a real thursday.

What is it about a plan, anyway?

Seems like whenever you make one, it goes awry.

Our homeschool’s motto is stolen directly from Charlotte Mason.

I am.  I can.  I ought.  I will.

I get the first three.  No problem there.

It’s the stinkin’ “I will” that always throws me for a loop.

It’s not the man getting me down, it’s me.

This week I have once again renewed my efforts to establish a daily routine and a nearly-hourly plan for our days.

(These schedules have ebbed and flowed for me over the many years of homeschooling, in accordance with our lives and the number of children running around in diapers and whatever crisis we are currently passing through.)

After our recent move it seemed only logical to make a new game plan for a new house.

(The curriculum and educational style has pretty much remained the same, it’s just the way it shakes down during the day that shifts and turns.)

So I did what I do.

I made a tidy schedule.

I printed it out with the new ink Riley just installed for me.  (Am I the only adult who cannot correctly replace printer ink?  No need to answer that actually.)

I placed my daily schedules in a plastic protector so’s I can write across the paper without altering my ship-shape work.

We started following the New Regime Tuesday.

Tuesday was good.  Wednesday was good.

Hello Thursday.

The kids were fine.  (Although no one here likes to rise and shine.  That’s right – we force the rising part in our house but the shining part?  Hmmm.  There’s quite a shortage of that in the a.m.)

The schedule was good.  It was in its home.  It was legible.  It was reasonable.  Logical, even.

I am ashamed to admit it, but the problem today was . . .

me.

I just had these other things I wanted to do.

I had an agenda – definitely.

But that agenda hardly involved sitting in one place and reading books to my children and walking them through science experiments.

It wasn’t as if I even had a holy calling or worthy distractions.

In fact, all I wanted was to hang up whatever decorations were remaining on the floor of our laundry room.  And then I wanted to turn that laundry room in to a giant children’s clothing closet, sort of.

(And I want to tell you about that project, but that’s not today’s focus so let’s just try to stay the course – alright?)

We struggled through a smidge of school.  (I don’t think “smidge” is even a word.  Look, I’m educating someone, right?)

Math was accomplished, thanks only to our amazing tutor Shelby.  (Have I ever written a post about her?  Seriously – have I?  Because if not, I should.  She’s fantastic!)

I saw to it that London completed her homework for our co-op.

We read a book about Shakespeare.

Mosely and I practiced reading through her flash cards.

The kids all completed their morning copywork, spelling lists and Bible reading.

Bergen read an entire Magic Tree House book.  (But I can hardly take credit for that one.)

Aaaaand – I think that about does it.

Truly, I’m racking my brain to try to toss something else educational sounding in the mix.

But I can’t.

Today I failed the schedule.  (Since its real purpose is to serve me, not me to serve it.)

Some days it is just plain hard to put your nose to the grindstone.

It’s a challenge to let the main thing be the main thing.

It’s tough to lay down my agenda for the good of my kids.

Some days I sort of blow it.  

I skip out on my job and shirk my real responsibilities.

That’s what life looks like at this house on a random Thursday.

There.

It’s out.

The glaring imperfections of our school.  And this teacher.

In case you ever thought otherwise.