The birds and the bees and bugcatchers

The other day my sister-in-law was in town, visiting from Las Vegas. I babysat my niece and nephew while my sis-in law took one of her sons for a special outing that’s become a tradition in their family. She took him to Temple Square for lunch and a talk about eternal families and the birds and the bees. (I love this picture they took of themselves from the Joseph Smith Memorial Building.)

This made me think about my own plans for this chat, what with Sage having what seems like a preliminary round of PMS in her little dramatic 5-year-old life. I remember my own special chat with my mom (or at least the first round) came after I posed some awkward questions during a scripture time on Mary’s becoming pregnant with baby Jesus.

As for our family, we have been avoiding scripture topics like "Mary's conception" since I have no specific ideas about how to carry out this “Mother Nature” chat. Except that maybe I already have…rather poorly.

Earlier this month my kids were playing with a neighbor girl and we passed two box elder bugs that were, um, “stuck together.” The neighbor girl piped up, “My mom says that when two box elder bugs are stuck together, that means they’re married.” As I considered this, I was surprised to hear Sage’s quick reply. “My mom said that when two box elder bugs are stuck together, that means they’re having a baby.”

I cringed, not knowing exactly how to amend the lesson Sage had so carefully committed to memory. I do not remember ever saying that. Except, apparently I did. Nice work, self. Way to think through that one carefully.

And, speaking of the birds and the bees, last week at a nice park, Sage and her box elder bug friend spent an hour collecting treasures in a little bug catcher. When it was time to go, I noticed Sage waving around a shiny package that turned out to be a condom wrapper. It wasn’t until a mile down the road that I thought to inspect the contents of the bug catcher (what with the shiny package being empty and all). My heart sank when I peered into the little cage and noticed there were, not one, but two used condoms inside the bug catcher. Red ones.

The cup of hand sanitizer (or “hanitizer” as Eliza calls it) that I emptied onto each girl’s outstretched hands was not enough to dull the stomach ache I got as I thought with revulsion about not just the lack of manners, but also the casualness of too many people today. Just last week I read an article in the paper about a new sex-ed pamphlet in the U.K. that promotes casual sex and includes a section called “An Orgasm a Day.” The world wants to teach my daughters that adventure is a package of red condoms and a midnight stint in the park with a boyfriend, and that happiness can somehow be found in unchaste behavior.

My kids are growing up in a world where they WILL learn about the birds and bees at a young age, whether I like it or not. And since that’s not a subject I’d like to leave to the maturation or sex-ed teacher’s discretion, or to their friends, and CERTAINLY not to Hollywood, I need to make sure that they learn about it from me.

Although I may have handled the box elder bug conversation awkwardly, at least my girls will learn about the birds and the bees and eternal families (and maybe what they found in their bugcatcher) from someone who loves them to death. Someone who can (and will) promise that they were welcomed with joy to a family that wanted them. Someone who would give anything for them to find true happiness.

Temple Square sure seems like a good place to begin.