If it's not one thing, it's my mother: too much information

My mother, the lovely yet altogether way too graphic (and apparently arid) June Cleaver Blogshaw, figures prominently in my posts. This is because she is a dominant and overbearing force in my life. Regardless, I do love the woman. Even after what happened this evening…

After a typical Blogshaw Sunday dinner, my mother (having dipped into the Grey Goose, white wine and what looked to be a Vicodin…) started telling jokes about sex. This always makes me nervous, as I have a nightmarish memory of walking in on Ward and June getting it on when I was a pre-teen. The image was horrifying and is burned deep into my memory. I can’t remember what I need to buy at the drug store or what I ate for lunch today, but I sure can tell you their favourite sexual position…

Anyhoo, June made some crack about condoms. Thinking that my parents haven’t had sex since that life-altering, memory-making moment years ago, I jokingly asked what brand she prefers. Well, it turns out she’s a Trojan woman and the convo went something like this:

June Cleaver-Blogshaw: “I like Trojan condoms.”
Carrie: “I prefer the femidom……”
June Cleaver-Blogshaw: “It’s true! Your father and I need to use condoms because I have a very dry vagina.”
~ shock. horror ~
Carrie: “I didn’t need to know that. You don’t do it very often…… right???”
June: “Well, your father does have a heart condition, you know…”
~ barf ~

Now, I’m glad that I have a close relationship with my mother, even if she drives me crazy most of the time. It’s great for mothers and daughters to be able to share stuff, but let me tell you, this sh*t should be off limits. For the love of God, I urge you, no matter what the conditions are, to walk away/cover your ears/hit yourself in the head with the closest iron skillet if your mother ever offers up too much information of that nature. Jeez!