mid-week ramble. is that a thing?

Well. It is now.

It’s already September and I don’t know anything about anything except that TIME ALWAYS DISAPPEARS.

Even when you think it’s going slowly.

Our homeschool co op begins this week.

Prepping for teaching other kids, therefore, also begins this week.

Honestly, that prepping started a while ago. But the routine, week part of prepping is upon us.

My home is now officially a Teen House. More teens live here than non-teens. Otto and I are outnumbered. We must join forces to survive.

Homeschool is underway entirely.

Which means my kitchen table is a war zone all day every day.

London is learning that college classes aren’t all that much different than high school classes. (For now, anyway.) She’s also learning the important skill of consuming information and processing it and keeping what counts and disregarding the rest.

I’m sitting through Geometry class with two of my kids – it’s a computer-based program. And my brain hurts. Reminds me a little of those SAT analogies – if this, then that. Blank is to blank as what is to what.

I hated those.

I’m also thrilled that I found the sweetest math tutor ever for my junior high daughter.

It’s dreamy and reminds me of early homeschool days when I reaped the crazy benefit of living at a camp and knew a plethora of college students who kindly and joyfully tutored my kids in all sorts of subjects.

(One of those early tutors and kid helpers got married last weekend. It made me happy to watch his joy and it made me feel old too. Because I am.)

I’m blaming back to school or forced sort of routine in a still messed up world for all these mixed emotions running rampant at my home lately.

I find that I’m having a pretty low tolerance for nonsense and mess.

But this house of teens don’t care. (I guess my grammar is slipping too.)

Boys are continually wrestling one another.

No one ever puts anything back in a drawer.

Food is constantly being made, cooked, consumed, left strewn around the house and on the porch.

Shoes must just walk themselves right off the shelves after being put away since everyone says they put them away and yet I’m always tripping over someone’s gigantic shoes. (Keigley kids have huge feet I guess.)

And there you have it – the mid-week ramble turns out to be just a glorified mid-week complaining session.

We’re all in this together – right?

_______________________________________________________________________