The presentation of the new design is only a portion of what is planned for the evening. You can also check out what Cook Wissahickon students have been hard at work doing this year. The night will lead off with the Fourth Annual Science Fair. Student projects will be on display, capping off a season of hard work! Every student in the school participates in the Science Fair.

There will also be light refreshments in the cafeteria, which you can enjoy while browsing the Art Show and Silent Auction. Works of art prepared by students will be available for show and sale; the proceeds will benefit the “new campus” initiative.

All neighbors - especially parents of prospective students - are encouraged to attend!

First, it was lawdaddy. He’s actually been hanging out with you for a bit outside of the house and apparently, the two of you decided to make your relationship a bit more serious. But, um, quite frankly, you make him kind of crabby. I’m glad you decided to move on.

Next, it was Charlie. Charlie rushed to meet you head on - none of this lingering around stuff like with his dad. You gave him a runny nose, then a cough. That gave us a clue that you were serious. Then the fever, the full body shivers and at last, the vomiting, first in his bed, then in ours. Cause nothing says company’s coming like having to change the sheets. Twice.

Charlie was just on the mend when we noticed that Amy was looking a little peaked. You had simply worn her out. She slept for most of the afternoon and refused her dinner. She was completely flushed as she put her head on the table, just overwhelmed by your presence. I expect we’ll be seeing the both of you throughout the evening.

That leaves Katie and me. I know, I know, I’m always last. But I’m used to it.

Just do me a favor and spare Katie too much excitement. She already threw up last week - and this week, she has Girl Scouts and a class trip. She is ridiculously excited about both. So do me a favor and keep things to a sniffle or two, ok?

It arrived.

Oh c’mon, you know what I’m talking about… My bib number. For the Philadelphia Marathon Rothman Institute 8k. Gulp.

It’s just sitting there in my inbox, taunting me.

I am terrified.

There’s always been a convenient excuse: I’m working, the kids are sick, I can’t find my shoes. You understand.

So today, after two days of not making our walk (my walk buddy couldn’t do it and I don’t feel comfortable going by myself at 6am, it’s too dark), I needed to do something. Anything. And checking out the instructions for how to do better crunches - crunches that I am not, in fact, planning to do - in my magazine just didn’t count.

It was quite fortuitous, then, that our neighbor threw the party for her son at our local YMCA. The kids (and lawdaddy) went into the gym to play games and I headed to the treadmill.

Less than an hour later - oh yeah, you read that right - I had managed to muddle through 8k (about 5 miles). That was huge for me. I may actually make my race after all… The race is on next Sunday and I have been worried about my ability to make the entire distance. I feel a little better about my odds now.

And sooo, to celebrate, I’m going to eat a cookie from Famous 4th. Oatmeal raisin. Why? Cause I like oatmeal raisin. And I’m worth it.

I’ve always changed Charlie in front of the girls. Most times, they’ve even helped out. I thought they were clearly aware that Charlie was different. In fact, I know this to be true because they’ve asked questions about his penis during changing. And I’ve always answered them honestly, with no baby talk, but still trying to balance that whole “too much information” worry for children that young.

I should offer some context here. I’m really modest when it comes to talking about sex. Really modest. I was raised in an extremely conservative home. We locked bathroom doors. No one walked around naked. Nobody talked about sex. At all.

When I got my period, my mom gave me a book to read. I distinctly remember that it has flowers on the cover. There was no further discussion.

I was actually quite relieved.

The interesting bit in all of this is that, while things certainly could have been different, this didn’t turn me into some kind of crazy whore nor did it make me some kind of frightening puritan. Maybe it was the academic in me but I read up on things, I *knew* things and I was able to make smart decisions about sex on my own. Ironically, many of my friends who grew up in homes far liberal than mine started making bad decisions about sex very early on.

So I’m a little torn, still, when it comes to talking about sexual identity and sex and those kinds of things. I don’t think ignorance is bliss but then I also don’t personally believe that there’s any benefit to having discussions about things until your kids are ready. I’m not going to go to great lengths to differentiate and label gender differences until the kids want to know.

Apparently Amy wants to know.

Again, to be clear, we don’t hide anything. And I answer questions honestly when they’re asked. It’s just that up to know, there haven’t been a whole lot of questions. But Amy, who knows how that little mind works? She questions everything.

And yesterday? Yesterday, she wanted to know what “that thing is on Charlie that looks like poop.” And so I told her it was his penis. And she asked, “Did I used to have one and it fell off?” And, trying as hard as I could to keep a straight face, I said, “No, no you didn’t. Only little boys have penises. You’re a little girl and you’re different.” She looks down at her underwear (she was wearing a dress). And then she says, “So Charlie has a penis?” And I say, “Yes.” And she says, “And Daddy has a penis that looks like poop?” And I say, “Yes, Daddy has a penis,” again trying not to laugh. She then lost interest in the discussion, so I didn’t press it.

Gosh, this parenting thing is just full of surprises.

Part of my dilemma is, I think, that I’ve been tweeting more - you know, on twitter (you can follow me here). The rhythm of my days is such that tweeting is easier than organizing my thoughts into coherent paragraphs… Sad, I know.

So here’s what I haven’t blogged:

Katie is reading up a storm. It’s insane. The math? Not 100%. But the reading? The girl’s on fire.

Charlie is back to his full “I don’t want to go to school” histrionics. Generally, this involves a complete 20 minutes of yelling “I don’t want to go to school” as we walk to school, followed by throwing himself on the floor and finally, the piece de resistance, clinging to my leg until someone pulls him off. Yeah, it’s that good. It didn’t help that he was bitten at school this week by a classmate. There was no real damage but it didn’t help matters. Ick.

Amy. Amy. Amy. What can I say? I thought about selling her on Tuesday. She’s just been a handful all week. I have no words.

Lots going on. And I swear to spill. I have good things to say about Katie’s school, my blog, the holidays and more.

I’m easing back into this. Gimme a sec (or two).

I told her, then asked why.

She looked at me and said, very seriously, “Mom, I like it here. But someday I’m going to get a job. And I will need to learn to spell ‘Employees must wash hands’ for the bathroom.”

Charlie did not want to go to school today. No reason, just said he wanted to stay home.

Amy did not want to go to school today either. Apparently, one of the girls at school had informed her that she didn’t want to be her friend anymore. Amy is our sensitive child and was devastated by this news, despite the fact that she has many, many other friends (yes, it is worth noting that I would not have the same reaction if this had happened to Katie “cling to one friend at a time” Erb). So, together with the revelation that it wasn’t Messy Wednesday (when she gets to paint), she also put herself into the “not going to school” camp.

Screaming ensued.

And yeah, they were loud, too.

I finally managed to get them out of the door - it was not an easy feat. When we got down the stairs to the sidewalk, Charlie ran over to the car and tried to open the door. I gently explained that we were not driving to school (we rarely do, only when it’s extremely cold or pouring rain) which was apparently roughly the same news as “I’m about to saw off your legs.” He started screaming bloody murder and planted himself firmly on the sidewalk.

I said fine and turned to walk to school. Amy started pulling on my sleeve.

“Mom!” she screamed. “We can’t leave Charlie!”

My grown up reply, “Watch me.”

(It should be worth noting for those of you reaching for the phone to call CPS that I was well aware that he would not allow me to go without him.)

I walk towards the corner.

“Nooooooooooooo!” Charlie screams as he heads after me.

Now, they are both crying.

I am not in the mood to be the comforting mom. So I keep walking, holding a hand on each side.

And I hear banging. A man is standing across the street, banging his hands together.

“Que pasa!” he yells.

I stop.

He bangs his hands together again. “Que pasa!” he yells, clearly directed at Charlie. Charlie looks up.

I yell to the man, “He doesn’t understand. He really doesn’t even know why he’s crying.”

The man yells again in Spanish, followed by a loud clap and “Que pasa!” Charlie is startled at this point and stops crying. I am speechless.

The man keeps yelling in Spanish. I get some of it.

My mind is whirring - all I can think of is French, which is ironic because I can never think of French when I need to.

“Estas el padre de Gaspar?” I ask. He says, “Si.”

Aha. It’s my neighbor’s father.

I say to Amy and Charlie, “That’s Quentin’s grandpa. Say ‘hola!’” Amy does. Charlie still doesn’t know what to think.

I wave and we walk on. Charlie is much better now.

We get to school and they have recovered almost completely. Charlie goes in and starts playing. Amy firmly attaches herself to me. I take her up to her classroom and she refuses to join the class, standing off to herself. I speak to her teacher and tell her what’s up. Amy looks really sad as I’m leaving.

Damn it, I hate these moments. I hate leaving when the kids are upset - even though I realize that much of the performance is for me. And I have a terrible, horrible feeling.

In need of some reassurance that I don’t completely suck as a parent, I call Lawdaddy. He says, “You think you had it rough. Guess what Katie’s teacher told me?”

I can’t even begin to guess.

“Apparently, Katie has eaten most of the class’ stash of erasers.”

Oh yeah, you read that correctly. Eaten. the. erasers.

I know she chews. She chews on everything: clothes (Amy will have no hand me downs since Katie makes holes in all of her shirts); fingers (yes, like me, she’s a fingernail chewer); buttons; hair; straws - need I go on.

“You’re kidding.” I say. And I mean it.

“Nope.” He goes on to tell me about his conversation with the teacher.

He then says, “I fear we’re going to have a smoker on our hands.” Yep, in the space of 5 minutes, we’ve elevated Katie to chain smoking status.

I say, “I don’t think so. I was really big about oral fixations - I chewed my fingers, ate too much, talked too much, chewed my hair. But I was never really a smoker - just an occasional cigarette in the bar. And besides, Katie has a pretty heightened sense of right and wrong, also like I did. I think she’s going to be one of those kids who doesn’t do anything really wrong.”

See, in the space of another few moments, I planned her whole future.

But Lawdaddy says, “Amy, there’s the one we have to worry about.”

Right. Cause that’s where we should be focusing our attention right now - Amy’s proclivity to be a sorority girl.

And I laugh out loud. And I laugh some more. Because it’s all so ridiculous.

And we go back to talking about our crazy eraser eating daughter. We decide to work out a strategy for dealing with it later. Lawdaddy suggests giving her a plate of erasers for dinner tonight so that she can see the nuttiness of it all. We also discuss a rewards system which we were leaning towards - as it turns out, Katie came home with a note, chart and stickers from her teacher as part of a plan.

And I just laugh some more as I hang up the phone.

But don’t panic! More seasonal temps are on the way. According to Farmers Almanac:

Despite a mild November, this winter will be colder and snowier than normal, with near or above-normal precipitation. The coldest temperatures will occur in mid-December, early January, and early February. The snowiest periods will be in early and mid-December, early January, early and late February, and early March.

You can check out the prediction for your region here.

I mean, I’m eating it. A lot. This is sooo not good for me. Which is why I was thrilled when a friend pointed me in this direction. Yep, that’s right. Operation Gratitude can send your uneaten, calorie and fat packed Halloween candy to our troops.

Isn’t that awesome? What are you waiting for? Get to bagging!

All items and letters can be shipped or delivered between September 8-December 5 and from April 15 to May 15 to:

Operation Gratitude/California Army National Guard
17330 Victory Boulevard
Van Nuys, California 91406
ATTN: Charlie Othold: 818.437.6201

And psst, my knitting friends, they can use scarves, too!