Stupid Apple...

Crap.
That's right I said it.
Their are many "joys" of having little girls. There are the raw, unbridled emotions and the meltdowns that are a direct result of said emotions, the struggle to balance a sense of modesty while still teaching them to love, and be comfortable with their own bodies, the constant worrying about when the right time to buy the riffle um...
Then there are all the questions about all the uncomfortable topics, all the icky things that go on that you have to find someway to put in a happy, excited way, so your little girl doesn't start loathing the fact that she was born with indoor plumbing.
And then there are the things you don't plan for... or the things that I don't plan for like the sudden uncomfortableness to talk about certain topics.
Topics that were previously explained in great detail when she was obviously much to little to understand.
Topics that now seem taboo and too grown up for a little girl, my little girl, even though it's painfully obvious that her girlie hormones are starting to destroy her work their magic.
The questions come though she's not quite sure what she's getting at, but I'm smart enough to know eventually it will come to "IT": the mechanics questions. The ones I don't want to answer. My own knowledge of such things destroyed my outlook on life and also resulted in my brother inheriting all my George Micheal tapes... ew... he was singing about that!?! Thanks so much backyard neighbor boy, I could have gone on without that knowledge for years... so nice for you to enlighten me when I was five. Jerk. Misinformation by the way. Seriously, for an embarrassing amount of years I felt dirty and was worried that one day when I was big enough to get my period I'd be pregnant because we "played doctor" with our clothes on. Thanks to the only vaguely informative sex ed classes in elementary school I also thought I'd only get my period one day a month ... you know because they just say once a month... and they really don't get into the whole ovulation/fertilization thing.
Colour me embarrassed...
Moving on..
So the questions come.
3 year old Rowan E.{who wanted to have 10 babies btw}:
"Mom how does the baby come out?"
"Babies come out of your junk."
"Not out of MY junk!"
So I find a very unoffensive pencil drawing on the internet, I show her, she cries, I wasn't kidding, she never wants to have babies.
Recently the questions have been more egocentric, like she's trying to figure out her place, or figure "something" out but hasn't quite figured out the right questions to ask or what "it" is.
Things like:
"Why is my dad my dad but Hilary is the boys dad?"
"Because, I had you with your dad, and I had the boys with Hilary, duh"
What? I never claimed to be wholesome.
The newest and scariest question, scary because it's so close to the things I don't want to talk about:
"If you and my dad weren't married, than how did you have me?"
Thanks so much for that bags of worms sister dear.
Ah! Help! Seriously.
I realize I could have just answered by saying;
"You don't have to be married to have babies, but you should be married. And done with college. And 30."
And honestly I probably did at the time, but this question is so scary because of the "how"... it's so close to the actual question that I panicked. Normally such states of panic lead to ranting in Hilary's direction {he tends to pretend to listen} about how they should totally make age appropriate books on this subject matter, to save poor mommies like me the hassle of figuring out what is okay to say. Sometimes I go on to say that I would go ahead and write them myself, but of course I would feel "weird" attempting to be the authority on how to talk to children about sexuality and such.
So then I find myself at the library, and it hits me. "DUH... the library has books."
Yes, I'm a genius.
So if the library has books, maybe, just maybe they'll have something similar to what I want, something that will aid me in talking to my daughter who is on the cusp of pubescence about all things related to her girl parts; without having to look her in the eye. Much.
So I peruse the children's non-fiction section. Of course, I don't bother to ask the librarian for help or use the digital card catalog. Oh, the scandal. I eventually find the shelf dedicated to this taboo topic and look through the titles with the discomfort of the first time I had to buy my own tampons.
I giggle out loud at my silly anxiety and start skimming through the books
" I can do this I used to talk like a sailor, I'm comfortable speaking about all things genitalia related. In mixed company. Crudely even. This is going to be a breeze. I can do this!"
And then my mouth drops open.
"Holy descriptive diagram"
"Why don't they just put a big blinking sign that says 'Put penis here'!?"
Oops! My inner monologue totally became screaming rhetoric. In the children's section. So of course I look around quickly, praying no one heard me. I sigh and keep looking through the books each one worse than the one before it. I think that maybe there isn't anything here for me. Stupid library. Then I come across a book that looks kind of cartoon-y and has a bit of humor, which works for me, humor is my coping mechanism. So before I even get through half of the book I decide that it is definitely the one.



So, I check out. I pat myself on the back, I am a good parent. I'm doing what I should even if it makes me uncomfortable, even if I don't think she's ready or too young. I will do this, and I will make sure that while I read the book that I speak matter of factly, & be uber nonchalant so she thinks it's no big deal and is comfortable talking about these kind of things with me. I am super mom.

Then I get home and read the whole book. Everything seems good enough... until I get to the part that says "places penis in vagina" or something to that effect. Seriously, do I have to tell her that... really!?!? I really thought "special kind of touching adults do" was enough explanation on the mechanics for a six year old. I cringe, I sigh, I get over it. If it has to be done I'll do it. I certainly don't want a 9 year old boy fresh out of his first session of sex ed to misinform her the way I was. So I keep reading. Apparently the book also thinks that kids should know the definition of masturbation. Oh book, why must you torment me so? I find resolve in myself once again. These things are important. I want her to talk to me about things like this when they come up and she's old enough for me to worry about it. I have to do this.

So I put the book in my closet. That was a week ago.
Yes. I am a sissy.
But really it's more than that.
Reading that book... well it's like eve eating from the tree of knowledge - Once we go there there is no going back. That tiny bit of knowledge is going to put my baby girl on a whole different level. I won't go as far as saying that she will lose her innocence... but she kind of will. I can't imagine her hearing the word sex with out giggling, or cringing, or making some comment about how it is gross. I most certainly will have to be very careful not to speak so openly in front of her, as her blinders, her naivety will be gone. One conversation... the apple, and my little girl will be part of the grown up world with no way to go back to that happy garden of ignorance.
can you blame me for stalling?
Stupid apple.

Lifes a beach...

Once upon a time when our little family still lived at my mothers (after a series of unfortunate events) we would set aside one day each weekend to ride our bikes 15 miles to the beach with our (or rather my) still low in number children in tow.
*ahem* I feel that I should point out that I don't think the addition of one more really puts me in the ranks John & Kate (Though My Love is getting close, his tally is currently at 5) or Michelle Duggar but for some reason (ironically) in our go bigger or go home society people (a LOT of people.. seriously, EVERY time I go out with all of them) start asking "Are they all yours?" once you get to #3. Sometimes I think maybe they are just trying to be nice, you know, because I definitely look like I had three kids. Moving on...
So every Sunday the four of us set off with minimal beach equipment and ample water, the children happily loaded into their cart, My Love and I on our rusty but reliable (and very heavy) bicycles, me in my huge grandma shorts *lol*. It was always awesome, lots of good exercise, Teijah loved the water and eating the sand, Rowan E. freaked out and was scared of the water, and we all were looking tan shiny and healthy. Then we had a fortunate turn of events and were able to get our own house, but it was much to far from the beach and our little family was unfortunately out of our short lived tradition.
And then Mark came to visit....

Sorry I have no idea who's butt that is, I didn't even notice she was there when I was taking the picture *giggles* and now her brightly flowered bum is part of our family memories forever... let this be a lesson to anyone bending over at the beach. It is always better to sit when collecting shells...
*sighs* Of course I'm going to have to name her... or at least her fanny.
Of course Mark, who hasn't lived in Florida most of his life and does not have ocean beaches at his disposal was very adamant about going to the beach. The first day I sent them (Mark, My Love, and My Love's 3rd baby's(our sometimes Y number 1A lol) mama Sara), off with my car. The next day when the boy's wanted to go again I decided to go as well despite my lack of bathing suit. It of course was fantabulous.
The six of us packed into my 5 seat Kia Sephia, and with Mark driving headed towards Sanibel Island. On the way there we paid $7 in tolls made a quick stop to pick up an awesome guitar that Mark found for us on Craiglist for $20 *thanks Mark, and is still totally doing the happy dance* and at a little mom and pop shop to pick up more water and some yummy fried chicken that Mark got a great deal on.
Rory had to go potty of course so the boys went ahead of us.
Walking down the walk to the beach I saw this:


...and a warm happiness filled my heart. I could hear a child crying in the distance, so I looked around and thought "well that's certainly not Teijah! He must be so happy to be in the water again."
as I walked closer I still couldn't figure out where the crying was coming from and then I saw my son's twisted grimace. He was not happy. He was freaked out and most certainly did not want to be in the water. So I did what anyone would do, I picked him up and walking further out into the water laughing and jumping as the waves crashed against it. He bought it too and way belly laughing right along with my, that is until the wave that was taller than his 5'1 mommy and he got water in his face... his current phobia/annoyance. And so that was it, then Teijah spent the rest of his time at the beach like this:


Except for when he "borrowed" someone's beach toys


Oh and yes, all my very musical children can keep a beat/rhythm... Just in case you were wondering.

With in seconds of hitting the sand Rory looked around quickly, like she had a radar device in her head, and found the first kid she could see. Once her target was sighted she ran over and made friends. And her time at the beach was spent as such:


I'm going to have to watch out for that girl...


Little Ori loved the water and My Love even boasted that he laid flat in the water (Which is a big deal to him, Teijah never did he always was trying to keep his head out of the water, you know; because he has survival skills and this would never happen to him.)


When he grew over stimulated and was done with the sun he hung out like this in the stroller:

And because I always think of little Stellan every time Ori does something for the first time (they are close in age) before we left I couldn't help but to write his name in the sand:


And on the way home we stopped at a Chick-fil-A drive thru so we could finally see what the big deal was. After we got home Mark and My Love got dolled up to go have a boys night out with My Loves poppy and the kids and I settled around our coffee table to munch on our yummy Chick-fil-A feast (which came complete with shakes which were so worth the suffering) and watch Princess Protection Program.

We have totally decided to readopt our family tradition, but if we're planning on adding Chick-fil-A to our beach fun we'll have to switch to Saturdays since they are a Christian run corporation and are closed on Sunday's... which is as neat as it is inconvenient. *grins*

Now I seriously need to find a job to support my newly found Chick-fil-A habit... and you know, so I can buy car seats.

Blueberries!

Woohoo! Blueberries were on sale at Target for $1 so, thinking of My Love who refuses to feed himself unless it's convenient, I bought a few. With a blueberry stash on hand it was inevitable that when Teijah requested pancakes this morning so well that it could have been his sister asking I of course obliged and made blueberry pancakes.
For those of you that don't know me personally, Teijah (pronounced Tay-ah in case you were wondering)just started talking so sometimes it's hard to tell him no, or be very frustrated with him for asking me for things when I'm busy (which happens with his sister all the time). This morning he told me "hungry, mom." which is awesome because it was the first time he said hungry. So, instead of pumping like I normally do when I first get up, I went straight to the kitchen. Of course I was followed by my extra tiny 2 1/2 year old who then requested "pancakes, please? pancakes, mom?" Who could say no to that? He even helped put the blueberries on the counter. children are so helpful and polite at this age! Hopefully I find a way to keep him that way. I think having a small child in the house all the time helps, Rowan E. seems to be remember her manners more often now that she sees how much attention her brother gets for it. how effective it is. Now if I could just get her to stop whining and freaking out for no reason so he stops learning that from her. When I figure out how to make a little girl stop whining - you better believe there is going to be a blog post about it! For now she has been informed that any time he acts in said whiny manner she will also be punished - I will not have a house full of whiny children... "whining goes to the bedroom" as we say here and I do not want to have to say it 20 times a day... whoa... so yeah have you noticed the about me at the upper right hand corner?... I warned you I was highly distractable...
So anyway, as I was making a few dozen mini blueberry pancakes (because mini pancakes means no silverware... and I hate silverware, mainly the washing of it) I realized that yesterday was the day that little Ori was supposed to try a new food but he had not. Then it hit me - what better time then now to let him try some blueberries? And what a blueberry mess he was afterward! I refrained the urge to roast the blueberries to make them more blueberry-y because: a.) I already had roasted bananas in the fridge (and it seemed silly to just roast blueberries), and b.) though I know that cooking the berries down make them far more tasty I wasn't sure the nutritional value of the delicate berries would hold up during cooking.

Roasted Bananas w/ Blueberries

2 tbs roasted bananas w/o booby milk (so basically banana concentrate *lol* not banana pudding)
1 or 2 big handfuls of fresh blueberries
optional water, booby milk, whatever for mixing.

Dump bananas & blueberries in food processor or blender, *attempt to blend.
put into storage containers. Feed to happy, unsuspecting baby. Wash blueberry covered baby while imagining he's that girl from Charlie & The Chocolate Factory.

* I say attempt because I attempted to use my 1 cup blender and it was just too thick w/ to small an amount to blend so I added a little water (like I said I did not pump this morning so I didn't have fresh booby milk on hand) so it would blend. Roasted bananas do this cool/weird thickening thing but still be sure not to add too much liquid so you don't end up with a smoothie. :) I ended up with about 4 tablespoons.