Vodka Mom has an amusing post about what you should never tell your mother. I was going to respond, but my answer took on a life of it’s own so I thought I’d just post it over here.
I have to say I agree with her – I don’t want to hear about it either. It’s enough to know they do it. So when my adult children tell me about their sex lives, I tend to put my fingers in my ears and chant, “lalalalalalalaaaaaa” loudly and repeatedly until they get the hint and go away.
Hey, it could be worse – I could give them the same reaction they give me when confronted with the fact I have a sex life, and scream, “EEEEWWWWWW, GROOOOOOOOSSSSS!!!” and make desperate retching noises.
I didn’t become sexually active until I was 18 (for someone who grew up in the 60s and 70s, I was quite the prude) and while I was afraid to get the pill, I did buy some contraceptive foam and condoms, which I immediately buried in the bottom of the large cedar chest in my bedroom. Whacky-But-Lovable sister, who was then 13 and had been the bane Ramona Quimby of my existence since the day of her birth, made regular reconnaissance missions through my things. She dug them up and handed them to my mother, saying she’d found them under my bed while cleaning our room.
Right. Like she ever cleaned our room. *hmph*
My mother confronted me with this after I came home from a date that weekend, saying she had found them under my bed while cleaning my room. My mother was a formidable woman, and I believe this was the first (and possibly last) time I stood up to her. I told her she should be glad I was taking precautions and not to even try to bother lying, because I knew good and darn well where I’d put the stuff and next time she better make sure Whacky-But-Lovable had her facts straight. Also, was she going to punish the little brat for a) snooping and b) lying, two absolutely verboten activities in our home?
She changed the subject and suggested we both go to bed.
That was the last time my mother and I discussed my sex life. And I learned to lock things in the trunk of my car, after I hid them in the spare tire well.