NEVER FLICK THE FAMILY JEWELS

Phallic Parsnip

I realize I will probably lose all my male followers after they read this post.

DISCLAIMER ALERT FOR MEN: Reading this post may cause feelings of rage, sorrow, and desire for revenge against the writer. Please do not act on any of them.

I’m usually extremely in tune with the penis. We go waaaay back, you see, from the time I was 8, maybe 9, and me and the boy upstairs took nudie pictures of our privates with my Kodak Instamatic camera. The photos were developed, but there was a note attached to the envelope alerting my mother to “inappropriate content.”

Fast forward 35 years and to more penises than I care to recall. I understand that we women need to treat a penis gently. To listen to men describe their pride and joy though, you’d think one needed to treat it like a premature incubated chick, with a temperature-controlled climate and white kid gloves.

I know it hurts when men get hit there. I’ve seen them doubled over in pain. Girls are usually schooled in the art of handling the package, often from a man himself, and it’s a wonder we’re not frightened to go near it. Such importance, power, and domineering characteristics—we react to it like we do to celebrity lifestyles: we ooh and aah over them, but in reality, we have no concept of what it’s like to have one.

My 10 year old son adores his penis, although he doesn’t worship it yet, if you know what I mean. I try not to make his love of nudity a huge issue because I don’t want to give him a complex, but I will tell him to put the little General away when I’m in his room, hanging out. It’s enough that my son’s friends are always hanging out, I don’t need to see his dangling participle hanging, too.

He told me the other day, “My penis hurts.” The first thing that came to mind was to ask him whether it burned when he peed, except he’s too young for gonorrhea. My words in Prissy’s voice (Scarlett O’Hara’s maid), kept ringing in my ears: “I don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout little boys’ penises.” I cursed my son’s father for not being around to discuss these boy things.

I asked my son if it hurt on the inside or the outside.

“All over,” he said.

“Okay, well…uh, have you been, er, maybe, aah, um, touching it too much?”

“No.”

“Did you bang it on something?”

“No.”

“Get hit with a ball?”

“No.”

“No one else has been touching it, have they?” I said, starting to panic. He looked at me like I had just asked him if he wanted a side of broccoli with his birthday cake.

“No!”

I had nothing else. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I told him.

Because of my thinking of his penis always in the third person, coupled with his constant waving it around like the American flag, I forget how fragile the wee little thing is. A few weeks later, when my son lost at a card game we were playing, he attacked me and all I saw was his crotch heading for my face. I should mention he wasn’t wearing any pants at the time. Or underwear. (Before anyone decides we must live in a freaky clothing-optional home, please know his entire lower half was covered by a blanket the whole time we were playing cards.)

So my son’s crotch was heading toward my face and I did something I have never done to any man or boy. I flicked it. Yes, I flicked his junk. His tenders. His privates. Flick. I immediately realized what I had done, and we both froze and stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide in horror. Then my son’s lip started to quiver, the tears came, and I felt like the worst mommy on the planet.

How could I have done that? The worst possible thing to do to a male and I had done it to my son. I had caused my son pain and he was crying. I felt worse than pond scum. I hugged him, rocked him, begged his forgiveness. I made sure I stressed how wrong I was to have done that, I had violated the unspoken rule between men and women, and I would never, ever do it again. Pinky swear.

I think I need to lay down some rules in my home. My son needs to have his goods covered at all times. I don’t want to see them, and I sure as hell don’t want them coming anywhere near my face. I don’t think that’s too unreasonable, do you?

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16 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Tinnitus Miracle Reviews
    May 14, 2013 @ 03:19:35

    My partner and I stumbled over here coming from a different page and thought I may as well check things out.

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    Reply

  2. Find The Funny
    May 14, 2013 @ 06:52:28

    I’m sorry but that’s funny. I raised two kids as a single mom, the oldest is a boy and I had no idea wtf to do. Seriously.

    When I found out he was “touching” himself, I panicked. I had no idea if he was at the “appropriate” age, how long the sessions were supposed to be, when does this end? And then I found out later that every age is the appropriate age for a boy to play with himself, the sessions could last as long as 40 years, and it NEVER ends.

    And I really wish someone would have informed me that boys get just as moody as girls when going through puberty!

    Believe me, I had to do plenty of apologizing for my many mistakes and impulse reactions.

    The way I see it, no matter what we do as parents, our children will need therapy at some point. No matter how differently we try to raise our kids from the way our parents/parent did, we will inevitably make our own mistakes that our children will swear they will NEVER do to their children.

    Great blog. I can relate on many levels.

    Reply

    • Tiffany N. York
      May 14, 2013 @ 09:33:19

      You’re so funny! That’s exactly how I feel–completely lost and bewildered over behavior I have no idea is normal or not. I grew up as an only child and I wasn’t around cousins that much, so kids are a complete mystery to me. I think I had only held a baby twice in my life before I had one of my own.

      I fully expect to get blamed for everything that goes wrong in my son’s life in the future.

      Reply

      • Find The Funny
        May 14, 2013 @ 11:23:09

        I grew up as an only child also. Not to say I don’t have half brothers and sisters all over the planet (my dad got around) but I had no idea what to do with a kid.

        My kids don’t even have to blame me, I beat myself up just fine thank you very much!

        My daughter on the other hand was so frickin’ easy! And she’s the exact opposite of her brother. My son had to get into everything, go to the bathroom in every new place we went (I used to call him the bathroom connoisseur), do everything he was told not to, and my daughter? Well, she’s the obedient one.

        But so far, they have taught me more than I could have ever imagined.

        I’ll leave you to your other peeps now. Until next time…

      • Tiffany N. York
        May 14, 2013 @ 15:32:49

        From what I hear, boys are harder when they’re younger, and girls are hard when they’re teenagers. God, I so hope that’s true. All I ever hear and read is, “Since you’re a single mom, you need to be careful he doesn’t get into trouble or go down the wrong path when he’s older.” Why? Because he doesn’t have a dad at home to beat the crap out of him?

  3. Damien
    May 14, 2013 @ 11:03:47

    Trust me, you’ll know when he’s, uh, started worshiping. You will see a WHOLE lot less of him and if you go near his room while he’s worshiping he will either play dead under covers (worship tip offs: laptop and shoes) or he will throw a violent fit ala a young Sean Penn.

    Don’t worry, we all worship it, it’s just totally normal. You might want to be more worried about when someone else starts worshiping it for him.

    Til then, don’t flick it or them!
    Side note: is that a deformed parsnip? Man, that freaked me the hell out at 8 am…

    Reply

    • Tiffany N. York
      May 14, 2013 @ 15:24:20

      It is a parsnip! I love phallic fruits and vegetables. It shows me nature has a sense of humor.

      Yeah, um, as for the worshipping, I remember in the first season of the show “Weeds,” the mom wondered why all her son’s socks were missing. And I read this guy’s blog post about how boys like to experiment with cutting holes in fruit, esp. melons, and um…

      I guess I’ll be stocking up on socks and melon. sigh.

      Reply

      • Damien
        May 16, 2013 @ 13:56:52

        T – there is no way around this: He. Will. Experiment. If you fill the house with rusty saws and toothpaste and he’ll only end up with a minty wiener and getting him Tetanus shots.

        My friend used socks when we were teenagers and I remember playing basketball behind his house and I ran into the woods to retrieve the ball when I inadvertently stumbled upon his, um, graveyard. Somewhat disturbing. Still don’t wear socks.

        I worship into them, but I don’t wear them.

      • Tiffany N. York
        May 16, 2013 @ 18:07:05

        The other night my son was naked (he sleeps naked when it’s warm enough) and the diva jumped onto his bed and settled herself right on his well, ya know…and he said, “Ooh, this feels good.” So I suppose the bottom line is: I’d rather he use socks, or tissues, or melons, whatever–rather than the dog.

  4. Menopausal Mother
    May 15, 2013 @ 17:47:21

    Oh noooo! I feel so bad for your boy!!! And I can feel your pain, too. hard way to learn the lesson about always wearing pants around the house. Oh well….one day you’l have a great story to share with his future wife…..

    Reply

    • Tiffany N. York
      May 16, 2013 @ 18:01:33

      Plus, it’s a great scare tactic to use on him. Whenever he’s toeing the line, I say, “Don’t make me flick it again!” He gets a look of horror on his face and screams, “You promised!” I am such an evil Mommy.

      Reply

  5. kidfreeliving
    May 24, 2013 @ 03:53:19

    You did him a favor. Now he knows to avoid the flick! I basically flicked a boy in grade school there because it was there and he was being obnoxious – didn’t think anything of it. Next thing you know he’s doubled over crying – I was like, “What is this POWER I have??” That’s when I became the little known super hero “BallFlicker” – it was a very short run Marvel series.

    Reply

    • Tiffany N. York
      May 24, 2013 @ 08:39:15

      BallFlicker! hahah! I don’t think women comprehend the power they have over the penis. We have the power to make it happy or sad or angry or frustrated or humiliated or…the possibilities are endless. I believe as the BallFlicker you were a dangerous and awe-inspiring creature for sure! As long as you didn’t run around looking like a large wrinkled scrotum.

      Reply

  6. tam
    Nov 29, 2013 @ 06:15:29

    Yea I agree it’s time to take clothing optional out of the house rules!
    tam@ spinstersnacks.com

    Reply

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