V

I thought it might be a while before I would have to deal, but as it turns out, kids discover their genitalia a lot sooner than we anticipate. Because of my profession, I find it unacceptable as a general rule for kids to refer to their body parts with slang or improper terms. There are exceptions to this- for instance, we do say belly button instead of umbilicus or navel. (Although I think Michael knows the word umbilicus.) And we have taught both children the term "philtrum," which is the indented area on the upper lip right under the nasal septum. Nobody ever talks about the philtrum. Or the tragus, which is the triangle shaped cartilage on the ear. I am perversely delighted when I hear my kids say something like, "Mommy! I have a booger on my philtrum! I need a tissue!" My enthusiasm for teaching my kids anatomy is somewhat restrained by social norms, however. I don't want my kids to be *too* weird on the playground. It might already be too late for that, but I digress.


When we found out we were having Allison, I had to think about what we were going to call "down there." I have heard all sorts of names for female genitalia, from women of all ages. That's a whole other blog entry, maybe for when I retire, to be accompanied by "pubic hairstyle trends through the ages," but again, I digress.


It seems generally common for young girls, if they are going to use a proper anatomic term, to say "vagina." Anatomically this is incorrect. To a toddler, or very young girl, the vagina is really more of a concept. It's a potential space. I don't necessarily want my daughter to know about her vagina per se until she's a little older. I remember during residency one 4 year old girl who had to be taken back to the operating room because she had placed a bead in her "cootchie-coo." The vagina should not be used as a place to store things. She has pockets on her clothes- she can use these for storage.


Vulva is really the best term to use. That's what kids see, that's what they mean when they say vagina. The problem is, and maybe it's because of that Seinfeld episode (remember Mulva? Oh right, Delores!), or maybe it's just too weird of a word, but kids and their parents are not yet ready to accept "vulva" in common usage. I don't want her to be the Vulva Girl. One of the physicians I trained with is a nationally-reknowned expert on the vulva. Correctly assuming that she taught her daughter the word vulva and made her use it at a very young age, I asked her how that went. It didn't go well for her daughter. Another obgyn I know has a daughter who went by the nickname "Pap Smear" for years and years, until her friends started needing them, and then it wasn't so funny. So, I wanted to spare Allison as much of this as possible.


Of course there are certain moments that you can't predict or avoid. A friend of mine has a daughter who is about Allison's age. Her father was changing her diaper in a public restroom, and she yelled out in a clear little voice, "Papa! Stop touching my vagina!" Bathroom acoustics plus the 2 year-old's inability to modulate her voice are not a great combination in this instance. You just hope that if you find yourself in that sort of situation that there is no one else in the restroom at the time, or that if there is another person, they don't work for Child Protective Services. Another friend of mine noticed her daughter, who was about 5 at the time, furtively running straight for her bedroom with something in her hand, slamming the door behind her. Shortly thereafter, she heard a lot of noise in her bedroom, and went up to investigate. All of her daughter's dolls and stuffed animals were strewn about the room, in addition to an assortment of feminine hygiene products. And then she saw the scissors, and asked what they were for. (I love that age when kids don't know enough to lie yet, or when they can't think fast enough to come up with something good.) She said, "They're to make vaginas in my dolls and animals. None of them have vaginas." Nevermind that animals don't really need tampons.


So, it became obvious that you can definitely take a little anatomical knowledge too far. My brilliant solution was to refer to her genitalia as her "V." It can stand for vagina or vulva, and I figure we can separate that out later. People instantly know what she is talking about, but it's not vulgar or overly cootchie-coo cute. Now when I'm getting ready to head out the door, she asks me in her clear little voice, "Mommy are you going to work?" (yes, sweetheart, I am.) "Are you going to check ladies' V's?" (sigh. yes, sweetheart, I am.)