Not yet.

It has begun.

Kindergarten Registration and testing at all of the schools.

Discussions about how to sit properly, line up properly and slowly.... ever so slowly snipping the ties that bind all of my children to me.

It is like an art. It is subtle and sad and sweet. All rolled into one.


It has already started. The parents mentioning to me that their children are sad to leave me. That maybe I could talk UP Kindergarten.

I don't want too. I want to stomp my foot and keep all my children for forever. I want to always have Masons Morehawks to look at, and Hannahs sweet smile, the way she crinkles her nose.

I want to slide my fingers over Jaydens hair every single morning and point out fat bits for Brooky to gobble up.

But I cant.

I do not simply teach the ABC's in my class. That's the easy part.

The MOST  important part of my job, is taking a child, who is nervous and scared and giving them strength.
Making a child SEE what is beautiful about themselves.
Teaching a child who is jaded and far too wise,  how to see magic in everything.

The first month in my class I do not introduce a single letter. THIS is what I call the bonding month.
We sing and we dance. I show them the BEST way to make fart noises with their mouths and I read them stories with both imagination and verve.

It is in this month that I gain both trust and love from them.
Now, it may sound strange or odd, but it is all for one purpose...it is because I believe that a child will learn more from someone that they love and who will also love them back.

And here is my quandary.
Each year my tiny babies will grow and learn and.... leave.

And that is good. But because I truly DO love them so, it breaks my heart.

We were sitting at circle time the other day, discussing Kindergarten and all that it would entail, when Mason proclaimed that he would never, EVER, leave me.

"Mace, you are going to go too." I crossed my fingers and sat on them so he would not see. "You will have so much fun and meet a new teacher who can read stories even better then I do."

(Which, is a lie. I mean have you EVER heard me read a story? Yeah...it's pretty much awesome.)

"No." He said. His face serious and his eyes wide. "I am not going too."

I sighed because he had buried his entire head into my crotch. and made a HURUMPH. sound which means, the conversation was over....for now.

From behind me (and to the left) Brooklynn piped up "Well I'm not leaving Mrs. Beanie either because I eat her farts." which, you know...is true but just pissed Mason off more because "NOOOOOOOOOO!" was echoed from my crotch.

I leaned back and smooshed Brooklynn against the wall, which made her laugh and we continued questions about Kindergarten.

Last Year it was Covin who refused to let go. And now he is fine.

I still see him every single day, I still demand a squish and a kiss (even though he hates it now)
And Corbin, just told me last week that even if he is grown and old, that he will "always, always love me. No matter what Mr.Juan says."

 I know that all of my babies will move forward and thrive, and I hope that whether it is confidence, intelligence or magic, that SOMETHING that I have taught, will always remain inside of them.

While Juan and I make Graduation plans for 2013, I have to blink back tears and gulp down sadness. Because I know this is necessary. I know this means that I have done my job well. I am just not ready to say goodbye.

Not Yet.

Gaydar and revirginization.

"DO I look like a lesbian?" I ask Brandee

"No...But do I?" she answers.

"Hmmm no. No you do not."

She nods her head.

I do not mind people thinking that I am a lesbian, I mean really, I could be called something a lot worse...like....a bad accesorizer. Or...ugly.

I am a huge Gay rights supporter. My cars all have an equality sticker on them. Brandee says that I am a better GLBT supporter then her and Mandy. And I HAVE been gay bashed before. Ask Brandee... it was awkward.

I take my children to our local Gay Pride days, and while we munch on homemade sandwiches we watch people dance and murmer praise over the hotpink hair that the man/woman is wearing. I take pride in the fact that my children view every kind of human being as a beautiful and unique one.

But...

I love penises.

I do not love Vag.

I do not want to smell it, lick it or even poke it with a toe.

I love Penises. I love the way they look and the way they feel. I love talking to them, singing INTO them and trying (my very) best to avert my eyes from them.

If you know me then you know that.

If you know me well then you know my quest of revirginization.

.....Maybe revirginization is the wrong word. I do not in any way wish for my hymen to magically reappear.

I do not wish to redo that awkward first time, where I was bored to death, popping my gum in time to the music that was playing on the stereo.

When I say that I am revirginizing, I mean that I have no plans in my immediate future to pursue any kind of relationship with the opposite sex. Sexual (yum) or otherwise.
I cannot conceive of a moment of time, in my day that I could or would give to another human being.

Now. Several friends HAVE urged me to pursue the booty call aspect. There is nothing wrong with a nice, healthy hump. But honestly, I feel that I really shouldn't just give my vagina away. I just shouldn't.

My vagina is amazing and should be treated as such.

Maybe it is because I am old....who knows.

Neither am I waiting for the perfect man. Men are not perfect. They smell bad sometimes and they almost always fart when they pee. They keep you waiting and turn everything you say into something sexual. Which is why, although men are not perfect, they are wicked funny.

(Okay. I sort of think men are amazing.)

Needless to say, this is what I mean when I say that I am revirginizing.

It means that I am not seeking out a hump-mate a soul-mate or a lesbian mate.

And although I do not MIND being considered or thought of as a labia licker. I am not.

Connect.

I hope to sweet baby Jesus above, beside or beneath you that All of the people in my life that I love...KNOW that I do.

I wake up at 5:00 in the morning, (earlier if Karma farts in my face) simply so that I have enough time in the day to get things done, Even if the things needed to get done, is coffee/quiet/blogging time.

If I wake up 30 minutes before 5. I do not go back to sleep, instead, I thrill at the 30 minutes of EXTRA time that my sleep pattern, or lack of it, has created for me.

Here is the part where I explore the guilt that I have when I slide my ringing phone to silent. The WHOLE time I murmmer to my phone "I'm so sorry, I promise...I promise I will call you after I get home, feed the children, spend time with them and eat.... and maybe poop."
Ask Brandee, she is usually sitting right next to me.

I can ALWAYS hear an irritated tone in my sisters voice. "I WAS TRYING to get a hold of you!" She grumps

"I know....Im sorry." I say

Saying I'm busy is relative, because I feel like everyone is. But the truth is, I multitask at most everything. I think about my day and figure out how I can stuff the most STUFF into it.

Plus. I love my friends. I enjoy their conversations. I want to brew a hot pot of coffee and sit Indian style on my bed while I giggle with them, or recite the newest song that Juan is teaching my children that day about me.


November 18th:  10:17 pm  (Three hour time difference)

Me: Miss you, love you! I know you are probably asleep.

MeLinda: Miss you ... Love you too! How are ya?

Me: Eating, call you in 20?

MeLinda: Can't! Call you later in the week!

December 4th 7:21am

MeLinda: You able to talk in a few?

(I was not able)

January 7th

Me: I tried to call. Love you MUAHZ!

MeLinda: Sorry, everyone in the worlds asleep in every room and it's fucking cold outside.
 text messages continue....

January 9th 5:18am
MeLinda: Call me if you have time this morning.

(I did not have time)

January 9th 9:51pm
U up?

(I was not up)

January 11th 7:25pm

MeLinda: Hey, can ya talk in 30 min?

Me: Perfect!

MeLinda: Woot! Ganna plug my phone in now!

30 minutes later....

"Men fucking stink. Like...it comes out of their pores."

"They do. But sometimes they smell good too...mmmmmm"

"Oh GOD Laurie. Brad stinks.Their balls stink, their feet stink...sometimes their hair...."

"Men are gross." I say this... but when you say men, I think penis. When I think penis, I think....
de-licious-ness.

"I am revirginizing myself." I declare.

"Goodluck with THAT!" She laughs..then she snorts. ( I know she is snorting at me)  "Brad wants sex all THE fucking time. It is ridiculous....I need a break."

Now I snort.

We talk for an hour. About our children who are like siblings. About work and worries and in the end we talk about the person who brought our friendship to fruitation. My Ex-Husband...her Ex-Boyfriend.

"You know...you think you could have shot me an email? Ya know...like hey, Maybe this isn't a good idea. Ya know. You could have filled me  in on a few things."

"Hell NO. I needed you to come and make him happy...You weren't, however, supposed to leave."

"Fuck you."

"You COULD have just sucked it up....Hey! Just think what you got out of the situation!"

" That is true. I did get you."

"Yep. We got each other....Do you ever think, that we are the reason that everything happened like it did? Did you ever think that? I mean...look who is still here. You and me..."

"Yep. And the kids."

"Weird right? You should come back. Just suck it up, and fucking deal with it for me."

"Fuck you."

So thank you to my friends and family that don't give up. That keep calling, text me random I love you's and connect with me in every way possible.

Weed-eat me.

Yesterday while standing in Wal mart, I surveyed the 35 different weed eaters to choose from.

At first, I calmly read through the titles. And I separated Gas from Electric.

Okay.

Easy Enough.

I smiled and moved in closer.

20Volts, 3.6 AMP,13 inch 4AMP string

17 22cc 2 cycle gas

curved shafts....(that just made me think of penises.)

Straight shafts ...Okay anything with the word shafts in it makes me think of penises, I cannot lie.

There were ones with attachments and ones with tanks.

There were orange ones and green ones....there were no pink ones.

I growled because I all of a sudden hated weed eaters. I stomped my foot because I wanted to kick one of them.

I pulled out my phone. I needed a boy.

My first instinct was to call my ex-husband, but I think that the time allowed for that is expired. It has been 5 years since our divorce, and plus I knew he would not be awake at 8 am

I then called Jesse...who is Dawns boy and so by proxy he is mine.
He did not answer.
 I stuck my tongue at his face on my phone and ended the call.

I texted Brandee, who could ask Mandy. But they were asleep.

I called Stephen Francis who MIGHT be helpful, but he did not answer either.

I sighed and looked down at my phone. I need to get more handy friends who are boys.

I texted Juan, but alas...nothing. He was probably running, chasing his wife with a hairy carrot or plotting revenge against me.

One of those.

I sighed and looked up. and up and up...The boxes blurred together. There was a little Asian man walking in front of the boxes. "Which one of these are you buying and why?" I asked him.

"I was waiting until you took one."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know."

"Dammit"

The  Wal-Mart Lady stared at me from behind the checkout. "Do you know?" She shook her head at shrugged her shoulders.

 I hated her right then.

I wanted to just buy the most expensive one, because that means it is the best right? I reached forward to grab it.

 "Do you need help?" a man asked from the left of me.

"YAY!" I exclaimed and turned to face him. "Could you tell that I needed help from across the store?"

"Well. You look like my wife does when she stands in front of anything like this. And I heard you on your phone muttering about Pequino douchebag nerdy lesbians."

"Nono. Those are my friends! I was calling for help....

Pequino, Douche, Nerdy and....anyways...

I'm not a good friend I think."

He laughed and I felt like I was standing on top of a mountain, that this man was swathed in robes and his head was shaved. "Which should I buy oh wise one."

"Okay. Which do you prefer Gas or electric."

"I dunno." I shrugged

"Are you going to want to go get gas in a gas tank and mix it with oil?"

"Ew."

"So electric." He moved over to a selection. "Do you prefer curved or straight?"

I bit my lip.

I bit my lip because I was swallowing inappropriate words.

I bit my lip because I wanted to say "Curved and to the left" But I didn't...I DIDN'T.

"I don't know...what do you have. Curved or straight?"

He laughed. I gasped.

He opened his mouth to answer.

And then he bit his lip.

I blurted out..."I just want one that will eat my weeds. I want one that is easy to operate and that is not too hard to put together."

"Okay."

"And I want it to eat it like it means it too. No pansy weed eater."

He pulled out a box and handed it to me. "This one will do ya"

"YAY! You are a gentleman and a scholar." and I plopped the box under my arm.

.......

When I got home I handed the box off to Shane. "Here boy. Put this together so that I can go forth and eat weeds."

"Okay. Get me a screwdriver."

"Oh fuck." I whispered...or shouted....

He laughed.

"Do you NEED one?"

"Yes mom. It is kind of hard to put this thing on without it."

"But is that thing really necessary? "

My son stared at me, and if his stare could talk it would have said "You are a dumbass. But you are cute."

I know that I am 35 years old. But I will tell you that I MAY have melted to the ground in slow motion. I also MAY have thrown a fit, which included screaming and flailing.

My son MAY have ignored me until I was done and then in a bored voice said "We still need a screwdiver."

I found one, but it was the wrong one. I cursed.

I snorted.

I tried a butter knife, some scissors and a credit card.

I dug in every drawer in my house.

I found some candles that look like sandles, extra batteries and three pairs of rainbow earrings.

And then I found one.

I chortled with glee. Screwed the fucking screw in and went outside.  started the weedeater and my neighbor stopped me by waving. "Are you sure that you want to weed eat in a skirt and a tank top Laurie?"

I looked down at my hot pink tanktop and lowered my sunglasses back down. "I know that I have to do boy things, LIZ, but I can at least look cute doing them."

And I started my machine, and ate me some fucking weeds.

Home.

We're not supposed to be prideful I think,
But it is incredibly hard not to be, when your son is as amazing as mine is.

When I was his age, I had him and who really knows what kind of a parent you will be. You can say whatever you like BEFORE you are a parent, but the fact is,,,shit changes. All of a sudden you are responsible for the care and character of another human being.

I was born, was raised and lived in a chaotic life. It was crazy. People fought always, I do not remember people laughing, unless it was at anothers expense and the only time that I relaxed was when my nose was shoved inside of a book.

After Shane slipped from my body, I knew only that I had ONE sure thing in life, and that was him.
I remember sitting on my grandmothers tweed couch breastfeeding him. My finger smoothed over his cheek, so slowly. My body was tired, my hair was unwashed and as he stared into my eyes with complete love and unbridled trust I whispered "I don't know what I am doing. I don't know what I am going to do. But I promise that I will always love you."

He fell asleep right then. And I took that as a sign of agreement.

I wanted to give him everything wonderful in life. And for me that started with our home. As a child, I never felt safe in mine. It was never the place that I wanted to be. It was never fun. There was no music, nobody danced and at night when I fell asleep, I couldn't wait to wake up one day older...one day closer to making my own home.

Our first home was a studio of sorts. It was there that Shane learned to walk in his sturdy white walking shoes. It was also the first time that he fell down, and whispered "God dammit!"

I was so happy that our TV tuned into sesame street, because we couldn't afford cable.

There we planted our first garden and took walks to the park. When fall came I walked him around our neighborhood and pointed out the first signs of autumn. Collecting leaves along the way.

Our second home was in Sacramento. It was an apartment and Shane had his own room. He would line up all of his hot wheel cars and we would play them for hours.

This is the home where I looked at him in his eyes and said "Is mommy a cow?"
"No. You're my mommy."
"Then I'm done breastfeeding you. No more NighNigh okay?I'm sorry but you are practically driving."
"Okay momma"
He was 2, and that was that.


That is where he discovered his love of Nintendo. We would smooth out a blanket on the floor and he would sit there most of the day watching me play Mario 64 until one day while I pee'd he picked up the controller and made Mario Jump.

For the next day and a half I sat next to him and showed him how to use the controller.
He was 2 years and 5 months old, and that was that.

Our next home was another apartment. This is where he dressed up as a teletubbie for Halloween. We had many neighborhood water balloon fights and BBQ's.

When we moved back to Modesto we moved here. Only in the back house. It was insanely small and at the time I demanded from my then husband "I will ONLY stay here a year. That's it."

We ended up living in the back house for 3 years until we had this one built. It had a huge expanse of yard, and has seen an insane amount of food fights, ridiculous kids birthday parties (Wizard of oz complete with a witch on top of the house...I mean comeon.)

In this home Shane started kindergarten

We've lived in this house for 11 years.
Shane has started Kindergarten and will end high school with the same address.
I know that I have made many MANY mistakes in his life (so far) But I am so proud of the man that he has become.

I feel like we are standing on the edge of amazing. There are so many moments in his life yet to come. Both happy ones and some filled with grief. I hope he knows that no matter where he is and where I am in this life (and the next) He is and always will be my home.