There are worse ways to mark the passage of time than by means of the ebb and flow of my household’s supply of feminine hygiene products.
Pushed to the back of the bathroom cabinet was an ancient box of super-absorbent pads left over from — can you believe it? — the aftermath of childbirth. Over the ensuing years my period grew so light that three days of tampons were more than sufficient to stem the tide. Even those became unnecessary after the insertion of a near-miraculous IUD effectively slowed and then altogether eliminated Auntie Flo’s visits.
Eventually I either gave or threw away what remained in the house, including the aforementioned ancient pads. Even my beloved Diva Cup wound up in the trash. In the last whole-house purge completed some months back I was surprised to find not a single pad or tampon, not even beneath an unused dresser, batted there for some unknown future purpose by a cat.
“I’m done,” I thought, happy no longer to have the expense or mess of period supplies at the exact same time that my younger children weaned themselves (slowly, painfully, with much teeth-gnashing on my part) from their diapers. I cast an appraising eye over my eldest, who despite generations of genetics to the contrary still has the non-differentiated body of a child of six. Although we’d discussed periods (in excruciating depth and detail) it would be years, I thought, before she’d need pads.
But then I noticed something about her little friends. Suddenly it seemed that all shirts and the seats of each pair of pants had grown tighter while every waist had shrunk. A friend and I spoke about the phenomena, which had struck her child (I swear) in the space of one short month. “She’s going to start any day now, isn’t she?” her mother asked.
I nodded. “Does she carry supplies with her?” No, she replied. Her period would likely start at home, at night, and anyhow, she accompanied her daughter everywhere.
I thought back to all the times the child spent with us unsupervised by her parents and resolved on the spot that no one was going to bleed all over my house if it could be helped. When next we were out of milk I stocked up on products appropriate for the pre-teen set (no one’s yet branded anything with Hannah Montana or Demi Lovato, can you believe it?) and hid them away so that my kid wouldn’t freak out. We are prepared for the foreseeable future.
If I live long enough I’ll go through this process once again for any daughters my own children produce — but too many “ifs” go into that possibility for it to seem real. For the moment I’ll concentrate on the present, and how quickly time is passing when I measure it this way.
being prepared is always a good idea.
i had a friend in high school whose father (single parent) was always prepared. car, RV, house and because she was a good friend and i spent a considerable amount of time with her during the school year and summer–camping, vacationing, etc, i will say that it came in handy more than once.
I like this quiet conversation about periods, a thing rarely talked about in front of men. I remember (decades ago) sharing a cabin on a boat to Turkey with my mother and female cousin. My cousin had her period, and my mom carefully instructed her how to hide all the evidence from me, a teenage cousin she had grown up with. She was horrified to find out that my cousin had once asked me to buy tampons for her, thus revealing the secret of her bleeding.
AAG, that’s such a great mom thing to do. Well done.
The irony of your cycles ending and your daughter’s cycles potentially beginning shows the circle of life.
Like you, my mother prepared me well in advance. I got an early warning for my very first period: Before I started menstruating my “pink bits” weren’t pink at all. They were brown (I’m black). My bits went from being brown to being flush pink. As an 11-year old, I thought that meant that I’d get my period in a month. Low and behold it started 2 days later as I was walking to the bus stop.
I earned some “well prepared Dad” cred on one large family camping trip. Some apparently full contact flashlight tag lead to my nephew getting smacked quite hard in the head, losing two teeth. (No question why police officers carry the big MagLight).
My pre-teen daughter nearly died when I whipped a tampon out of MY bag and stuffed it in his mouth.
While she’s come to grips with my boy-scout ways and comfort carrying feminine hygiene products, I’m not so sure about my nephew…
Wait, why did you hide the pads away? I only ask because when my period first came I was extremely grateful to know where the pads were stored in my house. I did NOT want to go find my mom and tell her I had my period right when I was having it. (I did tell her later in the day, though.) I wanted to take care of it myself.
I don’t know, it just seems it might be *comforting* instead of frightening to know there are supplies in the house and where they are in case they’re ever needed. Same goes for if it happens to one of her friends while at your house. The friend might tell your daughter before she’d approach you and your daughter would know where “the stuff” was.
Just my $0.02. :-)
That’s actually a really good idea. It’ll save her the embarrassment of having to ask her mum if she or her friend needs one.
Two things: 1) I had the same exact reaction as chislut; 2) thank you for that Amazon link; I have no idea why I am still using tampons.
Oh, those are good points. Maybe I should put them in her bathroom. She tends to freak out about stuff (this is a HUGE understatement) and I didn’t want to deal with the inevitable ZOMG moment, but it’s probably worth it. Thanks for the push. :)
I don’t have girl children myself, but a long time ago I dated a guy with shared custody of his children, two girls and a boy. The oldest girl was 12 and clearly blooming. (Her dad was a pharmacy student living student loan to student loan.) I asked if he were prepared if Jenny got her period at his house. He was shocked – he saw her as a little girl. With his permission, I took Jenny shopping.
So we went and I explained what the different products did and how they worked. She asked what I used and I explained that I use tampons, but they might not be the best choice starting out. We picked out a variety so that she could decide what she liked best. I reinforced that if she had any questions to call me. We put the supplies in a brown grocery bag in the top of the bathroom closet. The younger kids were oblivious, of course. (Her mother, on the other hand was LIVID. Eh.)
Jenny called me several weeks later, crying. She’d gotten her period, at dad’s, and dad was broke. She kept thanking me over and over for helping her. When the time came to replenish, she liked the Always with wings because they didn’t stain her panties. So we went shopping again.
Thankfully we have come along way since the days when parents never discussed such “taboo” subjects. I have always been of the mindset to tackle such things before they are upon me. By the time my daughter had her first period she was well versed and the concept was no so overwhelming.
I wish I could have had such a well-planned start! I realised I had my first period (in a Texas Chainsaw Massacre kind of way) when my parents were rushing out the door to a fancy dinner. My mother was completely unprepared and rather shocked because I was only eleven, but managed to step out of the function and grab me some pads. That was the start of my every month, regular as clockwork womanhood.
I started at 10 years old, and luckily started at home.
I did have an embarrassing incident at a friend’s house while I was quite young… actually a couple of times if I remember rightly. The only thing worse than having to talk to your own mother about accidents at that age is having to talk to someone else’s mother…
Being prepared is great. Good on ya.
Mine started after my mother died, and went from zero to 60. I was 13 I think, or 12. I didn’t really understand the different pads, tampons kinda freaked me out…so the inevitable happened-I bled, everywhere in school, and had no idea what to do about it.
The plus side was never, ever being embarrassed about my period ever again.
Mine are 6 and 4, and both know what the tampons are, where they are and what to do with them. Closer to ten I’ll keep a regular stash of pads for them too. I want it to be exciting, but not FREAKTHEFUCKOUT exciting when it happens. I want it to just be as normal as possible-the one thing I just didn’t have.
Sounds like you’re on the right track.