Reuse it Craft

So I went and visited with Eclectic BWM yesterday. I got to play with her absolutely beautiful baby and we discussed all things that Mommies talk about. I had a great time.

She is a "crafty" Mom, very handy with scissors, markers and glitter and watch out if she gets behind the sewing machine! She showed me how to make the cutest tutu for Cuddles (great for gifts for the future) and Buddy made his own stationary.  While we created we talked about reuse it crafts.

Basically a reuse it craft is where you recycle something you would otherwise toss into something new. Eclectic has a few great ideas she has found off the i/net and we both will be doing some research and perhaps a combined blog or two. I like to be crafty, I am just not very innovative or imaginative, Eclectic has that ability. I am excited and if nothing else we will have some more great ideas for future play dates!

If anyone else has any ideas please send them through.

For today, two lovely Mommies are coming with their kids for a visit. I am very excited as we don't get to catch up too often. Since we're at our house,  I have to go clean now and should probably run to the store for a mini shop, I'm out of coffee and milk (again!). 

Oh and please don't tell them I cleaned prior to their arrival, my house always looks like this thank you very much.

You're right, I wouldn't believe me either... 

Power of One is everywhere...

Just a quick note...on a blog I like reading. It amuses me to think people can actually get out from under the mess of life and stuff

This blog just today put out a post about the Power of One...a different perspective than mine but nonethless...it's everywhere...

It's the vibe. That's all I have to say about that.

Be more with less...the Power of One

A friend, bananas, PJ's, a party

Cuddles tells stories. All the time. She came home from Pre-School on Friday and informed me that her new friend's Dad needed clothes and shoes. She had promised we would take him some ? ? ? ?

Who is her friend? I asked her and she replied,

   "My friend Mama. My new red boy friend". Now, the red stands for the Red Room, he's a boy and she considered him her new friend. Got it. Why does he need clothes and shoes?

   "He was namied and needs things to keep warm." Tsunami, cold...someone is collecting items for Japan but what does this have to do with her new friend? It doesn't, Cuddles story weaving strikes again.

Trying to determine the truth within her story can get tricky at times. Last week ago she came home from Pre-school with this one.

  "Oh Mama. It was soooo bad. Miss Jen had a tirrible acheyhead. She was soooo sad and then she had a beer and felt much better." Whilst I am glad Miss Jen feels better after her acheyhead, am concerned about the beer thing. When I relayed the story to Miss Jen she look appropriately shocked as I asked if we needed to do a locker search. Neither Miss Jen or I know where she got the beer idea...Silver Fox and I hardly ever drink the stuff so it's odd.

Cuddles teachers are used to her stories by now. Apparently I took her to the store, last week ago, wearing my pajamas and with cream on my face; we have a puppy named Bert and a Rabbit that can fly; Cuddles has a sister cousin (her sister, Cousin Gigi) and an elephant in the shed. This Spring Break we were going to the beach so Miss Jen informed me, ooohhh, I said turning to Cuddles, Mexico or the Bahamas?

 "The Bananas of course Mummy!" Cuddles almost rolls her eyes, like where else would we go, duh.

 

Yesterday at the store I had a flashback as Cuddles invited the checkout lady to her party.

  "You should come to my party. It's at the end of April. We're having a circus and presents and cake. Wear your pajamas and bring your bunny. Everyone is coming even my sister Cousin Gigi and all my new friends."

   "What if you don't have a bunny?" Asked the checkout lady.

   "You can still come. You can borrow mine." The lady looked at me and said it sounded like a great party. It really does, as good as the ones Buddy used to invite everyone to when he was the same age!

This morning Cuddles is mad at me. She came downstairs wearing her PJ's with a pink, too small, cowboy hat, carrying her large stuffed horse and a handbag. She announced she was ready for school and we needed to hurry or she would be late.

 "Wotcha wearin'?" I asked her.

 "My clothes." She glares at me. Uh oh.

 "Honey, there is no school today, not until next week. It's Spring break, no school all week."

  "But I wanna go to school! Spring broked since last week ago! I have a hat!!!" 

So now, I'm packing for the Bananas, wearing my PJ's with cream on my face. The bunny keeps flying by getting in the way and the circus has left two messages about the party. All I can hear is the elephant in the shed and Cuddles complaining that spring has been broken long enough. Buddy keeps popping his head in and we exchange the looks of people trapped together in crazy town. I have an acheyhead and probably need a beer.

Until tomorrow.

Confessions of a Chunky Mommy

In my blog entry, Fat Tax I confessed my weight, my really truly actual weight. It was a defining moment.

Yesterday, I sat at a table full of Moms and told my story. I had gained over 90lbs with my first pregnancy and although I lost a lot, I didn't lose all of it. With my second pregnancy, I gain 60lbs and lost a bit but not as much. I was still carrying my pregnancy weight. It was refusing to budge. There were sympathetic nods until I announced that "my baby" was almost four.

I think the time may have come to do something about this.

Stating my real weight online was a defining moment because it's something I don't like to think about let alone talk about. When I look in the mirror or heaven forbid, see of view of myself from behind...I am shocked. Who is that person? In my head I am slim. In my head, I am physically 28. The reality is different, the reality is two kids and decade of not really looking after myself the way I should.

I want my body to endure. I want this body to last for a very long time. I want to be like the older ladies in my new running group...I want to be running into tomorrow, not doing the chunky shuffle.

So today is Sunday. A day of rest. Not for me! I rose early and made pancakes, eggs and fruit for the family. I just had the fruit. Excellent start. Got hungry again by 10.00am and made myself some scrambled egg whites. Got hungry again at 11.30am and made grilled cheese sammies with baby carrot sticks for kids and myself. 12.30pm we went to the gym. Had a great workout. Now I am a little sore but feel good that I did something. I am also starving, so am about to have a protein shake.

I get hungry and if I don't eat, I get angry. It's a bit like watching the Hulk...Silver Fox carries an emergency supply of crackers and nuts for these occasions.  It's a life preservation thing for him.

I have joined a "walk to run" group. I have signed up with Weight Watchers online and to help build my strength up, I am going to try pilates. I am doing as much of this as possible with friends, it helps when you have people around to push you, sympathise with you and to whom you are accountable.

I won't be blogging about weight loss or fitness much. I honestly think there is plenty of other information on losing weight, getting fit and so on, it gets boring. It's just another part of my sustainable journey - part of creating a state of well being so I'm just giving it a mention.

Hope you all had a lovely weekend. Enjoy what's left.

Spring

It is officially Spring.

In my garden,  tips of daffodils and tulips are pushing green up through the soil. Small clusters of purple and yellow crocuses are blooming, bright against the still grey and dreary landscape. The air smells of winter yet and I am waiting, not so patiently, for the scent of spring when the air changes and becomes softer and the light less cold.

One of the things I truly love about living here is the change of seasons. Watching the brown and dead, become green and alive is one of my favorite times of year. The first signs of a new season, delicate greens and deep purples, bright yellows of the flowers in my garden lift my spirits and fill me with energy, I want to get out there and feel the cool soil, clear the debris of winter to make way for the coming months.

Of course by May the burden of work my garden entails will be getting to me, but that is yet to come.

The first spring we lived here, we pulled out bushes and cleared the way for garden areas. In one small bed I planted tomatoes, peppers and basil. They went crazy and by mid summer I was harvesting tomatoes by the basket load. Pictures of that summer, show me proudly holding up bowls of bright red fruit, green peppers and bunches of greens. I remember feeling that I had accomplished something quite miraculous, no less so in fact than the little miracle contained within my rather large belly, also very evident in the photos.

That was a summer of wonder for me. I put the little seedlings in the ground and they did their thing. I didn't trim, fertilise or worry. There were no bugs, I watered maybe once a week and wow. Amazing. I had found my bliss.

The next spring, encouraged by my phenomenal (to me) success of the previous year I made and lined out three more beds and I planted more. Strawberries, tomatoes, peppers, 5 different herbs, onions and peas and three zucchini plants. Some of the beds remained empty, waiting for more money to start filling them with new plants.

The peas got to about 18" high, I picked four pods and they died. My tomatoes didn't flourish, their fruit had odd rings and some started to rot on the vines. The leaves fell off. I harvested about 10 peppers, all were tough and thin, my herbs went to seed before I harvested more than a few leaves. My onions did alright but they looked nothing like the ones in the supermarket. By the fall if I never saw another zucchini it would have been fine with me, I couldn't give them away and resorted to a form of ding dong ditch, fleeing as soon as I had rung the doorbell, leaving a stack of foot long zucchini behind me. The empty beds started to get taken over by weeds.

I decided I should probably read something about growing vegetables and gardening in general.

Over the ensuing years, which is not many I'll be honest, I have made mistakes and had my fair share of disasters. Fall sees me vowing (every year) to keep it it simple the following growing season. By Spring, my energy returns and the previous Fall is a distant memory. Right now, my vegetable bed is planned out, my seedlings are starting and I am awaiting my delivery of potatoes and sweet potatoes. I am excited.

Spring is a season of hope. It is a chance to start over leaving the dead of winter behind. New life, new growth, it is full of possibilities.

A child's grief

After pre-school today Cuddles disappeared upstairs to her room. After a while she came down with her "pacback", stuffed animals and what looked like a shirt sticking out of the top.

 "Hi Mom!" She said smiling happily, "I'll see you later. I'm going to heaven."

 "Oh," I said. "And what will you be doing in heaven?"

 "I'm going to visit Grandpa. He's lonely."

The other day, on the way home from school, Buddy let out one of his deep sighs.

 "I'm so sad Grandpa is dead." He said this in his sad voice.

 "I'm not sad." Cuddles chirped, "I'm going to visit him soon."

 "That's mean!" Buddy yelled at his sister, "You should be sad. It's very, very sad that Grandpa died. You're a bad girl!!!"

 "No, I'm not!" Cuddles yelled back, "I'm going to see him soon. I'm not sad." Cuddles then burst into tears and Buddy refused to talk to me.

The day after the funeral I insisted the children go back to school. Buddy was fine, went off happily enough, I think glad to be back to normal after a very strange few weeks. I was snack Mom on Cuddles day back and unusual for her, she wouldn't let me go. When she saw her beloved teacher Miss J she burst into tears. Miss J looked at me bewildered, where was her sunny little girl? I explained what had happened whilst Cuddles took off her coat. Cuddles was still crying. I took her hand and we went to the bathroom, washed her hands and face but she wouldn't go to her room, the crying turned to hysteria. I made the snack and then took her home. Cuddles couldn't explain why she was upset and was quiet and sensitive all day.

Buddy is having trouble going to sleep. He has always been a little afraid of the dark but now won't sleep without his light on and comes downstairs at the slightest noise. The dark circles under his eyes are evidence he is not sleeping properly. In the mornings he is angry and obstinate, in the afternoons tired and grumpy. I ask him how he feels and he shrugs and asks for candy.

Trying to prepare the children for what was happening but at the same time keeping from them the details was tricky. We gave them small bits of information, Grandpa is sick; Grandpa is sick and in hospital; Grandpa is very, very sick and may not get better; Grandpa is not going to get better and then, Grandpa has died. When I broke the news neither child reacted terribly much although Buddy did ask how his Daddy was.

The day after Grey Beard had gone. I told the kids it was ok to be sad, it was also ok not to feel sad. Everybody feels different. Grandpa had been sick and now he wasn't alive anymore. We were sad about that but it was ok if they didn't know how they felt. They should come and talk to us if they were worried.

Buddy talks about it sometimes. Mainly at night. He is prone to tears then, sobbing that he is sad and "grey". Everything is dark and unhappy. We listen and talk about things he and his Grandpa did together. Things they enjoyed doing, how Grandpa made them "Black Cows" and gave them treats but was naughty and wouldn't tell Mommy. That makes Buddy laugh every time and he tells me about Grandpa's secret candy stash in his room. No wonder the kids loved hanging out in Grandpa's room!

Sometimes their grief is real and deep. At other times it is as though they feel this is how they should act or this is what they are supposed to say. It doesn't feel genuine. For Cuddles, Grey Beard's death is not yet permanent, not an end. She feels she can see him soon, Buddy understands its permanence but still hopes for a miracle. There have been odd mood swings, trouble sleeping, new fears and bad dreams, clinginess and tantrums. All of it seems to be their way of processing, accepting and understanding the first major loss in their lives, that someone they love is gone.

RIP Grey Beard.

I got the blues, the Monday, Monday blues

I don't like Monday's...never have really. At least not from the time when I knew what a Monday was.

Today started like any other at 4.15am with Silver Fox getting up for work. What was unusual was the fact that I was awake. Now he knows better, but Silver Fox actually talked to me. He asked if he could take my car to work as his wouldn't start. You never, ever talk to me about anything important before I have had my coffee. The lights may be on but I promise you, no-one is home until that caffeine hits my system. So, I said yes. I think.

Whatever I said, the result was I finally rolled out of bed two hours later, got dressed, got the kids up and got them dressed. Struggled downstairs and put on the coffee. All the while feeling that something was vaguely wrong but not quite knowing what it was. Whilst the kids ate breakfast, I packed Buddy's lunch for school and started to drink my first cup of coffee. I had finished making the lunch and was frowning at the lunch bag...lunch...school, Buddy...

No car. No car, Buddy, lunch school. Oh shoot. No car to get Buddy to school, I vaguely remembered telling Silver Fox I could always catch a bus...what was wrong with me? Was I insane??? I haven't caught a bus round here in years and cash, don't you need cash? Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Pretty sure I wasn't actually saying shoot. It was now 7.15am, I had an hour to get Buddy the 2 1/2 miles to school. Could we walk it? Without Cuddles we could but she would slow us down...we could ditch the kid and Bud and I could make it on our own. Problem is there's some sort of law about leaving 3 year olds to fend for themselves...

I got out the school phone list, running down the names I noticed every single one of the other parents lived in the opposite direction to us meaning they would have to drive out of their way to pick Buddy up. I felt bad about asking them to do that. Buddy is close with a couple of the kids but we parents are not a very social bunch at least, those of us who do not attend the church are not.

I was onto my second cup of coffee - when it hit me - Ruby! Our neighbor who is an angel sent from heaven in times like these. No reason to feel too guilty because once again I needed her help. Last year I had finally been able to help her out by dropping off and picking up her son from school for almost a week, while that did not even out the helping stakes, it lessened my guilt a little...yay!

Out the door I flew, and thankfully Ruby was able and more than willing to lend a hand. OK problem number one sorted.

Problem number two, we were out of milk. This was very odd because I was sure I had purchased some yesterday when I did my shop. Coffee is not drinkable without milk, at least not the coffee I make. Cuddles and I set off to walk up to the gas station. Things were going well until...

   "Wow you are growing that baby so well Mommy". Says Cuddles smiling up at me.

   "Honey, Mommy's not growing a baby right now." I smile back.

   "Sure you are," she says reaching up and thumping my belly, " Look how big your tummy is."

I couldn't help it, I started to make excuses. Long, cold winter, not enough exercise and something about cheese and retaining fluid. Cuddles skipped along.

   "If its not a baby then maybe you're just fat." Truer words were never spoken, but not good mood enhancers.

I'm not proud of it but there was a little bit of revenge in my heart when I purchased skim milk rather than the 2% favoured by the kids. So I was fat was I? Then we were all going fat free. Take that you cheeky little...honest kid.

So there I was, Cuddles at pre-school, Buddy at school and I had errands to run but no car to do them with. I was fat and I was stuck drinking horrid skim milk in my coffee.

I went for a walk. I don't like Mondays.

Later, Silver Fox picked up Buddy from school and returned home. In his hands he carried a gallon of milk. I was very impressed, he had noticed we were out of milk and picked some up on the way home, what a wonderful husband. Nope,  this was the missing milk Silver Fox had found it in the trunk of my car after he got to work.

As I poured the wasted milk down the drain I was thankful that I wasn't going crazy. The week can only get better from here, thank heavens for Tuesdays.

Partners in Paradise

Just watched America's Funniest Home Videos, think it was an old one but no matter. They had a series of video footage  of Dads' changing their babies diapers. One after the other they gagged, wore pegs on their noses, dressed in full space suit protective gear and basically made a big deal out of the whole poopy diaper situation.

A poopy diaper, even for your own kid is not a pleasant experience. However, the gagging was pretty ridiculous and I have the slightest suspicion that much of this was done for display...perhaps to gain a winning entry on the show but I am thinking it may have more to do with something else...

For some reason many men seem to think that feigning incompetence - "accidentally"  mixing colours and whites in the wash and turning your new towels pink or taking 45 minutes to change one poopy diaper with much posturing - will get them out of completing these less than desirable chores.  And guess what? We; annoyed, frustrated, tired and sick of pink towels say oh never mind, I'll just do it myself. 

I have read in countless articles and magazines that women, even when they also work outside the home, do a proportionally bigger share of the household chores like cleaning, washing, shopping and cooking than do their partners. Apparently we like things done a certain way. Then we complain that our partners don't help and when we tell them, they throw back that we don't like the way they do it and then we say, but if they would just do it the right way...

You know the discussion I am talking about...as old as Adam and Eve that one.

On the flip side, there's the other part to this story. There are many chores around the house I don't mind doing and some I really hate. Not a fan of taking out the garbage, I tend to leave it until its "too heavy" for me or smells too much (Silver Fox's nose is more sensitive than mine). I rarely check the oil, claiming I am not sure where the dipstick is (of course I know where it is, I just don't want to do it). Same goes for tire pressure, cleaning spark plugs and oh, anything associated with the car. I can do all of it of course, can even change a tire but I don't want to...hence feigned incompetence.

When we first had children I know I was a pain in the neck. Poor Silver Fox was constantly being accused of "not doing enough" to help out as I struggled with the new baby but when the poor darling tried to do something he often did it "wrong" and found me huffing around behind him, "redoing" his work.

Before you feel too sorry for him, he would do the same thing to me all the time when working on our house projects. On one occasion he came home and found I had primed out our new red bathroom, apparently I had done a "bad" job of it because he got out the red tinted primer and did it again. Sadly for him, his work didn't look all that much better than mine.

Six years on we are both older, wiser and much more relaxed. Nowadays we still have our feigned incompetence's but we know the truth and are OK with maintaining the fiction. I  know I can count on him to pitch in when I need it (sometimes I don't even have to ask) and no, it won't be done my way, it will be done his way but it will be done and I will be happy. 

Silver Fox,  will handle the car stuff, the outdoor messy stuff, hang the rods and the  pictures but sometimes, so do I. He no longer criticizes my not quite so straight curtain rod method or the one where the screws aren't all the way into wall. He is just glad there is one less thing on his seemingly never ending honey-do list.

We are a team in all our tasks, sometimes we just allow the other a "break" for a while. Whether gagging over a diaper or  taking the trash out, we are  partners...ah yes, partners in paradise.

Fat Tax

Uh oh. What she say?  Fat Tax. Or, if you prefer Tax Fat, same thing. Per pound perhaps?

It's just that I've been thinking...this is dangerous on its own but when I start thinking about how to solve problems, that is when it starts getting scary. At that point I start talking about my thoughts with other people. So thinks becomes thoughts, and then others join in and suddenly...Fat Tax.

I should probably explain before the P.C. Brigade come out and tell me not to persecute the fat people. I promise you I'm not, heck I'm one of them, officially overweight bordering on obese. Yep. Me. It's true, I tip the scales at a wonderfully voluptuous 179.5 lbs as of 5 minutes ago. Confessions of a Chunky Momma will be in a later post but for now, lets focus on this tax thing...

So here's the idea, the government taxes high fructose corn syrup. Now lets think about this. A tax is placed on high fructose corn syrup and then all products containing this alarming fat building, diabetes creating substance will cost more at the supermarket. Which means sales of these products will go down which means companies, to sell their products will have to replace it with something less insidious and damaging. You with me?

So the government increases their revenue (at least temporarily), less unhealthy products will be sold as lets face it, don't we all need to stretch our food dollars as far as they will go ? So eventually more products will be healthier which means the number of people like myself might drop in number...which means America and other nations like us may start to get a little slimmer and maybe shows like Biggest Loser will be a thing of the past.

Doesn't this seem like a win all round solution here? Despite the best efforts (hahahahahahaha) of countless administrations, government revenue is far exceeded by spending, resulting in lots and lots of money just to pay our interest bill. A new revenue stream may help...just saying...

America ranks as one of (if not the) unhealthiest nations in the world, surely a few more restrictions on hidden fat makers in our foods isn't such a bad idea? Making it more expensive than say, organic products might be a good place to start...

Think of the knock on benefits, fewer Type Two diabetes cases, less money spent on medical care for weight related health issues like cardiovascular disease and strokes...this tax idea rocks.

We could do a lot with this, an added tax on all Fast Food where calorie counts are higher than 350 per item...or 500 per meal...hey, I'm not going to stop eating pizza or my favorite burger but I may eat 'em a little less if they're more expensive.

So there we have it folks...for shock value, a Fat Tax...may it make us a healthier, wealthier nation.

Buddy's job

Out of nowhere Buddy suddenly turned to me,

   "Do you know why I'm here?" He asked.

   "We're getting a video and then doing some shopping Bud." I replied, hoping we were not about to embark on the age old question of our purpose on this planet.

  "I know that. I mean my job. What I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to save the world." Ahhh.

   "If anyone can do that it's you honey." I said, smiling down at him as we walked. He stopped and pulled on my hand.

  "I'm sirius Mommy. It's my job to save everyone, to save you. I have to keep everyone safe." That's a huge burden for a little boy I thought. I crouched down so I could look him in the eyes, he was indeed very sirius.

   "Why do you need to save the world honey?"

   "There's terrible things and bad men out there." He shook his head sadly and then reassuringly touched my cheek, "But don't worry, I'm here and I'll look after you."

   "Buddy, can I tell you something? Your Daddy and I are the grownups. It's our job to look after you and your sister and I promise, there is nothing so bad or terrible that we can't handle. You are always safe with us, its our job to look after you ok? It's your job to be a kid." He gave me a look, part pitying, part annoyed.

   "I know that. I am a kid. But this is portant, its my job."

Buddy has a very strong sirius streak. He is a goofball, loves a good fart joke and gets a kick out of making other people laugh but he takes certain things very, very seriously.

The last few months have seen Buddy's world go through a period of instability and he no doubt feels a bit insecure because of this. Kids often blame themselves or at least take responsibility for being able to "fix" things. I think it gives him a feeling of control where he has none at all. For Buddy, being able to save everyone, protect his family, his job, is his way of making everything ok again.

Buddy has, since he was very little and like many little boys, wanted to be a Fireman or Policeman, or an Armyman. All jobs where saving people, fighting for "good" is involved. He  loves superheroes like Batman and the good Transformers like Optimus Prime. We are getting close to Easter and at school Buddy has been learning about Jesus and how he died for our sins. That Jesus was sent by his Father to save us.

All of these seem to have come together in his mind. Buddy, a hero of biblical proportions, here to save the world. It's his job.

It bothers me a lot that Buddy feels it's his job to look after us rather than the other way around. It concerns me that we didn't shield him enough from what was happening around him. Buddy is not stupid though and he is pretty sensitive, most kids know when things aren't right.

We tried to keep things normal, keep the routine going but it wasn't the same. The last couple of weeks we have been working hard to create stability again. Silver Fox to work, me at home. Shopping, cleaning up rooms, friends, the gym, homework and reading time. Being together.

We haven't dismissed his belief in his job. He obviously takes it very seriously and  he needs to have control over something so we are trying to focus his desire to fix things in a slightly different direction, instead of "saving the world" we're just trying to make the world a better place. Being a hero is about doing your best, no matter what the circumstances.

In the end, I don't want Buddy to feel as though he has to protect us, or that he has to save the world but I do love the fact he feels as though he can. His confidence that he can do anything, fix anything is amazing. If more of us had that feeling, that confidence, maybe we really could save the world.

Physics and Fungus

When we put Buddy to bed we talk about his day. Last night he told me he didn't want to go to school anymore. I was concerned, he loves school. What had occurred?

  "Why honey? What's up?" I asked him. Buddy put his hand on my cheek and looked earnestly into my eyes.

  "I don't learn anything except letters and God. It's boring."

  "Well you also learn how to read and you are learning your numbers and about Native Americans and.."

  "And presidents but its not fun."

  "Well what do you want to learn about Buddy?" His eyes light up.

  "Physics and science would be good." Since when do 6 year olds know about physics I wondered...

  "What sort of science honey?"

  "I want to learn about fungus." Uh huh. Fungus. Not the first thing that springs to mind.

We had a discussion about fungus. Personally I think he just likes saying the word and he especially liked the fact that I enjoy  a little fungus on my pizza, namely mushrooms. I'm pretty sure a room full of 6 year olds are now squealing with delighted horror about the fact that Buddy's Mom eats fungus and likes it.

Kids are weird.

I don't know where Buddy picks this stuff up from but I can assure you I am never sure what he is going to come up with next. Lately we have had discussions about the human immune system and white blood cells, aerodynamos (aerodynamics) demonstrated with paper planes, seeds and plants, the human brain and how we think  and what I consider more typical for his age group; dinosaurs, omnivores and baseball.

When he was younger and was plying me with questions I would often end up a little frustrated,

  "I really don't know how to answer you Buddy, perhaps we can look it up?"

  "Sigh...I'm just curious Mommy. I'm a curious kid."

Keeping pace with a curious kid is hard work. He is not the only one at school, learning new information. Trying to figure out how to answer his questions, in a way he can understand takes a heck of a lot of learning on my part too. I'm a smart girl but this often has me struggling. 

Don't get me wrong, I love that he is so curious. I enjoy every moment of this but admit I cannot for the life of me figure out how his mind works. I have some concerns too, if he is already bored at school at 6 and in Kindergarten how do we keep him challenged and interested in school next year? If I am struggling to keep up with him now, what about later?

I remember Kindergarten quite well, I loved making pictures with macaroni, glue and glitter, I adored recess, lunchtime, show and tell, arts and crafts but wasn't fond of numbers. I could read and loved that. Physics and aerodynamos never entered my head. Nor, surprisingly enough, did fungus.