Birds, Bees and Flowers

I knew from rather early on from where the babies are coming. My mom was super-cool about this while my dad vanished into the background. From him I only got one piece of education in all my life.

When I, age 16, wanted to go to a fun fair with my then boy friend who was a farmer’s son, I asked my mum if I could go. She probably thought: That is an easy enough thing, let’s get dad involved!

“I don’t mind, but go ask your dad. He is cleaning the car right now. Go and help him, that’s a good way to go about it.”

Smart woman, off I went bursting out after a while: “Ahhh…hem, daddy? There is this fun fair and Helmut asked me out – you know the guy from the dance lesson. He has a car and he promised to bring me back by 10.”

Response number one: Looong silence

C’mon say something; can’t be so hard to find an answer to that! Or ask more questions, that always is a good tactic to gain time.

Eventually, response number two (very well thought through): ‘I don’t mind if you want to marry a farmer, but first do your A levels!’

Stuck for words I said: ‘OK’... I quickly finished my task to then go and tell my mom that instead of going to the fun fair I would now marry that bloke since I got the blessing of my father.

She got a bit worried regarding his parenting skills and hence any further education stayed with her. I wonder if that was his way of getting rid of us. A rather typical male behaviour: Do something badly and women will never ask you to do it again.

My mum started my sex education around the age of five. Oh she was good – horrible, but good. She always addresses things oh so bluntly. I will never forget how she used to start a conversation on how babies are made while I was sorting cutlery into a drawer. THAT was the best sorted cutlery drawer, ever!

However, I was in the full picture by the age of 14. Not just about the technical bits, oh no – I was well informed about the possible emotional by-load as well. I knew that guys sometimes can’t get it up and the possible reasons and that than it is the role of a woman to comfort him. Oh yeah guys: Pity for you that I don’t have more sisters.

When I was eight I had a heated discussion with my friend who was two years older than me and still believing in the stork – truly!

“Mummy, she doesn’t believe me!”

So my mum went into action, and the poor child sitting at a table had to listen to her straight – no cutlery to the rescue. Rather flabbergasted she left and the matter was never touched again.

My first kiss was equally embarrassing. My parents always allowed me to drink in their presence, but never when I was out alone. ‘Get your experience child, but in a safe environment. Later when we won’t be able to take care of you, you need to know what to expect.’ A very smart approach and I happily complied.

Big party at my parent’s friend’s house which was under refurbishment. There was a first floor finished apartment where the party took place and a second floor empty space where we had our sleeping bags. Little Rika, age 14 fell into the punch pot and was rather tipsily drawn to one of the two boys at the party. Using our last few brain cells available we sneaked upstairs and engaged in heavy snogging.

Until we heard the doorbell ringing. Well it was more like a weird noise baffled by cotton wool. We stumbled our way to the door and opened only to stand face to face with mum. She was standing two steps down on the staircase and looked straight into my swimming eyes.

Did you kiss?

Ehemm, yeah…

Using tongue?

Ehemm, yeah…

Hmmm, off you go now, downstairs! Both of you! And there you stay!

And so it went on. Every single of my boyfriends had to endure her openness. And would you believe it?  They loved her, she was cool mum. Things were allowed within reason as long as there was no secrecy.