First Day of Preschool

After a week and a half of waiting from a very not so patient four year old, the first day of preschool finally arrived.  Jessenia is going to an in-home preschool this year since I had a few issues with her school at the end of last year.  Her teacher came highly recommended and even though it is still 20 minutes from our house (same as last year) it was the closest/cheapest/best I could find.  Jessenia still calls it her "Preschool House".  As in, "At my Preschool House today, we...".  I guess because last year she went to preschool at a church so it was more of an official building and this year she goes in a house.

 Here she is with Brisbane (to avoid the tantrum....sensing a pattern here?).

And there is her big smile for her first day!  She loves going to school and loves everything about it.  She is learning tons and brings home the cutest little projects. 
One Preschool Story for you:
Jessenia has become quite the jabber box in the last six months.  Mack and I can't believe this is the same little girl who would not even speak to Mack when she first came to live with us.  Seriously, if she ever spoke to him it was so quiet that he couldn't hear.  I spent the first six months translating because she would sit on his lap and tell me what she was saying in a clear voice but wouldn't talk to him.  Her teacher tells me that she is not shy at all at school and is a "perfect preschooler".  That's my Girl!
When she gets in the car after school, she always has a million things to tell me.  All about what she learned, what she had for snack, who got a time out, where the blue group sat, where the red group sat, and on and on.  This particular day they had learned the number two and so she had an Indian headband thing on with two feathers in it.  Reese asked her what it was and she told him she was an Indian. 
Reese:  You don't look like an Indian.
Me:  Jessenia, you are the cutest Indian I have ever seen.
Reese:  You don't look like an Indian.
Me:  Jessenia, you are the cutest Indian I have ever seen.
Reese:  You do NOT look like an Indian.
Me:  Reese!  Back off, dude!
Then I muttered to myself that she not only looks like an Indian but since she is full blooded Guatemalan, she IS of Indian descent.  And let's face it, she looks more like an Indian than any of those blonde haired blue eyed kids in her class that were wearing the exact same headband.  But Reese is the authority on all things Indians and Chicken Killing apparently.  Good Grief!

Choo-Choo!

What is a mother to do when she is desperate for entertainment for her kiddos during a hot Phoenix summer?  Have them build a train!

 All it took were a few chairs and some stuffed animal friends!

 The kids played this game three days in a row.

The conductor yelled, "All Aboard!"  When all of the stuffed animals were loaded, we all started "Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga"ing.  Until the conductor put on the breaks with a "screeeech!"  And then it started all over again.  The game was relatively fight free.  Except for the stuffed animals who kept arguing over who got to be the conductor.

How To Kill A Chicken

Mack reminded me of this dinner conversation that had happened while he was gone and I thought I should record it for posterity.  One night I was eating dinner with the three kids.  We were having chicken.  When Reese said....

"Mom, how do they kill chickens?"
Jessenia:  They use a sword.
Me: <snorting>
Reese:  No they don't!  They shoot them with a gun!
Me: <more snorting>  They definitely don't use a gun.
Jessenia:  They use a sword.
Me:  I don't think they use a sword either.
Jessenia:  Probably a knife then.
(Before I can nod approval for her good logic and reasoning.)
Reese:  No, Jessenia.  They shoot them with a gun!
Me:  Reese, Jessenia is right.  People use knives to kill chickens.  Guns would be too messy.
Reese:  I think they use a gun.
Me:  You're wrong.  Any chicken that people eat is not killed with a gun.
Reese:  Have you ever killed a chicken?  They use a gun.
(Shocked and appalled that my son does not believe every word I say.  Horrified that he is obsessed with gun violence against chickens.  Personally affronted that I am not the reigning authority in the house on chicken killing for food when I am the only person over the age of six.)
Me:  Let's call Grandma.  She has killed chickens.  If she says that they use guns, then I will believe you.
Reese:  Ok.

I then proceeded to call my mother and while on speaker phone, in the middle of dinner, while we are eating chicken, she describes to my three small children how they hung chickens upside down and slit their throats.  Or cut their heads off and watched them run around.  Or wrung their necks.
Jessenia was pleased that she was right about the knife thing.  Reese believed his grandmother but was still skeptical that the above mentioned methods were better for producing edible chicken then shooting them with a gun.  Boys will be boys, I suppose.

Firsts--Kindergarten

Public education is finally upon us.  Reese entered Kindergarten this fall and I must admit that I had mixed feelings about it.  I loved sending my kids off to preschool three days a week last year.  It gave Brisbane and I some much needed one on one time.  Allowed me to get errands run with only one kid.  And after some tough adoption transitioning, gave all of us a bit of a break.  But Kindergarten seems like so much more.  It's every day.  I actually care that he learns something.  I certainly have an opinion about public education and was worried about being "That Mom" (for the record... I am <hangs head in shame>).  But Reese and I had had a really hard summer.  Without Mack here, it was just me versus the kids and Reese was in major testing mode.  I think we both needed a break.  I needed to reassess some priorities as a parent.  And he desperately needed some more structure since pregnant mom during the summer had left much to be desired in that department.

I wasn't too worried about how Reese would feel about Kindergarten.  He loved preschool and so I thought he would be pumped about going to school everyday (plus it is only half day and actually less minutes than preschool).  Two days before school started I lugged all three kids to Back to School/Meet the Teacher Night (Mack had better be home next year for that, because I do not want to take all five of the little squirts next year by myself.).  We walked into the classroom and I put on my most excited, happy, enthusiastic face.  I could tell right away that this was not going to go well.  Reese had "the look".  His teacher told us we could choose a seat where there was a little gift for him and some paperwork for me (parents always get the worst deals).  I told Reese he could choose and he just looked at me and said, "Mom.  I don't want to do this."  By "this" he meant the whole thing.  The kid just wanted to run out the door.  I assured him it was going to be great and told him he could pick any seat he wanted (it didn't matter since it wasn't as if he was going to sit there on the first day of school).  But he couldn't/wouldn't.  So I chose a seat and asked Jessenia to try to keep Brisbane from screaming since he was not at all traumatized and wanted to run around the whole room touching everything.  Unfortunately for him, he was locked in his stroller, which he was protesting at the top of his lungs.

Once we found a seat, I hastily filled out the paperwork and we got the heck out of dodge.  Reese had his small gift of play-doh and a pencil in hand.  I wish I could have walked him around the room and shown him all of the cool things that he was going to get to do, but Brisbane was disrupting half the hallway.  So I quickly pointed out the Alphabet and reminded him that he knew all of his letters....and that was fun.... or something.

Now we are two days before school is starting and I am in full panic mode.  I had every intention of sending Reese on the bus the first day because I had the other two kids and knew that the school drop-off was going to be a disaster on the first day.  But now I wasn't so sure.  I was paranoid that Reese would simply protest getting on the bus since he had already tried to boycott Kindergarten all together.  But I prayed and decided that if I couldn't get him on the bus, I would drive him over to the school right quick.

We laid out his clothes and school supplies the night before.  I assured him he had made good "First Day of School Clothing Choices" (boy was I laying it on thick).  And the next morning, he woke up ready.

I knew he was nervous about the bus (he talked about it a lot).  But I assured him again that it would be ok and at the end of the day all three of us would be waiting for him.

 Here is the obligatory picture with Brisbane to avoid a full blown tantrum.

And there is my big Kindergartener.  When I took him to the bus stop that morning he was a bit traumatized by all the middle schoolers who knew each other (his school is K-8).  But I waited with him and didn't make him get in line until the bus pulled up.  And then he walked over to the bus like he had done it a million times and got on.  He didn't even look back.  And I didn't cry.  It was as if we were both old pros. 
Brisbane was devastated that he didn't get to ride the bus.  Jessenia was crushed that it was two weeks before preschool started.  When Reese got home, he told me he had had a great day.  And we were both so proud!
P.S.  He admitted to me two months later that he had gotten lost on the first day of school.  (I specifically asked him about that when he had gotten home and he said nothing about it.)  He hadn't known where to go when he got off the bus at school and couldn't find a teacher (which is what I had told him to do).  He said that he thought he was going to cry because he had been so scared.  "But don't worry, Mom.  I don't get lost anymore and am not scared." 

Horses!

During our trip to Snowflake this summer, Brisbane fell in love.  With horses.  Mack's parents own two horses that are corralled in their backyard.  Mack often gets hoodwinked into taking the nieces and nephews for rides on the horses when the family gets together.  Our kids have never been the slightest bit interested (Reese and Jessenia were terrified and Brisbane has always been too little).  But this trip, Brisbane wanted on a horse. Bad.  Mack was super busy the whole month with his rotation and our quick trip to Utah took up an opportune horse riding weekend.  But on our last day in Snowflake, Mack saddled up Teancum for the kids to have a ride.

 The horses don't like to be separated.  The brown horse, Flicka, is the mother of the paint, Teancum, and whenever Teancum is taken out for a ride, Flicka has a meltdown running all over the corral.  It also causes Teancum to be very stubborn on the ride and it isn't always safe for little kids with him bucking and refusing to move.  So we solved that problem by deciding just to have the kids ride around the corral, where Flicka could follow at her leisure.  For those who are wondering why I don't just saddle up and join the fun, I will let you in on a not so secret... I am terrified of the horses.  Mack had me get on Teancum once and he totally bossed me around because horses smell fear...and I reek!  Plus Flicka is a little old to be ridden.

 Brisbane had to go first.  Two reasons.  One:  There would have been much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth if he was denied for one more second.  Two:  The other kids weren't completely sure that they even wanted to ride the horses.  They are genetically related to me.  But rest assured, I lied and told them it was totally awesome and fun (because I don't want my kids to grow up being afraid of everything like me).
Brisbane LOVED it!  When it was his turn to get off he pretty much just wanted to chase Teancum, Mack, and whomever else was riding.  Yeah, kids don't understand that rule, "Never walk behind a horse!"

 Jessenia is second bravest of the bunch, so she went next.  She was not nearly as excited as Brisbane, but agreed that it was a good time.

After Reese saw that nobody was mortally wounded from the horse riding, he took a turn.  I think he thought it was ok.  He probably would do it again, but I don't think it is his primary goal in life to be an avid horseman.
As soon as Reese was off, Brisbane needed another turn.  And it has pretty much been non-stop horse-mania ever since.  As soon as I got home from Snowflake, he was begging to go back and "ride the horseys!"  My mother has been buying books about cowboys and horses and sending them to us just to feed his obsession.  He has stolen Reese's two horses from Reese's Lincoln Logs set and claimed them as his own.  And every time we drop off or pick-up Jessenia from school, we drive by a place that boards horses.  We are talking dozens.  He lets me know every time that we are coming up on the horseys.  When we get there, he yells, "HORSES!  HORSES!  HORSES!" over and over again until I acknowledge that there are in fact horses.  (Bear in mind that we have been doing this three days a week for over two months now).  Then he proceeds to tell me that all of the horses are named Teancum.  And we can't ride Flicka, because, "she too old" (in sad pathetic Brisbane voice).  In fact, the kid knows every horse within ten miles of our house and lets me know when we are about to drive by one.  Because wouldn't we all hate to miss that?
And now he wants to be a horse for Halloween.  I am still trying to convince him that the chicken costume we own is good enough for a two year old.  But I am starting to cave.  We will see.

Drowning

DISCLAIMER:  We talk about the difference between birth parents and parents all the time at our house.  It is a really difficult concept for a five, four, and two year old to understand.  Particularly when their mother is currently pregnant.  In the following conversation, I ignored the blatant confusion about birth parents because there seemed to be deeper concerns.  Good times ahead.

Setting:  Eating Dinner.
Characters: Me, Reese, Jessenia
Minor Character/Observer: Brisbane

Reese:  Are you going to be scared if the doctor has to cut the babies out of you?
(Background Info:  We have talked about how the babies are going to be born in the past.  We talked about C-sections and vaginal deliveries in the most toddler appropriate ways.)
Me:  No, I won't be scared.  The doctors are very good at their job and it will be very safe.
Reese:  Ok.
Reese:  I want to be there when the babies are born.
Me:  Sorry, Buddy.  They don't let kids be there because it is too distracting. (Me ignoring all the other reasons that my 3 children will not be allowed in the room while I am delivering the twins.)
Reese:  WHAT!?
Me:  Plus, it's kind of gross.
Reese: Gross!?
Me:  Yep.  There's blood.
Reese:  Blood!  How much!?  How long are you going to bleed!?  It's from them cutting you isn't it?
Me:  Kind of.  They clean it all up and it isn't for very long.
Reese:  Oh.  Ok.

Jessenia:  When I was in your tummy, and you took all those vitamins and drank water, I was scared.
Me:  Why were you scared?
Jessenia:  Because I was going to drown!
Me:  <laughing>.
<Insert long conversation about stomachs and uteruses & babies not drowning.>
Me:  The babies are floating in liquid though.  They drink it. (I intentionally left out the bit about them peeing because I didn't want my kids to have any ideas about drinking urine.)
Reese:  That is so weird!

End Scene.

I found it particularly hilarious that Jessenia has watched me drinking water and taking prenatal vitamins for the last six month and thought that the babies were going to drown from my liquid intake.  The beauty of life through the eyes of a four year old.