Sex Ed and Humor with the Dickerson Girls

As a former biology teacher, I've never really struggled with talking about or teaching sexual reproduction.  Kennedy and Taylor were born so close together that Kennedy didn't really ask questions other than "when will the baby come out" the entire time I was pregnant.  When I was expecting Blake, Kennedy didn't really ask a lot of questions, but one day she informed me that she knew "where the baby was going to come out".  Surprised, I asked where and how she knew.  I don't recall all the details, but ultimately, she knew and had good reasons.

Finally, Blake was born the week after Easter 2010.  Days before Blake was born, Kennedy began asking questions about why Jesus was a miracle.  In good parenting fashion, I told my 7 year old that it was because Mary and Joseph were not married, and that typically babies are born to moms and dads who are married.  She bought it without further question.  We had a healthy baby.  Kennedy knew the "secret" about how Blake came into the world without a scar on my abdomen.

Skip forward another year to summer 2011.  I shared with Kennedy that a family friend was expecting a baby.  She immediately asked when the young girl got married.  I explained that she was not married.  Her brain quickly recalled our former conversation and she asked, "So it might be another baby Jesus?"  Ummmm...not exactly.  So, at a young 8 years old, we had "the conversation" about sexual reproduction.  She took it all in and wrapped it up with "So, you and Daddy had sex to get Blake?"  I smiled and said, "yes".  She said, "So, you and Daddy had sex to get Taylor?"  I smiled again and said, "yes".  She took a deep breath and said, "So...(insert long pause)" and I said, "and, we had sex to get YOU".  She just shook her head.  It was an intense moment, but ultimately, I was glad to begin such an important conversation.

Skip forward three more years to today.  Here we are at Easter four years after Blake's birth.  Taylor is now 8.  We've not really been close to any women expecting children in years.  Taylor hasn't really asked questions other than this doozy in the car last fall.  Honestly, I've just not thought to take the time to open that can of worms.  Within the last week, we've had the "when little girls become young women" conversation.  Today, on the way to school Taylor made a comment about our cat "getting pregnant until she has kittens".  I explained that our cat, Knick Knack is already pregnant.  I didn't get into the details, but told her that girls are either pregnant or not.  There really isn't a process like she was thinking.  She accepted that fact without further question.

Tonight, Chad sent Taylor out to feed the cats (Knick Knack the female and Squeakers the male).  Taylor was outside for a few minutes, and I could hear her calling Squeakers.  Finally she came in and plopped down at the table beside me and asked, "So, will Knick Knack still have the babies if the male ran off?"

Obviously, Chad and I have more explaining to do in terms of sexual reproduction.  But honestly, how different would the world be if the female only had a baby as long as the male stayed by her side?

Surviving Life with 3 Daughters

People often say that they wish kids came with instruction books.  Don't worry.  I'm not going to try to create that instruction booklet.  However, I do have some secrets to surviving life with three girls while working and going to school.  Some of these tips are appropriate for life with boys, girls, or any combination.  Some of them are quite girl specific.  Here are five of my top ten tips. 

1.  I buy the appropriate size trash bags and leave the roll in the bottom of all the trash cans.  The initial set up maybe a little pricey because you might have to buy 4 rolls/boxes of trash bags at one time.  However, each time your child (hint, hint) needs to empty the trash, she can simply grab the bag, separate bottom from the roll, and prepare next bag to receive treasures trash.  I do know that it is much more economical to empty the trash into another bag rather than replace every bag every time.  However, I learned from experience that my kids can't manage to dump that trash INTO another bag without making a huge mess.  So, I've decided to budget the extra few bucks each year for enough trash bags to do it my way.

2.  We have a "pencil graveyard".  With three girls in the house, we have writing utensils everywhere.  Seriously, I got so tired of picking up and throwing away pens, pencils, map colors, crayons, etc.  Finally, after Christmas this year, I was walking through the house picking up loose items from the floor.  I happened to be holding a medium sized felt gift bag left from the holidays.  I casually started adding my finds (pens, pencils, etc.) to the bag.  Now when I find these things lying around, I hide store them for the girls.  The greatest things of all about this secret is that I NEVER have to pick up the same items twice!  Yes, I could still throw them away, but I am realistic enough to know that we will need $87 worth of school supplies in the fall.  My big girls are going to be so excited to get all their mismatched left overs back in zip-lock bags!! Shhhh!  Don't tell.

3.  I already mentioned my children and their genetic inability to put away writing utensils.  I assure you, I've done extensive research on their father for the last 15 years.  They have no hope of ever learning to put their things away.  I am personally just a little OCD about everything having a place and everything being in its place.  There's not a lot in this world that can make me mad faster than going to get something from it's place and realizing that it is not there.  My solution to protect the small items that I often need is my very own drawer.  I have a drawer in the kitchen that my children understand is a quick trip to death if they should even open it.  Before you get all offended, know that they have a drawer as well.  Both drawers were almost identically stocked.  Mine still has tape, scissors, pens, pencils, paper clips, etc.  Theirs?  Well, most of their writing utensils are in the "pencil graveyard".  I am happy to report that every time I need a pen, I can find it in its place in my drawer.

4.  All these girls have hair accessories.  Fortunately, all three of our girls have very different types of hair.  Kennedy, has thick, thick, t.h.i.c.k. hair.  She needs those large ponytail holders that are about as thick as a round shoelace.  Taylor has thin, thin, thin hair.  She needs those skinny ponytail holders.  Blake's hair is never brushed or styled.  No, seriously, I do spank her and make her sit still long enough for me to attempt to get her hair out of her face during the week.  For her super thin, fine hair we have to use the actual rubber bands.  You know the ones that look like the rubber bands that we used on our braces back in 1990?  Seems like it might complicate things to have to buy three different types of bands for hair.  But, can you imagine the number of ponytail holders that I find in the shower, bathroom floor, bedroom floor, living room floor, car, etc?  No one can claim "it's not mine" because they are each very distinct. 

5.  These girls are messy, hairy, hungry gals.  Yes, they even eat.  They are fairly independent.  None of them are allowed to use the oven independently, but they can operate the microwave, etc.  They each have their preferences for food.  I keep a magnetic grocery list on the side of the refrigerator.  Kennedy and Taylor both know that if they use all or nearly all of an item, it needs to be added to the grocery list.  Honestly, I don't always buy what they write on the list because I prefer that they have more variety to their diet.  And for the record, they do not get to select and prepare their own food for every meal.  Breakfast, they are generally allowed to select oatmeal, cereal, etc.  They do prepare their own lunches for school but must have them inspected by "no you can't have 2 desserts" mom before they leave the kitchen.  I generally prepare the evening meals.  Therefore, the things they typically need to add to the grocery list include items such as "flower logurt" for Blake, "bretoes" for Kennedy, and "peprony" for Taylor.


Life is not always fun around here, but we manage.  We haven't mastered all the challenges of multiple kids and multiple jobs yet.  And quite honestly, I'm not ready for it all to be smooth sailing.  There are days that I would like for my kids to "get it all right", but I'm sure that they will only "get it all right" when they are in their own homes.  I'm not ready for that yet! 

Three

Numbers are an integral part of our daily lives.  I'm sure everyone else is just like us in the ridiculous number of numbers that you encounter every single day.  We have phone numbers, house numbers, passwords. We even have a digital lock on our house with a number to make it open so I don't have to keep up with the key. 

At least once every few weeks, one of our kids will get on a kick about "favorites".  We answer questions about favorite foods, movies, books, colors, and numbers.  The number three has a special place in the list of favorites at our house.  Dale Earnhardt drove the number three car before he was killed.  As early as February 2002, the first NASCAR race after Kennedy's birth, our kids have enjoyed (or endured) countless hours of NASCAR and conversations about Earnhardt and Junior.  Needless to say, when Kennedy was asked what number she preferred on her softball team last month, she immediately answered "three!". 

The number three is significant to Chad because of his hero and Kennedy because she adores her daddy and has been brainwashed.  Taylor is excited about third grade next month.  We do have three kids and are currently living in our third house as a family while I work my third job since college.  However, the number three is my least favorite number! 

BADkid is three.  I love that child with every fiber of my being.  However, she is three.  I can't even recall the number of times (maybe 33,333) I have thought and said, "I don't remember three being this bad before".  Is it because she is the THIRD child?  Maybe it's because I'm in my 30s?  Maybe it's a combination of all of the above? 

Blake Alayne is an affectionate, tender, loving child for about 20 minutes of each week.  Beyond that, she is wide open and will test every single thing you say to her every single time.  If you've seen her in action, you probably said something really disgusting like "she's so cute".  You probably heard me say something really honest like "only because she doesn't live at your house".  Seriously, I love her, but she is wearing me out.

Here's a tiny glimpse into my morning at the grocery store.

Get out of car and unbuckle kid who has taken off her shoes.  Tell her to put her shoes on.  Take doll and blanket away from kid and repeat that she must put her shoes on her feet.  Wait 2 minutes because she has decided to squeal "my caint!" instead of bend over and pick up her shoes.  Explain to kid that she can take either the doll or the blanket into the store, but not both.  Give up reasoning with kid.  Throw doll and blanket back in car and head for the entrance.  Hold kid's hand in a death grip across parking lot as kid tries to pull hand away and continuously repeats "I big girl.  I listen!"  Get buggy.  Explain to kid that she must hold buggy.  Kid darts off away from buggy.  Put kid in seat in buggy as kid demands "I big girl. I listen. I walk."  Pick shoes up off floor and toss into back of buggy.  Quickly zip through store and buy only the necessary items while repeating the phrase "sit down" at least once every three minutes and resorting to spanking.  Check out, open car door and let kid get in while putting groceries in the truck.  Return buggy to holder, tell kid to sit in her seat to buckle.  Kid tries to climb into front seat of car, grab kid, explain danger of playing in car, put her in seat, turn around because someone spoke, kid tries to escape, grab kid, hold into seat while buckling as she screams, "My do it my se---elf!!"

In our world with the three year old, everything takes three times as long and requires more patience than I can accumulate in three weeks.  Some days I feel like the only time I can relax my guard is when she is sleeping, which only happens briefly.  My BADkid spends so much time and energy getting into mischief and demanding things be her way that when she finally crashes, she is "throwed outta gear" like this.  (Yes, those of us living life with a transmission mechanic actually hear and use phrases such as that).

I do love this BADkid.  I sometimes even sit and chuckle as I think of all the cute, precious, funny things she says and does.  As I was finishing this post she woke up from her brief nap.  She stretched, climbed up in my chair, hugged me and said, "I wuv you sooo much."  Of course I said, "I love you soooo much too" as I silently thought "One day she will be four and "they" say I'll miss this, but right now I'm thankful we only have to endure 365 days of THREE!"

Four daughters?

Most of you consider me the mother of three girls. However, actually, I have another daughter. Stop. Wait. Think. Do not place a call into the rumor mill. This daughter is actually about 11 years older than Kennedy. She came into my life in October of 2007. This daughter did not enter my life in the typical fashion. Instead, she walked through the door in room 151, sat in a desk in the middle row, opened a spiral, and began doodling. She was very quiet and timid.

A few days later, she began to come to my classroom during her lunch period (on the few days she actually came to school). We sat and talked. I am not sure why she chose me, but she did. She gradually began to share tiny pieces of her life with me. She was a miserable, hurting sixteen-year-old precious little girl. The details are not important, but essentially, she became a part-time Dickerson. I am not sure what she would say about it all now, but being "Dickerson" came with good and bad experiences. Some of my favorites were sitting at the dining room table WITHOUT a cell phone to have a meal with the family, camping in a tent at the deer lease, and being forced to attend church if she stayed over Saturday night.

Within a few months, this sweet young lady had truly become one of us. Kennedy and Taylor adored her, although she was terrified of them! Chad and I prayed for her, attempted to mentor her, and loved her as our own.

In a Lifetime movie, this is where I would say that we loved her enough to "fix" her world and everything in it. Well, this is not a Lifetime movie. In real life, her world was spinning out of control. My life was spinning right along with hers because I truly did want to "fix" her and her world. I was not able to fix her world, but I was able to hold her, cry with her, and love her. At one point, it truly looked to be impossible. I cannot even imagine how it must have felt from her perspective. However, she is resilient. She slowly began to put things into place. She walked some long, dark roads alone in order to improve her life. She made choices that were in direct opposition to the opinion of immediate family members who do not appear to value things such as education and emotional or financial independence.


At the most difficult point in this journey, I was unable to talk directly to this precious girl. I even doubted whether my "help" had been any help at all. However, her gift of words made it clear to me at that moment that we were put here to help each other. You know how moms save those sweet little notes and drawings from their little kids? Well, this "sweet little poem" is as dear to me as the tiny footprints of my biological children. She wrote...

I don’t know how I made it before you,
So I don’t know how I’m surviving now,
Maybe it’s just the thought that you care,
That keeps me moving forward, somehow.

Sometimes I can’t fall asleep at night,
And I need someone to talk to,
I pick up the phone and then put it down,
When I remember that I can’t call you.

Sometimes I’m crying because I’m alone,
And I remember that you can’t be there,
And I think you shouldn’t waste your time on me,
You don’t have to, so why do you care?

I know I tell you all the time that I love you,
And I tell you how much you mean to me,
But I don’t think I could ever tell you enough,
I just don’t want you to forget it, you see?

I want you to know that you mean a lot to me,
And I don’t know how else to say,
I love you alot, and don’t forget,
You’re really the reason I made it today

She is doing it. She is making a better life for herself. She is enrolled in college. She is pushing through even when the courses are tough, and it would be easier to quit. She is also working when it would be more fun to be a college kid and party. Graduation with an Associate's Degree is on the horizon. I am so proud of her.

Most importantly, she allowed me to be present when she made a public profession of faith through baptism. I was so proud of her. I was excited for my other three girls to be present to see such a happy moment in her life. I was giddy. Chad was too.

This daughter of mine is special. She is a fighter. She is smart. She is pretty. She is a gifted writer. She is an inspiration to me.

Sweet, sweet girl, I am so proud of you. I am unbelievalby blessed because you chose me. I love you.