Claire dug down to get into this “cave” on the deck.
I think using the table on the deck as a snow fort is pretty clever.

Then, when we shoveled the front, we built this one!

Happy Snow Day, Denver!

A scientific explanation of Paper Chromatography, as defined by good ol’ Wiki, can be found by clicking here.  But, it’s basically watching the pigments in a marker (or other ink) spread across a paper dipped in solution.

This is an experiment I learned about years ago, and it’s so fun and easy to do.  I’ve wanted to do this with Claire for a while now, but I never remember.  This morning, she reminded me, so we got out our tools.

1) Cut strips out of paper towels.

2) Draw a line on the paper towel strip with the marker. (One color per strip.)  This example shows black, but we did six colors at once. NOTE: Be sure to have a piece of scratch paper underneath the paper towel when you color the lines. Also, color both sides of the line (flip the strip over and color the line from the back, too) for the best results.

3) Dip your paper towel strip into a glass of water. Be careful NOT to submerge the line.

As the water “climbs” up the paper towel, the color separation starts almost instantaneously depending on the marker or ink you’re testing.

This photo was taken about 15 seconds after dipping.

4) Leave the paper towel strips in the water long enough for the colors to spread nicely. Here, you can see that we’ve done a bunch of colors at once.

5) That’s it! When the color has stopped spreading, hang them to dry.

All of them are really cool, but black is always shocking and beautiful to behold.

Last night, I was looking through my pictures and found one I took of Claire in Cozumel, which is one of my favorites:

I love the color of her eyes in this photo, so I decided to play around with it and see if I could make it into an interesting background photo on my phone.  I zoomed in, and I was shocked to discover something that I’d previously missed!

Not only had I captured her beautiful smile, freckles, and sun-kissed locks, I’d inadvertently captured the view of the ocean and coastal buildings in her eyes.

Eye Sea The View!

I see the view, and I love it!

Claire’s week was wrapped up by doing all her Karate moves in front of an audience, breaking a board, and getting a medal.

Needless to say, this was a great week.

In the shot above, you can see that she’s just broken the board and the instructor’s hands have come together.

What a cool experience!

Yes, Claire, you can do anything you put your mind to.

Anything.

Click the photo to read about Claire's birth story.

Almost a week ago. Almost Six.

…and today she IS six!

Happy Birthday, Claire!

Claire has always been good at everything, right away: Ballet, Swimming, you name it. There was just a slight learning curve at some things, but for the most part, she was a rock-star from Day One.

What’s it like to not be the first?
What’s it like to be the last?
What’s it like to fail?
And fail?
And fail?

How will you know that the important thing is not the fall but the ability to get up?
Again?
And again?
And again?

Speaking of which, I’m not an ice skater. I’ve been told by my parents that I ice skated when I was 3 years old and loved it. I have really no solid recollection of that. I tried to take Claire ice skating in Beaver Creek in April (probably almost exactly 34 years later), but what ensued was not what I could classify as ice skating, per se. We had a great time laughing at ourselves, but Claire was itching to go and do and learn more, but I had no skills to teach her.

We’d said that when the opportunity arose for her to learn from a professional, we’d take it. So, Claire is learning to ice skate. I was offered a handy-dandy little coupon at the local Rec Center for her to try it out for the month at a discounted rate, so there you go.

Guess what! Finally, we’ve found something at which Claire is not the best, and I’m SO GLAD. No, really! She’s not the first across the ice. She’s not the most skilled.

She’s normal, and it’s eating her alive.

She’s learning one of life’s hardest lessons right now, and I couldn’t be prouder.

Soon, she’ll catch on and be zipping across the ice with the rest of them, but she’ll know what it’s like to fail. She’ll know what it’s like to not be the best at something. She’ll know what it really means to fall and how it feels to get up.

Again.
And again.

How can she not be a Diva when dressed in Missoni, even if it is from Target?

Last week, at school drop off, Claire told me that she wanted to walk to her room herself.  She didn’t need me to hold her hand or help her do anything when she got down there, thankyouverymuch.  I knew this was coming, as she’d been walking way ahead of me pretty much since the third day of school.

“I need to meet another mom at 8:00!” I said, trying not to pout.

“Great!  You can wait for her in the lobby!” she said, using my own often-used trickery rationale against me.

So, I waited in the lobby and pretended to be okay with this turn of events.

When I picked her up that day, she pointed to the Drop Off Lane, marked with bright cones, and said, “You do know that there’s a whole LANE for moms who drop off their kids in the morning, right?  YOU could be in that lane, Mom.”

Well, alrighty then.

That night, Claire told Daddy her plan about how Momma was going to stay in the car and just use the Drop Off Lane. Daddy’s responses went from, “WHAT!?” to “Is that safe??” to “I’m old…” to “Hey, Claire! Let me show you how to tuck and roll from a moving vehicle!”

In a startling turn of events, Daddy seemed to be coping well with this change.

The next day, we did just that. I used the Drop Off Lane, and Claire was THRILLED. She hasn’t looked back since. Quite literally. I’m lucky if she blows me a kiss at all.

Today, I was scheduled for one of my volunteer shifts at the school library. “How is this going to work?” I said out loud in the kitchen before school. Claire had it all planned: “You drop me off in the Drop Off Lane and then just go around again and park! But, please stay in the car until the doors open…okay?”

I’d picked a volunteer time near the start of school to make my life easier. I hadn’t figured in all the Rules of Independent Diva Handling.

At least she hasn’t given me a checklist. Yet.

This is a photo of the sunset we captured after our day of adventure on Sunday night. This was a reminder that all’s well that ends well.

The title of this post, on the other hand, is part of a quote from Tommy Boy. It is one of my favorite movies, because it makes me laugh.

I’ve never been afraid of bees. They are such interesting little creatures and provide such a service…as in, you know, keeping the entire human race alive.

I’ve never been stung by a bee.
Until now.

Claire has never been stung by a bee.
Until now.

My husband HAS been stung by bees before, but he was spared this weekend.

So, what happened?

Well, we were out letterboxing. (Of course, we were.) Some friends had invited us to stay with them at a friend’s cabin near Fairplay, CO. In preparation for our weekend getaway, I searched for Letterboxes in the area, and sure enough! There was one near a tiny little town right where we needed to be! Sweet!

Our friends had never been letterboxing with us, and we were going to show them how fun and addicting this is.

*cue the ominous music here*

After getting turned around a couple times, we finally got back on the right track and the clues fell into place. The only problem we found was that “the gravel road to the left” where we were supposed to turn was barely a path that wandered off into the underbrush. It fit the clues perfectly, though, so we knew it was right.

Rather than “drive” down the road as instructed, we parked and were going to hike in. We were supposed to go a tenth of a mile for the next portion of the clue. Easy peasy!

As we’re walking, the “road” turns less and less into a road and more into a barely trampled path. “Probably by other letterboxers wondering why they called this a ‘road,’ right?” we joked.

All of a sudden, Claire starts crying.

“I don’t want to be here! I’m scared!” she screams.

“A bee just hit her in the face!” our friend says.

Claire is so upset, and this is very uncharacteristic of her. I bend over to console her and get her somewhat calmed down. I think she’s scared about being smacked in the face by a bee, and this is causing the brush to seem like it’s closing in around us.

She is visibly shaken, and still teary. Should we turn back?

As a distraction technique, I start pointing out the plants around us. We’re standing on some wild strawberries! See their leaves? Look at these flowers over here?  I wonder what kind they are?  They sure are pretty.

All of a sudden, I feel a searing, white-hot flash of pain in my wrist. What the…?!

My wrist immediately starts to puff up, and there is a welt forming.

At first, I’m so confused and have no idea what happened.  Then it hits me:  I’ve been STUNG BY A BEE. I’ve never been stung by a bee before! This sucks!

I try not to panic, the guys have gone on down the “trail,” and my other friend asks if she should just take Claire back to the car. I think that’s a good idea. Claire is way too upset to get much value out of more bushwhacking, and the guys yelled back to us that it opens up a bit.

My wrist is starting to really hurt…but I’m breathing okay, so I just fight my way through the brush.  I decide to press on.

It does open up a bit more, but something is not right. Either the flooding has caused issues, or things have really overgrown since this box was planted. My wrist is killing me.  Claire is upset.  It’s time to bail.

We fight our way back and then hurry past the section with the wild strawberries. We’d been minding our own business the first time, and I certainly don’t want there to be any more misunderstandings!!

As we break out onto the gravel road, we discover that a bee didn’t just smack Claire in the face…IT HAD STUNG HER.

Her top lip is all swollen, and there is an obvious welt. (She hadn’t reacted as quickly as I had, so I hadn’t even noticed her lip when consoling her.)

We also discover that the first aid kit in the car is neatly packed UNDER THE ENTIRE CONTENTS OF THE TRUNK. Very convenient! Rather than unpack and repack the car on a gravel road, I have cream in my purse, but it’s not benadryl or cortizone, it’s a type of lidocaine. We opt for that and an ice pack. I slather some on her face and my wrist and we hold our respective ice packs all the way to the cabin.

As we’re driving, Claire has stopped crying, but there are tear tracks down her cheeks. Her mouth is so swollen she can barely speak without a lisp, and her voice is muffled under the ice pack anyway. “I do NOT like bee stings, Momma…but can we find more letterboxes on this trip?  Please?”

That’s my girl.

Today!  Early today.  Our schedule will shift a bit as we get up and get out the door earlier than we ever have, but today went REALLY well.

The drive, parking, and drop-off were a breeze!  I didn’t linger in the classroom, as she is really pretty independent, and I was afraid if I made too much direct eye contact with the teacher, I’d make a spectacle of myself.  Baby Rose and I walked back to the car, and I didn’t get teary until I was a couple blocks from the school.  But, that’s because the sun was in my eyes.  (Yeah, that’s it.)

As I’m writing this, the house is quiet.  Too quiet.  Like the kind of quiet it gets when someone is plotting a dastardly plan.  It’s making me twitch.  I wonder how long this phase will last?

I’ll have 3.5 hours to myself every week day now.  I’ve been waiting for this.  Longing for this.  I plan to use as much of this time writing as I can.  Today, of course, is an exception (unless you count this post…).  Today’s time has been spent fielding texts and calls from my friends, just checking to see if I’m okay.  This is supposed to be Claire’s big day, but those in the know realize that it’s going to be more a transition for me than it is for Claire.

Am I ok?  I am.  I’m more than okay.  Today is a great day.

I can’t believe it will be Claire’s First Day of School!

We’re ready. The supplies have been purchased. (We squeaked in under $100, not counting clothes and backpack, at $98.08. Yes, for Kindergarten. No, I don’t get it either.) The fees have been paid. I giggle when I pay for “free” things, but I’m so thankful that she got it at our first choice! The first day clothes are picked out and all ready to go.

It will be nice to get back to a routine, but it will be a painful adjustment getting up and getting out of here earlier than we’ve ever had to with Claire on a regular basis. Painful for ME. Claire will be fine. I can’t believe I used to have a job that required me to get up at 4:30 in the morning. I can barely remember a time when I was up before the crack of dawn…but I did it…for years. Compared to that, the new schedule will be easy-peasy, but I’ve certainly been spoiled by my late-sleeper over the last five years.

The uninterrupted time I’ll gain to focus on my writing during the week, however, will be worth the crimp in my style.

School starts at 8am. There is major construction on the way there, but I think I’ve found a ninja route that will get us to the school relatively unscathed. This week, we’ll take it for a test drive to see how long it takes, factoring in the morning rush of a School Day.

Back to School Night is on Thursday, and then the Big Day is on Monday.

Just like that, we’ve got a Kindergartener living here.

Weird.