The Birds & The Bees Goes 21st Century

The following conversation took place via text message:

Me: Do you know what a blow job is?

Lizzie: No. What is it?

Me: Well...it's when a girl kisses a boy's penis*

Lizzie: That sounds like oral sex.

Me: What do you know about oral sex?

Lizzie: Only that it involves mouth to penis interaction.

Me: It also involves mouth to vagina interaction. And you can get STDs from it.

Lizzie: Ew! Like AIDS or Scabies?

Me: Yes, like AIDS. Also, Gonorrhea, Syphilis, and Herpes.

Lizzie: I cannot imagine anyone at my school doing it.

Me: Well...some kids are doing it. And some boys might ask you or your friends to do it so now you know what it is.

Lizzie: Gross! I'm not doing that. I don't want scabies.



*Madhubby thinks I should have gone into more detail here but I think saying "kissing" was good enough to give her a visual.

Girl Talk

Lizzie: Mom ... I have a crush.

Me: (thinking hard about what to say) Oh ... that's great. Is he a nice boy?

Lizzie: Yes, his name is Ryan ____. I sat next to him last year in math class.

Me: So, he's smart?

Lizzie: Yes ... well, I think so. He's in my [advanced] math and [advanced] literature classes.

Me: That probably means he's smart.

Lizzie: Yeah...

Ack! The crush phase has officially begun and - wow - she actually felt comfortable enough to talk to me about it! I must not suck as much as I think at this parenting stuff.

But, gawd, the heartbroken because Ryan was a dickhead or the why do boys act like that? phases are sure to follow and, internet, I have NO idea how I am going to handle those stages of teenage girlhood.

The First Concert

My mother used to wake me for school by blasting Tracy Chapman on the turntable. I hated it and I swore that when I was older that I wouldn't make my kids listen to sucky music.

I now own every single Tracy Chapman cd and I blast her music in the car while singing - really loudly and really off-key. My girls are not at all embarrassed by my wild dancing or by my terrible singing. They often join in and we laugh and have a grand old time and scare motorists who might happen to glance our way.

In general, Lizzie and like the same music. Well, except for Jonas Brothers. She thinks "they totally rock." I think they totally suck.

Since we do share musical tastes, I'm excited to take her to her first concert but I've yet to suss out the details. I wanted to take her to Jack Johnson at Red Rocks but he's sold-out. Of course. The Mile High Music Festival is out because it's being held in Commerce City and Commerce City sucks. I am not going there. I don't care how many fancy-pants soccer stadiums they stick in CC - It will always suck. Chris Isaak would have been great. Sold-out.

Do you see the issue here? I'm searching for reasonably priced, family friendly music, but I keep striking out. An outdoor venue is preferred, with Red Rocks at the top of the list, but I may not find that one perfect family concert with this summer rapidly coming to a close.

If it doesn't happen this year, then there is always next year. But by then our tastes may be different or, worse, Lizzie might think her old mom's loud singing and awkward dancing really isn't all that cool.

Biker Girl

Lizzie is now biking home from the library alone. The library is a mile from our house, down a meandering path, through a lovely greenbelt and several parks where families spend their days. It takes eight to ten minutes to bike there. But still, this is a big deal because LIZZIE is BIKING. Two years ago Lizzie didn't even know how to bike and now she's all I can do it. I like to go at my own pace, anyway.

Biking alone is also significant because I am a mama duck who freaks out when my kids wander too far away from me. I also lose it when I can't see a kid because he (or she) is hidden behind the other parent (this happens A LOT). But, she's twelve now. Kids her age - heck, her friends her age - have been hopping buses and hitting Pearl Street on their own for awhile.

It is tough letting go. To assuage my inner neurotic, Lizzie must call before she leaves for home and then she has fifteen minutes from that phone call to get home. She has her cell phone with her at all times, too. She usually makes it home in about twelve nail-biting, anxiety-ridden minutes. She goes it alone. She goes her own pace. And I'm okay with that.

Upgraded from Retarded Turtle to Swimmer

Praise Jesus, Lizzie, The Retarded Turtle can swim! She wasn't retarded at all, just slow. Now that she's gotten the hang of this swimming thing, she can go for awhile in an awkward, almost straight direction. Not only can she stay in her own lane most of the time, but she can also tread water for SEVEN MINUTES, which is a family record. Of all the women in my huge extended family, only my mother and I can swim but neither of us can tread water, which pretty much eliminates any open water swimming. I chalk it up to "heavy bones," but it's probably something more common like sheer laziness.

Tanka for Twelve

Now my girl is twelve
An amazing young lady
Sensitive, kind, smart

More girly than her sister
But always true to herself

New Year. Same Plan.

Last year, I grappled with whether to enroll Lizzie in an advanced math class despite her and my own misgivings about it. Neither of us were sure of the workload and whether it would be manageable or a living hell of theorems and proofs. It wasn't quite so bad. The first two quarters she got B-pluses. But in the third quarter her grade dipped slightly to a B and she finished the fourth quarter with a C+.

Now, a C+ is not a stellar grade for a 6th grade math class but Lizzie's class is not your typical 6th grade math class. A little perspective: the work Lizzie and her peers were doing at the end of the school year was high level trigonometry. I didn't even take trigonometry until the 11th grade. And I got a D.* Naturally, I'm okay with a C+.

But now, that wee, small voice in the back of my brain is back. The one that says Don't push her too far or too fast. So next year, 7th grade year, we'll once again take math one small step at a time. If Advanced Algebra proves too much for her twelve-year-old brain, then we'll throttle back a notch. I keep telling myself It is only middle school but - geez - it sure is a lot harder than I remember.



*Thank gawd Madhubby knows his math because I gave up on it after Algebra II.

Dread

noun: 

1. great fear or apprehension; 
2. the feeling a tween has when she knows she has failed an exam, but is hoping her parents will not ask her "How was math?" or otherwise discover the bad grade; characterized by closed body language (clenched legs, hands, face); may be accompanied by simulated sleep.  
   

The Law of Skirts

Do you have P.E. today?

No.

Oh, you should wear a skirt then.  Maybe your nice pink one with -

Mommy!

What?

I can't wear a skirt today because I wore one yesterday.  

Yeah...

Well, skirts are, like, special, and shouldn't be worn two days in a row.  It's ok to wear jeans two days in a row, but not skirts.  

Oh.  Thanks for telling me the rules.  

No problem.

Growing Pains

Remember that delete key challenged tween of whom I blogged last week? Well, it seems Lizzie does not share her affliction. Upon reading the offensive e-mail, Lizzie dispatched a very polite e-mail to her friend in which she told her that her manners were seriously lacking and that her e-mail was rude. Then, Lizzie promptly deleted her from her list of top contacts. Oh, her friend is still on the list in case she "comes around," but until then Lizzie is content to e-mail her tribe of other girlfriends.

Delete Key Challenged

Ohmygosh, each day I am amazed at how cruel girls can be towards one another! Lizzie has recently really started using her e-mail account. It keeps her in touch with her friends here and her cousins in other states. Unbeknownst to her, I receive a copy of every e-mail she gets. Well, this morning I check my gmail account and there is a message from one of Lizzie's friends that says: Stop E-mailing me. Your messages are never important. How rude! A few weeks prior, the same little girl sent Lizzie a request to only e-mail when she had something "important" to say because Lizzie had been forwarding her a lot of chain mail.

But, the thing is all the girls do it. All of Lizzie's friends send her Secret Crush and Best Friend Quiz e-mails. It's totally okay with her and - I think - increases the bond between her and her friends. I think kids use e-mail much like they use texting - as an informal way to shout out to one another. E-mail is just another cog in the social wheel, but Lizzie's one little friend just isn't getting it and, unfortunately, I think it's hurt her friendship with Lizzie.

And today, another good friend called Lizzie early this morning to tell her she can't go to the dance with her because she's going with a boy. Nice way to just dump your friend. If girls do this to each other at eleven, then it's small wonder thirty-year-old women treat each other like dirt.

Heathers in Real Life

Halloween is a great time of the year because it really gives us parents a sense of who the good kids in the neighborhood are and who are the bad seeds. Like the two girls down the street - Hannah and Sarah - they are bitches. I can say this because I am a mom who, when I was younger, was part of a big clique that made it very obvious which girls belonged and which girls didn't. I apologize if you had the unfortunate luck to attend school with me because we were pretty brutal to the girls we deemed unworthy.

Fast forward fifteen years. On Halloween, Hannah, Sarah, and Sadie came to our door, candy buckets brazenly extended. Then, ever so sweetly:"We haven't seen Lizzie in awhile." Well maybe it's because you were such cliquey bitches to her last year that we decided to change schools to escape your evil, Heather-ish ways. I dunno. It's just a guess.

So, today Madhubby and I were out in the yard raking leaves for the third time this week, when HSS strolled by. I waved and said Hi, girls because I thought they were coming to see Lizzie. Yeah, whatever. They ignored me and kept on strolling towards the park. Can you believe that sh*t? Okay, being an eleven-year-old girl is hard, but being the parent of an eleven-year-old girl who has to deal with cliquey girls is even harder.

Forces of Nature

"I think I'll go skiing tomorrow."

"What?! No, what about me?"

"Um...you and your sister will be at school, which is why I can go skiing tomorrow."

"I hope there's a blizzard."

"That would be great!"

"I hope there's a blizzard and a rock slide."

Gee, I don't know whether to be happy that Lizzie loves me so much or a little weirded out that she hopes I get buried by a blizzard and a rock slide.

Unimaginative

Life continues at a feverish pace, which means I have little time for fun, extracurricular stuff - like blogging - but you guys are out there and you check in daily, so I feel the need to oblige you in some way, however pedestrian that way may be. Right now my blogging is imperfect and hampered by all the noise in my head - much like my search for the perfect costume - so bullets is the best I can do. Substantive posts to follow.

• Lizzie has A's in every class except Math (89.44%) and Orchestra (89.66%). She easily made Honor Roll. I think we've got this middle school thing covered.

• Olie's reading level is an L, which doesn't mean anything, unless you know that in order to pass 1st Grade, her reading level only needs to be a G.
  

• Work is very, very slow. I either need more work or more money. Both would be ok.

• Law school still sucks

Seventy-Five Percent of People Agree Tweens Should Not Suck Face

I polled and you ignored. I gave you a kick in the ass and you answered: 75% of my readers think dating is not an ok extracurricular event for 6th graders. I agree, too, but I thought, just for a minute, that I was being an overly protective, neurotic parent. I've been accused of crazy mom behavior in the past so it really helps me to have an objective opinion. Or in this case twelve objective opinions.

Madhubby and I discussed it, too. We agree that if some parents are ok with their tweens dating right now, then we'll just have to limit Lizzie's interaction with those tweens as much as possible. It will be hard but not impossible. I know we can't control what goes on at school, but we certainly have a say about whom she can invite over for a playdate or a sleepover. So, we'll just gently steer her towards "acceptable" friendships and hope she doesn't catch on. It could work.

In the meantime, I'll keep reading her e-mails and text messages. Don't act all shocked. If kids are going to be secretive - and they are - then I have no choice but to go covert.

Cast Your Vote

If you've visited my site recently, then you may have noticed the poll in my sidebar and, judging from my stat counter, a lot of you have chosen to ignore the poll. This is real, people! Take the g-damn poll!

Two girls from Lizzie's clique surreptitiously went on a double date with two boys from another clique. Naturally, I'm pulling my hair out thinking that Lizzie will be the next girl bitten by the puberty bug. I know it's inevitable, but if you're the parent of a tween, then you know the depths of my anxiety. So, spill. Leave me a comment or take the poll. I'm interested in what y'all think. No, really.

Organizational Skills for the Chronically Disorganized

Lizzie attended the first meeting of Organization club this morning. It's a school club whose goal is to help middle-schoolers get and keep their lockers and backpacks organized. The school counselor provides the kids with a few strategies and it's up to the child to choose a strategy that fits their lifestyle and go with it. It's not a one-size-fits-all kind of thing which I really like because we tend to march to our own bagpipes in this house.

The only problem with the club is the 8am meeting time, which requires us to leave home no later than 7:30am, which is not a huge problem if everyone has their stuff packed and ready to go by 7:25am. However, getting out of the house on time has always been a problem for us. We left home at 7:35 and arrived at Lizzie's school slightly before 8am. It was a close call and I'm sure we made it only because I didn't take time to brew a second cup of tea this morning.

But we got there and we got there on time, too. All is well, right? Whatever. This is my family we're talking about here. Okay, I tell Lizzie after handing her the money for her field trip, stick this in your accordion file with your other school papers. Good idea except her accordion file, with all of her homework, is at home on the homework table along with her math notebook. Did I mention she had a math test today that was open notebook? No? Well, she did. Generally, I think if a teacher says an exam is open notes, it's pretty handy to actually have the notes with you. Honestly, I'm out of ideas short of tying a string around her head, so I really, really hope the Organization club gave her some better solutions.

A Thousand Beignets

Yesterday when I picked Lizzie up from school, she was on a high from her seventh period French class. When she went to school in the morning she didn't have French class, she had computer lab with "sweaty boys on either side," so come seventh period, she was pleasantly surprised to find the sweat hogs had been replaced with a vibrant classroom full of her best-est, most giggly-est friends.

As we drove home from school, she chatted about an upcoming field trip that had been discussed in class. The only snafu: she didn't know the field trip destination. We had a grand time speculating wildly. She (jokingly) guessed France. I took a more serious tact and guessed a French restaurant. We both agreed a bake sale would be a fantastic way to raise capital for whatever was planned.

Today, she learned the field trip destination: Montreal. As in Canada. As in $2000. For a 6th grade field trip! Of course, she's dying to go because everyone is going. So, um, if anyone is interested in buying one or two thousand beignets, you know how to reach me.

School Supply Frenzy

I know it's back to school time when the Target parking lot is packed with my fellow Keen wearing, Subaru driving, tea drinking moms who are all leafing through the latest issue of 5280 while waiting for the magic doors to open.

Armed with our school supply list, the girls, the boy and I made a game of it - darting here and there - mesmerized by the cardboard rounders stuffed with crayons and pencils. I happily checked items off the list while three little people flung school supplies into the shopping cart until I hit an impasse: 1 large plastic school box (7" x 11" x 2.5").

I did not bold the dimensions for effect. The same person who makes my overachieving brain apoplectic with 1 box Flair fine-lined felt-tip pens, black, 6 count (black felt tips can be found in packs of two, eight or twelve, but not six!) made this oh-so-subtle accentuation so that all of us size-challenged parents would make sure we got the LARGE school box and not the SMALL school box because, you know, all children need a school box that can hold their pencils, a small furry animal, their lunch and the worldly possessions of a small country. I was a madwoman, borrowing a ruler from this bin to measure the pencil boxes in this bin only to discard boxes: too small, too big, too pink!

We were eventually paroled from Target, but only after depositing a good chunk of money with them. School supplies used to be so cheap, too! I spent $20 in my first year of school supply shopping for Lizzie. Now, with Olie and Lizzie in school, one at a school that requires us to purchase name brand items and the other entering middle school and the land of lockers - and locker accessories* - I spent $100 on notebooks and erasers that will be trashed by the end of the term. But, what can you do? You just spend the money and move on. And, if you're altruistic like me, you help another family buy their child a pencil box the size of a suitcase.



*Lizzie just had to have the magnetic compact mirror, locker shelving, and magnetic wire basket. I bought the basket for her, but she used her own money to purchase the pink glitter embossed "Girls Rock" compact. She has already proclaimed 6th grade as her year of pink.

String Theory

See that violin? It's Italian. It's 266 years old. It's extremely rare with an estimated value somewhere in the six figures. This violin was gifted to Lizzie by her Nana two Christmas' ago, then returned when Lizzie decided playing the violin was "too hard," with the promise that it was still Lizzie's for the asking.

One school year of orchestra and several months of private lessons later, Lizzie's passion for strings was renewed and the violin was returned to our house. It is a beautiful instrument with wonderful tone, but it is completely unsuitable for everyday playing and the rigors of middle school orchestra, jammed into a locker with books, pencils, sack lunches and lip balm.

Of course my ex, who fancies himself a professional musician these days, disagrees. He wants Lizzie to forsake the shiny new student model I rented her and play the family heirloom (Nana is his mother, mind you). I don't think Lizzie has earned the right to play such a valuable instrument or, more aptly put, I think she's too young to appreciate it. She is only eleven. She likes shiny and new. In ten years time, maybe, but not now.

For now, I'm content to leave this treasure undisturbed. To let it increase in value and to decide its fate at a later time. Taking it to auction and placing the proceeds in a trust account for Lizzie has crossed my mind. Taking it to auction and using the proceeds to pay off my law school debt has also crossed my mind on a much regular basis.