I’ve always wanted to be as open and honest with my kids as possible. If they ask me a question, I just want to give them the answer.

“Why does it look like the moon is following us?”
“How are babies born?”
“What is it like to get your period?”
“When did you have your first boyfriend?”
“Why is blue?” (this one – existentially – broke me. WTF does that even mean?!)

Questions from my kids have never freaked me out. We use real words, scientifically accurate information, and medically correct terms. We never did baby talk with them either. Mostly because I didn’t (and still don’t) have the energy to code switch. I’m just going to talk how I’m going to talk.

But they’re getting older. The teen years are looming large. So harder questions are going to start coming. Some of them I won’t hesitate to answer (mean girl bullshit, stupid boys, school stress, body fears), but there are a couple things that, at some point, they’re going to want to know about and I’m never sure how to handle them.

The big ones are that I was married before their dad and I got married and the shit show that was my 20s.

There’s a lot of stuff I’ve done that I’m not proud of. I know that they can be a teaching tool for my kids, but I also dread the day I have to be honest with them about the kind of person I was, the shenanigans I got into, the stupid mistakes I made. I’m probably a little more scared of answering those questions than I am about my first marriage. I’m not proud of who I was when I was making all those decisions and doing everything I was getting into.

The problem is that I had SO.MUCH.FUN. doing some of that stuff. I have really good stories, really funny stories! I was oftentimes a freer and braver person than I am even today (granted, it was drug and alcoholo fueled, but still…) and I sometimes miss that person. I wish I could be that IDGAF without help. But I also did lasting damage to my body, my brain, and my emotions.

I guess I’m hoping that I’ve laid enough good groundwork with my girls that when they do ask or find out and we talk about it, they’ll realize that I’m a warning, not a template.