On Grief

We're looking at another trip to Ohio next week, this time to say goodbye to Dr. D's father, who passed away on Monday.

Most of my grief is for myself, and for Dr. D, his brother, his mom, and for the kids who will now never have the sort of relationship with a grandfather that I'd hoped. For Grandpa? Only peace, joy.

It hardly matters that we're being asked to take an insane amount off the price of our house, or that we're paying more than we wanted to for the house we want to buy. What's money? Gained, lost, and outside of its power to purchase, it is worthless.

I had more meaningful things to write, about value, worth, but my thoughts are a jumble. Maybe next time I'll have something to say worth reading.

Like a Carnival Ride

That would be my emotions. Inspections went fine. Found a few things (don't they always?), but nothing really major and nothing that would break the deal. And nothing that matched that first (fictitious?) inspection report. So, this is good.

Been round and round on the house we want to buy. First they don't want to lower the price quite enough, then we find an agreeable price but they say stubbornly, "We won't do ANY repairs based on inspections." To which we wondered, what are they hiding? So they struck that clause. But then they wanted twice the length of time that *we* have until we can have possession. Easy way of saying it: we'll be homeless for two weeks unless we can get our buyer to delay his move from Kentucky by two weeks. Still waiting to hear on that one.

But right now Dr. D is on his way to Indianapolis because his father isn't going to pull through this final round of chemo. The Big "C" is such a terrible thing - I didn't respect it enough until now. Now that it's taking the children's grandpa from them before they've hardly had a chance to know him.

Nothing more to say. Trying to keep it together here at home, which means TV dinners and DVDs from the library.

Mud Pie is hollering about her need to use the facilities, so my time is up! She's still too little to get herself on the potty without help, and heaven forbid she come back downstairs to use her little potty. Ah, the joys!

Too tired to post

But I'm going to anyway. Actually, I'm procrastinating on a project I have going. Whatever. I'm here, tired from keeping myself up late and waking early. But that's why God made coffee, right? Right.

Ok, then. Indianapolis was ... hard. Hard and easy. Easy in that I felt pretty much myself, hard in that it's never easy taking three kids on a second long road trip in just a few week's time. More complaints than last time, but since it was a new place (vs. Ohio), it was more exciting for them. I had charge of them for an afternoon while Dr. D visited his father in the hospital, and I surprised myself by bringing them to the Dairy Queen and buying them whatever they wanted (within reason - it was almost dinner time).

But then we got to the hotel and they'd double booked our room, so after a minor moment of flipping out (there was no way I was going to cram all five of us in one room - I know, lots of people do it, but I'm not lots of people - I am so sick of not sleeping), we got ourselves switched to another hotel a few miles up the road. All was well. Went to the pool, slept fine, had a yummy breakfast, more pool, back to the condo where my mother-in-law is staying, and said our good-byes.

A short, sweet trip.

If only I didn't feel so desperately bad about it. About not letting Dr. D go on his own (he didn't seem to want to, but it would have been better for him, but I didn't want to be stuck home alone overnight), about not being as supportive for my mother-in-law as I should be, about being a narcissistic self-absorbed prig. Sigh. Did I mention I'm tired? Maybe I'll write a letter to my mother-in-law. She would like it, and I would get to procrastinate even more!

Big Fat F

That would be me, for failing. Last week we did Monday's assigned school. Tuesday I had a dentist visit and a bizarre phone call and since then it's been downhill.

Today I got a stack of books together thinking, yes, we'll get back on track today! But it just didn't happen. St. Nick and Fish wanted to play outside. They wanted to draw pictures. They wanted to play with Legos. I wanted a cup of coffee and a quiet moment with NO marker wars, doors left open to let the 9-degree air blow through the house, little Lego motors buzzing. So, the books weren't touched.

Emotions last week were insane. Riding high: God is so working! To falling off the planet: Oh, God, why have You forsaken me? On to sober reality: I want to grow, but I can't do it myself. It has to start with the Gift of the Spirit. Round and round like a carnival ride. I'm exhausting myself. Not to mention eating too much.

It Came! It Came! It Came!!!!!

My Secret Sister's gift arrived today!!!!

Just today Sgt. Dody had put out an announcement on the Loosethreads group, that those on the "Official List" needed to email her immediately. Well, I did but somehow I had a feeling ...

And then the mailman stopped his van right in front of my house! Woo Hoo! This is IT, I thought. I raced to the porch, yelled, "Thank you!" to the mailman, and raced inside with the box. Ooof it was heavy! Did she send me a lead ornament? Books?

I called Dr. D - I had to try his office, his cell (new - I called mostly just for the fun of it), and he called me back right as I was picking up the scissors to open the box without him. "Should I wait for you?" I asked. "No, of course not! It's for you, isn't it?" It was my name on the label, and the name on the return of some woman in a state that sounded like it could possibly be one of the Sisterhood. So, I tore it open.

A little card! How cute! It said, "Enjoy, Rebecca! Thank you and God Bless. *Please leave feedback."

Uh, what? Feedback? I pushed passed the bubble wrap and what do I see? Fifty vintage comic books. Of course! "It's the comic books for Nicholas!!!" I was almost as happy as I'd have been if it really had been from my Secret Sister. St. Nick is a comic book fanatic, but do you know what comic books these days are like? EWWWW! Not for an almost-seven-year-old. A few days ago I'd won a lot of them off eBay.



They will make one little boy VERY happy (once I check them all for content - I am such an overprotective neurotic nutty mom).

I resigned myself to waiting FOREVER for my SS package, and for the mystery to be revealed. Imagine me turning up the Bing Christmas tunes, managing a craft with the kiddos involving glue (I know! How dangerous! More on that later), and sitting down to address a few more Christmas Cards.

What should pull up in front of my house than the UPS truck! Who should come up my walk with a nice li'l box than a UPS guy! What should be in his hand but a Package for ME with the return address "Your SS" in OK!!

It came! It came!

I didn't even consider calling Dr. D this time.

After reading a touching and wonderful letter, with the so funny and endearing line, "I'm writing in my favorite color instead of yours because the yellow was really hard to read and I couldn't find a plaid pen," I brought the package to the dining room and, with two VERY excited little boys, opened it.

You can't imagine how THRILLED my guys were to see that there was something in it for them - and a craft, at that!


A recipe for assembling their ornaments.


Fish trying to knock over the tree while I'm distracted.


What to use.


Some of the goodies.

I was just as thrilled! Anyone who knows me knows that crafts are not my strength. I never would have thought to do a craft like this but it will be WONDERFUL! So easy and fun! I truly thought that was it and was overjoyed. What a perfect SS gift, and something I can share with my dear, dear children!

But there was MORE!!!! I unwrapped a large bundle and found an absolutely gorgeous sterling silver globe with a nativity (something I collect but FORGOT TO MENTION on my SS application!!!!!! HOW did she KNOW?!? Ok, I'll lay off the all caps and exclamations now, but I'm SO PLEASED!!!) Words cannot do this ornament justice.


Isn't it beautiful?!

A huge Thank You to my Secret Sister, Michelle in OK!

Where Does the Time Go?

I have been looking forward to a few hours with just Mud Pie this morning. Dr. D has the boys at the dentist - they left at 8:30. Yet now it is going on 10:30 and I have done none of the Big Things I had planned. Well, strike that, I did move the gifts from last night's shopping-with-my-mom extravaganza into the attic (the locked attic, I might add). But the other Big Things.

What did I do instead? Fixed something for Dr. D, got Mud Pie a chocolate kiss, started Mud Pie on Blue's Clues, put her in her highchair with a coloring book (BC not quite the draw today), got Pie out of her highchair, as she promptly told me, "I have poopy diaper Mommy! Change me!" Changed said diaper, took my shower, got dressed, brought diaper pail downstairs, started laundry and Blue's Clues (again). And now it's two hours from the departure of Dentist boys and I'm typing this post. I should seize my few remaining moments now, shouldn't I? The boys will be home soon!

Not that I'll have warning because someone STOLE OUR CELL PHONE on Thursday, which we didn't realize until Friday (shopping extravaganza), after the thief had used 35 of our precious minutes. Oh well. They'll be stuck with a useless but rather expensive phone now. I'm getting lots of practice loving my enemies this week. Grrrr. (Oh, go ahead and click the "view reviews" button on that link and see if YOU can figure out what the comment on the 1/5 rating means.)

Secret Sister Gift On its WAY!

I sent this lovely package out to my Secret Sister on Friday!!! I can't wait for her to get it and open it!!! Here's a preview:

HAHAA! As if that helps!

I have to confess, it was a special joy for me to pray for her (something I'm still doing). All my angst about dropping the ball? Well, God is faithful even when I'm not - He didn't let me forget. Not only that, but He is already showing me answers to those prayers. I'm so excited! Mailman/woman, hurry up and deliver this package, will you?!?

Back at it ... almost

Well, today was supposed to be St. Nick's next outdoor adventure class. But, after two nights of waking in tears because of an earache, and one late evening at the med center, and a forecast of cold and wet, he's staying home. I think he was ready for a week off (they've had the first Monday of every month off, except December). He gave it one or two perfunctory "But I don't want to miss my class!" statements, and then resolved himself with a, "I'd rather stay home and hug Mommy all day." Problem being, I was planning on using my time today to plan out the week!

Ok, admittedly, planning out is nothing more than going into Homeschool Tracker, rescheduling a book we didn't get to last week, and dropping the rest of our assignments into the Assignment Grid. All of five minutes? So why am I over here writing about it rather than over in HS Tracker? (Especially since I have it open in another window.) I don't know.

Ok, I do know. I'm drooling over web page templates and fiddling with PayPal settings. Why? Hmmmmmmmmm. Plead the 5th.

And now the kids are up from the basement (Curious George done - every few weeks they go obsessive over a different PBS show), so the presence of mind required for this and/or rescheduling in HST is gone! How convenient for me!

Sookie, Time to Pack Your Saggy Bags!

I haven't stayed current with blogs lately - been trying to cut back on digital attachments. But yesterday I clicked over to bloglines and started skimming through the dozen or so blogs I follow.

Then, at one post in particular, I stopped skimming and started reading. Karen's, Perfectionism is Nasty. I half expected my name to be mentioned. Wasn't Karen writing about me?

(Of course she was! It's her blog, sure, but I am a card carrying member of NRU*, so it had to be about me!)

See, there's an elephant in the room, only I didn't know it was an elephant until I read Karen's post. Perfectionism. This is exactly my problem.

I had another blog, and this one (which I don't really consider a blog; it's just a little journal to replace my spiral notebook because that inevitably gets scribbled in or spilled on with something that will smell terribly horrid, like coffee with cream) was my sweet little homeschool journal where I kept track of what we did and how it went. Nobody read it and I didn't care. Because plenty of people read my other blog. My professional blog (that has to be said with a snooty upturned nose, by the way). On that blog, my technorati ranking was incredible; I had links in from friends and strangers and Important People; I got advertising solicitations almost weekly.

But it was an albatross. The very week of its inception, I began to resent it. My every thought: what do I blog on next? What would be a good post? How can I attract more readers, and how can I satisfy my fans? (Fans! I'm shaking my head here.) I'd spend hours I didn't have brainstorming posts and sketching them out. Each had to be better - funnier, more insightful, more novel - than the one before. Before long, what little time I had for other things (beyond the day to day things, like SCHOOL) was gone.

"It's so fun!" I'd say, watching my hit counter soar creep up a dozen, then a hundred or more every week. Pretty soon I had attracted readers from far away places, and important readers I wanted, almost desperately, to impress. It was marketing. Building a platform for my career, I thought. Or at the very least gaining inroads to an industry that has very few doors, most of which are guarded by hydrophobic three-headed beasts.

The more I thought about my readers, the more questions arose. "Can I post this? What will those Important People think of me? If I post on bioethics, won't some of my readers think less of me? And my friends? They know I'm pro-life, right? Wouldn't they have to know that? But, I can't post a link to this, even to just point out that Dr. D's name is mentioned. It's way too controversial."

And religion. I have dear, dear friends who are not walking the faith path with me. Some are furious with God; others deny Him altogether. Yet I also have wonderful Christian friends, friends who would not understand my hesitation. I was hamstrung. Post about faith and risk isolating those not on the path; don't post and run the risk of being misjudged by the rest.

There were other topics too - family, homeschooling, untouchable for one reason or another. Soon I couldn't write anything on any level for any purpose. The blog was, at that point, the least of it, although it was the initial cause.

So I deleted it. Two clicks, gone.

And I picked up here, thinking anonymity would free me from the shackles I'd bound myself in. After all, if no one knows who I am, why would I worry about what I write? Why would I care if I'm too sarcastic or too scatological? Too esoteric or too simple? A religious zealot? A backslidden heathen? A crunchy liberal? A *gasp* Republican (I am, when I bother to think about it, which is just a few seconds shy of zero, fyi)? A hack? A fraud? No one knows me here, so why would I care?

But ... I do care. It all comes back to one thing: perfectionism. Having to be understood. So that if someone does disagree with me, it's not because I haven't been rational and reasonable, because I've been very careful to be right. Perfectionism. Which, as Karen pointed out, is arrogance.

I was so focused on who people thought I was, and I got so wrapped up in trying to control their opinion ("the spin" as Dr. D puts it), that I forgot - entirely for a while - who I am.

Perfectionism is just innately wrong. It's arrogance. It's thinking you are something when you're nothing. It's thinking you can do things perfectly, which is a lie, or that things depend on your performance, which is a lie. It's setting up your own standards and believing that if you fulfill them, then you are good and God is pleased. Total legalism. (And, I'd add, idolatry.)

I became so obsessed with numbers - stats, inbound links, comments, popularity - that I let it define my value, and I forgot the origin of my value.

Like desiring the favor of men; like wanting to feel approved and worthwhile because of your accomplishments when the Bible says you're already approved and worthwhile in God's eyes because of HIS accomplishments...

I became so crippled by fear of how my words would be received, or if they'd ever be received (those Important People again) that I am going on six months of "vacation" from something all of those closest to me say is as much a calling from God for me as is motherhood.

Yet even as I write this, staring truth in the face, the loudest voice is crying, "What will they think of you? Surely they will misunderstand!" So, there he is, Sookie, the Saggy Baggy Elephant, moping in the corner. Despite my efforts to be anonymous, it hasn't changed a thing, because the real cause of my struggle doesn't need my name attached to torment me. There's only one way out. Which, as usual, means opening my hands.

* Narcissist's R Us, or rather, are me. Just me!

Humorous Contrasts

Both of these things I found extremely funny. But while one left me feeling hopeful and contemplative, the other made me want to go out, find that lady who sat next to me at a wedding a few months ago - the one who said how she "hates homeschooling" and went on and on about her homeschooled niece who can't do math and is ruined forever - and smack her upside the head.

The first is the Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List. I could identify with so many of these, particularly # 17

Stop saying, "Oh, I could never homeschool!" Even if you think it's some kind of compliment, it sounds more like you're horrified. One of these days, I won't bother disagreeing with you any more.

I can't tell you how many times I've heard that one.

The second is actually far funnier, and made me laugh and cry at the same time.

Cheese and Whine

Here's what we did this week:

• Read Genesis 11
• Read Leading Little Ones to God, Lesson 32
• Did Singapore Math Intensive Practice, 1B topic 2
• Did two Scholastic Success for First Grade worksheets (sometimes busywork is a good thing) (like when speaking - at all - triggers twenty minutes of coughing and nose blowing)
• Read Fa Mulan: The Story of a Woman Warrior by Robert D. San Souci (on Friday, so followed by only five minutes of coughing)
  

That's IT, for the whole week. St. Nick did a few things on his own - made a host of "I Love You Mom" posters, drew a comic book (about a robot, I think - he hasn't mastered plot yet, but that's ok, since neither have half the published authors out there), and built about five thousand Lego projects.

What he didn't do was watch TV nonstop all week. This surprised me. When we dropped Dr. D at the airport Tuesday morning, and I came home and flopped on the couch, I pretty much expected the next two days would involve me feeling guilty about the kids watching television.

They watched, I think, even less than usual. I'm not quite sure why. Maybe they were worried Mom's mucus would thicken so much she truly couldn't breathe? (It came close.) So they wanted to stay near me? Maybe they're moving beyond this entertainment obsession? Whatever the reason, I'm glad for it.

I watched half hour last night and gave up, after being severely offended by some show. I don't even know what it was called because I'd never seen it before. The story went like this: a pastor was having trouble with his congregation because they thought he was sleeping with his hottie girlfriend. He wasn't, but the people treated her coldly (in a rather silly way), and so he quit his preaching post (as if it were not a calling, but just another job) and celebrated by going to hottie's house to rip her clothes off. Hmmm.

No, it wasn't HBO. I don't have cable. We get three clear-ish channels, and two fuzzy ones.

The point is, maybe the kids are starting to feel the same way about the box as me. (That would be boredom with a touch of horror and disdain, in case it wasn't clear.) That's worth a week of school lost, I'd say! (Nice try at the excuse-making, I know.)

When is a Cold Not a Cold?

Oh, help. Did I say on Monday that I had a cold? It's so not a cold. It's something noxious, toxic, hideous, horrible. Chills every night for three days, feverish in the morning. Mucus that could seal the sides of a boat, and a nice seaweed color (keeping with the nautical theme). Pain that floats from inner ear to molars to cheekbones to forehead and back again. I've been avoiding drugs beyond Tylenol because of the faint (read: very slim, highly unlikely, virtually nil) possibility of being pregnant. I suppose I should just give up on that hope now, given how ill I've been and how pregnancies don't "stick" very well for me (that's too flippant - believe me, I don't take it flippantly). I certainly don't feel pregnant. I can't feel much of anything below my collarbone.

On the homeschool topic, I am so glad we switched to Homeschool Tracker for planning out our week because so far this week we've done exactly one chapter of Bible reading (followed by fifteen minutes of convulsive hacking) and one math lesson. It's one thing to have sick days because the kiddies are sick, but can Mom call sick days for herself? But, thanks to HST, two clicks and I can reschedule the whole week!

A side benefit. I felt too horrible to worry about Dr. D being off on a business trip! I got to skip the usual late-night-hubby-gone-loneliness, and instead fell into an exhausted, sore, miserable, fitful sleep.

13 Reasons I Don’t Like Halloween

We've tried the trick-or-treat thing once or twice, and more recently we've gone to harvest parties. This year I'm dressing up as the Halloween Scrooge! BAH HUMBUG! (Actually, this year there's no harvest party so we'll be hiding in the basement having a Movie Night Pajama Party, complete with popcorn.)

1. The same kids keep coming back, and on the latter visits they shout indignantly, "Hey! That was only one! You gave me three baby Snickers LAST time!"

2. If I bother taking the kids trick-or-treating, we have to walk half a mile to find a house with the light on. And we live in the city.

3. Sometime after 10pm, a drunk 18-year-old trick-or-treater who isn't in costume will ring the doorbell and demand candy. It won't matter that the porch light has been off all evening.

4. There’s not much point to a costume if you have to wear a snowsuit over top of it.

5. Except there will always be at least one crowd of pre-teen girls roaming the streets without snowsuits, without clothing, too. (Costumed as the Spice Girls?)

6. However much I enjoyed dressing up as a Hatchet-Murder-Victim in my youth (I was a macabre child), I am disturbed by my own child’s interest in the fake blood and oozing scabs on sale at the grocery store.

7. The pumpkin three weeks after Halloween, which has frozen and thawed several times and is no longer, ahem, orange.



8. Candy wrappers in the yard.

9. The reminders for parents to check their children’s candy carefully for signs of tampering. Or rather, the need to issue such reminders.

10. How disappointing Halloween must be for those who dress in costume every day. (Click here.)

11. The whispers I’ve been hearing that local shopping malls will soon be dressing employees in giant pumpkin suits so little children can stand in line to go sit on the pumpkin’s lap and tell him what they want for Halloween.

12. Tomorrow morning all the stores will trade out their Halloween decorations for Christmas.

13. A celebration of evil and death and horror. Personally, I don’t think any of those things are worth celebrating. Do you?

Something Surprising ...

On the few days I've deemed as No Screen Days, the hours of Mud Pie's nap seem endless. "I'm bored! SO Bored!"

The computer has been broken for going on three weeks. They've all been "no screen days." But yesterday afternoon I sat down to have a cup of tea. No one was talking to me, no chorus of "I'm soooo bored!" but it was far from quiet.

I heard little voices - one at my feet. "Jabber jabber jabber." I don't know what Fish was saying, but it wasn't really him talking anyway. His Little People farmer was loading matchbox cars into the bed of a wagon. "Come on, everybody in, jabber jabber."

Another voice came from the dining room - a high-pitched shriek of "Noooooo!" But it was a quiet shriek. I went in to see St. Nick bent over a Lego contraption that looked startlingly like a medieval torture device. His little Lego man whisper-screamed again, "Don't eat me! Don't eat me! Arghhhhhh!!!!!"

I returned to my tea. I do remember these sounds, voices of play, but I'd forgotten them. I'm so glad they're back. And even if it took a thousand lost dollars for me to appreciate what I now have, I consider it money well spent.

Secret Sister

Taking a moment from three sick kids (one is still sleeping - miracle or what? Or, my more paranoid mind wonders, maybe he's not sleeping, maybe he's tying all his blankets together to escape out his window). Anyway, I had a flicker of a deep thought regarding the Secret Sister event going on through the Tapestry of Grace email list, but one of the kids (not sleeping) came up and asked me something and the other non-sleeper asked me something else, and, well, that happens. Bye-bye Thought! Was nice knowing you!

Now the sleeper is awake (he really WAS sleeping) and I hear water running in the bathroom. Really running. Considering he's three, this isn't so good. Better check it out!

9:36am - Little Fish was the one in the bathroom, armed with a toothbrush and a plastic cup. "But Mommy, I wanted to make a waterfall!"

Back to Secret Sister: This will be my first time doing something like this (we get assigned a "Sister" and pray for her for a time and get her a special Christmas ornament) and I'm very excited. But also a little nervous. Most of my prayer life revolves around, "God, help me mop up this water without YELLING AT ANYONE." Or, more typically, those groanings I'm expecting the Spirit to interpret. Am I really going to be able to fulfill this end of the contract? To pray for my Secret Sister? Regularly? And not count that "Arrrrrgh, Lord, you know I've been wanting to pray for her..." as good enough?

I better. I promised to. But, to my Secret Sister, apologies in advance. You got stuck with the weakest of all SSs, and I'm sorry. I'll do my best. But I will get you a cool ornament.

What Are Mothers Good For?

I don't know where that topic came from, but I'm wondering that right now. The downloads with iStock are flooding in, yet my bubble of euphoria is burst by my illustration application being rejected. Again. Me=failure. Never mind that I've never fancied myself a photographer, let alone an illustrator, and I've spent, maybe, 20 total hours with a free vector illustration program. Yet I'm making more on photography than I have on anything else in years. And I'm not doing much to get there, either. Just snapping photographs. Like that's hard.

So, I guess I'm wondering why I'm so deflated over the vector rejection (it's not like I can't try again). I'm not an illustrator, or a photographer, or a writer - not really. I'm a mother. In another window I have the upcoming homeschool plan open. I'm up to November planning with math, still in October for the other areas. I plan to plan through the end of December, then I'll do the planning for spring during Christmas break.

This is a task of motherhood, something I'm good for. The other stuff, that's just me having a little fun, and really, I should be glad vector isn't an option (yet!) because I don't have enough spare time for it.

Now, for the sake of being sappy and sentimental, what are mothers good for? Kissing hurts, sending naughties to time-out, rationing glue, baking muffins. We're good for teaching our children how to read, how to trust, how to be honest, how to love. I'm not succeeding as well as I'd like on those things. So why not focus my energy there, and let vector shapes and squiggles go for a while.

The Shouldn't-be-Secret Joys of Homeschooling

(This is republished from my old blog, which is gone now. Poor thing.)

I've been getting a lot of comments lately about homeschooling - ranging from, "I could Never do That!" to the not-so-veiled criticism of, "I could Never do That!" And both are usually followed by the question, "Why are you Doing That?!?" The longer I homeschool, and the more often I get this question, the more fatigued I find the answering. It's made me want to put together a tract on homeschooling - the reasons, answers to common objections, the joys and trials. Maybe I will, in my spare moments (BWAAAHAAHAHAHAAAW! Ahem, excuse me while I recover a moment.).

But, to be honest, the longer I homeschool, the easier it is for me to forget why I decided to do it in the first place. I need the tract so I have something to hand to those with honest questions, something that will give them more than my typical blank stare and "Ummmmm ...." By the time I remember what homeschooling is (a lifestyle!) and why I do it (Ummm ...), the topic of conversation has shifted, or the person speaking to me has decided that I am, indeed, insane and she really ought to be going now.

So, what is this homeschooling thing good for, anyway? Aren't I stunting my child's social development? Aren't I limiting his options for the future? Aren't I spending an awful lot of time doing something that others can do better, since they're trained in it; and an awful lot of money on something I could get, if I used the public schools, for free? Wouldn't I rather be - gasp - working?

Let me tell you a little story.

My oldest, St. Nick, was sharing our tiny backyard with his little brother and sister, while I did double-duty by watching them through the lens of my camera. Time passed, I got a few good shots, the kids played, and we were all getting cold. The snow had stopped for a day, leaving an abundance of mud, so my thoughts revolved around how to get the little ones inside and stripped to undies/diapers without getting a. all the mud in the house and b. the neighbors calling CPS on the woman who leaves her kids on the stoop in their underwear/diaper in April in Michigan. I had just managed to get two of the three inside when St. Nick Screamed from the back door, "MOMMY! I FOUND A BABY PORCUPINE!!!"

Had he said he'd found a dragon or a bag of gold or a brain in a jar, I'd have said, "Oh, that's nice dear," and gone on with washing little hands. But it is Michigan, and we do have porcupines, don't we? Except not usually in the city. But who knows? We have a skunk living in the alley, somewhere. So really, why not a porcupine?

I hurried to the back door only to stop in my tracks. Nicholas was pointing at something that appeared to be stuck in the mat on the back steps. "There, Mom! It's a baby porcupine!"

Why, it did look an awful lot like a porcupine - all black with little spines sticking out. But it also looked a bit creepy-crawly and the familiar hair-raising was happening on the back of my neck. There's nothing I hate more than creepy crawlies.

"I don't think that's a porcupine, Nicholas."

"Yes, it is! Look at it!"

"No, I think it's a ... a ... a caterpillar?"

He got down on his knees and peered at it. "I see lots of legs - it IS! It IS a caterpillar!"

And then it happened. This thing called homeschooling took over. My thoughts went from, "Ewww! How will I get it OFF my MAT!" to "Wow! A caterpillar! A HUGE, DISGUSTING, FURRY Caterpillar! It could turn into a MOTH! We could WATCH it! Wouldn't that be COOL?!?" I did not share these thoughts with St. Nick, however, because watching it would entail putting it in the house, which would entail finding a jar and filling it with leaves and - EWWWWWW - getting the huge, disgusting, furry caterpillar into the jar. Somehow. I merely said, "Don't squish it, maybe we can watch it some more, okay?"

"What kind is it?"

And you know what? I was just as curious as St. Nick. We rushed inside and went to Google and after looking at a handful of creepy-crawling, icky-yucky photographs, decided it was a type of Woolly Bear caterpillar. Well, mystery solved. Great homeschool moment!

I started on lunch while St. Nick, at top volume (the only volume he has, sadly), told his brother about the Super Cool Caterpillar he found on the steps that looks just like a porcupine and will turn into a MOTH!

At this point I was muttering, "School-flool, I don't need caterpillars in my house to homeschool." Every thought of getting that furry thing into a jar was making my breath catch. I Do Not Like insects, bugs, spiders of any sort. Even Ladybugs are a stretch. I can handle looking at them, but touching one is out of the question. Same goes for butterflies. A Woolly Bear caterpillar? Not a chance.

All through lunch I eyed a huge, seldom-used vase on the window ledge, I thought of how I could cover the top in plastic wrap, fix a rubber band around it, poke holes ... that would be such a lovely caterpillar home. We could watch it build a cocoon and emerge as something winged and wriggly. I wouldn't mind watching that - I've never seen it myself.

I got the vase down. I got the plastic wrap out. And finally, I asked St. Nick, "What do you think the caterpillar would like in his home?"

He nearly exploded with glee.

But I set down one rule. "You, Nicholas, you have to be brave and put the caterpillar in the vase yourself. Can you do that?"

He eagerly agreed. So long as he could use a spoon to pick it up.

While the little ones played in their food (the baby would have to have a bath after lunch because of this), St. Nick and I went outside, found the caterpillar still on the porch, put some soil and sticks and plants in the vase. And while I stood a good ten feet away, St. Nick expertly nudged the bug onto his gardening spade and dropped it in the habitat.

So, why do I homeschool? I have lots of reasons, and most of them have to do with education and family and what's best for St. Nick. But some of them are selfish - all about me. I homeschool because every day it stretches me in ways I never thought I'd be stretched, and every day I have the excitement and privilege and joy of learning, seeing, doing things that I never got to do when I was a child.

I never thought I'd have a caterpillar in my house, and I never thought I'd be as eager as my kids to see what the "little guy" was doing when I got up this morning. Here he is - smile for the camera baby! Isn't he cute?

A Little Lie

“The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in men who are truthful."
Proverbs 12:22 NIV

Lying lips are an abomination to the LORD,
but those who act faithfully are his delight. ESV

St. Nick was busted for this twice yesterday (and it has been an issue more often lately) so Daddy and I did some thinking on how to deal with the situation. Old standbys of taking away computer time, sending to bedrooms, etc. are ineffective and often end up putting more strain on me than the benefit they (don't) reap in St. Nick. So. We decided to put the bugger's good memory to work with some scripture memory, and I found some crafts (now that the printer is hooked up, for the first time in over a year! [long story]) to reinforce the passage and, well, here are the links.

Coloring page with a verse.

PDF of a puzzle based on Proverbs 12:22.

A little lesson plan some church in Virginia put together for their Sunday School program on the topic of lying. Very helpful. I just hope they leave the page up long enough for me to use it.

But wait! I have a printer now! I can print it! WooHoo!

Hard Hearts

Tonight Dr. D read some of the Beeke book (Building on the Rock vol. 4), a story about a boy with a hard heart who didn't believe what he was taught and ran away and so on. St. Nick was very disinterested in this story - he took an active interest in being disinterested, actually.

I had been reading to Little Fish, so I asked St. Nick for a summary - he said he didn't remember, so Daddy told about it. And while he was telling me about the story, St. Nick began to ask questions and soon he was crying! He didn't like the boy having a hard heart and running away!

Well, I cuddled him and asked him about his feelings and he started getting angry, saying it was Daddy's fault for reading these mean stories. His tears slowed as he moved his emotions onto someone else. Instead of being defensive or upset, I talked about this, and suggested maybe he felt that the boy with the hard heart was him. Waterworks started again. He did feel that, and felt afraid of being alone and I think just generally afraid of what would happen if his heart stayed hard.

This became such a good moment to talk and pray and have hugs and kisses. This is the focus of homeschooling, I think. To soften that heart for all of us.

On Workbooks

A blessing and a bane. I began relying on workbooks for grammar a month or so ago. Found a very nice Scholastic Success with Grammar that gave me confidence that we were actually covering things we should be covering. Only problem is, too many workbooks are boring. And whether St. Nick will do them or not depends entirely upon his mood and my fortitude. Not that I have to sit him down and force him to do a workbook page. He rather likes them, on occasion. But I, dumbly, planned three or four workbook pages (different subjects - math, grammar, spelling, something else) for today and he's not having a workbooky sort of day.

He's standing here pouting about having to trace numbers. But kiddo, your handwriting is atrocious! Okay, so is mine. It may well be inherited. But by golly I'm the teacher-mom and I need to at least try to have him surpass my shortcomings. Right?

How did commenting on workbooks get to this? I have no idea. I just feel the need to write something right now. But, alas, Little Fish is up from his Fire Fighters movie. No more Musings from me.

The short of it: Scholastic "Success for..." workbooks are great. I bought (at Bargain Books) the big bound set for 1st and 2nd grades which are even in color. Cool! Not that I'll use all the sheets, but it's nice to have something fun to toss down on the table that I know will advance learning at the same time. If anything, it's useful to me as a reminder of what I should be teaching. "Oh, yes. Nouns are Naming Words!" It's been a while since I was in 1st grade.