Did I take a day off work?
We Scottish blokes don't wimp out so easily (unlike some of the kiwi girls and boys who depart at the slightest sign of a sniffle. Although I must admit that Richard [of RBB] has struggled gamely on, nose dripping bravely)
Now my beloved has got the same infection. So we're just lying about the house, both feeling miserable, and being just a tiny bit crabbit with each other.
We've always been open with our kids. We didn't try to hide any important family news from them, and we tended to use proper names for Biological bits and pieces.
A penis was a penis, and a vagina was a vagina.
Good common-sense stuff we thought.
The Nuns didn't
On one of my daughter's first visit to the Sunday confirmation classes (I had been blackmailed into letting her go to these brainwashing sessions as I called them. My beloved reminded me that I seemed keen enough to agree before we got married, and I reminded her that the priest had said "Sign this contract, you damned heathen, so the seed of your loins might escape burning in eternal damnation and punishment, unlike your own polluted soul which will undoubtedly fry for all eternity and more" OK, I exaggerate, but the point had been made, no contract, no wedding, and burning with love (and lust) I had signed.
So when my wee daughter had innocently used the V word to one of the Nuns, telling her that the reason for her not being able to sit still was an itching of the V----a , the poor old dear, being a bit deaf and unprepared for the use of this word, misheard it as The Virgin.
The resultant conversation was so full of misunderstandings, confusion and eventually outright threats of excommunication (a bit difficult, as the wee dear hadn't even had her first communion yet) that my beloved was called in for discussions. I was not. The blame was obviously mine, as I was the bloody agent of Satan, as so charmingly referred to by Sister Agnes.
The same year, my beloved and I had a long, long talk about contraception. We had a boy and a girl, both healthy, and our family felt complete. My beloved had suffered 3 miscarriages and a stillbirth (On Christmas Eve. Not a good day) and she had gone back to the Pill (even though she was a "good Catholic") but the side effects were a bit worrying, and the press was full of stories of strokes and heart attacks caused by the high-dose oestrogen Pill.
The alternatives were:
- Caps and Gels
- Fallopian Tube Tying
- The Rhythm Method
2. No too messy
5. No. The technical medical word used to describe practitioners of this method is "MOTHER"
6. Not only No, but Hell No.
I had the vasectomy. I am a wimp, and I demanded a General Anaesthetic. I wasn't the pain, I could have handled the pain, it was the embarrassment factor. I wanted to be out cold when other people were fiddling about with bits that only my beloved and me (when I had to scratch) were allowed to touch or feel.
On the way home (I was driving myself. Not one of the cleverest decisions I have ever made) everything was fine, until I had to use the brake or clutch, then it felt like a 20lb sledgehammer was bouncing off the "sensitive bits"
|Don't brake; or it feels like this|
"Mummy, why is Daddy sore?"
She continued, "I thought you said he had his balls removed?"
After the second question regarding my health, spoken in an artificially shrill voice , I twigged.
"Have you told anyone else about Daddy's operation?" I asked my wee daughter, walking beside me holding my hand.
"Oh yes Daddy, everybody"
"And I did it for Show and Tell at school"
I mused for a few seconds, remembering what she had said when she jumped into my lap. "What did you say?"
She frowned in concentration as she remembered.
"I said that my Daddy was very brave" she said. I smiled. How lovely.
Another pause as she recalled her exact words.
"And I told them how you'd been put to sleep to get your balls removed so you wouldn't trouble Mummy any more"
She gave me a huge smile and a hug, and I hugged and kissed her back. "Was that right Daddy?" she asked.
"Oh yes dear" I said as we walked past another widely grinning bloke. "That's exactly right"