HomeSchooling
That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not alone and isolated from anyone. You belong. - F. Scott Fitzgerald
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when you don’t see the point.
On the road that leads to the field where Mosely plays soccer every week there stands a solitary stop sign. It is not located where a stop sign should be located. There is no apparent rhyme nor reason for this stop sign. No traffic could possibly come from any other direction and it is simply placed in the curve of a road. I don’t know why. I think about that stop sign twice every week. Once when we drive to her game and once when we drive to her practice. I usually come to the classic rolling stop. Silly stop sign. I don’t see the point. There it is –…
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I concur.
The ordinary acts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest. -Thomas Moore
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I Want To Be More Like Daddy Today
I imagine a lot of homes are structured like ours. Mom’s primary job is Keeper of All Things Home and Dad’s main daily occupation is his . . . well, occupation. It’s not that it can’t be reversed and work just as well and it’s not some special requirement for Mom to work full time at home. This post is not a social commentary about your family’s choices. It’s really just an observation about our family. And the difference between the way my husband and I tend to spend time with our children. I am home alone with the kids a lot. I handle the majority of their educational planning…
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art.
Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up. ~Pablo Picasso I adore the works of her not-quite-so-small-any-longer hands. I hope she never stops creating. Never stops imagining. Never stops putting pencil to paper. I want her to remember that she is always an artist.
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Field Trip Friday: Happy Cow Creamery
Field Trip Fridays are quickly becoming my favorite part of this school year. First we have math class and then we pack our lunches, load up and head out. (We listen to our composer – Mozart – on the drive, plus an audio book.) We’ve been to the apple orchard, the zoo and to DuPont Forest for a fishing class so far. Sometimes we go alone, sometimes with friends. This past Friday, our field trip was far from alone. We visited Happy Cow Creamery with over one hundred other home schoolers. (Yeah – over a hundred. What in the world?) (This picture makes me laugh. The nose-holding, the closed eyes,…
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second annual.
Last year, same weekend actually, Emma and Julie and Mandy and our families all enjoyed a bit of a fall adventure together. We decided it was too good of a time to not repeat. Mandy couldn’t join us this year but Kate could. Five of our children joined us. Julie brought four of her five. Emma has two. Kate brought five of her six. 5 + 4 + 2 + 5 = 16. 16 kids + 3 adults = barely organized chaos. Actually, the truth is – it wasn’t as crazy as it appears. The kids played together beautifully. And we filled our weekend to the hilt with non-stop activity.…
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wednesday.
Today I am sleepy. Walking about two steps behind myself. A bit buried under the demands of homeschooling four children, maintaining clean laundry for eight people, preparing meals for those same eight people. I like my job/life. In fact, I love it. I just wish I slept more last night. (And the many nights preceding last night.) Which means today, I have no real inspiration for writing. Nothing to share, really, except I wish someone would come to my house and clean the kitchen counters for me. But my sweet husband did take over the breakfast and math routine this morning so I could lounge in bed for a bit…
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My Life Is A Cartoon
A lot of my days feel so Family Circus. Yesterday was the first day of our homeschool co-op for London, Mosely, Bergen and Piper. You remember when the Family Circus cartoon would show Billy’s day with little foot steps representing his travels throughout the day, with loads of back tracking and detours? That’s what Monday felt like. We all arose early, dressed, breakfasted on peanut butter toast laid out across the counter, no time for plates. Checked backpacks, lunch boxes, water bottles. Times Five. (Otto Fox wanted his own tiny version too.) Dropped Riley off for her dual-enrollment classes at a nearby college. Parked the car at the co-op building,…
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dining in.
Vacations usually involve more eating out than our regular weeks normally contain. Much more. I love the convenience. Love it. I love not cooking. I love not cleaning. I love choices. And refills. And spills soaked up by Not Me. However. I always walk away at week’s end being reminded that homemade really is . . . well, better. Not as if I have ever served tilapia or chicken stuffed with mushrooms (or chicken stuffed with anything actually). But homemade is still good. The cooking? Sure. But so much more, of course. The sharing of space in the kitchen. The buying local and cooking fresh. The eating of the same…
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we weren’t just picking grapes.
We don’t live on a farm. But I used to. And even though I thought the cows smelled rotten and I vowed to never marry a dairy farmer living on a farm taught me a few things. I know where food comes from. That a cow has to die if I want a burger. And I know that people make the system work. Labor. Loads of labor. Hauling hay on a hot July afternoon means that the cows can eat on a cold January morning when snow covers the pasture. I know that eggs don’t originate from Styrofoam containers and it requires a real human hand to pick an apple.…
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busy. busy. dreadfully busy.
The last few days have been busy. A good busy, but busy. Summer ending. Lesson plans being prepared. (Who knew teaching four high school classes to my daughter would take so much preparation? Oh, wait – I did.) Camp drawing to a close. Annual camp-ending traditions being observed and embraced. Oh – and raising six children who have ambitiously declared it their goal to make plans to swim every remaining day of summer. I have actually not sat down before this computer screen in three days. I have missed typing words. I have. But instead of typing I’ve been wrapped up with other agendas. Agendas that involve listening to this…
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these days
These are the types of days that you can’t manufacture. The days that I want to store up and stack up until they fall over. Teetering and towering on the edge. These are the days that quality time just doesn’t register and it all comes down to quantity time. It’s an abundance of time, plain and simple, that allowed these four heads to sit around and make up something to do. It was TV off, no chores assigned, afternoon free time that created this moment. I can’t fake that and I can’t conjure it up. And I don’t want to miss it. It’s so perfect and lovely in its innocence…
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A pastime. To pass the time.
“Can we watch a show?” I think I hear that question about every twenty minutes during the summer. Sometimes the answer is “yes”. But usually – the answer is a resounding “no!” And if it really is the twentieth time that morning then the answer might be, “If you ask me again I will happily give you a chore to occupy your time.” (Isn’t that a standard mom reply?) The kids have found a lot of interests to fill their time this summer but one go-to activity for the past year or more has been the same. I’m not even entirely sure what they’re called but at our house we…
