Apples (but most importantly...doughnuts)

It has been busy month since I last posted to the blog! Kindergarten, a trip to Papa and Grandma's 60th wedding anniversary party, more Kindergarten, and a couple of days off.

Today was a teacher in-service day, so we headed to Louisburg to the cider mill. I remembered that you used to be able to pick apples there, but not anymore. The boys had a great time watching a semi-truck full of apples turn into cider. The also really enjoyed the cider doughnuts and playing on the huge bales of hay.


We came home with some cider, kettle corn, caramel apple candy corn, and cider doughnuts. Ben came home with hives all over his legs from playing on the hay. That is the gift that will keep on giving all week. Poor guy.




The funniest part of the day was listening to the two apple experts (Ben and Riley) explain to me just how many apples were in that truck and the process by which all those BILLIONS of HUNDREDS of apples was going to turn into cider. It was something about ninja swords and lots of chopping. Oh, and then crushing and squeezing (complete with physically squeezing demo) to get the cider. There was also quite the debate about the difference between cider and juice. Riley was sure that "juice" meant "full of lots of sugar." (Jill--- what kind of juice are you feeding that kid? You know, Hawaiian Punch is NOT a juice.)

A Real Kindergartener

Ben had his first official day of Kindergarten today. After waking up to an alarm clock all by himself, he was all business about getting to school this morning. He wouldn't let me take any pictures at home for fear that it would slow us down... maybe tomorrow. Here are a few highlights and the video I took of him walking into his classroom for the first time. At the end of the video, catch what the para in his classroom says when she sees him... it's exactly what a new-Kindergarten parent wants to hear!

About Kindergarten:

B: Mom? When I'm at school all day, I'm going to miss a lot of my shows.
H: That's true.
B: Can you DVR some for me before we leave?

* As we pulled into the parking lot, Ben asked if I was going to "go in." When I said that I was, he sighed and said, "Well. Only today, OK? I can really handle it, Mom."

* After school, Ben announced that Kindergarten ROCKS! (We've been reading a book that my mom bought him called "Kindergarten Rocks" and evidently, it really does!)

* From 3:15 until 5:30 Ben told me stories about school. In "science class" they made a play dough rainbow. They learned a song called "No More Pie" in Music. And, Mom-did-I-know-what? They have cookers that make lunches right at school. And, Mom-did-I-know-what-else? He earned 65-hundred-4-and 60, 70 stars today. He earned a line up and walk in a line star, and a playground star, and a follow directions star, and, and, and... you get the idea.

Here's the video of him heading into school on a rainy day (you may want to take your favorite motion-sickness drug before watching).

Kindergarten (but only a visit)

This morning was our "meet and greet" with Ben's Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Bohon. Lured by the promise of stopping for doughnuts before the visit, he got out of bed pretty easily and was ready to roll. When Mrs. Bohon came to meet us in the hall, he trotted off behind her, chit-chatting with her the whole way (SO not a surprise). I was about 50 feet behind because, clearly, he could handle it on his own and didn't want to be seen with his MOTHER. Ugh. But, I overheard him telling her that, "Kindergarten will be a blast. We're just going to have a ball." Ah, if she only knew.


Ben is very excited to have his own chair and a name tag. He's also very proud of his cubby for supplies and that they have a bathroom RIGHT IN THE CLASSROOM! Could life get any better? Wait until he's there on Wednesday and they have 2 snacks, lunch, and recess. Kindergarten rocks.

Almost 5

For the last few weeks, anytime someone asks Ben how old he is, he replies, "Almost 5. And, I'm going to Kindergarten." Ummm. Excuse me, but where did the last 5 years go?

I took Ben for his 5 year check up last week and visited with a new mommy and her 6 day old son. Was that really me "almost 5" years ago? I barely remember a time when Ben wasn't potty trained and getting his own snacks in the kitchen. On the other hand, was it really that long ago that we were just figuring out how to hold him so he'd fall asleep and just which funny face would make him laugh so his whole chubby little body shook?

When I taught, I never understood those weepy freakshow parents (ok, mostly MOMS) who tearfully dropped their child off for the first day of school. I think my comment was, "Dude. It's school. It's not like you're sending your child to war." I may have also said, "Never. Never ever will I be a 'cry mom'. I'm gonna be the mom with my foot on my kid's butt kicking him out of the car when he goes to school. I would NEVER cry. Whatever."

Ummmmmmmm.....yeah. As with so many other things, the kiss of death was saying, "I would never..". Because, guess what? I'm going to be that blubbering, ugly-crying, freakshow, train wreck of a mommy in two weeks when I take my boy to school. What I realize now is that it's not sadness that brings the tears. It's a realization that your baby is not a baby. There is nothing remotely baby left. It's intense pride in sending your little chick out of the nest and into the big, big world. It's all your hopes and wishes and dreams for the future.

Good grief. Will someone please hand me a Kleenex? Maybe a whole box?

Monday with Mommy: Sights and Sounds of the Zoo

After I got home from piano lessons/tutoring this morning, Ben and I decided to head to the zoo. It was $1 kid admission day AND it was only 80ish degrees outside. We had a great afternoon! It also reminded me that I am a "boy mom."

After a promise that there would be snacks at the zoo, Ben was willing to head to the zoo. He also needed assurance that there would be some sort of passive transportation because his legs would be tired if he had to walk around the zoo. So, a rented wagon and a smoothie in the first 15 minutes after we arrived were in order.

A few highlights:
Butts
B: (with a glimmer in his eye) Mom? What is that pink part on the baboon?
H: That's the baboon's bottom.
B: (big grin) Bottom of what?
H: His tushie.
B: His BUTT? Gross.

Burps and Farts
Hippo: RRRRAAAAARRRRRRR or UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH (however you spell the sound a hippo makes)
B: Holy cow. That hippo just burped.
The hippo went back underwater and bubbles came out of his nose
B: Awww..man. Now he farted. That's a gassy hippo. What did he eat?

Poop
B: WOAH! Look at the size of the elephant poop. Wow (complete awe).

To be fair, I think Ben comes by these observations naturally. Even after 20+ years, my most vivid memory of going to the Omaha Zoo in 1st grade is that one gorilla peed on a carrot and the other gorilla picked it up and ate it. (And, it still makes me giggle.)

July in pictures

Here are a few pictures from our adventures in July...so far. The first two are from our 4th of July BBQ. We had a great time with our friends and their children... 5 kids ages 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. At one point in the evening, I pointed out that it would be biologically possible for one of us to be the mother to all the children in the backyard. Biologically possible? Yes. A good idea? Well....


Below: 4 of the 5 kids. Poor Lola was the only girl and evidently that tree house dining experience was a little much for her. You know how boys are when they're in big groups--- all burps and fart jokes.

Below: The 4th of July cupcakes Ben helped make. In this photo he's negotiating for a Bomb Pop after he finishes the cupcake. His negotiation worked. We had to do something to make sure he'd stay awake through the fireworks. With liberty and sugar for all.

On Sunday, we did some swing set upgrades. We got rid of the old "baby" swing, added a brand new swing and installed this cool horse swing made from a tire that Papa and Grandma bought for Ben.

After he figured out how to get on the horse, he enjoyed the ride. Thanks, Papa and Grandma!

Getting Old

An unintended side effect of all this talk about big kids and growing up is that Ben has become preoccupied with death and the effects of aging. He's very concerned with the relationship between his age and our ages. If he's getting big, then we're getting OLD.

B: Mom? When I grow up, will you be REALLY old?
H: I'll be older. Like Mimi.
B: But, Mom. When you get very, very old, we'll have to put you in a grave because you'll be dead.


The first time we had this conversation, Ben cried. I got teary. It was very Love You Forever (remember that freaking picture book? Jeez.). Now, he asks with a glimmer in his eye as if he's contemplating what will be served at the death banquet after he finishes putting me in a grave.

The "death talk" has cropped up several times in the last few months. When we asked a few questions of our own, we found out SpongeBob Squarepants had an episode where he dreamt that Mr. Crabs was old and dead and they had to bury him. Good grief. I knew I never liked that stinking SpongeBob.

I don't know what Ben watched to bring up his other "old person" obsession. While he was staying with my parents a couple of weekends ago, he climbed up in my mom's lap and had the following conversation:

B: Mimi? Are you old?
M: Well, I'm older than your mom.
B: Awww, Mimi, you're really, really old. Look at your elbows. They're all wrinkly.
(Background noise of my dad laughing hysterically.) Mimi, look... you've got the girl disease.
M: What? The girl disease?
B: Yes. The girl disease. It gives you wrinkles. It's just horrible.

Fast forward to Thursday night when I was tucking Ben into bed. He wanted me to snuggle him (for the sole purpose of getting the cat to stay on his bed for a few minutes-- she'll only snuggle with backup). So, there we were, cozy and quiet. I was just beginning to think that it had been awhile since he'd wanted me to tuck him in...
B: Mom?
H: What, Love?
B: Let me see your elbow.
H: My elbow?
B: Yes. Well...your elbow is kinda tricky. I'll just check your face. (carefully pushing and pulling and poking my face)
H: Check for what?
B: Girl disease. Mom, you just have a little girl disease. It's going to get worse. You're getting old.
H: Good night, Ben. (I left his room and headed straight to the bathroom for an in-depth study of my "girl disease" in the mirror.)