Monday, May 12, 2008

It started with a chair: The condom broke part 1.

Months ago, when the Oscar buzz was still a buzzing, I was asked in an email if I had seen the movie Juno. This emailer had read my "100 things about me" post and ascertained that I was once a mumblemumbleteen-parentmumble because I said I had married straight out of highschool, giving birth to my first son six months after my wedding day. Logically, this means that I had engaged in mumblemumblepremarital-sexmumble. I was asked to write about my experiences on the matter.

I replied that I hadn't seen Juno but it was on my Netflix queue. Sure, why not write a post or two when the movie comes out on DVD? It might be better than writing about farts.

Instead of waiting on the U.S. mail and my queue to move slowly along, my husband bought the DVD two weeks ago. It brought back much of what I'd forgotten and left me with emotions that stopped being relevant over a decade ago. It hit me harder than I thought it would.

So, I've been putting off my post or two.

I understand I'm really under no obligation to relate my experiences with mumblemumbleteen-parenthoodmumble. I can't even spout off a good natured, "but I wanted to!" when it comes to these next series of posts. What I'm feeling is a wistful sort of "supposed to" but not for your sakes. It's for me. That's right. Me. Everything is about me.

Certainly my experience is not unique. I know this firsthand. My own parents, who have been married nearly 50 years, began their life together as teen parents. They were younger than I was in making the same choices but their story held more stigma in those days. They didn't even get to mumble through the subject. You just didn't mention it at all. You sent it away and hope it didn't come back fat or a delinquent.

When the age of Free Love came it sort of relieved the burden of being so hush hush. My parents didn't get into the whole hippie thing. Dad didn't grow his hair long. He kept himself employed, clean shaven and therefore he and my mom escaped being uncontrollable sex fiends. They were forgiven to a point and having a young family kept my dad out of the draft.

My husband had already been in the Army and fought in a war when I had met him. He wasn't ever a mumblemumbleteen-parentmumble. That changes my story somewhat, and lends to our success ultimately. I'll talk about that more later.

Tomorrow? Stayed tuned for, "I'm forshizz up the spout: The condom broke part 2."

Happy Mothers Day all.


  1. My mom and dad got married when she was 15 and he was 16. My sisters were both married in their teens. One brother was married in his teens; the other's wife was in her teens. I was technically a teenager when I got married (a month away from 20).

    About half us had kids on the way when we got married. The rest of us didn't, but could have. About half of us are still married to that same person. I thought marrying young and having kids early was the way most people do it.

    I truly don't understand why people make such a big deal of it.

    (But I do want to hear your story.)

  2. I was 24 when married & 29 when our first baby came along & Annie was 9 months older than me. But that did make us usually the oldest parents as our sons were growing up amongst their friends. Ann's parents had always told her their anniversary was St. Patricks Day which fit with her Dec 20th birthday. After they were both gone I ordered a copy of their marriage certificate for genealogical records and we found they were really married in June. That was a bit more unusual in 1942 and for a female teacher. Her Mom was 42, her Dad 55 at that time.

    Is your story Band Camp 3?

  3. Did the condom REALLY break? Or is that just your hook?

  4. Yours is a very different story than my own. I'm 30 with a 7 month old. I did just see Juno though and I personally know a lot of people in my life who can relate. My niece, for instance, has 2 kids older than mine. Thanks for sharing your story.

  5. Blogarita, my parents married at the same ages. My one brother, who married right out of highschool when I was five or so, also did it shotgun style.

    I hope to talk about the cultural stigma of it in post 3. Marrying young was fine where I was from, but marrying pregnant, or gasp, not marrying and staying a single parent? Woo, lord...

  6. Dick, my grandma always said she weighed a pound and a half when she was born. Mind you, that was back in 1912. How many tiny babies survived in a farmhouse back in those days? My theory is that since Gram was born less than 9 months after her parents' wedding, the parents claimed she was premature to cover their backs.


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