I Gave Birth To Southern Children. Oops.

I am not Southern. I don’t puddle. I don’t host BBQs that include pulled pork, graduation parties that include country music or meet-the-baby events. And I don’t do small talk.

The one Southern thing that I do, or did, is have Southern children. Born and bred in the gentile capital of the Confederacy.  And we don’t plan to move any time soon so they’ll never grow out of it.

Anyway, it’s too late…

My son’s worn a pink polo shirt with seersucker pants.

Um, yes, we ARE at a country club.

My daughter has worn a shirt emblazoned with “Baptized in Muddy Waters”

I have no idea what that even means.

They’ve already been to a football game at The University. (University of Virginia’s fond and strange nickname in these here parts.)

They love pork and spoon bread.

They can use y’all without irony. And they won’t realize that yous guys is just as useful.

They think summer starts in May and end in October. Then the leaves change for two weeks before they expected to bring winter coats to school for 50 degree brrrr weather.

They know that threat of snow means no school and buying five gallons of milk and actual snowflakes means we cannot leave the house except in a sled.

I worry about them.

Well, up until the car ride after our first 90 degree day this season. (Yes, it’s April. Yes, I’m crying.)

We’re driving for three minutes when my son says: My armpits need help.

Me: What?

My son: My armpits are HOT.

My daughter pipes in: Hot on head. Hot on head at playground, too.

My son: I’m too sweaty.

My daughter: Too sweaty, TOO!

Me: Hold on guys, we’re almost home and then we can go right inside.

My son: Mama, my back is not okay. It’s getting so sweaty. My back, Mama! MY BAAAACCCKKKK.

My daughter: HOT! HOT!

My kids: HELP US, MAMA! HELP US!

Oh and this was AFTER I put on the air-conditioning in the car.

Whine away kids! Because I smiled the whole way home.  As it turns out, a few all y’alls and a popped collar cannot taint this Yankee blood.

PS. We’ll be back outside come October.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on LateEnough.com, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

23 thoughts to “I Gave Birth To Southern Children. Oops.”

  1. Dude, I’m from Connecticut. That means I start sweating as soon as the thermometer hits 60 degrees. And the only thing I want to do on a 90 degree day is complain LOUDLY from an air conditioned space, while sipping on something with ice and fruit floating in it.

    So what I’m saying is, I’m with you, girl.

  2. After playing Map Roulette which military life does to families, my boys were raised in the South. Number One Son married a Southern Girl. There was shagging at the wedding. But I seem to be the only one in the family that has a Southern accent. They can, but choose not to and cringe when I choose to.

    Three cheers for Sweet Tea, pulled pork, dry rub, pick up trucks, rifle racks,two stepping, boot scooting, shagging Good Times.

    1. Wanna go back to Moose’s BBQ while you’re here in July? :0)

      PS: I’m the Southern Girl. And yes, my father-daughter dance was a shag to My Girl. Cuz that’s how we roll.

  3. Who’s procrastinating to keep from having to go out in the 90 degrees and mow today? (two thumbs point at THIS GIRL)

    Oh, and if you think Virginia is bad—we have 90 degree heat AND humidity that feels like you just walked out your front door into a sauna. To us, Virginians ARE Yankees. LOL

  4. I am born and bred southern girl, bless my heart, and I hate the heat, it makes me glisten. And I also hate small talk, so I don’t think that is a northern thing, just a general dislike for people thing.

  5. the heat thing is the same in Southern California. minus the gawdawful humidity you guys get. I swear, I would have moved to New Orleans years ago if it weren’t for the awful summers.

  6. I’m from Virginia (Northern) and I’ve spent time with my dad’s family in southern NC. I don’t know what puddling is (seriously, please enlighten me-
    I’m imagining mud wrestling) and I’ve never heard of a meet-the-baby event.

    Also, my body is extremely intolerant to both heat and cold, yet I love having changing seasons, so I don’t want to move somewhere where it’s the same medium temperature year-round. Sigh.

  7. Nice. You know what they say – you can take the Yankee out of… Anyway, you know the rest.

    My daughter, the half Asian, loves spicy foods like curry and prefers walking around barefoot. That’s a small, small victory to me. The rest is all ‘Merican. 🙂

  8. According to Google, 90°F is only 32°C.
    I have been known to wear jeans and a cardigan in that weather.
    Okay, partly I’m a bit crazy. But I don’t really start sweating until it’s 37°C, so that’s … about 100°F?
    Mind you, at the moment it’s about 64°F and I’m cold, even with my singlet and jumper on 🙁
    Between us we’re normal!

  9. we moved to the south via lexington, VA, population 6,000, several hundred of whom are cadets at the virginia military institute. from cleveland, we moved. it was surreal. in lexington, we heard this (i swear i’m not making this up): “moving here does not make you southern, and having children here will not make them southern. (because…..) if the cat had kittens in the oven we wouldn’t call ’em biscuits.”

  10. This made me laugh out loud, multiple times. My favorite was the car commentary and N agreeing with E. Hahahah! The Roo will say his head is sweating, etc. Poor R’s face gets so RED when it’s hot out and playing. And I HAVE Southern blood. But I was raised in the Midwest…my savings grace perhaps?

  11. I remember living in Atlanta after college and watching the temperature start to creep up to 90 in March and April. I was confused and sweaty and kind of mean about it all. Not a fan.

    I do miss the sweet tea, though.

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