Yesterday, Bill and I went to parent orientation for Andrew's preschool. I am still in shock that the day has come that my first-born child is going to be apart from me on a regular basis. A little part of me is very happy, but the rest of me feels weird that he's not going to be around.

I am very fortunate to be a stay-at-home mom. We chose a half-day program for many reasons: it will introduce Andrew and us gradually to a school setting, it was highly recommended by many people, it has a class especially for children five years old, it fits in our budget and is very close to where we live. One of my friends told me she knows the teacher and says she likes her job; that's important, too.

The preschool requested that two adults come for the orientation, and for us to bring Andrew. Bill stayed with him in the classroom while I went to the parent meeting and learned about all kinds of polices. I found it strange to be a parent going over the school handbook because I used to help edit handbooks as part of technical assistance when I worked with Smart Start. They had a pretty good handbook. I brought the handbook back to Bill and we chatted with Andrew's teacher, Ms. Beth. Bill had a list of things we need to send with Andrew on the first day. There are only four children in the class (all boys!), so I think the supplies should last for awhile. I let Ms. Beth know that I'd love to volunteer, but I don't want to get in her way. I think Bill will be there as often as he can. Andrew's first official day is next Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. We've all been oriented, so we're ready, I guess.

A couple of weeks ago, Andrew said he wanted to go back to the beach and Benjamin seconded the idea. I'm trying to cram in a few more fun activities before Andrew starts his half-day preschool next week, so I called Adrienne to see if she'd go with us. Bill was on call for work so it was just the four of us.

I like going to Adrienne's house the night before we go because it cuts over an hour off the trip. Several days before we went, Andrew started to worry about things:

What if there's a crab?
We didn't see any the last time we went.

What if there's a shark?
We'll get out of the water.

What if a wave knocks me down?
I will pick you up.

What if I get lost?
You have an obnoxious swimsuit for a reason- so I can see you.

By the time we got to Mercer's Pier at Wrightsville Beach, all his worries were forgotten. He and his brother thoroughly enjoyed digging in the sand and playing in the surf (he did get knocked down by a wave and he got right back up). We watched a class of surfers try to catch waves as we built castles and roads in the sand. Before we left, we got ice cream and walked to the end of the pier.

Next weekend, the boys and I are going up to Blowing Rock with my mom and Adrienne. I know they are looking forward to seeing the cowboys at Tweetsie Railroad and eating some delicious Kilwin's ice cream. I am excited about having a taste of cool fall weather. I can't believe autumn is almost here; this summer has flown by!

Over the last couple of months, I've had three random age-related comments made to me. Each time, I have been flabbergasted. I have gray hair; got my first when I was 21 years old and have had a few more pop out each year. For a long time, I didn't mind them because I felt they helped the people I worked with and my students take me a little more seriously.

These recent comments are making me not so sure of myself. The first comment was from my own mother. She flat-out asked me when I was going to start dying my hair! She later explained that some of my gradeschoool classmates' parents thought she was my grandmother and didn't want that to happen to me. I really haven't planned on coloring my hair because I don't want to be coloring it forever.

The next remark was from a 9-year-old girl at the park. She did ask if I was the boys' grandmother. Because of her age, I ignored it, and silently popped out another gray hair.

Last week, Andrew looked across the table at me and said, "You're old." When I asked him what made him say that, he replied, "You have spots on your arm." He received a little lesson about freckles and skin pigmentation. Then I asked him how old he thought I was. He answered, "eighty-six." That's a five year old for you.

What is it with little boys and guns? Mine are fascinated with them. I won't buy either of them a toy gun (except water guns) and try to limit violent TV shows. Grandpa has exposed them to his ancient muzzle-loading rifle and made them each a rubber-band gun that must be kept outside and is only used for target shooting.

Granted, we have been to Tweetsie a fair amount. The boys really enjoy the cowboy skits there, including the silly shoot 'em ups they have (nobody actually gets shot). And we have watched quite a few cowboy movies and old "Lone Ranger" episodes. We emphasize that the Lone Ranger doesn't kill anybody.

But even with all that, we went to Mama Laura's Chocolates on Saturday for dessert and the boys each got a chocolate disc with sprinkles. Benjamin nibbled his into a gun shape an shot me. Then he ate the rest of it!

We went to Kmart afterward and the boys found laser guns and shot at each other in the middle of the toy aisle for about five minutes. Then they put them back on the shelf and moved on to look at cars.

I think part of the reason I don't want toy guns in my house is selfishness: I don't want to be shot. I think shooting adults with toy guns is rude, unless they are playing along. I don't want to have little foam darts all over the house, nor do I want to listen to annoying noises out of someone's space blaster.

Another part of the reason is that I was required to take a hunter safety course in high school. At the end of the class, we had to shoot skeet with a rifle; it was one of the worst experiences I think I had in high school. Dear Reader, what's your stance on toy guns in your house?

I've been asking Andrew what he wants to be for Halloween this year. (I have to get started early on these things, since I'd prefer to make his costume than buy it.) His ideas have ranged from his standard cowboy to the novel -- a bank teller. I don't know where he got bank teller from, but wouldn't it be funny if he gave out lollipops and dog treats to the people giving him candy?

Benjamin wants to be something involving a car for Halloween. I've thought about making him a convertible car costume, but what I have in mind might be too much for him. Halloween costumes should be comfortable and practical, for the most part. He may be a Hot Wheels guy with little cars all over him. We'll see -- it's fun to think about.

I made fried okra for the first time last night. Although it wasn't as good as my mom's, Benjamin LOVED it. Okra, when done right, is hard to beat. I think we'll be having it again, soon.

My class at RCC started this week. I have fourteen students this semester, and more than half of them are in public schools, which is unusual. Through a combined and coordinated effort from the grandparents and Bill, I will meet with them weekly and observe them in classrooms throughout the county. Should be interesting.

Dear Reader, what are you up to these days?