get is the complete truth in whatever words come to mind first.
Good or bad.
Which is why I prefer the written word. If I need to discuss something with someone I prefer to do it through letters because then I get the chance to think about what I'm going to say before I say it and then I really have to think about how it's going to be interpreted, so I often refine my raw thoughts before they're sent out in the universe to wreck their damage (though I almost never intend that to be the outcome).
I say what I think.
And then afterwards I think about what I said and ask myself, "Why did I just say that?!"
When it comes to the brain-mouth filter, God left that one out on me.
At least now I realize I have this problem. That's step one, seeing you have a problem and admitting it, right?
This has come up because this morning I'm rehashing a conversation I had last night with The Boy and wondering if what I said was what the best way I could say what I was saying.
The Preacher's Wife (who also happens to co-own the daycare Ty attends) is pregnant with child #3. Their second child, we'll call her LP, is just a few weeks younger than Ty, so when LP found out she was going to have a baby brother or sister (her preference was a sister), Ty started asking me for a baby sister, too.
He's even picking out names. Starting with Amelia and now he's moved on to Emily.
Even though I've told him no. Not now at least.
And Jason's told him no. (Yes, he went there, and he doesn't even know how the whole baby-making thing works!).
LP and The Boy have even told Ty's teacher at school that her mom and his mom are having babies.
Problemo Numero Uno should be obvious. Only one mama's having a baby and it's not me!
Back to the original story. So Ty's tracking The Preacher's Wife's progress and he reports things to me. Last night he reported that the baby is kicking her belly and asks me , "Do you know why he's kicking her belly?"
"Because he's growing."
This is where I didn't think before I spoke....this is where I lead myself into a conversation I probably should have thought through first.
"That's right, he's growing! And he'll keep growing and kicking and getting bigger until he'll be too big to stay in her belly."
*dun, dun, duunnnnn*
"How is he going to get out of her belly?"
[insert mental realization and "oh crap" thought here]
See, if he'd asked me how he got out of my belly, that's easy. We've handled that one before and I've told him how the doctor cut Mama's belly open and got Ty out.
But that's not how all babies are born.
So in rushed thought I answered, "He'll come out of her girl parts."
Thankfully he doesn't know enough about girl parts to be properly traumatized. He processed a curious look and instead of going the direction I feared he'd go with it, he turned back to himself, asking if he came out of my girl parts.
So we revisited the cesarean talk and he asked why he didn't come out of my girl parts.
First thing that came to mind?
"Because your head was too big."
We go from having the talk I wasn't ready to have to giving the boy a big-head complex.
Thankfully he's grown into it.
After that I decided it would just be best if I stopped talking and we went to bed.