I Faked It Till I Made It

I remember the day I made the decision to graduate him early. 

He was flying through kindergarten work.  Reading second grade readers fairly well and bored with his workbooks.

I logically told myself if I graduate him early then I can take two years to complete first grade, or a grade later on that he might struggle with. 

Made sense.  Still does.

So I planned.  Met with two beautiful friends who would be graduating their babies with my baby and we planned. 

They would pledge and count by fives and tens and recite Psalm 23 and a poem and answer interview questions and sing and change their tassels and throw up their caps.

I truly enjoyed the planning - even when I was complaining about it.

And the day drew nearer.

Izzy and I took him downtown and she took photos.  I knew what I wanted and argued with her that we did not need balloons.  She had a plan and stood her ground as the photographer and we bought balloons. 

The balloon photos - they are my favorite.

Izzy, you were right.  Forgive me.  But I'll do it again.  Sorry in advance.


Mom bought him a new sportscoat and I searched for the perfect yellow tie and Delia used the blow dryer on his hair.

And the day was here.


And it was a wonderful time with family and friends.  I don't think it could have gone any better.  Happy children and proud parents and love all around.  He spoke clearly and loudly and smiled till his cheeks had to hurt.

And I faked it - that this moment was what I really wanted.  'Cause what I wanted was when he couldn't say popsicle or when he called his milk no-no.

I smiled large and shed tears at the right moment in the slideshow and nodded to all the compliments on his behalf.  But deep down in the pit of my stomach I knew something.  I knew I wasn't sure that this was the right decision.  I wanted to pull him onto my lap and tell everyone I had made a mistake and we could all go home now.  We'd do this again next year - when it would be the right time.

And you know faking it till you make it?  What we mamas do sometimes - when we often want to give up and more often want to hide and we feel the need to scream - but we don't, we just fake it till we make it through that moment?

I faked it and I made it.  And later that night I watched him sleep.  Him lying there in just his briefs cause that's what big boys do and cuddling three blue dogs now, the third with a cap and tassel on.  I realized I had let my mind wander from the beauty of the moment. That I was thinking too much of what there is to lose instead of the abundant joy of what is here now.

Yeah, well, I'll do that again, too.  I apologize to myself in advance.

Who Taught Him That?

The moment we conceived our sweet son I knew.  I told my love so, right then -

We just made a baby.  And we laughed.

And I was right.  And three weeks later I walked right out of the laundry room into his arms.  I held there and cried.  And knowing didn't stop the tears when he said - You're pregnant.  And I nodded yes between sobs.

And I just knew I had a boy.  I just felt it.  And it felt joy.  But feeling it didn't stop the tears all the times I lay scared about teaching a boy.  The stories I had heard about how hard it is to teach a boy.

The thoughts of being close to sixty when I'd be teaching algebra - again.

And the fear of teaching him to read?  It was real. 

I am not a teacher.  I'm just a fabric loving floor plan maniac accessory junkie who one day quit her job and jumped out on a limb  - rooted and leafed in grace - and pulled her girls out of school.

A young mom.

So I cried some and prayed lots.  I prayed he would love to learn.  I prayed he would be quick and intelligent and want to learn.  Not only for myself but for him.  So I wouldn't fail him.

And he is four and reads.

And he has never been taught.

He had one lesson about a year ago.

I have the books to teach.  Wonderful books recommended by dear friends.  Books I kept stuffing away and waiting for him to have a little more time to play first.

Chicken.

And now he reads.

And he has never been taught.

A week ago he picked up a book he has never heard and read it cover to cover while I sat all misty eyed feeling warm loving Fatherly arms wrapped all around me.

What is it that causes us to doubt?  That causes fear to remain when it should fly away on the wings of a promise?

Here he is reading.

Towards the end he gets tickled about the little boy in his underwear and I turn it off.  We've had several underwear conversations and I wasn't sure where this might lead.

And we laugh and hug and I say -

You can read.

I know.

It feels good to read, doesn't it?

I know.  Can I go now?

And I watch him and wonder how long has he been reading?  How does he know and who taught him?

And there it is again - warm loving Fatherly arms.

A Nose is a House for . . .

It's been a really long time since I've done a homeschooling post. 

Don't worry - this isn't one, either.

But schooling did get me to this post.

While doing Geography today we were studying some recommended reading.  This geography book let's you teach K-6th grade, and this particular book was perfect for Max's age.

 

A House is a House for Me by Mary Ann Hoberman.

A delightful book.

Lines such as . . .

How pockets are houses for pennies

And pens can be houses for ink;

How peaches are houses for peachpits

And sometimes are houses for worms;

How trashcans are houses for garbage

And garbage makes houses for germs . . .

We were laughing and creating our own, such as mine and Izzy's -

A closet can be a house for stuff

While a teddybear is a house for fluff;

Sweet, right?

Then there was Max's.

Yes, here we go.

This is my son's rhyme - even though it doesn't rhyme.

A potty is a house for tee-tee and poop

And a nose is a house for boogers.

Now, ask me again why I don't blog about homeschooling much?

Maybe because sometimes I feel about as qualified for this job as  -

"There is no reason to become alarmed and we hope you'll enjoy the rest of the flight.  By the way, is there anyone who knows how to fly a plane?" - Elaine on the movie Airplane

Yep, we're rolling right onto the genius train around here.

Shhh... I Homeschool

Mama, you know how Emily writes her name sometimes?

No, how?

She writes an E like this.  Here you must imagine a backwards 3.

What's that E called?

Deep, heavy sigh.  Slitting of wrist as I say . . .

Cursive, baby, cursive.

ssshhhhhhh . . .  I homeschool.

Thank you, Katie

You don't get my rambling words today.  You get so much more.  This beautiful post below is from my friend, Katie, who blogs privately.

She says so much.  She speaks my heart and the heart of all moms who step out on faith and out of comfort zone to do the unusual.

Love you, Katie.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Washing Tiny Feet

I guess I understand to an extent when people tell me they "could never do it". Homeschool, I mean. I used to say it too. There were many reasons why I thought I couldn't and some days, I still think I can't. There is insecurity, cultural assumption, the need for a moment of quiet, the question of what to teach and how. I could build a road out of the many reasons I have been told (and have told myself about myself) that someone could never homeschool. I know people don't mean it ugly, at least most don't. But there is something in my heart that feels a little sad when it is said. It's a valid lifestyle, a sound educational opportunity. Not everyone has to do it but I do wish that those who are so opposed would learn to say a quiet "good for you" and move on, much the same way I have learned to respond on issues with the children of others that do not concern me.

Anyway, part of the reason I get sad is that I think of what all I would be missing out on if I weren't schooling my children at this time and in this season of life we're all in. I would miss out on giggles, morning devotions (we never had time for this when they were in school), discussions around the table about myriads of different things, puppets with my little one, reading about how the human body is fearfully and wonderfully made with my older child, the chance to teach history from a Christian perspective (as in -- the Bible is not just stories, but a valid part of the timeline), nighttime fun because school work is finished and put away, teaching them to crack eggs, learning one hymn a week.

Today, I found one of my favorite things. Washing their feet. Yes. You read me right. I love washing their feet. They played outside while I was changing the sheets on a loft bed. I looked out the window and saw them playing together under the swing set, digging away in the dirt. I rolled my eyes, dreading the mess. I let them finish, called them in, and they sat on the edge of the tub with their feet in the bubble bath. There were giggles, there was fun, and I was down on my knees washing the feet of those I hold most dear -- more giggles, it tickles! And really, that's what it's all about. For me, anyway...

Lord, forgive me for rolling my eyes and dreading the mess. May I wash their feet as Mary washed yours and show to those visible in my life the love you have shown to me and the love that I want to show to a God who is invisible.

Thank you, Katie, for a much needed reminder.

One Thousand Gifts . . .

Marco Polo is the inspiration.  Caravan traveling and the bringing of spices and silk treasures to a world that would behold them with wonderous eyes.

Behold them and covet them and the other treasures of a faraway land.  Men then forgetting their humanity as they took what they wanted.  We study the bad sad part, too.  We study to take example and be better.

My gratitude list continues . . .

imitation silk

the dancing of ideas

a sister's vision

fabric dyes

the smell of wax

old sheets

yellow yumminess

the softness of used bristles

brown blazing

cups of water turning to glory

blue bouncing

the spread of color

genuine green

inspirations

colors mixing to create surprise

giggles

the covering of mistakes

old towels turning to rainbows

stained fingers

memories of a college textile class

cinnamon

peppercorn

cloves

vanilla bean

the taste of mint

nutmeg

ginger root cut into smelling like lemon

delicate ramekins

spice cakes

taking turns at the mixer

more giggles

licking fingers

the smell of baking goodness

hot cake melting on the tongue

My list, #242-275.

Thank you, Father, for treasured friends.  Thank you for the art of Batiking, for the baking of spice cakes, for smelling and tasting, and for the blessing of home education. 

Thank you for teaching me more than them. 

Father Knows Best

Get a homeschooling mom started and she can talk  (ramble, converse, discuss, chat, argue) for days about what she enjoys about schooling her children.

I enjoy saying, "Yes."  "Yes," to going outside to do schoolwork.  "Sure," to baking cookies right now.  "Okey dokey," to staying in our 'jammies all day.  "Yeah," to more science today and less math.  "Alright," to quitting for the day - early.

Today Isabela dropped a bomb of a question.

"Mama, it says to underline.  Can I circle, instead?"

Such freedom, I'm not sure what to do with it.

There are many times I answer "No," also.   "No," to going outside to do schoolwork.  "Nope," to baking cookies right now.  "Are you crazy?" to staying in our 'jammies all day.  "Not today," to more science today and less math.  "Shut 'yo mouth," to quitting for the day - early.

Consistency is the key to truly great parenting.

When I say yes to my children it is because, at that moment, I feel confident that saying yes will bring no harm to them.  Quite the opposite, that an answer of yes will bring good or joy to them.

When I say no they can be assured that I have their best interest at heart and that my wisdom surpasses theirs; that saying no will bring good to them - eventually.

This is the way it is with our Father God.  The pain and confusion that we feel when He says no can be lightened by the faith and confidence we have in knowing He sees all, knows what is best, and would never harm His children.

Jeremiah 29:11 says,

“For I know the thoughts and plans that I have for you, says the Lord,

thoughts and plans for welfare and peace and NOT FOR EVIL,
to give you hope in your final outcome.”

Contentment and joy is not a gift.  It is a choice we make.  According to Ephesians 3:20, our Father is "able to do exceeding abundantly beyond all that we ask or think."  No matter what the answer, see the glass as half full, appreciate both the water and the air, and try to find the ray of light.
 
 

This Homeschooling Mama's Best Friend

I love notebooking - and better than that, Izzy loves it.  I know some people's arguments, that notebooking is busy work and a waste of time;  but, to me,  it is tangible proof that my child is learning.  Maps, definitions, drawings, and oh - reports - reports are yummy to me. 

This year, with our co-op, we are studying the Holling C. Holling books through the Beautiful Feet Geography and Literature curriculum.  We have just completed the first book, Paddle to the Sea.  Someone please tell me how I accomplished eleven years of homeschooling and never knew about these books?  I love them.   Thank you, Mr. Holling Clancy Holling.  Where did you get that name?

As a supplement to the teacher's book I used Homeschool Helper's unit study.  http://www.homeschoolhelperonline.com/units/paddle_to_the_sea.htm 

One of the assignments through Homeschool Helper was to study the tracks of the animals Paddle encountered on his journey. Since Izzy is an animal lover she looked forward to each new chapter introducing a new animal.

Somehow growing up I failed to learn that Lake Huron resembled a trapper.  Who knew?  Not me. 

If you overlook the misspelled words, that's a pretty cool page.  Notice the !!!'s - we are still working on professionalism.  Maybe it won't take as long as breaking the "doodling of hearts" habit.

One day she and her friend Emily made beaver dams in our backyard.

Reports.  Like I said, yummy.

We briefly touched on the basics of the states that Paddle passed on his journey.

Study of Lake Superior -  which resembles a wolf.

We saved some studies for her daddy to enjoy with her, copper was one of them.  When he's not talking over our her head, He's Too Good To Me is a, well, let's just say -  he remains a teacher-in-training.  Yeah, lets leave it at that.

Maps are almost as delious' as reports . . .

. . .  they run a mighty close second.

Izzy's Paddle. 

We discovered this short film, made by Bill Mason in 1966.  It doesn't follow Paddle's path exactly as told in the book, but we enjoyed it anyway. 

http://nighttrainfilms.net/NTFWEB/NTFPages/PaddleToTheSea/index.htm

Notebooking - I love it.