Puberty Pack

That's what Sara got as a gift for attending the girls' Fifth Grade Maturation Program today. A little brown paper package tied up with string. Too bad it didn't contain any of my favorite things. I took a peek in there and it was full of maxi pad samples and a stick of deodorant. I thought about sneaking a few other goodies in there: acne cream; a razor; definitely some chocolate, a monthly necessity. Problem is, if Sara is the late bloomer that I was, the Hershey's will be white and powdery by the time she opens it. By the way, the boys got one too. It contained only a brochure. What a rip! They have to register for the draft, and they get a lame puberty pack.

I remember this same talk when I was a kid, although I was in seventh grade. Things have changed a lot. Almost all the moms (and one lonely father) were there. The school nurse had a Puberty PowerPoint. The girls giggled. A lot. There was nothing in this talk that Sara didn't already know, but she spent a lot of the time with her eyes wide and her hand pressed to her mouth to suppress her embarrassed mirth. I guess it was because the other girls were there. She's way more matter of fact at home.

That is another big difference. The whole event reminded me that my own mom was LOUSY at talking about boys, periods, bras, etc... And she was a registered nurse! You would think she could manage better than to surreptitiously leave a 10-year-old pamphlet with a coffee ring on my pillow, entitled "How do I Talk to my Daughter About Menstruation?" Pfft. That's the thing, Mom. You actually do have to talk to her at some point. Mine never did-the maturation class and the pamphlet had to suffice.

There was also a lot of matter-of-fact discussion of how supporting the school office is to girls who get their periods at school. No worries, just come to the office and we'll get you fixed up. Sara is worried, though. Will she get her period in school? Next week? I laughed. If family history had any part in this, kiddo, you have YEARS on unencumbered freedom still ahead. I didn't start until just before my 14th birthday.

This is an uncomfortable memory for me. I try not to think about the episode, because it was rough. I was in Shell Lake in northern Wisconsin, attending Swing Choir Camp on my own. I was just out of eighth grade, and every other one of the 100 or so participants had at least one year of high school. Lots of them were Seniors. I was in a room with three loud-mouthed, wise-cracking girls who were 15 and 16. They loved to talk about their exploits with boys, beer, staying out all night...I had no stories of that sort to tell. When they talked about me, they would draw a "square" in the air with their fingers. So you see where this is headed. It was unfortunate: that first period was a really heavy one, we were not that close to a drug store. I had to go to my roommates, tell them the difficulty and ask for help. Which they gave freely. One girl had a huge box of pads and just gave the whole package to me. [C'mon! What were you expecting? Carrie?] It didn't make me any cooler, though, I can tell you that.

I was expecting something controversial - after all, this was sex-ed in the most conservative state in the country. You wouldn't believe the amount of hot air that gets blown over maturation programs in Utah. I kept hoping that some mom would leap to her feet and express shock SHOCK! that the nurse said the word "sperm" in front of her daughter. Nope. Bummer.

The only part of the program that gave me hope was when the nurse was telling the girls to lay off of makeup until they were at least 16. "You know the girls who are already wearing eyeliner and mascara and lipstick in fifth grade? The ones wearing the hootchie-cootchie clothes? Those are not the kind of girls the boys really like. They will not want to take those sorts of girls home to meet their families." Oh, boy! Now for the excitement! Surely a hootchie mama would leap to her feet in her platform heels and defend her little girl's lipstick choices? Alas, no drama to be found in maturation class. Sara tucked the Puberty Pack under my arm and sent me on my way.

Feeling brave? Want to share a menstrual tale of woe like the one above? Click on Comment and get it out of your system. I promise I won't throw a tampon at you.