My Niece Misty

Misty and Baby Bear
December 2005

On my last blog about Stephanie, Misty jokingly commented that I suggest to her mom that she write something about Misty. Well, when I read that, I immediately thought of a few things that could be said by an aunt. Her mom, my sister, would have many more good stories, but I have a sweet memories myself.

The first time I remember seeing Misty I was struck by her chunky little body -- blue eyes, bald head with a fuzz of blond, and stocky features. Yes, there was a time, long ago, when Misty was on the chunky side. And, if I recall correctly, she weighed 9.3 when she was born. Hard to believe, eh?

I use to go spend a month with them in the summer. I was a young teenager and since Diane is years and years and years older than me and already had a family, my summer vacation always consisted of going to my much, much older sister's house. I never knew then just how much of a treat that was; I think I thought that was what everyone did. Now I realize how special it was.

Misty would have been about 9 months old the first time I was around her for any length of time. I remember how cute she was. One particular thing that I still recall with clarity is her lining her stuffed animals in the window ledge and saying "Dada, Dada" over and over. Her game with the stuffed animals went on long enough for me to go get a camera and take a picture of her.
The other thing I remember from that trip was her screaming with ferocity "NOOOOOOO" when her brothers wrestled. She was adamant in her demanding they stop.

Misty was the youngest with 3 older brothers. As I recall, she wasn't super-girly, more tomboyish. She did like to dress up and boy could she ever pull off some frightening combinations. I remember her putting on black pants, a pink Harley t-shirt, and long knitted gloves. She stood at the top of the stairs and got our attention to look up. She rounded the corner with a huge smile and proudly declared, "TaaDaa" with arms outstretched like a model. Diane about had a canniption with Misty's get-up.

Once when Stephanie and Christopher were playing with the Shreve kids, Misty ran into the house excitedly tattling on Ben. "Mom, Mom, Ben said the F word." I was startled because my darlings were being corrupted by their cousins and Diane was even more startled that her son was the corrupter. We both swallowed hard and Diane forced out, "what did you say?" Misty said it again with tremendous animation, "He said the F word!" Diane breathed deeply and as she collected her thoughts, Misty upped the ante by saying the "bad" word. "Ben said fart!" Diane and I let out a collective sigh. And suddenly "fart" didn't seem like a bad word anymore.

Misty liked to make statements, weird statements, with her hair. She had this one doo that consisted of putting in as many elastics as her thin hair would hold. Her hair looked like a matted mess of horns. She always stomped with a sigh when told to "take those out of your hair and brush it."

I moved away when Misty was 9 or 10, so unfortunately my memories end at about that time. But now when I see her I'm very struck by her carefree lifestyle, her enchanting laugh, her eyes that sparkle with joy. I understand that she has "another" side, sort of a dramatic display of emotions when things are a bit challenging. I'm glad to know it. It just wouldn't be fair for someone to always be enchanting. Misty is open, really really open, more open than me or any of her aunts, uncles, or parents. She's very fun to be around. She has a great sense of humor and always has an opinion.

There's more to Misty than I could possibly know, but I'm glad for the sweet memories of her youth that I do have. Miles and miles are between us, but it's cool every time I'm around her to reconnect. She's a sweetie.

So Misty, when I read your comment, being one who likes memories to be put in writing, I thought I'd say a line or two about my memories of you. I know I'll think of a ton more as soon as I publish this blog as that is the nature of this hobby. My last trip home was made more delightful by my visits with you and Clay and those sweet babies. I'm happy to see the woman you've become. I love you Misty and think you are very special. Bohemian is a word to describe you.

And just for the record folks, my sister Diane is only 8 years older than me. I sort of exaggerated earlier. And for the record you folks who want my recollection of memories on "you," it's only a request away. Since I know you would all feel self conscious asking, how about we use a code word. Just comment the word "sassafrass" and I'll start recalling. Why sassafrass? Just because I think it's the prettiest word in the English language.

Happy Birthday Stephanie

When you were born, everybody was smiling and you were crying. Live your life so that when you die, you're smiling and everyone around you is crying.- Old Indian Saying

21 years ago today our world was made much richer. Stephanie Elise gushed painfully into our world at 7:05 in the morning. She weighed 8 pounds 12 ounces and had dark black hair. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my whole life. I loved her with all my heart from the first moment I laid eyes on her. Soon after her birth I cross-stitched a poem entitled, Daughter. It read: "God never loved me in so sweet a way as when he brought you to me and said, Behold your Daughter." All the emotions that swelled in me were profoundly powerful. God's love for me suddenly became more real. My mother's love for me became more tangible. My love for Stephanie, I had no words for. It was the most full, satisfying, self-sacrificing, sweet thing I ever knew.

When she was 5 nights old, a crack of thunder woke her. Her lips quivered as she cried. It was my first bittersweet moment of motherhood. I was sad that she was startled so rudely by nature, but glad to know for sure she wasn't deaf. A 19-year-old mom isn't the brightest star in the sky and I had wondered if she could hear me when I talked and sang to her. After that evening, I had one less burden to bear. I knew she could hear.

When she was just starting to walk, she fell on the sidewalk in front of Union Mission Church. It was her first injury. Her lip bled and swelled up and once her crying subsided, she kept sticking her tongue out to feel her swollen lip. I cradled her for a long time as she recuperated from her trauma and I cried longer than she did. Once she regained her equilibrium - she had just discovered that life wasn't always perfect - her swollen lip was her badge of honor. She cranked her neck outward to make her swollen lip obvious as she showed everyone her battle scar.

She started singing hymns as soon as she could talk, as I always sang hymns to her when I rocked her. Once while visiting her Papaw Jack, he was tickled when she picked up a cloth and started rubbing his coffee table singing, "Dust and Obey, for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus than to dust and obey."

There was a very very old lady in our lives named Grace. Once as I rocked her she asked me to sing "Amazing Stoobie." Stoobie was what she called Steve Tannehill. I was puzzled but she cleared up my confusion by saying, "that song you sing about Miss Grace, sing it about Stoobie." Are you smiling? She had a gift for making others smile. She still does.

When Stephanie had her first nightmare I wentinto charismatic rant rebuking Satan and telling him he couldn't do that to my baby. My theology was cloudy, but my mothering instinct was clear as a bell. She came running down the hall toward our bedroom looking over her shoulder as she ran, screaming about a bumble-bee chasing her.

Stephanie had her own quirky words and to this day I still use some of them. She called gloves, glubs. She combined slick and slippery to form the word slickery. When she saw something cute she said, "Isn't that adorablish?"

Once after her cousin CJ slept over I found a pair of his Superman underwear. I washed them and put them in her drawer, as that seemed logical to me, assuming CJ would sleep over again and need them. Well, once she discovered them in her drawer, she came into our bedroom like a girl on a mission. She went straight to Kent's underwear drawer and as she stuffed CJ's undies into it, she dramatically said, "That Daddy, he is such a silly boy putting his panties in my drawer."

Stephanie, dear dear Stephanie, of all my children, definitely takes the cake on having embarrassed me the most times. Stephanie used to think it and say it at the same moment. If it entered her mind, it came out her mouth. With her nose wrinkled in disgust, she asked a young man with a serious acne condition, "Why do you have all those bumps on your face?" Another time she asked a friend with crooked teeth, "How come your teeth are so bended?" At a restaurant in Hot Springs, as our black waiter poured our tea she very seriously asked, "Mama is that a black man?" Then she topped that by saying, "Mama, why are you pinching me?"

At a ladies' meeting one evening, she went up to a legless lady in a wheelchair, propped her hands on her hips and demanded, "Where are your shoes?" The room hushed and grew hot within a couple seconds. Finally someone spoke, "Valerie, isn't that your daughter?" At that moment everyone wanted it to be clear Stephanie that was not their daughter.

That night no one was trying to claim her, but if they could see her and know her now, they would know they made a bad choice. She is a young lady of upstanding character and goodness. She is beautiful, truly beautiful from the inside out. Everyone who knows her surely must love her. She has sown much love and joy into her family.

May God keep my sweet Stephanie in His great big loving hands. Happy Birthday Stephanie. I love you.

Jobs

Today I learned I am the employee of the year at my work. That translate to cash, a new t-shirt, a plaque, a new frame, and the most significant is a 30% discount until 2007 (even on sale and "as is" items). So I'm feeling pretty good about that.

I start my cake decorating job on Saturday. I went for training yesterday. It was kind of weird because they didn't ask for references or anything when they hired me. They know absolutely nothing about me. I could recently be released from prison for poisoning cakes in the past for all they know. Those gray hairs must really make me trustworthy looking.

I told Gordon that it sure is easy to get a job when you're middle aged, turning gray, and overweight. Is that the look of wisdom? Or maybe I look too tired to cause any trouble?

Rachael

Rachael is 10. She is the most responsible child you could ever meet. Every mother needs a Rachael. She is the one I count on to help me the most. Because she is so responsible, I could easily take advantage of her. I try to keep this temptation in check.

A couple weeks ago she decided she wanted to make waffles for breakfast. She found a recipe and made them, and several days later she did it again. Who wouldn't appreciate that?

In a pinch I've often asked her to put on a load of laundry. She has good instincts on these things and can do them well. I can easily appreciate this characteristic, but it's her spirit I appreciate most. She's cheerful, kind, and smiles easily. Even as I write this, I'm thinking of her smile and I want to go wake her up to hug her. She is a delightful child.

I just tucked her in a while ago and saw that her feet have blisters from skiing. Rachael seldom complains. Gordon has a remarkable resilency and I know this characteristic came from him. Gordon also seems to have an abundance of seretonin; "little things" don't bother him -- people smacking, talking with their mouths full, hearing the same story over and over, -- all those things that annoy me to no end, are like water off a duck's back with him. Rachael is a lot like him in that way.

When she was less than 2, she was in the basement with Gordon when she found a hacksaw. She quickly figured out how it worked by cutting her hand. Blood was dripping from her hand as she calmly said to Gordon, "Gucky Daddy, gucky." She didn't cry.

When she was 3 she ran behind another child on the swing and got her chin split open. It required stitches and she called the stitches "pine needles." The day after getting her stitches, she pulled them out one by one. I took her back to the doctor and he asked Rachael how she got them out. She creased her forehead into a frown as if she thought he were very stupid, then she said with a bit on indignation, "Wif my fingers."

A while back a neighbor euthanized her aged cat. Rachael overheard us talking about the cat being "put down." Soon afterwards she had to have a terribly stubborn tooth extracted. The dentist needed to give her additional freezing. After that shot, he turned to me and asked, "do you want me to put her down?" I responded with, "Yes please, put her down." Rachael's eyes grew big and with her mouth full of gauze and freezing she said, "Wha woo wean 'whut me down'?"

I laughed and told the dentist that our neighbor had recently "put her cat down." He quickly re-phrased his question with a grin, "Rachael, would you like your chair lowered?"

Rachael in her bedroom.

Hannah's bedroom.

Lifelong Learner, I Am

"What a large volume of adventures may be grasped within this little span of life by him who interests his heart in everything." Laurence Sterne

I have a number of interests. More than I can name, and certainly more than you have any interest in knowing.

Since Rachael's first birthday, it's been a family tradition that the birthday girl decorates her own cake with only a little guidance from Mom. Well it so happens that the girls have bumped up against my own cake decorating knowledge so I can no longer help them develop new skills. This has been bugging me for a couple years.

A few nights ago I went to Safeway and saw a "help wanted" sign in the bakery. I thought the following selfish, self-centered thought: "If I work here, they'll teach me to decorate cakes AND they'll pay me to learn." I came home and ran it past Gordon. He reluctantly agreed to me applying, so long as it was temporary.

This morning I went in to pick up an application. Suprisingly, the lady wanted to interview me right there. I told her I wanted to learn cake decorating. She hired me on the spot and I start next Wednesday. Gordon and I are both nervous about what kind of hours I'll get as it can't cut into the "family life." I still have my other job, and hopefully will not have to work more than 10 hours a week in the bakery. I'm so excited to learn cake decorating -- and to think I'll get paid to learn something I've been wanting to learn for a couple years.

Yippee.

Happy St Patty's Day, continued

This morning I made a quick trip to Safeway. You can always spot the Irish folk on March 17. They are the ones with garlands of green shamrocks sitting on their heads like halos. Of course not every Irish person is so untasteful in their attire. Plenty of them have a broach of emeralds on their lapels. I like to think if I were Irish enough, I'd be in the second category.

I've wanted to visit Ireland for a number of years. Stacie, Diane, and I have talked about visiting the Emerald Isle together, but that won't happen in the foreseeable future. So for now, I visit Ireland vicariously through trivia.

- 34-40 million Americans claim Irish ancestry. Irish ancestry is second only to German.

- Ireland is half the size of Arkansas.

- In some places in Ireland it rains 90 inches a year. I guess that explains why its so green.

- In the 1600's Protestant English and Scottish families settled in Northern Ireland to bring Protestantism to the Irish. This was when religious tensions began. Still Northern Ireland is more Protestant and Southern Ireland is predominantly Catholic.

- St Patrick was kidnapped from his home in England and spent 6 years as a prisoner of the Irish. As a prisoner he was taken far from civilization to be a sheep herder. In his loneliness he turned to God for solace. After escaping and going back to England, he felt the call of God to return to Ireland as a missionary to build up the Christians already there and expand Christedom. To this point, Ireland was a pagan country with a number of its inhabitants worshipping nature. St Patrick strove to make Christianity more palatable to the Irish by combining nature symbols with Christian symbols. The Celtic cross, which is a popular symbol today, originated when he added the sun to the cross.

- March 17 marks the day of St Patrick's death around 461 AD

Happy St Patrick's Day

When I first moved to Canada, I was impressed with the knowledge each Canadian seemingly had of their ancestry. Gordon is 100% Dutch. My next door neighbor is 100% Ukranian. 2 doors down is 100% Italian. My friend across the street is 100% English, as are a number of my best friends. Rachael's teacher is from Barbados; Deborah's kindergarten teacher was from Trinidad, her current teacher is Swiss. Imagine my self-esteem issues when I didn't know what I was made of. I was a mutt among many pedigrees.

Several years ago I undertook a new hobby of genealogy and was totally fascinated by everything I learned. I knew my maiden name Callahan was an Irish name (O'Callaghan) and that Granny was Cherokee, but other than those snippets, I knew zilch. In my search for belonging, I learned my family tree has many ugly skeletons and if it were put in book form it would read sort of like "The Color Purple."

When I was a little girl, Granny told me stories of her childhood; actually it was the same couple stories over and over. She was proud of her Cherokee blood and made me proud of it too. "Choctaws are ugly. Cherokee women are the most beautiful," she told me. I took it to heart and was thankful I had none of that ugly Choctaw blood coursing through my Cherokee veins.

Once she and I sat on a bench in Janssen Park watching some Choctaw hooligans play with their hooligan children. Granny said, "You can tell they're Choctaw by how ugly they are. We're Cherokee. Cherokee have the most beautiful women," she proudly told me again.

When I began studying genealogy, I was thrilled with every new lead. I became obsessed with birth, marriage, and census records and equally obsessed with cemeteries. I learned why genealogy is one of the fastest growing hobbies in the US. It's addictive!

I have represented in my DNA, nearly every western European country. Spain, Portugal, and Italy are the exceptions. My Native American ancestry turned out to be more than just Cherokee. Much to my chagrin, (and Granny's too if she were alive to know), I have equally as much Choctaw. Fortunately, the Cherokee history is more colorful, so I know more of it. It was a blow to my personhood to learn I was part ugly Choctaw. Granny had taught me well.

In the 1770's an indentured servant from Dublin Ireland immigrated to the United States. After trying Pennsylvania, he settled in North Carolina and made a good life for his family there. He left a long legacy of upright, upstanding Callahans. Actually, they seemed very upright, except the lone Callahan who settled in Polk County Arkansas. (But it takes all kinds, you know.) The Callahans were a pioneering people, always forging new ground and settling in previously unsettled places; North Carolina, Missouri, Tennessee, and Arkansas.

A fascinating thing I ran across in my research was a picture of the first Callahan family in Polk County. In that picture many of the Callahan children have cowlicks in their hair in the right forehead hairline. I was fascinated by this because my Rachael is blessed with the identical feature. We call it a "pocket" as that is what she started calling it when she was two.

After learning a little bit of my own heritage, I made Hannah a quilt called "Pioneer Patchwork." It was my little tribute to the Callahans and their pioneering spirit.

Today, an Irish holiday, I remember one John Callahan (circa 1770) and whisper a thank you prayer to God for his pioneering spirit that made it possible for me to be an American.

Mother Theresa

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature--trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence...We need silence to be able to touch souls. -- Mother Teresa

Mother Theresa is my modern day hero. I'm glad she's gone to her reward, but I've not found a hero to replace her. I love a number of things Mother Theresa said. This particular quote I read today for the first time. It reminded me of how much I appreciated her.

Slumber Party

Sorry for the delay in updating. I like to think myself above it, but sometimes I don't have anything to say. Other times I just don't feel like saying it. Anyway, life is good.

The girls are on a 2 week spring break and currently are hosting a 2 night slumber party. Yes, my brain was "checked right out" when I agreed to this loud demonstration of pre-pubescent chaos. I'm locked in Gordon's office for some much needed respite from squeals, giggles, yells, and messes. I am looking forward to seeing the tail lights of moms, who probably gathered at the local coffee shop the past 2 evenings chatting and chuckling at my folly and arrogance, departing this abode which formerly was peaceful and ordered. "Are you sure you're ok for 2 nights," they asked as they dropped their estrogen loaded offspring at my door. "Sure, it will be fun," I arrogantly replied. "Teehehe," they all giggled as they made plans for a night out with the other moms who were equally opportunistic with my stupidity.

I'd like to ask the moms of these girls some questions:
"How many glasses does young Betsy go through in an hour span at your house?"
"Is there a reason your child doesn't have manners?"
"Does Betsy yell for help at 1:00 every morning, and then giggle when the "help" arrives wide-eyed out-of-breath?"

And lastly, I'd like to make this request: "Next time, could you send extra rolls of toilet paper to offset Betsy's problematic over-usage."

Reese Witherspoon

Today at work I took a call and the lady on the other end of the phone said, "Oh my, you sound just like Reese Witherspoon."

"You know, I look just like her too," I said.

Tom Fox

The body of a peace-loving American activist has been found in Iraq. Tom Fox died for what he believed was right. I so admire that and so want to be that committed. He wrote a paper before he went to Iraq saying: "But if Jesus and Gandhi are right, then I am asked to risk my life, and if I lose it, to be as forgiving as they were when murdered by the forces of Satan."

Fox's friend, John Surr, said Fox felt his calling in Iraq was worth the potential risk. "He was willing to go in there at all costs."

"At all cost." I want to be that committed. May God help me.

Net Nanny, Where were you?

I recently accepted a 4 month writing position for a magazine. Last night I was trying to acquaint myself with the magazine and was reading it on the web. I was horrified to read articles over and over on anal sex. This WAS NOT WHAT I THOUGHT I WAS GETTING INTO. I starting having a mild, or not so mild, panic attack and called Gordon at work to tell him how I had screwed up. He was more dumbfounded than me. "How in the world did you get involved with that?" And for the life of me I just didn't know. I had only done one assignment, (and it certainly wasn't on that subject) and now was planning in my head what my letter of resignation would say.

I thought about the line in "The Out of Towners" where Steve Martin said, "We just came here to worship, but this is the wroooooong denomination."

Well, as my exploration on the web continued, I learned that I had stumbled into a link on "Love and Relationships." It wasn't actually my magazine that I was in. As you might can imagine, I was relieved that I didn't have to write a letter saying, "this is the wroooooong denomination" after all.

Note: that net nanny may not be all it's cracked up to be. I learned stuff last night I'd never known before. Yucky.

Another Day

The snow is drifting down delicately and my snowman flag is whipping in the cold breeze. Lucy and Frodo are wrestling and growling in low rumbles. I smile at their carefree canine antics. I'm thankful for the joy in my heart that allows the simple things to bless me. I read a couple days ago that joy is spiritual and happiness in natural. I liked the distinction.

Gordon was called to a serious accident yesterday. The bus driver was a basket-case. As Gordon told me about her he said he thought he had been a "comfort and support" to her. Questioning that expression, I said, "were you attracted to her?" He smiled and said he wasn't. I said, "Well, was she attracted to you?" He laughed at my silliness and said, "I'm pretty sure she's a lesbian." I countered, "Whew, good thing I wasn't there." I've smiled about that silly conversation all afternoon.

We have good friends who are going through a valley in their marriage. They've been married longer than Gordon and me and they too have a "good" marriage. I empathize. I know what it is like. Life is filled with disappointments and pain. As I thought about their troubles, I remembered how they were an encouragement to us in 2002 when we went through one of those marital dips. I was struck by how the struggles never end, they just surface and subside in varying degrees. It kind of hurt to be honest with myself and admit that our 2002 experience may (probably will) re-visit us in some form. Yukky idea, but I figure inevitable. In the meantime, we must keep developing healthful ways of relating and coping. It pains me to think of the loneliness and dryness of another marital valley.

Well, I hope that cheered all of you. Didn't mean to be a wet blanket, just sharing my thoughts.

Children of the 21st Century

At supper tonight Hannah complained of a canker sore. Poor child, she has been afflicted by these a number of times. As she complained of it tonight she asked why she gets them and Rachael and Deborah don't. I told her that canker sores are caused by a virus. Her eyes grew big as she excitedly asked, "They come from the computer?"

Insignificant Stuff

I apologize dear reader who expects up to the moment updates. I don't know what is wrong with me, but I feel dry and used up. That's sort of a lie. I picked up 2 Francine Rivers books at the library and haven't finished the second one. Oh my goodness she's a good writer. Anyway Mrs Rivers has intentionally pulled me from my blog. She's pulled me from my kitchen too, yikes it's a mess.

Hannah's bratty friend returned and when she saw Hannah's room, she wrinkled her ugly little nose on her ugly little face and said, "Kind of weird. It doesn't match." I saw dots. Green, orange and glow-in-the-dark pink dots. I thought Misty's idea was good, but I heard it after the fact. Misty said I should say, "kiss my polka dot arse" to the little brat with no taste. But I was real mature through the whole thing.

My kids often tell me stories about how messy some of their friends houses are. One particular house, I've been in the foyer of several times, but never been invited in. But the kids carry on dramatically about how awful it is, and if the foyer is any indication of the rest of the house, it is pretty bad. Yesterday Gordon actually was invited into the living room for a cup of coffee. I was interested beyond propriety to know what their house was like on the inside. Gordon never struggles for words, really. But as I quizzed him, he said, it was chaotic. I pressed and he said slowly and pensively, "Take our house, put 4 times as much stuff in it, then spin it on its axis." I got the idea.

Francine Rivers really has me sidetracked from my regular duties. But there is more going on too. I really am stretched right now and have a number of projects on the go. I'm sorry for not updating as frequently as I like. Perhaps soon I'll tell about some of my projects.

Have a good evening and a great Wednesday.

Not much happening

I've had a busy weekend. Hannah and Rachael went to Winter Camp. We had to fight the weather to get there, but we went and returned today safely.

While they were gone, I gave Hannah's room an update. A friend had remarked that Hannah's room was babyish, and that didn't set well with me, so I made it more 9-year-oldish. The whole makeover cost $4. Isn't that amazing? I left the initial yellow paint but with stencils I created, I painted glow-in-the-dark pink, orange, lime green dots in varying sizes. Now one wall is polka dots. It's so cute and Hannah loves it. Now we just need that bratty little friend to come over again. This time she will be green with envy. That project dominated my weekend.

Church was painful this morning. 36 people were there. 18 months ago we had at least 100, and it was vibrant. It's anything but vibrant now. Pastor preached about being in the wilderness and he might as well been speaking straight at me as that was how I felt. Church isn't what it was. I pray this wilderness period doesn't go on a long time. I was encouraged by the sermon, very encouraged.

On the drive today, Gordon got side-tracked in the middle of changing lanes. For some reason he kept driving in the one lane but his turn signal was on. I crankily said, "You need to pee or get off the pot." Just as crankily he retorted, "You need to be kind or shut-up." I laughed.

I'm Back

Well that little break felt nice but I missed you all. I don't like it when others don't update, so being the anal retentive person I am, I "quit" and restart at will. That way I won't be accused of not updating. I might be accused of being fickle, but that isn't as bad as not updating, right?

A number of things happened this week that I wanted to share but since I "quit blogging" I couldn't. You missed out.

Frodo will be old enough to be neutered soon, and boy do we expect things to calm down around here. He keeps us hopping on the question end of things. The girls have a new question regularly because of Frodo's ungentlemanly ways.

With nose wrinkled in disgust, Hannah asked if something pink came out of Daddy's penis when he mated.

I was very very happy to say no. (It helped that she spoke in past tense. She thinks Daddy hasn't "mated" since Deborah was conceived).