The Most HORRIFIC Moment of My Life- and Why Having Kids Was a Mistake

There comes a moment in every parent’s life where they regret having children. In my 8+ years of child-rearing, I’ve had plenty of moments where I wanted to sell the kids to the gypsies or list them on Craigslist, but I’ve never actually REGRETTED bringing them into this world. Until yesterday.
Before you go all CPS-Calling Sanctimommy on me, read on. I think you’ll agree, children were a bad choice.

This past week has been a bit of a mixed bag for me. I had high-highs (Yay! My book came out!) and some low-lows (my lady parts decided to be a real peach–no pun intended– and start my period days early, causing busted can of biscuit level bloating and volcanic eruptions on my face the likes of which teenage me was lucky enough to never know.)

My girl dog is kind of an asshole. She’s got this nasty habit of rooting through trashcans and leaving a trail of tissue-crumbs leading back to her kennel. Not a very sneaky asshole. Though she’d never gone after my “sanitary” products before, I wasn’t about to take any chances. All tampon paraphernalia went into the can in my upstairs bathroom with a lid that couldn’t be opened without stepping on a floor pedal. My kids can’t even figure that shit out.
I spent the whole week smiling and wanting to throw things, and picking up pieces of booger tissue and ripped up toilet paper rolls off of the floor on both levels of the house. It was fun times, I tell ya.

Yesterday, as my uterus decided it had had enough fun and games for one month and I was finally feeling less stabby–yet still wanty of all things salty–I  found myself rooting through the pantry when Holden came walking up behind me.

“Hey Mommy, what’s this?” he says, holding something just out of my line of sight. I turn around, and inches from my face am greeted by an empty USED plastic tampon cartridge. tamp
“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?” I yell, immediately snatching it from his hand. He looks surprised, taken aback, even.
“I found it in my room.”

Reality hits me. That fucking dog! She somehow managed to get her enormous blocky head into the trashcan with the lid and dragged my used tampon cartridge into my 8 year old son’s room and left it there for him to find.

“The damn dog is going through the trash again! If you ever find one of these, don’t touch it, just call for me!”
Holden still looks puzzled. “But why? What is it?”
“It’s a tampon, and it’s dirty, so just don’t touch it, okay?”
“Okay,” he shrugs, “Well, it looks like a whistle to me.”

I swear to the sweet baby Jesus the world stopped spinning at that moment. Did he just say what I think he said?

“Oh my God….” The words just kind of tumble from my lips, as I’m now in a state of shock.

Holden starts walking away, and just when I think the mortification is over, that it can’t possibly get any worse, he calls over his shoulder- “At least I didn’t blow into it!”

I’m dead. My face is on fire. I’ve never been so horrified and mortified and disgusted in my ENTIRE LIFE. At this point, I’m standing in the doorway to the pantry screaming “OH MY GOD” over and over again so loudly that it causes Holden to come back into the room and ask me what’s wrong because he’s pretty sure I’m having a mental breakdown (which I am), and then I think about having to explain that I’m thinking about the possibility of my child putting a used tampon cartridge in his mouth, and I’m pretty sure at that very moment my uterus shriveled up and died, and I’ll never have another period again–thereby preventing me from any further children or tampon whistles.

I know what you’re thinking. It’s not that I’m the type of person who isn’t going to teach my sons about women’s bodies leading them to go into adulthood as weirdos who believe women poop and give birth from the same hole (yes, those actually exist), I just know that once they learn about menstrual cycles there’s no turning back and I’m not ready for that kind of commitment yet. Judge me if you’d like- perhaps if I’d told him about tampons in the first place, he wouldn’t have touched the damn thing– or maybe he would have and when he touched it and brought it to me and I re-informed him of what exactly he had his hands on it would have scarred him for life- but how about you just don’t have kids at all and avoid this situation altogether. Problem solved.

Posted on April 15, 2016 by Holdin' Holden 7 Comments
Holdin' Holden

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  • Oh my goodness😯When my daughter,was lil we were helping a friend pack and wouldn’t ya know it my daughter says “mommy where do you want these straws” after I stopped laughing at my friend because she was mortified my 5 yr had a hand full of tampons..She took them from her and put them in the box marked bathroom and then my daughter ask me ” mommy why she out them in that box why does she need staws in the bathroom” I quickly changed the subject because I wasn’t ready for the “girl talk” yet.
    Awesome blog by the,way. Lol

  • It must be a son thing… my oldest thought that there was a dead mouse in my bathroom trashcan and dragged his Dad upstairs to investigate the ‘murder’ ( he knew it was a mouse murder because the killer had wrapped the body in toilet paper) I thought my husband would kill him when he looked close and realized the mouse’s tail was a tampon string…

  • When my 50 year old daughter was around 7 years ole, her cousin was spending the weekend with us. They had gone in the bathroom and when I was missing them I opened the bathroom door and they had all my tampon’s on the floor. I asked what they were doing and my daughter said Jill is showing me how to use them. Even though they were 3 months apart in age, Jill seemed to have all the knowledge of a fifteen year old, until I asked her to show me how they worked. She took the wrapper off of one and pulled it out of the tube by the string, and that was that. I guess that was the lesson my daughter had, hopefully. I didn’t say that was wrong, I just let it go……

  • ARRRGHHHH!!!! I’m scarred for life now, just imagining what you’re saying! Congratulations on your book and the highlight of my day is actually stumbling unto your blog today. I better not say anything more if not it will be too much of a Bloglove at First Read and you might take a restraining order out on me!

  • That is hilarious! Although I’m sure it wasn’t at the time….

    Since my kids refuse to give me privacy when I use the facilities, I’ve taken to telling them it’s “strawberry pee” vs the regular “lemon” kind