Audubonding.

I worry about Edy and her plight as middle child. Lu is the first at everything. And we make a big deal about it because we're those kind of parents. Bea is our bonus kid, our caboose. We act like her every move is outrageously cute. It's annoying, but unstoppable.

Edy is fine. She doesn't care. Truly. She prefers to hideout in the basement like a hobbit. It's her middle child/Middle Earth. She draws, she reads, she writes interesting stories that I should probably have professionally psychoanalyzed.

Edy's latest (strange) creation.
Bea scribbled on it. So cute!

Crazy.
On Tuesday, Edy's class took a field trip to John James Audubon's estate. It was a rescheduled field trip because the original date called for rain. It didn't rain on the original date. On Tuesday, it rained a lot.

I signed up to chaperone as part of my ongoing "make Edy feel special" campaign, even though it's not easy finding daytime coverage for Bea. Promise first, then make it work. I do that more often than I should.

I got up early and packed our matching lunches in labeled brown bags. Peanut butter crackers, chocolate milk, an apple to share.

Edy took the bus to school and then left from there. I had to drive myself. New policy. I'd rather drive myself. Leather seats and satellite radio versus plastic seats and screaming second graders. No contest.

The weatherman predicted intermittent rain and highs in the 70's. I don't care if it's pouring, anything in the 70's is warm. Right? Not so much. I wore pants and a shirt with half sleeves and was already freezing as the bus pulled up. Vigorously rubbing the half bare part of my arms, I watched kid after kid step off wearing boots and rain jackets. In my head, I'm seeing mom after mom who had their sh*% together in the AM. I was completely oblivious. Oh, rain coats are for rain! Boots, too! I don't keep an umbrella in my car because I'm an idiot. I guess watching the weather wasn't enough. Good mothers interpret it.

Then I see Edy. She is wearing sneakers and pants that are way too long. They will drag in the mud, through the puddles, across the grass. And a sweater that isn't made to get wet. Poor, damp Edy and her lame, chilly mom. It will be a long three hours.

The "Owl Lady" was our first stop. She scolded the texting parents in the crowd. "You may learn something! If you listen, you will probably learn something!" Day-um. I learned that owls don't like the rain. Our owl was cray-zee. 

Owl Lady wasn't much better/nicer/more patient with the kids. Clearly she really likes owls and owls alone. I was at the mall yesterday and owls are very popular this fall. Maybe her bad attitude is a superiority thing? Or maybe she is socially maladjusted? Or maybe it's a little of both? Whoooo knows?

The next session was in a drafty barn. It was slightly protected from the weather and our presenter was lovely. No complaints. My teeth stopped chattering.

The third session was in the house. Ahhh, warmth. I surveyed the pictures of John James Audubon and decided his ghostly spirit liked Edy and me best. He's not at all impressed with Gore-Tex. He thinks it's black magic. I am sure of that. And the smell of wet wool reminds him of the good ol' 1820's.

Our final session was back outside with binoculars spotting fake, planted birds sitting entirely still on a fence. It took me two minutes to turn ice cold again. 

We ate lunch in an open pavilion. Freezing, miserable. Then the kids ran around and I tried to stop obsessing over Edy's long, wet pant legs. Tried.

Cool.
On Tuesday, Edy's class took a field trip to John James Audubon's estate and I had the privilege of spending the day with my favorite precocious second grader.

She is so smart and joyful. She is the perfect mix of second child independence and sweet, doting, 7 year-old love. Let me sit next to you, mom. Let me lean on you, too. Now I am holding your hand. Now I am squeezing it.

During the owl presentation, I watched Edy watch the Owl Lady. (I was terrified to check my phone!) She'd pay attention at first, but then her mind would wander. So much like me! Off to Edy-land where wet pant legs and cranky Owl Ladies don't exist.

The greatest stop by far was the house and not just because it wasn't raining inside. Edy was a birding rock star. Each student was given a paper with a list of things to find and do. She completed the task in record time. She wrote in complete sentences. She "sketched" lovely pictures of stuffed birds. She asked pointed questions and rolled her eyes appropriately at the goofy boys who played tag on the third floor and didn't finish their work.

Despite the rain, and the feeling of motherly incompetence, and lunch on a cold concrete floor, I would totally do it all over again. But I would absolutely pack my Gore-Tex. Sorry John James.

Birding rock star!
(In wet wool.)