OMG. Birds and Bees.

I just turned out the lights and left the girls in their bunks to ponder one of life's bigger questions.

They must be too, because it's quiet.  Like a stunned silence, I think.

It's hard to remember exactly what started the conversation, but I know it was about our skin and why it is the color it is.  Libby wanted to know why some people are super light brown, while others are super dark brown and everyone else falls somewhere in between.

I told them (and I'm sure I have this all wrong) that it has to do with the amount of *pigment we each have in our skin.  Those of us who are lighter have less pigment, while people with darker brown skin have more.  I told her that pigment is a chemical.  Or is it?  Or does it have to do with reflection of light?  See, I know nothing. Also, some of us have spots of pigment called freckles.  I remember Libby asking how someone with dark brown skin can also have freckles.  "Pigment."  I told her.

Then, when I should've maybe given them one more kiss goodnight and shut my mouth and left the room, I kept talking.  I remember it going something like this...

"The way our bodies grow and develop are similar to our parents.  If your parents have a certain skin color, yours might be similar to one, or both of them.  It has to do with genetics, what our parents pass on to us.  And genetics have to do with the millions of cells that make up our bodies.  Amazing, right?"

Have you ever heard that advice to "answer only what the child is asking.  Don't get all nervous and start rambling on about things they don't know that they don't know."?  Well, that's good advice, but to be honest I started talking and as I listened to what was coming out of my mouth, I just sounded so freaking smart.

Are you nervous?  Me too.

And with the next question Libby dropped I knew I was in serious trouble.  She said, "But when a baby is born, how can it look like the daddy when the it grew inside the mommy's belly?"

Let me tell you.  I don't know who nominates for the Oscars but if it's you, please put my name in.  I deserve one.  I was calm. composed. Scientific-ish. And it's not like I was worried about giving them too much information, or overwhelming them.  I was just trying to not laugh.  Because this topic is funny to me.  Really funny.  

So I explained to them that they have ovaries full of eggs.  All the eggs they'll ever have.  And when an egg joins together with a sperm a baby starts to grow.

And Libby says, "Yeah, but where does the sperm come from?"

(Poised and holding my Oscar) "It comes out of the daddy's penis."  

"The daddy's penis?! Yeah, but how does it get to the egg then?"

And I can't write here exactly what I said, but I can tell you it was the truth.  And what followed makes me reeeeeally believe in genetics.  She was horrified.  Confused. Taken aback, and wanting to laugh.  Laugh.  Which means she's sooooo mine.  This was all hysterical to her, and she blurted out, "BUT WHEN DO YOU GUYS DO THAT?!"  

Thank God I didn't elaborate.  I simply pointed to each of them and said, "When we had you and you."

Libby, who'd been propped up on her elbow flopped back on to her pillow and said, "I'm NEVER doing that.  I am NOT having a baby."  I liked her answer.  I think at five, I don't need to convince her otherwise.

Peyton, who'd been on the sidelines for most of the conversation, panicked and said, "But what if I don't want to have a baby, and one gets in my belly anyway and what if they have to cut me open to take it out?!"  

"Oy.  Cesarean Section.  Can we tackle that tomorrow, babe?  Mommy's tired."

*It turns out I'm not that smart.  Pigment wasn't at all the word I was looking for.  Melanin.  Melanin.  Jeez.  How am I going to break this news to them?  They'll probably think I made up everything.

I'll just start with today....

I get a month behind on my blog regularly.  Right now, I'm three months behind.  I considered moving ahead without looking back. But since this is how I document our family happenings, I really can't do that.  There are no professional pictures.  There aren't artsy scrapbooks.  This is what I do.  The volume of pictures is ridiculous, though.  And I forget things.  I can't remember the thing that Libby said to me in the car this morning that made me laugh out loud and I promised myself I'd write it down before I forgot.  I lost it  before we even got to the next stop sign.  This might become a serious issue as forty is waiting just around the corner.

Anyway, I decided I'd just start with today and writing something.  Here goes....

  

Libby's writing phonetically.  This is a big step for her.  She was willing and even proud of herself for trying it.  I tried to get her to do it last summer, but she refused.  She wasn't willing to take a "guess and go" approach and insisted I tell her how to spell things exactly.  That makes me a little nervous, because life is messy, am I right?  And you gotta be willing to try without knowing how it'll turn out.  Which is risky, 'cause you might just make a big fat mess of the thing you're trying.  But this week she tried.  She wrote "I went camping."  This momma was proud.  Also, I make a big fat mess of a lot of things.

 Bebo showed up last night with new chalkboards for the girls.  Oh my stars.

 Peyton's writing is EXPLODING right now.

 This was our morning project to welcome October.  Thank you Pinterest.

 We spent some time at Lone Pine.  Jail birds.

 Standing under the Beer sign, just for daddy.

 Cow Train!

We got an ice cream cone on our way out.  The girls picked cotton candy for its bright blue and pink.

Seriously Siri, When WILL September End?

Every night I want to write something.  And every night there is a list of a million things I need to do.  And when I finally get my To Do List down to something manageable it'll be June.  I love writing here.  I also love having time to write here....

Apparently with the latest update of my phone I adopted Siri, who is supposed to become my new best friend.  She's not to be confused with Suri, the mini fashionista.  No, this is Siri who's supposed to make everything in my life easier.  I like her already.

Except, who is she exactly?  Because when I said to Shane tonight, "I have Siri now, but I don't know how she works."

He said, "Just say something into your phone."

I said, "Siri, what's my name?" and she totally ignored me.  My other friends don't ignore me.  I told Shane she doesn't work and he said, "Well, first you have to turn her on."

Huh.

"That sounds like a job for you, Babe.  Here.  Take my phone.  Turn her on.  See how that goes for both of you."  Now there's one thing I can cross off tonight's To Do List.  Siri's turning out to be a good friend after all....

Lifeguards

"Mom, I don't know why there are lifeguards on the playground.  There's not even a pool."

-Libby

We Made It!

Moments weren't pretty.  I couldn't sleep last night, and today I boohooed more than once, but never actually in front of students.  A report from the cafeteria was that Libby got a little overwhelmed in the morning, but never shed tears.  Shane later told me that Libby didn't cry, but he did.

As my class arrived on the playground for  morning recess, Libby's class was leaving the playground, so I ducked behind Shelly, our Speech Pathologist, who had just been with the kinders and she reported that Libby was doing great.  Jennifer had a conversation with her in her classroom, and also told me there hadn't been a single crisis yet.  The adults in the building know her and connected with her, putting this momma (somewhat) at ease.

When I arrived home 45 minutes ago both girls were clamoring to tell me about their days.  Peyton said stayed on the swing for the entire recess and Libby loves that her class gets two recesses.  She played on the monkey bars and climbed the entire length of them, "without YOU mom!"  Sigh.  Yep.  Without me.

Good day.  Maybe tomorrow will be easier.

Kindergarten

The start of school is stressing me out this year. After careful thought, I'm sure it has little to do with school and teaching, and everything to do with school and parenting. Libby is starting kindergarten tomorrow. Tomorrow. But she was born yesterday. So naturally, tomorrow feels like it came five years too soon.

Today was "Meet Your Teacher" day at school, and our dear friend Tracy took Libby to meet her teacher, since I'm a teacher and I had to be in my classroom so my students could meet their teacher. About half way through the hour Tracy, Michael and the girls came through, picked up Libby's school supplies and headed to kindergarten. I have to go to another place in my mind while I'm at school, because it's so hard to be the teacher when I want to be the mom. And when thirty other families are hoping to leave their child with a teacher who isn't crying, well, holding it together is important.

As a kid, I was a clinger and a crier. I held tight to my mom while I worked up enough courage to let go. Watching Libby take this next step, even though she seems to be taking it in stride, makes me want to cling to my mom. All those feelings come rushing back and it's hard.

We go to a great school. The adults are caring and qualified. The program is strong. It's more diverse than others. It's familiar to her. It's all the things you want your kids' school to be. And still, letting her go to kindergarten is hard. What if she's lonely? What if others aren't kind? What if she gets hurt and wants me? What if someone eats her circus animal cookies right out of her lunch? What if she poops a super smudgy one and there aren't baby wipes and she comes home with an itchy bum?

See? See where I go? Oy.

I'm armed for a worst case scenario. I'll be ready with hugs, kisses, band-aides, cookies and, if need be, a freshly laundered pair of unders.

After meeting her teacher today she wanted to talk about the logistics of tomorrow and was disappointed that she wouldn't be going to work with me. I told her that Daddy would want to meet her teachers too, see the cafeteria, see how school works, and hold her hand on her first day. She told me she didn't need to hold Daddy's hand and since she knows where her room is now, she could walk there all by herself. I had to explain that Daddy might want to hold her hand because this was all new for him. The truth is, I'm sure I couldn't hack it.

My class starts lunch as hers is finishing so I'm hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the cafeteria or on the playground. Kindergarten, here we come....

Unwelcome

"MOM, HOW DO YOU SPELL 'NOBODY CAN COME IN HERE RIGHT NOW?!?!'"

-Libby

Professional

I came across this little gem and I'm sure it's my favorite picture of the summer. Maybe ever.

Per Shane's own words I'll call it, "Don't worry. I'm a professional in the out-of-doors."

Make no mistake. You should worry.

Addendum to my original post:

This is a photo I took of Peyton last summer at Shasta. And if this isn't proof that we are the result of our genetic make up, well then I don't know what is....

A Scientific Inquiry of Bees

Peyton just looked through our Shasta pictures with me and asked, "Can we go back to Shasta because it's still summuh?" Oh, I wish we could.

The next series of posts will be to catch up with our summuh (summer). (sigh)

There were bees at Shasta this year. Shane took it upon himself to eradicate our campsite of the stinging pests by making bee traps and then taking predictions as to which traps would work best. None of them worked best. Oh, they caught bees all right. When we left for the lake in the morning there were 20 bees flying around our table. When we got back to camp in the evening there were (roughly) 20,000. It was hard to get an exact count from the road. We successfully illustrated a failure to predict the unintended consequences of being a bee trapper....

Orange Soda

Orange Soda Small Opening

Orange Soda No Lid

Observation

Meat

More Observation

Sandy

You know how you know it was a good day on the beach? Check the sand....