New Years Resolution (a little early)

Wylie has been investigating the idea of public school ( I wrote a little about it a few weeks ago.)  While no decisions have been made yet, it's led me to do a lot of thinking (and some panicking, if we're being honest).  But also, a lot of questioning.  The quiet, in my head, late night, self-doubt questioning that tends to happen when a large part of how you've defined your life is suddenly suspect to change.  Over the past five years of homeschooling I've been (mostly) confident that our relaxed, mainly child-led homeschooling is what's best for our kids and our family.  I've stood by my gut feeling to not force reading before they are ready, to allow lots of time for imaginative play, creative self expression, and to allow the kids a large say in the scheduling and follow through of their responsibilities.  I still feel like those choices were good ones-- most of the time.

But damn, there's nothing like a school official evaluating your child to make you doubt all the teaching and guidance you've done over the past 6 years (10 if you're counting from birth).  Even when those officials are kind and understanding, and seem to respect homeschooling choices.  I feel this huge judgement being thrust on me, and suddenly feel fully responsible for what my child knows (and doesn't).  Do teachers feel that same sense of responsibility for thier students' knowledge and performance?  I'm sure to some degree, but I'll bet its different.  I find myself being (quietly) critical of what he hasn't worked on enough, blaming him (never aloud) for not focussing on it, and myself for not pushing him harder to work on his weeker skills.  I've been feeling like a failure for not pushing enough, not being structured enough, and feeling disappointed in my kid for his weaknesses instread of celebrating his strengths.  

And it sucks, because the reality is, that's the whole reason why we chose not to send our kids to school.  So they could revel in the skills they do have, learn what they need to at thier own pace, and keep the passion for learning and discovery they had as toddlers.  So they can grow up to be curious, life long lovers of learning (oh the alliteration!) who are happy about themselves and with the choices they make.  

I'm kinda done with the whole self-doubt bit.  So here's what I'm choosing to think about instead:

We can want all kinds of things for our kids.  And, we can plan what we will give them (materially and figuratively) and envision what they will make of it.  But the reality is that they are each who they are, and will become what the will.  If that is not what we envisioned we can force them.  We can shame them into trying harder to be who we want.  We may even make them what we want, but surely at a cost.
Or, we can choose to celebrate who they are, right now.  Maybe they are not strong readers.  Maybe they are not people who enjoy crafting.  Maybe they are not athletic, mathematical, musical, funny, compassionate, good writers, lovers of animals,  _____ (fill in the blank), maybe not.  But surely they are original.  Surely they are each the sweet babes we held in our arms, carried on our backs, fed and clothed and bathed.  Surely they are the same souls that stared into our eyes unblinking as we cradled them in their first moments with us.

Our choices and opportunities in our society seem nearly limitless, it can be overwhelming.  But if we treat ourselves kindly by limitting choices (as we did for our toddlers) we can make it easier on ourselves.  Because in the end there are really only two choices.  We can choose to be happy, or not.  And if we are happy with them, then it seems more likely they will be happy with themselves.  And isn't that really what we all want for our children in the end.  Despite all of our hopes for success, a fulfilling career, healthy relationships, etc.  Isn't what we are really trying to say is, "I hope you are truly happy in your life". ?  I think so.  And shouldn't it start right now?  After all, childhood is just as much a part of their lives as adulthood.

So, my New Year's resolution for this year, is to choose to be happy.  To be thrilled with who each of my children is in his/her entirety.  It will not make them who I want.  It will not make each day easier (maybe a little?) But surely it will grow happier people. Which is really what the world needs.

Homeschool Thursdays: Hightide and drowning

Every year I mention Melissa Wiley, and her essays on Tidal homeschooling because it is the closest "philosophy" to the one we practice here.  More schooly than un-schooling, less structured than Charlotte Mason, often, but not always child led, frequently project centered, but occasionally workbook-ish.  Ebbing and flowing with our need for structure, our desire to get outdoors, and my own personal hang ups about what kids should know when.  Its a term and style that fits the way we do things, and one that re-assures me that we are indeed on the right course, be it weeks of sit down learning, or stretches of outdoor adventure, nature observation and mad crafting sessions.  

This fall, like so many in the past, we started off schooling at high tide, faces to the wind.  I made a schedule and a chart on the fridge for the kiddos (the bigger two) to check off when they'd completed tasks.  Some work is independent, some with me.  For the first year ever we are doing a spelling curriculum, and I am asking them to do a lot more writing than ever before.  

I'll say this about those first few days of establishing routine.  The fist two days are fantastic, new pencils, new schedule, fun!  The next few are painful for pretty much all of us.  Since then we've plowed ahead, worked through a few glitches, and pretty much have found a groove.  Sails still full, we're getting busy with math, reading, spelling, handwriting, and literature study.  Science and French lessons make their way in most days. Formal  history lessons are on hold for now, though our literature is mostly historical fiction.  We follow this routine 3 days a week.  Another day is devoted to project work, then music and swim lessons.  Another day is spent at our homeschool coop.  

Sounds great right?  But here's the thing:  schooling, even fairly laid back home schooling, takes a heck of a lot of time.  

Homeschooling books are quick to point out the amount of time wasted in public school, waiting in line, waiting for 18 children to finish an assignment, waiting for your turn in the bathroom,etc.  They point out that the same ammount of learning (or more) can be done at home in half the time.  Which, I believe to be true.  

Homeschooling children (in general) waste much less of their childhoods waiting, which means more free time for pursuing their own interests.  

The homeschooling teacher (parent) however, has much, much less time.  

A school teacher has only one job (albeit it a very difficult, multi-faceted, unappreciated and underpaid one)-- to teach the children.  At home I am teacher, cook, custodian, librarian, gardener, butt wiper, scientist, artistic director, naturalist,  etc.  

Never mind all of the other projects I've committed myself to, or that  I'd just like to make time for.
This fall I feel as though every spare minute of my day is spent cooking or teaching or reading, or attending meetings, or driving to lessons, or grocery shopping, or playing with Kale-- who sometimes can't possibly be told one more time to, "wait just a minute".  

I'll stop complaining long enough to point out that I love homeschooling.  I love spending the days with my kids and being a part of their learning.  I love that they have more opportunity to learn through living, and time to pursue their passions.  But, I also feel overwhelmed at balancing all that I want for them and what I need for myself.  

And so, last week, I found myself fallen over the bough, drowning at high tide.  

The evening before we were to leave for the weekend in NH I told Rob I needed to just stay home, and have a weekend to myself.  He wasn't psyched with the last minute change of plans, or the idea of our family weekend turning into a Papa trip.  But it worked out.  Rob took the kids to his dad's for the weekend, including a trip to the Deerfield fair and apple picking with my brother and his family. They had ice cream 3 times in one day.  

I stayed home and gardened, tended the bees, had dinner and a hot tub with my mom and sister, did some committee work, went for a 10 mile run, sewed myself two shirts, cleaned the house, and started a landscaping project in our future "orchard".  It was lovely.  

That same weekend I had a dream that I was watching a child swim.  I could see that he was going to drown if I did not help him, but I continued to stand and watch him, growing more and more frustrated that I was for some reason unable (unwilling?) to extend my hand and pull him from the water.  Eventually, with a huge sigh of exasperation (at myself, not the child) I was able to reach my hand out--actually flinging my sleeping arm across the bed, and waking myself up.    

I shared my dream with a running friend who happens to be somewhat of a dream specialist.  

"You saved yourself," she told me, "though you nearly let yourself drown."  

At Juniper's swim lesson this week they took turns lying on their bellies at the pool's edge, extending an orange noodle to their instructor.  "Grab on, I'll pull you to safety!"  It was pretty sweet to hear their different voices, some strong, others shy and quiet, all of them hauling their teenage instructor across the lane with their 8 year old arms.  

My weekend alone was like climbing back onto the boat.  I felt ready for our routine again, and able to keep up with my kids' enthusiasm, and to deal with their frustrations.  

But, I'm keeping that swim lesson in mind this week.  Thinking up a few orange noodles for when I need a little help staying above water.  This week that meant planning ahead so that dinner was ready when we arrived home after chorus at 5:30, and  a few extra minutes lingering in the sun on the deck with my coffee, and taking an hour to harvest cranberries and dig up invasive honeysuckle with Kale (yes, those are things I do for fun).  It may mean making sure I fit in a  long run in each weekend, or making a habit of staying up a little later to read a book I want to read, or to watch an hour or two of mindless media while knitting and relaxing with my Honey one evening a week.  I'm confident we'll figure it out.  

I also know that in a month or two we'll be settling into a different rhythm of wood fires and long reading sessions, and crafting. It will be a different pace, and at some point we'll find ourselves at low tide in our schooling,each of us following our own path, meandering a bit, exploring slowly and carefully, sinking our toes (so to speak) into the mud and rooting out whatever it is we're hoping to discover.  This knowledge is something else I can hang onto, knowing that there will be a time when the tide is out and I can catch my breath and ground my feet before we ride the next swell.  

some days are just hard

Being a stay at home mom is really hard sometimes.  Not just the days when the dog pukes on the floor and the toddler dumps his yogurt down his front, and the toilet overflows.  Those things seem worthwhile after a morning spent on the couch together with good story books, or in seeing my child's face light up with a new found skill.

What's hard is that we've been conditioned since kindergarten to rely on external praise of our worth.  Whats hard is that at the end of the day there are no colleagues with whom to sympathize, and at the end of the week no pay check for a job well done.

Deep down we know the worth of the work we do, or we never would have chosen this path of at-home-work with children.  Intrinsically we know the value of each day dedicated to creating and nurturing our homes and our families.

But, somedays as as I plow on, following my insticts and trying against the odds to trust in theirs, I end up cursing the lack of a policy book that would dictate the proper course of action for dealing with a surly 9 year old.  Wishing for some kind of assurance that I haven't somehow ruined my child for forcing her to sit and complete a handwriting lesson, or maybe for all the times I didn't.  For someone else in charge who could review the guidelines for stranger safety that isn't helicopter parenting, or the appropriate steps to take when your toddler has learned to swear.

Because there is no one there to say when I've done it well.  No way to know for sure that I won't look back on this all in 20 years and think  what the hell did I think I was doing?  We try, and most of the time I know that its the best thing I can be doing, most of the time its a blast, and most of the time I trust that I'm doing my best--and that just maybe my best will be just right.  But sometimes its just fucking hard.

Homeschool Thursday: Trust

As we jogged down the hill beside my 2 yr. old coasting on his new balance bike, my friend commented on what a daring parent I was, adding that his own mother would surely be having a heart attack about now.  He may have been hinting at my tendency toward benign neglect, but I like to think really he was noticing how much I trust my children.

That got me thinking.  Do homeschoolers (generally speaking) have more trust in their children, and if so, which came first?  Did I choose to homeschool because I have trusted from the beginning that they will learn what they need to know?  Or, is this faith in their abilities (and my subsequent peace with toddlers racing about on 2 wheels) a result of countless hours spent observing and learning, realizing each child's personality and capabilities?  I imagine it must be a bit of both.

When Wylie was just barely 2 yrs old we moved into our house.  Juniper was 2 weeks old.  We had moved from a small cabin that had a ladder to a sleeping loft, which Wylie climbed quite well, but he had very little experience with stairs.  I remember sitting on the couch, newborn at the breast, and a toddling Wylie attempting his first down stairs trek solo.  I'm sure I sang out in an un-alarming voice (no need to scare the child now that its too late) "hold the rail tightly, walk slowly, watch your feet..." what I do remember is that at one point, heart in throat, I decided it was best to look away.  He had no doubt he could do this. He had not asked for help or even hesitated at the top.  And so, still coaching, I looked away and waited to hear his little feet slap the floor and patter toward me.  Safe.

So, we plunge on, homeschooling, two-wheeling, swimming, climbing (higher and higher every day), looking away when we must, but trusting all the while that our children will do what they set out to do.

Celebrate

These two weeks mid summer are a crazy haze of celebrating:  Juniper one week then Wylie the next, Mimi's birthday two days later, followed by our anniversary.  This year Juniper's celebration was a sweet, quiet Saturday event with sugar cereal for breakfast--a special treat, a trip to city park pool (her choice), and a small gathering of friends and cousins.  Wylie's bash will be just that--a crowd of all the friends he's known since birth, and their parents and siblings (most of whom are Juni's best friends so she gets a double party).  Its really just a handful of families, but all those people add up fast.  Followed by a sleepover with just the oldest boys and hours of borrowed Wii and movies.  


I am not a person that gets bent out of shape about parties.  Nor do I over plan, with matching napkins, favors, party games etc.   I like to keep things simple.  The kids write an invitation, we plan a small party favor, make a cake, or root beer floats (Juni's favorite) and call it good.  Its typically a potluck affair with some grilling.  This year I got fancy and poked some straws through the lids of Ball Jars and attached each child's name with a rubber band (no pictures but you get the idea).  They looked very sweet all lined up together, and saved on dishes without the need for wasteful juice boxes.


However, even with very little prep and planning it is easy to get caught up in the festivities and overlook the real reason for celebration.  My sweet girl is 7 now.  She is nearly as tall and as heavy as her brother.  She is all muscle and grins.  She is all heart and sass.  She is a climber, a hanger, a leader, a nurturer, and my most reliable helper.  Next week Wylie will be 9.  I call him "knees" these days.  The roundest part of his body are his eyeballs.  He is wiry and wily--aptly named.  He is learning the art of appropriate sarcasm and can sometimes be quite witty.  He is proud of his reading and is learning to swim. He has become a good pal to Kale.  So many new things from last summer.  


All that sugar (root beer floats, lime aid, fruit salad, and lollipops--geesh), children racing and chasing, balloon bopping, shrieking, and movie watching is a fun aside. But in the calm after the storm its nice to sit and enjoy what the day really means.  My children are growing into themselves.

When they were toddlers their birthdays felt, selfishly like my days.  A day when I really reflected on each of their births, told them their birth story and celebrated their joining our family.  Now that they are older we still do that, but it feels somehow different.  The momentous event of birth itself is so much about the mother.  But, no matter how long the labor, birth is a very brief event in a child's life and from then on they become who they will, who they are.  I feel grateful to be able to celebrate with my children on a day is fully theirs, to appreciate who they are and who they are quickly becoming.  Happy Birthdays kiddos.  

Two

Two is so full of everything:  joy, frustration, independence, longing, acceptance, and pride.
The other night at bedtime I noticed a small splinter in Kale's foot and tried for a few minutes to get it out.  Since he wasn't bothered by it I told him that we'd try again in the morning.  But, having drawn attention to it he could no longer settle.  He kept feeling the bottom of his foot to see if it was there, and finally sat up and said, "my just need to try this boo boo again".  He pulled at it a little bit, scrunched up his face, tugged awhile at the jagged skin,  then looked up and smiled, "yay, my got it out!".
He then snuggled into his bed once more, smooshing his face into his pillow.  He was still and quiet for a minute or so and I thought maybe he'd fallen asleep.  But then he looked up at me with those huge blue eyes beaming and said, "My didn't need you help."  I nearly melted at the pride in his voice.  He was so proud to not need me.   I've been seeing it all over of course, the way his body hangs off of mine, legs dangling, when I hold him;  the heft of his body, stocky in the way of two-year-olds; in the way he struts about so sure of who he is.  But my god, in that moment he was just so glad for his independence. And of course I was both glad and heartbroken in that way that mothers are when we realize our babies are no longer babies.

He is so proud of all he can do.  And (mostly) so are we.

Homeschool Thursday: Put something in

Eight years and three kids into this gig, some days I still feel like I'm just beginning to figure it all out.  Each day is so full of challenges and changes, tears, laughter, thrills and tantrums.  Learning with my kids is an adventure I wouldn't trade for anything--and I'm so glad to have the opportunity to do it.

Lately I've been feeling like the very best homeschooling lesson is to show them that you're never too old to learn something new, and by being a model in searching out my own interests and taking on new challenges.

Leaving outside, paid work, to stay home with babies is a lesson in patience and requires a whole new perspective on time and productivity.  It took a while to adjust, but I got pretty darn good at it.  You know, celebrating each milestone as an accomplishment, reveling in their joy and delight, and letting go of all expectations and outcomes; because some days with little ones just getting dinner made can feel like you've really done something with your time.  And if you've brushed your teeth, managed to fold some laundry and negotiated a successful trip to the grocery store without loosing your cool or forgetting the T.P. you think you're the bomb (you are!).

But, Good News--as they get older it gets easier.  Most days I notice that not only are my children ridiculously cute and shockingly brilliant (its my blog and I can brag if I want to...)  they are also good company.  Not only that, but I'm finding I can actually get stuff done.  I can set a goal--and while it may take a while I can finish things.  Things that have nothing to do with household chores and childcare.  I started slow and practical with knitting.  Finishing a hat was a huge accomplishment.  A baby sweater was suddenly manageable, and then I was taking on adult sweaters.  Some time later I learned to sew, competed in my first triathlons, started to garden, and am psyched for my first year with bees.  Unexpectedly, out of necessity (chocolate chip cookies are a necessity) I learned how to bake gluten free.  Now, thanks to a some good food blogs (and some persistent eczema) I'm learning a few tricks about baking/cooking without grains. Who would've thunk it?

So while I will always find a place for math basics, legible handwriting, and a general understanding of world history, what I really hope our kids learn from our days together is that life is an adventure and you get out of it what you put in.

Homeschool Thursday: What we teach our kids

Throughout the day Kale will often pat his chest and declare "Mama"-- as in I am pretending to be the mama-- and will then go about his business rocking or nursing his baby.  This is of course very sweet.
But, the other day he came up to me, and patting his chest said, "mama" then yelled "bye-bye" and went for a jog around the house.  I love this!

It was such a real reminder to me of the truth that our kids learn from what we do not what we say.
Its not just when my own nasty words come back at me, or when manners start to slip, though those times are poignant.  But in these little times, when our kids are acting out what it means to be a mother or father it becomes so obvious:  its what we do with our time, and our passion that counts most of all.

My friends and I have had repeated conversations about this, and keep coming back to the same thing:  As babies our children need us to be everything for them.  But as they grow there is a space created, space for ourselves as women not just as mothers*.  But its difficult to know how to best fill this new space.  Particularly as homeschooling parents its hard to strike a balance.  We can't possibly continue to put all our energy/time into our children (we'd be in their faces all the time).  Then what else?  How do we let them know they are valued, but also work on ourselves enough to feel fulfilled?

Most of the time I am all too aware that my kids see me as a waitress/house keeper/cook.  So it thrilled me to glimpse that they see me as an athlete as well.  It was like a little reminder that yes, I am doing something right.  I hope they also see me as an artist, reader, gardener, scientist, and just a really cool person.  Is that asking too much?

Sometime with this new space in our lives I find myself spending too much time and energy analyzing who my kids are and what they need.  I'm trying to remember that the best way to teach them is by example.  Its not so important that I figure out who they are (that's their job) but that I figure out who I want to be.

I'm still working on that one.  But I'm hoping that by teaching myself, I am teaching them the best way I can.

* I realize this may be an issue for some fathers too--but it seems to be particularly true for stay at home mom's dealing with the cultural dilemma of choosing children over a career.

Monday Morsels: Eat Them Up

When Wylie was a toddler he was what some would have labeled "a biter".  My shoulders were covered with black and blue baby mouth sized circles.  It would happen unexpectedly and he was just as likely to bite when he was happy, or excited as when he was angry.  I didn't understand it then.  But now I get it.
That overwhelming feeling of just wanting to latch tightly and not let go. The desire to cram it into your mouth and savor it for just another minute longer--even when you know it might hurt.

Sometimes my kids are so darn cute I just want to bite them.  (I promise I have never actually done it).

Some days I just want to grab time and smoosh it into my pocket, real good so it can't slip out.  Then maybe I can take them out years from now just to remember the way their voices sounded when they sing, or how their cheeks curved into their jaw lines--and that dimple!

Morsels:

*  Its starting to get dark so early already.  This evening we had a short playtime outside after dinner, but most nights its too dark and chilly for outside.  Last night after dinner the kids broke out a few board games.   A few of us have trouble with rules, so board games have not always been successful.  But I love when they actually take out a game and make it work for them.  By the end of the game they had made up a few of their own rules--even better I say!  This one is "Yoga Garden" a cooperative game.  Its really simple and fun, and totally random in its purpose, which makes it all the better somehow.

* Kale's "owd trator wid a guy on it" old tractor with a guy on it.  We picked this tractor/trailer up at Tractor Supply the other day when we were there for a homeschooling event (also random and fun).  Kale can attach the trailer and tractor and load it up with all kinds of tiny animals--which he does over and over again.  So much fun.  

* Cranberry apple pie, for dessert.  And breakfast, and lunch.

* We've been eating a lot of cranberry compote.  I read a few recipes online, here's what we've come up with for a favorite:  2 cups whole cranberries, two apples cored, one whole organic orange seeded (not peeled) 1/2 cup of honey.  Put everything in the food processor and chop until coarse but not mush.  The first recipe called for 1-2 cups of sugar.  I tried 1 cup and it was like dessert.  The 1/2 cup of honey is still sweet, but has a bite to it.  The kids preferred the first, but ate the other happily.  My sister thought red onion would be a good addition to make it more savory.  We'll have to try that too.  The recipes called this cranberry relish and  while we are relishing it (ha) my condiment aversion is keeping me from embracing the name.  I prefer compote. Whatever you choose to call it, its yummy.  This is so easy and beautiful not to mention tastey it will definitely be featured in some holiday gifts to come.

    Kale attempting to remove a splinter all by himself:  "Na Na do"

* I love that my kids love books.  Recently our homeschooling has been really free form.  This always happens, though not quite so early in the year typically.  But it feels good to everyone.  We're doing a lot of reading these days.  Story books, poetry, lots of science books (its what Wylie always chooses) and some beginning reader books too.  Kale will happily look at a book on his own for several minutes, or sit with the older kids while the "read" to him.

      My trash for the last two weeks.  Not including waste from previously purchased items.    

*  My ecochallenge is over, and while I wasn't 100% successful (I may have set the bar a little too high) most days we had little to no waste.  I realized that to be completely waste free we'd have to first go through all of the things we already own that are disposable.  So, that's my next goal--to not replace items that are disposable unless we can't find a better alternative.  This includes a lot of plastic toys that break, and then what?  We also just bought an annual pass to a local recycling facility that recycles so much more than our town does.  We went today to drop off all of the paper I'd been saving for months, along with some dis-assembled appliances.  We got to see how they sort all of the recyclables, and check out the baling machine.  I'll still try to avoid waste (even those things that can be recycled) but when I can't I'll be glad to visit the center again.  I never knew recycling centers could be so much fun.

* Loving the foliage this fall.

Happy Monday!

Growing Pains

Today we moved Wylie into his own room.  It feels so momentous and emotional in a way I wasn't expecting.  Like his first day of nursery school four years ago when I was unsure of how he would do-- just fine, but I unexpectedly teared up when it was time to say good bye.

From the kitchen downstairs this afternoon we could hear the radio screaming some song.  This is not uncommon, but knowing that it was coming from Wylie's radio, in his own room was different, and so cliche for big kid behavior that we had to roll our eyes.  "Here we go", Rob said lightly.
But really our hearts were catching in our throats because he isn't a baby anymore at all.
Wylie has always been fiercely independent, but every day now I notice he's breaking away a little bit more:  his first night in a tent all alone*, his first big kid sneakers (they look just like adult running shoes) "they're size 2" he says proudly; riding his bike on his own down the road a bit, and now this.
He has been asking for his own room for years, has in-fact always been drawn to find his own best secret place, like the title of one of our favorite books by Byrd Baylor.  Now he finally has a space all to himself.
I wonder (read: hope with all my might) if this will slow his quest for independence and his intense desire to grow up right now.  Or, if it will be a spring board for development.  He is on the cusp of so many new things, and I'm really seeing that even more than seven, 8 is a time of change. Not as tumultuous (thank god) but just as extreme.
* the tent was only three feet from the back door, and he only made it until midnight--but still!


Tonight Juniper didn't want to go to bed in her room all alone.  Someday soon Kale will be joining her (another hard day for this mama) but for now she too is alone.
"I feel scared, and sad", she said.  And even though I tried my best to reassure her, a part of me was like, yeah, me too.  Scared, sad and excited too, and trying in vain to snatch at these days while my littles are still little.

Monday Morsels: First (and last) Day of School

All summer Juniper asked about going to first grade.  We talked a lot and decided that it would work well for her to go to public school one day a week and attend music, art, and phys. ed. classes.  She was really excited.  When I mentioned that she may not know any of the kids she said,  "But mom, I'll make friends.  That's what school is for right?" Um, pretty much.  Then, we found out she'd be in class with several kids she knows from art camp, and one really good friend.  She was thrilled.  We toured the school, picked out clothes the night before, and packed her new lunch bags.  On her fist Friday she was ready to go.  She hung on my hand for just a minute, then gave me a hug and said good bye.  I had no concerns that she wouldn't be fine.  Junebug is one social kid and I knew she'd have a blast.  But, I was wrong.  At pick up I learned that she had cried on and off all morning.  For the next week she talked about how nervous she was to go back to school, and as the next Friday approached she said she wasn't going.

And, despite spending an hour at school yesterday morning at drop off time (a long, trying hour with tears, and pleading all around) an exhausted Mama, and three kiddos climbed into the car and headed home.

I know I could have left her crying with her teacher and hit the road.  I know that, as the teacher assured me, "it will be easier if you just go".  I know that really she would have been fine at the end of the day.  But even though I knew that it was still hard.  It was hard to see my Junebug so unreasonably (at least to my eyes) sad at the prospect of joining her friends for a day of music, art, and phys. ed.  It was hard to allow her to give up after trying school just once, hard for me to stifle the feeling that she should "finish what she started".   It was hardest to ignore the well meaning adults who kept assuring me, "she'll be alright after you leave".  As an ex-teacher, I knew they were right, in some respects-- but as a parent it just felt wrong.  I guess I feel that walking away from someone you love, and leaving them crying and reaching for you as you drive down the road, is just not a kind thing to do.  I couldn't do it when my babies were infants, and it still feels wrong to do it now.  I like to teach kindness.  I like to model kindness.  I feel really fortunate to be in a situation where I could choose to bring my child home, and honor her wish to not go to school.  I know that if my situation was different that I may not have had the freedom to walk away from school and bring my daughter home.  But I do, so I did.

We're all still sitting with this situation, not quite sure where we'll go from here. I don't like the idea of giving up without really trying, and teaching the lesson that its OK to start something and not finish.  But, I'm also not OK with going against your instincts and doing something that feels terribly wrong.  Clearly this feels wrong to our girl, and making her stay somewhere she doesn't want to be feels wrong to me.  As a family we'll try our best to figure out what feels right to all of us.

Morsels:
* Kale has always been ball crazy.  Now he's got a new ball and he's loving it up.  There's not a day that goes by without a snuggle for the ball, or a trip in the car with the ball, and he's all about showing off his tricks.  His newest?  Juggling soccer style with his knees.  Pretty darn funny and cute as all get out!

*  Still loving the couch, and how it makes a great play table too.

* We picked some elderberries from the side of the road, plucked them, and froze them.  We'll make elderberry syrup with honey for immune support in small batches throughout the winter.

*  I've switched from muffins to "muffins pretending to be cake".  It bakes a little longer, but the pan is way easier to clean, and really who doesn't like cake for breakfast?  I went for the camera to snap a photo of the cake, and came back to find the excavator here.  These days there are trucks around most everywhere.

* I can't believe how big he's getting.

*  Wylie's playing soccer three times a week--which is really too much for most 8 yr. olds, and definitely too much for most moms.  But, its all there is, so we're making the most of it.  Aside from the over scheduling, I love soccer.  I played for years in school so its really fun to see the game again. Its got me feeling like I want to play.  He's in a 1st-3rd grade league which means the kids are all different sizes and abilities.  Its a pretty funny thing to watch.

*  I love cereal, especially warm cereal or oatmeal, so breakfast without wheat or oats can sometimes be a difficult thing for me.  But, I've discovered that quinoa or brown rice (or a mixture of the two) makes a really great warm breakfast.  Hopefully I've remembered to save some from dinner the night before, then I reheat it and do it up with chopped almonds, frozen blueberries, a bit of milk or cream, and some maple syrup.  Yum.

*  Wylie used his birthday money to buy a rocket kit.  Its taken us a while to assemble the thing (sanding, gluing, painting) but we finally finished.  The first launch was a dud, but it worked great the next three tries.  The parachute failed to open once, but the rocket was good as new after just minor repairs.

Wylie was super excited to launch it the first few times, but has since become more hesitant, and tentative about pushing the launch button.  The other day while walking up to the field for a launch he said, "I'm not like most people.  Most people are scared to try something when its new.  I'm more scared after I know what's going to happen."  I thought that was pretty insightful of him.  He is exactly like that--always anxious (sometime too much so) to find out what will happen, then when he knows,  he has a tendency to over-think the situation until he's built it up to be something to be feared.  I love that he's able to recognize his learning style at such an early age. Sometimes I'm really worried about this kid, and then he says things like that and I realize he's going to be just fine.

*  Lots of green beans going in the freezer, and maybe some dilly beans next week.

* September is like this:  swimming and fishing one day, wool sweaters the next.  I love it.

Back to School (or not)

I always welcome fall and the balance it brings:  cooling things down a bit, slowing the pace, and drawing us closer to home.  I love that the natural, seasonal changes coincide with (or perhaps create?) the desire I see in myself, and my kids, to settle in and begin some quiet work.  

I particularly appreciate homeschooling at this time of year, feeling grateful that we can still be outside enjoying the last warm days,  rather than getting caught up in the hectic back to school pace that signals September for so many families.  

September is my favorite month, but I remember when it wasn't.  Actually, I remember the year that I realized it was my favorite month, that it no longer created a twisted knot of anticipation and dread I had associated with having to return to school.  Wylie was three years old and Juniper 1.  Neither child was in school, I wasn't working at all, and we had the whole season ahead of us to ramble in the woods and play on the beach, and read stories in the grass.  September is the best month for all of those things--and so many kids (and adults as well) don't get to enjoy it. 

In the Sunflowers, September 2006 

This is not to say that homeschooling is lovely all the time.  There are many days when I think fondly of the big yellow bus that could come and take my children away!  All day!  For Free!  And, there is also a bit of nostalgia I have from early childhood of having my own cubby and my own teacher, not to mention a new back pack and lunch box and pencils (I really do love school supplies).  Sometimes people ask me, "why  do you choose to homeschool?--and I don't have an easy answer.  (More on that here).

Hunting for Monarch Caterpillars, 2008

But, this is what I do know.  When my children were infants I always felt capable.  From the moment they were born I was a confident mother.  It just felt like second nature to nurse them on demand, and sleep with them in bed, and to wear them close throughout the day.  I didn't always know how to make them stop crying, or how to help them latch just right, but I always knew that I was doing it well.  That they would be all right because of the way we were parenting them.

When Wylie was around four years old there was a shift.  I don't remember any exact moment, just this creeping realization that I was no longer as sure of my parenting practices.  I began second guessing myself, and trying to figure out what I was doing wrong, or what I could change in order to be better.  I read a lot of parenting books.  I processed a lot with friends.  I cried.  For me, parenting babies was simple, but children were a different matter.  I didn't feel so sure of what I was supposed to be doing.  

Except for school.  Whenever the topic of preschool came up, I knew it wasn't right.  When they were babies I hadn't planned that we would homeschool, but now that they have become children I know that they should learn at home. 

Now, after 8 years of this parenting gig, I still have a lot of uncertainty.  But, inside I know that homeschooling is what is best.  I can't say exactly why.  I know it won't always be perfect, and that I won't always know just how to teach them what they need, or be the best mom to them all the time.  But I'm grasping at intuition.  I'm taking this feeling in my gut that carried me through three beautiful babyhoods, and doing my best to follow it through the maze of their childhoods as well.  

Hunting monarch caterpillars, 2011

On Monday we'll be starting up a regular schedule of school work again, after taking a break for the summer.  I'm feeling pretty organized and excited to have some kind of routine around here after all of the crazy travel and running about we do in the summer.  I'm ready to have a few "at home" days where we don't have to leave home for any reason.  I'm ready to spend some focused time with my kids, following their lead,  learning along with them, and enjoying that we're not in school.

Oh, and I'm ready for a few new school supplies.  Here's what we've got so far: 

* School supply bag for Wylie, from scraps.
* New, re-fillable pens (less waste), tape, erasers, modeskin journals, and pencil grips from our local office supply store.  You can buy pens and pencils individually so you only get what you need, and no packaging!

* Snack bags and sandwich wrap for Juniper.  These are made from laminated cotton from Fiddlehead Artisan Supply in Belfast.  There were a few examples in the store that I copied--though not exactly.  This stuff is a pain to work with, but I'm pretty happy with how they came out.  Wylie's are in process.

I've also been doing a crazy (for me) amount of crafting for various birthdays this month:  bags, tops, headbands, and more!  Also, a birthday for me!

 Morsels will be a little late this week.  Happy Monday!

Cycles

I love the seasons in Maine for their renewing effect, and the opportunity to see such growth.  Not just in plants each spring and summer, but in ourselves (and these children!) as well.  The cyclical nature of the seasons allows for such contemplation of how we've grown and changed from year to year, as well as being a source of hope for what we know must come again, and another chance to do it even better.  I've never lived outside of New England so I can't say first hand, but I have a feeling that life without seasons could feel stagnant.

Now too I'm beginning to notice cycles in my children's development and likewise find hope and relief in these patterns.  It's taken me nearly 8 years to realize the natural cycle of my first born-- the difficult half year point slowly, painfully, escalating and finally tapering as spring arrives into a lovely, cooperative whole year child for the summer and fall.  What a relief to see that no, I wasn't doing it all wrong, here we are rolling along smoothly again.

His sister is thankfully a few months off of his cycle, testing her limits and sass as she approaches her birthday each summer, quietly weathering the storm of her brother's moods throughout the colder months.

And Kale too, once upon a time my best sleeper, has thankfully, after months of short unpredictable naps and wakeful nights, cycled back to long, sound naps and (cue cheers) almost uninterrupted nights.

No doubt, now that I think I've got it all figured out something will shift.
But just as summer has finally arrived in a fit of 90 degree days and afternoon thunderstorms, so too will those periods of difficulty melt into a sunnier disposition, and after a time these carefree days will turn their corner toward more trying ones.

Over and over again, for better or worse, this too shall pass--until next time.

Monday Morsels

We kicked off summer last week with a morning at the lake, a summer solstice potluck at a friend's, and dinner on the beach.  The solstice celebration included capture the flag, a kid's fun run, and vodka watermelon.  Rob and I love making watermelon gimlets in summer with frozen watermelon and vodka in the blender.  Then a friend told us about how watermelon will absorb vodka if a bottle is upended into it.  Sounded good to me--an easy potluck dish sure to please (the adults anyway).  I don't think I got it quite right for the party, but will try again later in the season.  I've since had a few pointers from a friend.  Here's what I'll do differently:  Instead of a half watermelon I'll use a whole melon with a hole drilled in the top.  The bottle of vodka goes right in the hole and should sit for several hours (not half an hour as I first attempted).  Then, when the vodka has been absorbed by the melon remove the bottle and slice.  Be sure to label the watermelon for adults only, or you may have some really silly kiddos running around.
 If anyone has done this successfully I'd love to hear about it.

Morsels:

*  When I first started planting a spent an entire morning building a sand table for Kale, so he'd have something to keep him busy in the garden. We bought nice play sand from the hardware store and collected some guys and trucks for it.  He did like it, but spent most of his time shoveling the sand out of the table into the tomato bed.   It collapsed this week after all that rain (I guess particle board was a poor choice).  I replaced it with this old tub, but hardly had any sand left to fill it.  Then it rained again.  I thought we'd have to buy some more sand-- but, turns out all he needed was a bucket of rainwater.

*  Its our family tradition to celebrate the solstice by staying up until the fireflies are out.  Since we were at a party this was easy, the kids weren't in bed until nearly 10:00 (that's late for us).  The next night we joined some other friends for a campfire and dinner on the beach.  We had such a great time building a fire pit and roasting hot dogs on a stick.  I found some smooth, flat stones for the kids to use as plates--which of course they got a kick out of, but I think I enjoyed it even more than them.

Just before this was taken Kale flipped head first over the log--hence the tight hold on his shirt.
Aren't mothers always multi-tasking?

* Another night up past 9pm, all of which made for some late sleeping children this week (never a bad thing) and therefore some quite mornings for mama.  When the kids do sleep "late" (any time after 7:00) I love to have a quiet shower on the deck.  We do have warm running water, which is necessary since its been in the 50's the past 5 days.

The view from the outdoor shower.

*  We've been moving things around a bit, getting rid of clutter and I even managed to downsize my clothes enough to get rid of my dresser.  It actually just moved across the hall to Wylie's room as he was in real need of a dresser that opened (without tipping over on him).  Without the dresser our bedroom has a nice empty corner just right for a comfy reading chair.  I'm trying to get Rob to agree to moving this chair upstairs.

Rob had it given to him as a "thanks" for helping a friend move.  He loves it.  Me, not so much.  It is fairly comfortable though, making it the perfect thing to move up to the bedroom (and out of the living room).  So far I'm having no luck.  He sits in the brown chair, as its called, most days after work and has a snuggle/tickle time with the kids.  Juniper said, if you put Papa's chair upstairs "he'll get home from work and march right upstairs to sit down".   It doesn't have the same effect written, but it was pretty darn funny when she said it.

self portrait by Wylie

*  We do a lot of camping over the summer, which is generally fun for all of us, but can be challenging at times.  Kids don't really seem to grasp the idea of privacy, particularly in a park setting when everyone is actually in a public place (some adults don't grasp this either).  We've been trying to explain that a campsite is kind of like someone's tiny little yard, and you can wave or say hello, but not walk right onto it and make yourself at home without being invited.  Well, Wylie was doing his best to not invite himself onto our "neighbor's" campsite, which means he was standing right on the edge watching them for an extended time before we realized and made him stop.  Later in the day this same woman walked past our campsite and stopped to say hello.  Wylie wasted no time joining the conversation.
 "I was listening to you talk over there, but I didn't know what the hell you were saying."
Yikes. What to address fist, eavesdropping, admitting to eavesdropping, or swearing at strangers...hmm.  Fortunately the woman didn't blink an eye.  None of us could help but eavesdrop later in the evening as their conversation grew quite loud and included a few more words Wylie hopefully won't add to his repertoire.

*  Kale really loves animals. Max is one of his favorites.  Lu, his sister is less social and doesn't visit often, but Max doesn't miss an opportunity for a cuddle.  This afternoon while sitting and nursing Kale on the porch Max jumped right into my lap.  He curled up on Kale's chest and purred away.  Kale was in his version of toddler heaven.  Lounging on Mama's lap, nursing, with his arm thrown around Max who was purring away.  I wish I had a picture of that one.

* This is the first time I've ever grown pac choy.  It didn't do well.  It stayed really small for a long time, the flea beetles chewed tiny holes in it, and then it bolted.  But, it made some really pretty yellow flowers.  That's more than I can say for the spinach.

Happy Monday!