Thursday, March 23, 2006

When I was a little girl I had the habit of straddling the arm of the couch or the stuffed chair and would rock to and fro while watching TV. A habit Leah reminded me of most embarrassingly in front of my friends at thirteen. When I was about eight my parents shamed me in to dropping the habit, which I then moved to the bedroom in a modified format.

Jane Vincent’s request for the story if a first orgasm triggered a stroll down my memory lane of autoeroticism and while however pleasurable my rocking may have been it doesn’t count as a first orgasm. Though in thinking about it perhaps my parents insistence that I stop was meant to defer the arrival of my first O to a time and place when the family wasn’t watching the Cosby Show.

Around that time my parents put an addition on the house, a master suite for them at the opposite end of the house from the kids. The benefit in the kid’s wing was that Leah and I received our own rooms.

The juxtaposition of the furniture in my and Leah’s room had the headboards of our beds on the same wall and occasionally I would here some odd sounds through the wall. Moans and gasps and her headboard hitting the wall were among the oddities. Being a snooping and worrywart sister I’d check on her and she would shoo me off.

I knew that the best source of dirt on one of my sister’s was the other, so one day I mentioned the noises to Grace and asked her input. G started laughing and said she’s jillin herself. The blank look on my face must have told G I had no idea what jillin was so she said, “She’s rubbing her twat.” I knew what at twat was and from my own experience knew that rubbing it felt good but I never acted like Leah.

Being a latch key kid I was alone in the house a lot. Being an inquisitive latch key kid I had explored all the places off limits to children in the house. At that time the bookshelf in my parents room held the most fascination and on the top shelf, laid atop other books with the binding to the back was Mom’s copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves.

I’d take the book and hide it my room to read it. I remember looking at the items that Mom had underlined and reading the margin notes that she had made in her careful hand. On one of our Mom and daughters Thanksgiving weekends, it came out that Leah and Grace had done the same thing and that Mom knew all about us all.

I wonder what happened to that book, as I would love to have it. Mom broke that house up when I was away at college; some stuff going to storage, some being tossed. I checked with Grace and Leah and neither has the book nor has any idea of its whereabouts. Kenny packed up the apartment in Houston and doesn’t remember it but he does have several boxes of belongings from the house and the apartment in his attic and offered to look.

It’s funny what triggers memories and since so many of the memories of my mother were from the time she suffered due to mental illness it is wonderful to be reminded of the time when she could be the loving mother was and she wanted to be.



Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm sorry your mother developed mental illness. That is so hard to deal with.

5:16 AM  
Anonymous VJ said...

I think Jonathan Winters had the best line for a similar question; 'When did you lose your virginity?' He would reply with; 'I was 12 & alone at the time...'. Later he would embelish the thought with something like 'and Grandma Fogee was playing the glockenspiel softly in the music room below'. But thanks for the note on your family. You were a precocious little kid, but it's nice that your sisters were gentle about it all.

Lots of moms (& not a few dads) had the 'Our Bodies' books. They were a godsend to many a confused child & adult. It's still in print with a new edition for the 'modern age' too. But with the advent of the Net, many people just log onto Planned Parenthood, or Jane's guides when they have sexuality questions. In those far off times there were just a few books that had to suffice 'Everything you wanted to know about sex but were afraid to ask' was another favorite of the era too. I'm sorry you lost your mom's original. It was a piece of cherished history that your family shared, even if it was a 'semi secret'. My guess is that you dad might know what happened to it. Cheers & Good Luck! 'VJ'

9:08 AM  
Blogger Kim said...

Dad had been gone three years when Mom broke up the house and had taken his things. The book is either in a box in Kenny's attic or it's gone.


7:08 PM  
Anonymous VJ said...

Sorry about that Kim, I knew there was a flaw in the logic somewhere, and as usual I was forgetting the timeline of events. You still share the memories though, and that's important. Cheers & Good Luck! 'VJ'

9:03 PM  

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