The Birds and The Bees, Italian-style

The last Mommy/Cory day I spent with my daughter was when we left the boys at home, and went to see Magic Mike...aka "The Stripper Movie".  Tatum Channing, good Lord, boy, really?  Cory and I just about laughed our heads off, the way you giggle nervously when something serious is happening- because watching that boy take his clothes off was enough to blow your mind. 

We left the theatre, blinking owlishly in the late afternoon sunshine, chattering and giggling like the best friends we had become.    I remember her saying, "Mom, when I turn twenty one, I don't want a big party with alcohol, that's never gonna be my thing...but if you wanna hire a stripper like that for me..."  she paused for effect, "hey, I won't complain!"  We were walking to the car, arm and arm, when she added, "Mom, I just can't get over it...Matthew Mcconaughey's butt looked just like 2 little Hawaiian sweet rolls nestled up together."   She took her little hands and formed the approximate shape and size to illustrate.   Delighted at her wit, I agreed, and we were soon laughing so hard we had to hold each other up to keep from falling down right there in the parking lot...classic Mommy/Cory interaction.

She could hardly wait to dish Mommy/Cory day with her tutor/friend, Mrs. Coats, the next time she came.  She told her it was slightly awkward sitting in the dark watching strippers with her mom, but at the same time, it was the most fun, ever.  "Movies with Mommy are the best!" is written in her journal under that day's entry.

So awkward moments with your mom...allow me to share one of my own:

Last night, in the hotel in Rome, Mom and I settled down in our beds for the night.  I had blogged downstairs in the fancy salon area for a couple of hours, while the bartender brought me beverages and taught me Italian.  He is convinced to teach me one phrase per night, which he assures me is all the Italian a pretty girl like me will ever need to know.  See what I mean about the men around here?

Finished writing for the night, I went back to the room and got ready for bed.  I've been so tired from all of our gallivanting about town each day, I haven't had to take my sleep meds once...an unheard of event in the last year.  Just as I began drifting off, I heard KER-THUNK!
What was that?  I wondered, trying to decide if it was coming from above us or the room next to us.
Again:  KER-THUNK!
Deliberate, and without let up:  KER-THUNK, KER-THUNK, KER-THUNK!
These noises soon built into a frantic and frenzied rhythm that was easily recognized, and made me a little wistful to be here in such a beautiful city, man-less.
Mom speaks up in the next bed over, "What was that?"
Before I could form some evasive answer that would save us both embarrassment, the enthusiastic couple really got down to business.
KER-THUNK! KER-THUNK! KER-THUNK! KER-THUNK! KER-THUNK! KER-THUNK!
 In my mind's eye, I could see the brass headboard slamming into the delicate wallpaper of the hotel wall hard enough to crack the plaster.  I grinned in the dark.

Meanwhile, Mom became increasingly anxious.
"What is that noise?" she asked.
Again, I was interrupted before I could respond, this time with the most rapturous moans and cries of pleasure I've personally heard for quite some time.
I waited for mom's commentary.  She was silent.  Excellent, I thought to myself. She had recognized the situation, and chose to tactfully ignore it.
KER-THUNK!  KER-THUNK!  KER-THUNK!!!  ( moans, groans, cries, and now screams).
Mom demanded, "What is that noise?"
Defeated, I tried the adult approach...simple and to the point.   "They're having sex, Mom."
She was not impressed.  "Sounds to me like he's trying to kill her."
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing like a loon.

I said nothing, but privately thought the sex sounded completely consensual, and whatever he was laying on her, she clearly appreciated.  I thought of trying to explain this to mom, of trying to help her make sense of what she was hearing, and decided that giving my mom the birds and the bees talk was just more than I could handle at this point in my life.  Mom and I have a much different relationship than Cory and I did.  Some topics have always been and will always remain off the table.

As I fell to sleep to the sounds of someone else's very satisfying lovemaking (apparently the woman in question had already seen God several times and was trying hard for one more glimpse), I wondered if my mom's interpretation of our neighbors' lusty shannigans was the natural progression of age.  Would I, too, someday be old enough to no longer recognize the sounds of good sex when I heard it?  In such an unfortunate situation, Cory will not be around to set me straight.

 Jake, I guess it's gonna be on you, love. 
I can hear his little voice right now, "Uhhh...AWKWARD!"