That stuff is out there...We might as well talk about it.

When I was twelve I got a copy of Flowers in the Attic for Christmas.  My family has some strange bargain hunting tendencies that often produce holiday gifts.  My aunts bought me books a lot. In the fourth grade I did a book report on a true life story of a granny that killed people and buried them in her flower beds.  It was called Human Harvest.  To repeat:  I got up in front of my fourth grade class and reviewed a book called Human Harvest.   I'm not normal, I just hide it well sometimes.

My intro to the world of delicious, yet terribly-written fiction.

Back to Flowers in the Attic.  That is a smutty, smutty book by twelve-year-old standards, and do you know what my mom did?  She let me read it.  In fact, I never remember a time when my mom said "Don't read that" or "You can't watch that."  I do remember being four and having her finish Cinderella and ask me "Do you think that was smart?  She didn't even know that prince and she married him!"  I also remember reading or seeing many things and then asking my mom about them without thinking twice.

In my opinion this was one of the best parenting choices my mom made.  She let me watch and read whatever I wanted.  We talked about it.  I was free to ask any questions I wanted and I did that often.

I was not introspective enough as a tween or teenager to realize it, but having a mom who was willing to discuss anything and chose not to shield me was empowering.  In many instances when someone suggested some ridiculous piece of advice or activity, I already had the knowledge I needed to make a good decision.  When I wasn't sure, I was comfortable asking my mom.  I read about things that most early middle schoolers did not (Thanks, V.C. Andrews and Cosmo magazine!) and therefore wasn't that shocked or intrigued when it came up in whispered conversation.

In middle school when a girl said "You can use a ziploc bag as a condom."  I said "You most certainly cannot.  You should probably talk to my mom ASAP." (Just to be clear, my mom taught pregnant teens at our high school, so she was a logical choice for the whole "no ziploc bags" discussion.)

Great for food storage.  Not great for prophylactic purposes.

I'm not saying that these days I'm letting our girls watch Scarface.  I'm just saying that at this stage when we are watching a movie or t.v. and something questionable comes up, I ask them how they feel about it.  I tell them how I feel about it.  When they have a question, I answer it simply and truthfully. I try to read them books about their bodies and talk to them about good and bad choices, but they are not overly interested, probably because it seems like no big deal.

If you are a parent (even of young children) and have not recently been in the halls of a high school, I suggest you go.  It is eye opening.  Within five minutes you'll learn bad words you didn't know existed.  You'll also learn a lot stuff you didn't really want to know.  If it's not already happening, and I'm almost positive it already IS, my kids will soon be picking up stuff at school that is not even on my radar.  I cannot shield them from it. I'm not going to make it disappear by not addressing it.  I want my girls to trust me.  I want them to know that it's always ok to ask.

I don't want to leave you with the impression that high school kids are depraved little monsters.  The ones I taught were lovely, I just don't want them to be the main source of info for my own kids.