It happened. I choked.

Since I've been dreading this question since the positive pee stick, you'd think I would have been prepared.  I expected it to come from The Boy but nope, The Girl hit me with The Question.

"Mama, how will Sheemee get out?"

*crickets chirping*

That sweet face, looking at me so expectantly, confident that I am Queen of Tobinville and therefore omniscient.  Damn, that is a lot of pressure!  So what did I do? I passed the buck like a high-ranking government official.

"I don't know, honey.  We'll have to ask Dr. McC next time we go, okay?"

(I won't really do that to my poor doctor.  I was just buying time.  The hygeinist at my dentist's office was saying that she told her nephew the doctor handled it and he accepted that.  I should have known that my children are never satisfied without a real explanation, bless their inquisitive hearts.)

"Yeah, but how?  You should know Mom."

OMG, I should, precious girl, and I do.  What I don't know is how to explain it in a way that will make sense and not scare you.  I didn't want to tell her that the baby will come out my *gulp* va-jay-jay (I just can't type the real word.  Sorry!) because a.) it would have resulted in her pantsing me for a closer look or dropping to the kitchen floor for a self-exam of her own and b.)  It's not even true.  Which leads us to have Sheemee will make her grand arrival.  I do believe that honesty is usually the best policiy but no amount of sugarcoating can make a c-section preschooler-friendly.  While perhaps not as frightening as the mother's death in Bambi, scalpels, cutting and blood are frightening to me who chose to have this baby, let alone to a 3 year old who is already skittish at her doctor's office.

So, what did I say?

"I promise we'll ask the doctor who is going to help me to have the baby.  Want a fruit roll-up?"

Nothing like the distraction of a sweet treat to save the day for stupid mommy.  I'm sorry, sweet girl.  I promise not to let you down when it comes time to tell you about your menstrual cycle and all the other questions that will arise over the years.  When you get your period, I will be there, armed with advil, Hershey bars, mint tea and maxi pads.  (If you want to go the tampon route, talk to Aunt Lauren.  Mommy still isn't over two horrible tampon attempts in her youth.)

Now I better put on my thinking cap and do some research b/c a Jack Attack with the same question is imminent.  I swear, it's like they share a brain or maybe they have a debrief at the end of the day.  The Boy is not so easily put off with a treat so I better be ready.  Jack was under 2 and had no concept of pregnancy and childbirth when I was carrying Natalie.  One day it was 3 of us and a few days later, Mommy showed up with a baby.  Kinda like the pizza guy or something.  God help me, this is one of the best reasons to have one's children close together.  Sheemee, you may be getting an older, slightly worn out version of the mom Jack had at birth but at least I'll be ready with answers to all your questions, courtesy of your siblings' attempts to understand the world around them.  That's worth something, right?