Welcome back to my advice blog and apologies for bar complaint tangents. If you haven’t left a comment on yesterday’s blog yet, please do so. You can find that here:
Today is a good one so pat yourself on the back for giving me another chance. This is the first time I deliver advice in limerick form so hold onto your potatoes and let’s go!
Last week I received an email from a mom concerned about finding birth control under the mattress of her 15-year-old daughter. Click on the link to refresh your recollection or catch up on what you may have missed, and to see how the advice sausage is made in my word kitchen:
For those of you too lazy or busy to do so, here’s the reader’s first email to me:
I admit to snooping in my 15-year-old daughter’s room last week. I was worried she might be smoking pot because she seems spacey and out of it lately. I didn’t find any pot, but I did find birth control pills hidden under her mattress.
She has a boyfriend but they’ve only been dating a few weeks. I do my best to make sure they are never alone together but obviously they are managing to find enough time to have sex. I am not handling this well and I want to talk to her but I don’t want to upset her and I do not want her father to find out. This would break his heart.
I also want to know how she got this. Isn’t there a law or something that teenagers can’t get prescriptions without their parents’ OK? I live in California.
Dear Meddling Mom:
Today I challenge myself to deliver advice to you in the form of a limerick. I hope you enjoy it. Please email me if you’d like your feedback in non-bad-poetry form.
Ode to a Smart Girl
There once was a pretty young lass,
Who was smart, funny, pretty, and had plenty of sass.
She earned good grades in school
But she made the boys drool
And mom worries of a snake in her grass.
Our sweet lass was acting quite foggy
She was spacey, lethargic, and groggy.
“Is it pot?” her mom cried,
In a shriek as horrified
As the GOP when discussing Benghazi.
Mom ran straight to the room of her daughter
Flipped the mattress she’d recently bought her
T’wasn’t weed that she found,
But a pill box that’s round
And she screamed, “I’ll stop this boning come hell or high water!”
Then Mom calmed down and wisely reflected
And came to conclusions that are these days expected:
“I’ll write DesCamp!” she shouted
“Her advice can’t be doubted!
“She’s funny and wise and respected!”
So that’s how we came here today
And to Mom I have these things to say,
“Be grateful, you dummy!
“Do you want to be a grandmummy?
“How long a virgin did you expect her to stay?”
But that’s not advice, and we know it
(As we all know I’m clearly no poet)
Mom is worried her child
Might be running quite wild
as Browning said, “Human nature behooves that i know it.”*
Sorry Mom, but you’ve piss-poor ideals
Of what to boys and to girls is revealed
The boys get the real talk
The girl’s told: avoid cock
That don’t help if she’s head over heels!
And what to do re: the keeping of info
From your husband the pills and what they show?
That your daughter is humping!
Uglies she is bumping!
But that don’t mean your girl is a nympho.
Problem is, you treat her like a baby
While your boys learn of sexual safety
That’s a dumbass approach
Is your brain made of brioche?
I don’t mean to be mean, but it may be.
Still, I worry your husband (old-fashioned)
Will react by attempting to ration
These no-baby pills
(contraception; no kills!)
And soon abortion, motherhood, or adoption you’ll be hashin’
So talk to your daughter, Meddling Mom.
Share you found pills and when you do, remain calm
Tell your fine girl that you love her
Not despite what you discovered,
But even more! Apply parental love balm.
Then say you’re sorry for not being open
And for failing so badly at copin’
With her fledgling sex life
Tell her you wish her no strife
And advise that while BC pills are a must, so are Trojans.
See, your child needs to know more than just how
To not grow pregnant and thus look like a sow
Teach her now of protection
From a nasty infection
That can come when uncovered’s the plow.
I must go now, I’ve probably been hit
With more bar complaints since I’ve written this shit
So those I’ll turn to, but first
This advice I’ll disperse:
Support and love you must commit to transmit.
*Browning, “The Glove,” not coincidentally
Don’t forget folks, I would really appreciate your comments on both this blog and yesterday’s, which you can find here: