I know, it’s been a while. I’m sorry. I love you guys. I just don’t have much to say. Honestly. Things are good. Mmm…this blog’s gonna be one of two things: Talking about Weiner Watch 2009 or talking about people I currently loathe. Let’s go with wieners.
No one talks much about ‘em. Yeah, wieners. I tend to speak of it more often than most because my kid is intact (that’s “uncircumcised” to you barbarian weirdos that cut off a part of yo’ boy’s anatomy without his informed consent). See, the husband and I didn’t even really discuss the issue. It’s his God-given weiner and….no. I’d be damned if anyone was gonna strap him down and go all “Pulp Fiction” on my precious three-day old. Twas never an issue in the Fraser house. But then, it’s a whooooole different story, folks, when you have to actually parent an intact boy.
Things you wouldn’t even dream of:
- Using a black sharpie to write on his diaper, “I’m intact; don’t retract!” after a rather harrowing issue with an overzealously clean pre-school teacher.
- Finding poo in rather undesirable locations.
- Taking American Academia of Pediatrics print-outs to ignorant pediatrician office that acted as if we were both insane and dirty because no, we don’t retract his foreskin.
- Defining “smegma” to a host of plebian friends who listen with a mixture of utter disdain and disbelief. (By the by, it comes from the Greek: smēchein, meaning “to clean.” And it’s good and normal and natural so shut your face.)
Last year, the Kaiser woke up with a swollen dick (can I say that about a three-year old’s anatomy? Whatev, I’m tired of writing weiner.) I frantically called my favorite nurse at nocirc.org, who told me to let him take a fun and leisurely baking soda bath. It worked. No problem.
Happened again two Fridays ago. At pre-school. The husband and I come to his classroom at 3, for a pre-birthday celebration. Before I put the cupcakes on the counter his teacher informs me that Kaiser woke up from nap screaming, his dick is swollen and he’s in pain. Really? Great. So we rush home. Do a baking soda bath. Another the next morning. No good. Two hours and another bath later, we’re at the pediatrician’s office.
After the customary 1.5 hour wait, we’re moved to an exam room to wait again, this time without the crappy, germ-covered toys.
The nurse pops her head in. “Heeeey. Can you tell me a little about what’s going on with Cole?”
“Well. His penis looks like Ron Jeremy’s and he walks like he’s ridin’ a donkey.”
“Oh.” She ducks back out. Five minutes later, she returns. “Is he in pain?”
“Obviously. He can’t walk. He tells me it hurts. It’s massive. It’s red. It hurts.”
She nods and writes something in on her clipboard.
I smile and pull him closer to me. “But we don’t retract. You guys aren’t going to retract.”
Her face tightens. “The doctor will probably have to retract the foreskin to see what’s going on.”
“You’re not retracting.” I smile and she stares at me.
“Well, we’ll see what the doctor says.”
“She’s not retracting.”
I ain’t kidding. Try to touch him and I’ll bite your arm off.
I call Tina, the only mother I know with an uncircumcised kid. “Dude, they want to retract and I’ll be damned if they touch him. They can do a culture, but they’re not touching it. I swear to FUCK. They’re not gonna touch him.”
The nurse musta heard my profanity-laden rant. She returns, this time cheery. Oopsies.
“Oh, I gotta go.” I hang up on Tina and look at the nurse.
“I didn’t realize how old he is. Of course we wouldn’t retract.”
OK, I didn’t ask you, you silly cow, but OK.
And they didn’t. Doctor took a gander, knew what it was. And he’s fine. And it’s normal. And he’s perfectly perfect now, after a couple days of morning antibiotics and evening homeopathic probiotics. But yes, it can be rough, making the decision we’ve made. People are uninformed, even the people you’d often expect to be educated enough to differentiate the myths and the reality.
But hopefully, someday he’ll understand and he’ll be happy about the decision we didn’t make for him. Hopefully someday the Kaiser will know that the decision was made out of love and based on what we believed (and still believe, regardless of the details). We love him…just the way he is.