Hush, little baby

By: LOUISE ESOLA - Staff Writer | Friday, September 16, 2005 11:52 PM PDT ∞

Everyone will agree that human reproduction is pretty much a taboo topic.

Nobody really talks about it openly. People in passing will ask about your dog and whether you've gone fishing lately, but hardly anyone ever asks you about, well, you-know-what.

It never makes a city council agenda. Rarely does it make the State of the Union address. In a high school health class, even the teacher might get caught blushing over the colorful, detailed visual aides as the students giggle.

But it makes the world go 'round, right? And there's no such thing as the stork, so if you know any couple ---- including the president of the United States and his lovely wife ---- with children, you know that at some point they, you know. Your parents? Your high school principal and his wife? The church pastor and his wife? Yup. Them, too.

Disturbing thoughts, I know. That's why we usually keep them to ourselves.

That said, I am pretty perturbed at a series of discussions I have had with my mother ---- and others ---- over the last few months. Actually, the exchanges all started about five minutes after my husband, Donkey Kong, and I exchanged vows in April.

Here's the latest from one of my weekly conversations with my sweet ol' madre:

Me: Hi, Mom, how are you? What's new?

Madre: E-berry-sing is fine. I am here wees zee grandkeeds. Any keeds yet?

Me: No, Mom, we are not ready for children. (This response comes out almost robotic, as it has been spoken many, many times.)

Madre: Well, arrre you doing any-sing?

In this, she means human reproduction. In simpler terms, she's inquiring about sex. Can I write "sex" in the newspaper? (I once heard former President Bill Clinton say "sexual relations" on C-SPAN.) Now my mother, the same women who 10 years ago wouldn't allow me to wear a bikini or talk on the phone past 9 p.m., wants to know whether I am ... you know.

True, she means no harm by her curiosity. She just wants more pictures of grandchildren for her clanky, plastic picture-frame key chains, preferably a photo of one with pigtails. She has three of them so far, all boys.

I understand that she was speaking from the depths of a time long, long ago when women got pregnant within hours of cutting the cake at the reception. Plus, she was born and raised Roman Catholic, in a strict, old-fashioned Latino home, one that put birth control within the confines of marriage on the same contraband shelf as drug paraphernalia.

I even think at one point in the history of marriage, in my familia at least, it was once common etiquette to include this act in the wedding program.

Ceremony. Light hors d'oeuvres and cocktails. Steak or chicken dinner. The first dance. The tossing of the bouquet. Followed by that of the bride's garter. The cake-cutting. And, for the grand finale, baby-making.

And now, almost six months into my marriage, everyone wants to know: Where are the keeds? Other members of la familia, acquaintances ---- strangers even ---- have oddly expressed similar interests in... you know. Sure, it starts with a simple congratulations, you guys are married ... and somehow makes its way to "are you trying to have kids?" In this they are, quite frankly, inquiring about human reproduction, which, as we all agreed in the first few paragraphs of this column, is taboo. It's in the same closet as discussing one's underpants at a church revival.

To answer everyone's question, I know that Donkey Kong and I are not ready.

For me, I believe the true mark of being ready for motherhood is boiled down to this one situation: Seeing a little kid, perhaps a toddler, with some snot dripping from his or her nose.

The motherly types usually grab a tissue and wipe the innocent child's nose and say, awww, that's cute. The not-quite-ready-for-motherhood types, like your friendly columnist, run for cover. Ick. Yuck.

As for changing a diaper, one might as well ask me to operate the main switchboard at the San Onofre Nuclear Power Generating Station. Both, I think, are considered equally frightening ventures.

I know. I know. They say it's different if it's your child. Why? Will it smell differently? Will motherhood delete the part of my brain that detects foul odors? Until they can prove it, I am waiting.

As for the mister, Donkey Kongsaid he can fill a 700-square-foot overpriced condominium with reasons why children are not a good idearight now. As the one who is well-versed in matters of the checkbook, his reasons have more to do with dollar bills than boogers.

So, it mostly comes down to money, nasal secretions and excrement. My, my, my, don't we love our taboo topics?

Staff writer Louise Esola covers Oceanside schools. She can be reached at lesola@nctimes.com.