The Shaft

Here's another one for the "I didn't need to know that file:"

After the Howler was born, my Sweetie and I had to decide what to do about birth control. We did a two year stint of raincoats and prayer. Finally, something had to give, and my Sweetie, God Bless Him, gave himself up.

He got snipped. And I got to hear the "OOPS" stories of everyone else's snippage stories. "She got pregnant before it finally took" and "It didn't take, and he didn't get the 'shootin' blanks' test..." blah blah blah.

For the record, he got snipped; we continued with the raincoats and prayer BC methods UNTIL he got the "shootin' blanks" okie-dokie.

My mother, on the other hand, before the surgery (but after the initial appointment with the surgeon) and immediately following the surgery, was like a woman obsessed with my husband's privates.

It was bizarre.

She called me repeatedly to tell me that he simply must shave "the shaft, because, you know, it's hairy too." Not that she'd ever SEEN his shaft, but, because, you know, it must be.

Anyway, after about two or three of these calls, I was annoyed, and more than a little disturbed by the fact that my mother was spending so much of her free time thinking about, you know, my Sweetie's shaft.

I remained skeeved, but only said "And you know this because you, yourself, have had so many vasectomies?" She told me to not be "smart."

A few days after the surgery, my brother called and informed me that my mother, God love her, invited my sister-in-law to lunch. I figured he was just trying to bore me, but, no, I'm not that lucky.

Turns out that Mom realized I wasn't listening, so she turned to her "bonus daughter" (a very polite woman who definitely did NOT want to hear, or think, about my Sweetie's shaft) and my poor unsuspecting sister-in-law happily agreed to have lunch with Mom.

Apparently Mom spent lunchtime going into great detail about the snippage. Including using her gestures to get the point across. My sister-in-law spent the time in unbelieving silence. She's trying to eat, and her mother-in-law is giving her a blow-by-blow rendition of snippage, from the first shave stroke all the was through to the details of where the stitches are. Mom is great for using hand gestures for emphasis, too.

There are now two of us skeeved by what my mother is spending her time thinking about.

Weeks later, I'm in the car with Mom, and she starts on the subject of shaving shafts again.

So I responded with, "Mom, how many blow jobs have you given that you needed to spit out hair afterwards?"

She almost wrecked the car.

Then, "You're vulgar."

"YOU are the one spending so much time and energy thinking about my Sweetie's shaft."



It's now 4 years later, and I can effectively get Mom to leave the room by making ANY number of references to male private parts. I also don't have to listen to her "jokes" about my sex life, and if she forgets, I simply say the most "vulgar" thing that comes to mind--and I get an immediate change-of-subject. This is a highly valued skill in my tribe.

It's highly amusing to my brother and sister, and I get a high-five from my brother's wife every time.