June is a month of genesis in my home.

This Friday, my youngest will complete his kindergarten year. There will be a little ceremony and everything. The whole pomp and circumstance. A cap and gown. A graduation from kindergarten. From babyhood.

He is leaving the only school he has ever known.

He will be spreading his wings and flying from a nest that has surrounded him in soft, sweet downy warmth and nurturing since he was 18 months old and we took a Mommy and Me class. All the teachers and staff know him, and his little quirks (and some, not so little). They greet him as he bounces down the halls. He has been safe here, in this bubble that he has been fortunate enough to have been in.

But, it’s time.

Next year he will begin 1st grade in public school. He’s so excited. He thinks he is now a big boy like his brothers and sisters. Riding a bus and buying lunch are just a couple of things that he looks forward to. New faces. New surroundings. A new playground.

A new beginning. I have to let go. Breathe. Realize that he will always, no matter what, be my baby. It’s not him. It’s me.

Now, there is no stopping him. Once they start first grade, that’s when the years go by even faster. And before I know it, he’ll be starting high school.

Like my oldest son and daughter.

In two weeks, they will complete middle school.

No longer sheltered in a fairly safe environment where they know barely anyone who does drugs or has sex. And if they know them, they don’t hang out with them. Thankfully.

Next year…

They are off to the big time. High School.

This is the last year that they will be in school with some of their friends. They will say goodbye and promise to keep in touch via facebook and text messaging. Phones are just so passe.

They will move on. There they will be greeted with new faces and new surroundings.

Harder classes. Harder kids.

The next four years are going to be full of decisions, both major and minor. I can only hope that, through their education and parental guidance, they are somewhat armed with their own mind and also, the confidence that when they need their parents, they can come to us knowing that we will refrain from judgement until any problem is solved.

Hormones at an all time high. And low.

Peer pressure about to become more important than listening to their inner angel.

4 more years of them living at home. Where, when once they walk in the door, they are safe. We can still kind of protect them. Or at least, that’s what we will tell ourselves for comfort.

4 more years until they become adults.

That’s all we have left with them, our eldest children. A tiny drop of time considering how fast the last 14 years went.

I’m just not ready for any of this. I’m going to put a seat belt on and brace myself for this short, bumpy ride and hope that it comes to a complete stop someday.

Besides, we have two more kids that will still be in middle school for the next couple of years. I guess it’s not such a short ride.

Oh sanity, where will you be and will you return to me?

I woke up a few mornings ago in a cold sweat panic. It took me a moment to realize that it was only a dream because of how real and vivid the details were.

My son. (Now remember, what I’m about to tell you was just dreamnightmare).

He, my darling, precious baby, told me that he lost his virginity.

I was irate and horrified due to the fact that he is barely 14 and that is so young. I told him how disappointed I was and I hoped that protection was used. I also made it very clear to him that this was much too young of an age to be schtupping(ph, that’s for you).

His response was, “I know Mom. I didn’t really want to do it. But SHE wanted to. Really badly. So I just did.” He appeared to be very upset with himself and not at all pleased that he had done the deed.

And then? I woke up. Absolutely sure that my son was no longer a virgin because some slutty 8th grader couldn’t keep her legs together.

On the other hand though, my son gave in to peer pressure, in my dream. Which, isn’t him in real life. Yet.

This leads me to my next story.

So. My 14 year old daughter is in love with Justin Bieber. She stalks him on Facebook, leaving comments on every single status update the kid makes. She knows all the stats that are supposedly his and not hearsay, rumors or gossip. She loves this girlie boy as much as she loves Robert Pattinson. You should see her room. The walls on her side are covered with team Edward AND Team Justin. I feel my stomach bile rising into my throat whenever I set foot in that shrine of a room. Not to mention, my 11 y/o daughter is Team Jacob and her side is a shrine to Taylor Lautner.

Anywhooooo…

Last night, my 14 y/o finds out, through her stalking, that THE Mr. Justin Bieber himself has an aversion to Ugg boots. He finds them to be vile.

It just so happens that my darling daughter lives in her chocolate brown, size 9.5 Uggs. Until last night.

She won’t wear her Uggs anymore. Because some guy that she will NEVER, EVER meet, said that he thinks Uggs are unsexy and unattractive. He’s 15 and hasn’t appeared to go through puberty yet, this high-pitched voice Bieber kid. What could he POSSIBLY know about sexy or attractive?

The thing that angered and troubled me most. If she’ll stop wearing her favorite boots and instead, don a pair of WAY too small Converse that makes her feet look like they are being binded. All because of a untouchable kid she has a crush on, that she will NEVER meet. What will she do to gain the acceptance of a REAL LIFE, flesh and blood boy?

I teased her a little but I tried to make her realize that these were ridiculous actions. It embarrassed her but hopefully, I made her think. I hope.

That was, similarly, what bothered me about my dream. He didn’t WANT to have sex and lose his virginity to this slut whore girl. He only did it because she wanted to.

Which then, led me to the realization that I’m not ready for teenagers and trying to encourage them to use their own mind and to steer away from peer pressure. To be their own person. To stay true to themselves and what they believe in.

Yet another aspect of parenting that I neglected to think about when I spread my own legs in hopes of conception.

What. Was I thinking?

This is going to be a long journey.

And darn it! Too bad those Uggs are a 9 1/2 and way too big. They are super cute!