The following is a short list of things my husband and children have asked in the recent past, questions to which the answer is always YES.
1. Mom, can I have more onions with my steak?
Yes!
2. Mom, is there more broccoli?
Yes!
3. Mom, can we go for a nature walk?
Yes! (barring it being bedtime or something)
4. Honey, can I grill dinner tonight?
Yes!
5. Mom, can I clean the bathroom floor?
Yes!
6. Mom, can you put me to bed now?
Yes! (Ok, this one is cheating - we were camping and it was almost 11:00 at night... but still.)
7. Honey, do you want me to do the grocery shopping this week?
Yes!
And finally,
8. Mommy, can I go pee on the potty? (asked by 2 year old still in diapers)
Yes! Yes! Yes!
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Not raising helpless monkeys - hopefully
I have really good intentions when it comes to teaching my kids to help around the house. I want them to grow up to be self-sufficient humans whose future spouses won't curse my name for doing everything for them and never teaching them to take care of themselves. When I read blog posts or articles about why kids should help around the house, I totally agree with everything they say!
But I'm not very good at making it happen in my home.
The root of the problem is me. I'm lazy and rather adept at procrastination. These are not my best qualities and certainly something I need to work on, for the sake of my own sanity as well as the upbringing of my children and comfort of my family. But there it is. I'm not great at keeping the house cleaned, being organized and minimizing clutter. I have the best of intentions, but without some action, intentions aren't worth much.
I decided a while back that the best thing to do is start small. I instituted "morning chores" for my boys (they are now 5 and 7). I'm sure they are capable of doing more than this, and I'm equally sure I could find some supermama of 10 kids who has them all folding their own laundry at 3. Looking at it that way always made me feel overwhelmed and quit before I even started. So babysteps. They each have one "morning chore" - putting away silverware for my oldest, and putting away the "kid" cups and bowls for my younger son. They're expected to do this each morning and for the most part, we've actually done it. It even gets me in gear and the majority of the time I empty the rest of the dishwasher and put away the breakfast dishes, which gives me a nice jump start to the day.
My other goal was to make picking up toys a regular part of the nighttime routine. I've had less success there, and again, it is all ME. Granted, it is like pulling teeth to get my five year old to clean up toys. He will go from happily playing transformers to writhing on the floor because he's "just too tired" to do anything so strenuous as pick up a lego. It isn't always pleasant and like many things with that particular child, I know the payoff will be worth it in the long run, but the process is rather painful. Plus, I tend to look around and think, "Well, it isn't even that bad. We'll just leave it." But if we didn't "just leave it" and picked up the small messes every day, we'd never get to the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad messes that make my boys groan as soon as I say, "We need to clean up!" The concept of picking up daily instead of waiting for it to really tick me off is something I clearly agree with in my head, and have an unreasonable amount of trouble implementing. Those darn good intentions again.
At this point, I feel like I need to add something more to the mix. I'm awfully tired of the caked toothpaste all over the bathroom and it occurred to me, I ought to make them responsible for cleaning it up. What a concept, right? I know, I'm a little slow. So my next order of business is to come up with a weekly chore list - items that could be done once a week and they could do one thing each day. One of them could be wiping down the bathroom sink and counter. Not so hard. I haven't come up with the entire list yet, but I'm sure I could come up with a few things the boys could do each week that would actually make a bit of a difference in the cleanliness level of our house - dusting, wiping down baseboards, cleaning the sliding glass door. Pretty much anything that involves a spray bottle is a huge hit with them, so as long as I remember to remind them to get their chores done, it should work fairly well. It's just that me-being-lazy thing that gets in the way and conspires to undermine my carefully laid plans.
As for my daughter, well, she's 2. Her time is coming. Just you wait, sister. By the time you're old enough to genuinely help, I'll have this stuff in the bag!
But I'm not very good at making it happen in my home.
The root of the problem is me. I'm lazy and rather adept at procrastination. These are not my best qualities and certainly something I need to work on, for the sake of my own sanity as well as the upbringing of my children and comfort of my family. But there it is. I'm not great at keeping the house cleaned, being organized and minimizing clutter. I have the best of intentions, but without some action, intentions aren't worth much.
I decided a while back that the best thing to do is start small. I instituted "morning chores" for my boys (they are now 5 and 7). I'm sure they are capable of doing more than this, and I'm equally sure I could find some supermama of 10 kids who has them all folding their own laundry at 3. Looking at it that way always made me feel overwhelmed and quit before I even started. So babysteps. They each have one "morning chore" - putting away silverware for my oldest, and putting away the "kid" cups and bowls for my younger son. They're expected to do this each morning and for the most part, we've actually done it. It even gets me in gear and the majority of the time I empty the rest of the dishwasher and put away the breakfast dishes, which gives me a nice jump start to the day.
My other goal was to make picking up toys a regular part of the nighttime routine. I've had less success there, and again, it is all ME. Granted, it is like pulling teeth to get my five year old to clean up toys. He will go from happily playing transformers to writhing on the floor because he's "just too tired" to do anything so strenuous as pick up a lego. It isn't always pleasant and like many things with that particular child, I know the payoff will be worth it in the long run, but the process is rather painful. Plus, I tend to look around and think, "Well, it isn't even that bad. We'll just leave it." But if we didn't "just leave it" and picked up the small messes every day, we'd never get to the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad messes that make my boys groan as soon as I say, "We need to clean up!" The concept of picking up daily instead of waiting for it to really tick me off is something I clearly agree with in my head, and have an unreasonable amount of trouble implementing. Those darn good intentions again.
At this point, I feel like I need to add something more to the mix. I'm awfully tired of the caked toothpaste all over the bathroom and it occurred to me, I ought to make them responsible for cleaning it up. What a concept, right? I know, I'm a little slow. So my next order of business is to come up with a weekly chore list - items that could be done once a week and they could do one thing each day. One of them could be wiping down the bathroom sink and counter. Not so hard. I haven't come up with the entire list yet, but I'm sure I could come up with a few things the boys could do each week that would actually make a bit of a difference in the cleanliness level of our house - dusting, wiping down baseboards, cleaning the sliding glass door. Pretty much anything that involves a spray bottle is a huge hit with them, so as long as I remember to remind them to get their chores done, it should work fairly well. It's just that me-being-lazy thing that gets in the way and conspires to undermine my carefully laid plans.
As for my daughter, well, she's 2. Her time is coming. Just you wait, sister. By the time you're old enough to genuinely help, I'll have this stuff in the bag!
Friday, June 8, 2012
Reflections on our first homeschooling year
Today was our last "official" day of school for the year. Truthfully, this week was rather light on schoolwork. We'd finished most of the really school-y things in the previous couple of weeks and this week there wasn't much left that needed to be done. We finished the last science lesson (magnets!), played some math games, read each day and did a few other odds and ends.
Today actually felt a little anticlimactic. I'm not sure what I expected for a last day in a homeschool. It isn't as if they were saying goodbye for the summer to all their friends and hugging their teacher. Well, I did get plenty of hugs, but it certainly wasn't the same. We went out for pizza at lunchtime, with Daddy no less, so that was a treat. We made them little certificates for completing preschool and first grade; baby sister got a "Sweet Princess Award" so she wouldn't feel left out :). It was a nice day, but we didn't really end with a bang like I sort of hoped.
However, this year has been pretty amazing. We've had our ups and downs, but I'm happy to say far more ups. My son really enjoyed doing school at home and I don't think he has any desire to go back to regular school. My younger son is excited to be a kindergartener now and is already asking me to do "kindergarten work." That's a good sign, considering a few months ago he was insistent that he would not be homeschooling and must go to "real school" like his brother had for kindergarten.
I've spent a lot of time reading and researching and trying new things and I learned a lot about what works and what doesn't in our little school. I bumped up against our limit for the amount of work we can accomplish and I learned a lot about how my kids learn and interact and what sorts of things spark their interest and what things fall flat - and I wouldn't have always been able to predict the outcomes.
I had many days when I beamed with pride at an accomplishment, and many times when my heart felt full to bursting with joy at the sight of their enjoyment of learning. Just this week we explored a beach at low tide which sparked a flurry of art projects and drawings and a stack of books about tide pools, octopuses and other sea creatures from the library - and none of it but the field trip were on the lesson plan. I absolutely delight in their love of learning, and I am learning how to factor that into our experience so that school becomes life and life becomes school. We will still have our lesson time because I do feel there is value in that, but throughout this year the lines between what is school, what is learning, what is fun and what is play have blurred. And that is exactly what I was hoping for.
I still have worries over whether they will have enough chances to make friends, worries about what extracurricular activities are worth the time and energy and what to do with my middle son who has such a tough time with organized, group activities. I worry about little things, details. But already I am casting off the big worries about whether I should be doing this and is this the right decision for our family. I'm sure those doubts will creep up on me at various times, but overall this year of homeschooling has been a wonderful experience and I am beyond glad that we decided to give it a shot. My husband has said he thinks we will look back on this decision as one of the best things we've done as parents. I very much agree with him.
We'll be taking some time off, but still doing some casual learning - reading time, math games, trips to the library, art projects and various field trips are planned for summer. It will be nice to have a more relaxed pace and not have to worry about planning lessons and activities. My plan at this point is to start up again in August, giving us a lot of leeway and ability to take time off next year. We'll see how ready we all feel to jump back in at that point. I'm very much looking forward to next year and excited to see what God and life have in store for us on this journey.
Today actually felt a little anticlimactic. I'm not sure what I expected for a last day in a homeschool. It isn't as if they were saying goodbye for the summer to all their friends and hugging their teacher. Well, I did get plenty of hugs, but it certainly wasn't the same. We went out for pizza at lunchtime, with Daddy no less, so that was a treat. We made them little certificates for completing preschool and first grade; baby sister got a "Sweet Princess Award" so she wouldn't feel left out :). It was a nice day, but we didn't really end with a bang like I sort of hoped.
However, this year has been pretty amazing. We've had our ups and downs, but I'm happy to say far more ups. My son really enjoyed doing school at home and I don't think he has any desire to go back to regular school. My younger son is excited to be a kindergartener now and is already asking me to do "kindergarten work." That's a good sign, considering a few months ago he was insistent that he would not be homeschooling and must go to "real school" like his brother had for kindergarten.
I've spent a lot of time reading and researching and trying new things and I learned a lot about what works and what doesn't in our little school. I bumped up against our limit for the amount of work we can accomplish and I learned a lot about how my kids learn and interact and what sorts of things spark their interest and what things fall flat - and I wouldn't have always been able to predict the outcomes.
I had many days when I beamed with pride at an accomplishment, and many times when my heart felt full to bursting with joy at the sight of their enjoyment of learning. Just this week we explored a beach at low tide which sparked a flurry of art projects and drawings and a stack of books about tide pools, octopuses and other sea creatures from the library - and none of it but the field trip were on the lesson plan. I absolutely delight in their love of learning, and I am learning how to factor that into our experience so that school becomes life and life becomes school. We will still have our lesson time because I do feel there is value in that, but throughout this year the lines between what is school, what is learning, what is fun and what is play have blurred. And that is exactly what I was hoping for.
I still have worries over whether they will have enough chances to make friends, worries about what extracurricular activities are worth the time and energy and what to do with my middle son who has such a tough time with organized, group activities. I worry about little things, details. But already I am casting off the big worries about whether I should be doing this and is this the right decision for our family. I'm sure those doubts will creep up on me at various times, but overall this year of homeschooling has been a wonderful experience and I am beyond glad that we decided to give it a shot. My husband has said he thinks we will look back on this decision as one of the best things we've done as parents. I very much agree with him.
We'll be taking some time off, but still doing some casual learning - reading time, math games, trips to the library, art projects and various field trips are planned for summer. It will be nice to have a more relaxed pace and not have to worry about planning lessons and activities. My plan at this point is to start up again in August, giving us a lot of leeway and ability to take time off next year. We'll see how ready we all feel to jump back in at that point. I'm very much looking forward to next year and excited to see what God and life have in store for us on this journey.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Awesome homeschooling day - low tide exploration
Today was one of those awesome homeschooling days that reminds me why I'm doing this.
We went on a field trip to our homeschool group to a beach on Puget Sound for some low tide exploration. The beach was pretty packed (there were several buses full of kids there too!) but I can't say that I blame them. It was a particularly low tide and the weather turned out to be perfect. The forecast said rain (bleh), but the sun came out for us! It was beautiful.
My kids found sea cucumbers, seastars, tons of crabs, both small and large, as well as these slippery little eel things (not positive what they actually were), and even a tiny octopus! My 7-year old is still exclaiming about how "freaked out" he is (in a good way, by the enthusiasm) that he held a real octopus. Tiny as it was, it was actually a little tricky to get it to let go of his fingers.
After our beach exploration, we joined the other homeschool families at the adjacent park for lunch and playtime. My boys spent a rowdy 2 hours prowling "the woods" (which was a 15-foot-ish wide section of trees next to the fence), playing something my oldest called "fort" with a group of other kids. The kids were all having so much fun, the only reason I was able to tear them away was because we waited until most of the other families had left. Their game had died down enough that they reluctantly followed me back to the car.
Their enthusiasm and excitement was so strong as we picked our way among the muddy rocks of the beach, discovering treasures and sea life. And not that everything has to turn into a "lesson", but my oldest came home and wanted to look up everything we could find on the octopus; I finally put on a ocean nature documentary for him, just so I could make dinner :).
All in all, it was a great day.
We went on a field trip to our homeschool group to a beach on Puget Sound for some low tide exploration. The beach was pretty packed (there were several buses full of kids there too!) but I can't say that I blame them. It was a particularly low tide and the weather turned out to be perfect. The forecast said rain (bleh), but the sun came out for us! It was beautiful.
My kids found sea cucumbers, seastars, tons of crabs, both small and large, as well as these slippery little eel things (not positive what they actually were), and even a tiny octopus! My 7-year old is still exclaiming about how "freaked out" he is (in a good way, by the enthusiasm) that he held a real octopus. Tiny as it was, it was actually a little tricky to get it to let go of his fingers.
After our beach exploration, we joined the other homeschool families at the adjacent park for lunch and playtime. My boys spent a rowdy 2 hours prowling "the woods" (which was a 15-foot-ish wide section of trees next to the fence), playing something my oldest called "fort" with a group of other kids. The kids were all having so much fun, the only reason I was able to tear them away was because we waited until most of the other families had left. Their game had died down enough that they reluctantly followed me back to the car.
Their enthusiasm and excitement was so strong as we picked our way among the muddy rocks of the beach, discovering treasures and sea life. And not that everything has to turn into a "lesson", but my oldest came home and wanted to look up everything we could find on the octopus; I finally put on a ocean nature documentary for him, just so I could make dinner :).
All in all, it was a great day.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The lure of the better
The internet can be both a blessing and a curse. I've met people who have become life-long friends, received encouragement and advice, connected with people in similar circumstances facing similar challenges. I've found ideas, tips, tricks, and information galore. I'm certain the internet has changed the face of homeschooling, and it has changed parenting in some ways as well. We have access to an unprecedented amount of information and resources and the ability to connect with other, like-minded people in a way that would have once been impossible.
The flip side of that coin, as probably any mother who spends time online will tell you, is how easy it is to be overwhelmed with everything you aren't doing; with all the possibilities, ideas, books, curricula, crafts, projects, studies, outings, programs and options. Pinterest gives you a place to store ideas and inspiration, but it can be a source of guilt; all the projects you "pin" and don't ever do. Blogs give insight to other people's lives, but mommy-blogs can be a source of competition and leave some of us with a sense of inadequacy. Homeschool blogs can provide fabulous ideas and insights into what homeschooling looks like, but they can also make you feel utterly overwhelmed with the vast array of options out there. It is easy to get lost in the pursuit of the perfect.
My life will never be picture perfect, and the logical side of me knows that the moms behind the mommy-blogs or the homeschool blogs don't have it all together all the time either - even if it looks like they do. But my logical side is not always loudest and I have my share of doubt when I look at our life, and particularly our homeschool. Am I doing this right? Is it enough? Is there something that would be better?
I already have a tendency to overthink things. And my "tendency," I mean certifiable obsession. I mull things over constantly, I research the heck out of just about anything, I make lists and charts and spend far too much time doing it. Homeschooling has brought my overthinker out with a vengeance. This is my childrens' education, for goodness sake! How could I commit to anything without first researching and weighing all possible options!
It seems like I have spent a lot of this school year settling on something - books, curriculum, or even just a "direction" - only to stumble onto something different, which I then have to track down, research, read reviews and generally make myself crazy as I try to decide what materials and resources are best. I read a blog post where they rave about some book or method, or I simply see something mentioned in passing, realize I haven't seen *that* particular product before, and I must know all about it.
I need to put a bunch of post it reminders all over my desk that remind me not to let the pursuit of the perfect ruin the achievement of the good. I don't just mean the good enough - I mean the really, truly, and in all other ways good.
The truth is, there's no perfect book. There's no perfect curriculum. And I have told myself many times that our homeschool won't look like someone else's homeschool. We won't do all the same things another family does. We won't get to everything, and there will always be shiny new curriculum or packages or methods or books that seem oh so tempting.
But I can't research everything that is out there, try as I might. And yes, I might miss something really great. But that doesn't mean that we aren't doing just fine as we are.
So in those moments, I need to just back.... away... slowly... and go make some tea.
The flip side of that coin, as probably any mother who spends time online will tell you, is how easy it is to be overwhelmed with everything you aren't doing; with all the possibilities, ideas, books, curricula, crafts, projects, studies, outings, programs and options. Pinterest gives you a place to store ideas and inspiration, but it can be a source of guilt; all the projects you "pin" and don't ever do. Blogs give insight to other people's lives, but mommy-blogs can be a source of competition and leave some of us with a sense of inadequacy. Homeschool blogs can provide fabulous ideas and insights into what homeschooling looks like, but they can also make you feel utterly overwhelmed with the vast array of options out there. It is easy to get lost in the pursuit of the perfect.
My life will never be picture perfect, and the logical side of me knows that the moms behind the mommy-blogs or the homeschool blogs don't have it all together all the time either - even if it looks like they do. But my logical side is not always loudest and I have my share of doubt when I look at our life, and particularly our homeschool. Am I doing this right? Is it enough? Is there something that would be better?
I already have a tendency to overthink things. And my "tendency," I mean certifiable obsession. I mull things over constantly, I research the heck out of just about anything, I make lists and charts and spend far too much time doing it. Homeschooling has brought my overthinker out with a vengeance. This is my childrens' education, for goodness sake! How could I commit to anything without first researching and weighing all possible options!
It seems like I have spent a lot of this school year settling on something - books, curriculum, or even just a "direction" - only to stumble onto something different, which I then have to track down, research, read reviews and generally make myself crazy as I try to decide what materials and resources are best. I read a blog post where they rave about some book or method, or I simply see something mentioned in passing, realize I haven't seen *that* particular product before, and I must know all about it.
I need to put a bunch of post it reminders all over my desk that remind me not to let the pursuit of the perfect ruin the achievement of the good. I don't just mean the good enough - I mean the really, truly, and in all other ways good.
The truth is, there's no perfect book. There's no perfect curriculum. And I have told myself many times that our homeschool won't look like someone else's homeschool. We won't do all the same things another family does. We won't get to everything, and there will always be shiny new curriculum or packages or methods or books that seem oh so tempting.
But I can't research everything that is out there, try as I might. And yes, I might miss something really great. But that doesn't mean that we aren't doing just fine as we are.
So in those moments, I need to just back.... away... slowly... and go make some tea.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Some musings on homeschooling
Today Calah at Barefoot and Pregnant posted a bit about homeschooling. It gave me some food for thought and instead of boring her with my lengthy ramblings in her combox, I decided to come to my own little house and blog about it.
She referenced this article, which I was all set to disagree with. And I did disagree with some of it, but not as much as I thought I would. I sort of get where the poster is coming from on some things - the idea that a mother can be overwhelmed by schooling a houseful of kids, as well as simply being Mom, and how it seems odd that some Catholic men seem to be using "woman who will homeschool" as dating criteria, possibly setting up some unrealistic and unfortunate expectations for the potential wife/mother. I kind of get that.
What I have been pondering this evening though, from the blog post above (not Calah's, but one she was blogging about), is this:
But really, let's be honest: homeschooling, even in the best of circumstances is far from ideal. It's essentially an emergency situation. It is not a normal state of affairs, and it is not, however much like you might like to believe so right now, the best preparation for surviving in the job market. It may not be the worst, but it's not the best, and in more cases than people seem willing to acknowledge, it is downright harmful.
I think it's a pretty big overgeneralization to say that homeschooling is an emergency situation. I guess there are those who wind up homeschooling for "emergency" type reasons - out of fear of what their kids will be exposed to, or because of a bad experience at school, or because someone else expects them to do it.
I came to homeschooling from a totally different angle. I didn't plan to homeschool originally, but I also didn't turn to it to fix a problem situation or out of fear of what public school would do to my kids. Did I have reservations about the public school system? Sure. Did we have a terrible time there and I couldn't think of anything else to do other than homeschool? No. I don't feel like we're living in an emergency situation where all other educational options aren't so great so we're picking the lesser of all evils. I actually went into this with eyes fairly wide open, with some healthy skepticism and a big dose of faith.
See the thing is, I'm audacious enough to believe I can actually educate my kids well. Really well. And maybe part of my audacity is that I'm not looking to simply prepare them for the job market. I intend to go bigger than that. I'm trying to make them good thinkers and lifelong learners. I want to instill my love of books, my love of history, my love of discovery and my love of learning. (And I'm well aware they are going to have different interests and passions than I have - but the beauty is, they will have the time and freedom to explore those passions in a way that traditional schooling wouldn't otherwise afford).
Maybe I'm looking at it from a different perspective though. No one expects me to homeschool. It was totally my idea and I had to do a bit of convincing of the hubs to get the ball rolling. And where did it come from for me? Where did I get this crazy idea in the first place? Call me nuts, but I've always believed quite strongly that the Holy Spirit led me here. Yes, I am claiming a bit o' the Divine here. In a way, God told me to do it.
How's that for a ridiculous and hard to argue with reason?
But it is the truth. For me, homeschooling isn't an emergency fix for a school system that I find inadequate. It was a leap of faith that has proven to be immensely satisfying. Maybe I'm crazy, or arrogant, or a bit of both, but I think my kids are going to grow up to be well educated and well rounded adults who will be quite capable. A lofty goal? Perhaps. One I think I am capable of achieving? Yeah. I'll own that.
And there I go sounding like I have those crazy ideals the poster was talking about - ideals that aren't really achievable and only serve to make the mom feel guilty for what she isn't doing. Believe it or not, I'm actually quite realistic about what I am capable of and what we can accomplish both on the small and large scale. I read plenty of homeschooling blogs and see what amazing things some people are doing and I'm pretty good at filing away ideas that interest me and leaving the rest, forgoing the guilt of "I don't do it that way, therefore I must suck at this." We do what seems to be working for us and I think that is enough. I won't win any SuperStar Homeschooler awards, but much like the myth of the Supermom, I don't even want to try.
I am enough. I'm not perfect. My homeschool isn't perfect. But it's still awesome and my kids rock and I think I have this. Will I always feel this confident? Probably not. But that's where my reliance on faith kicks up a notch. If God led me here, I'm pretty sure I can trust His judgement.
She referenced this article, which I was all set to disagree with. And I did disagree with some of it, but not as much as I thought I would. I sort of get where the poster is coming from on some things - the idea that a mother can be overwhelmed by schooling a houseful of kids, as well as simply being Mom, and how it seems odd that some Catholic men seem to be using "woman who will homeschool" as dating criteria, possibly setting up some unrealistic and unfortunate expectations for the potential wife/mother. I kind of get that.
What I have been pondering this evening though, from the blog post above (not Calah's, but one she was blogging about), is this:
But really, let's be honest: homeschooling, even in the best of circumstances is far from ideal. It's essentially an emergency situation. It is not a normal state of affairs, and it is not, however much like you might like to believe so right now, the best preparation for surviving in the job market. It may not be the worst, but it's not the best, and in more cases than people seem willing to acknowledge, it is downright harmful.
I think it's a pretty big overgeneralization to say that homeschooling is an emergency situation. I guess there are those who wind up homeschooling for "emergency" type reasons - out of fear of what their kids will be exposed to, or because of a bad experience at school, or because someone else expects them to do it.
I came to homeschooling from a totally different angle. I didn't plan to homeschool originally, but I also didn't turn to it to fix a problem situation or out of fear of what public school would do to my kids. Did I have reservations about the public school system? Sure. Did we have a terrible time there and I couldn't think of anything else to do other than homeschool? No. I don't feel like we're living in an emergency situation where all other educational options aren't so great so we're picking the lesser of all evils. I actually went into this with eyes fairly wide open, with some healthy skepticism and a big dose of faith.
See the thing is, I'm audacious enough to believe I can actually educate my kids well. Really well. And maybe part of my audacity is that I'm not looking to simply prepare them for the job market. I intend to go bigger than that. I'm trying to make them good thinkers and lifelong learners. I want to instill my love of books, my love of history, my love of discovery and my love of learning. (And I'm well aware they are going to have different interests and passions than I have - but the beauty is, they will have the time and freedom to explore those passions in a way that traditional schooling wouldn't otherwise afford).
Maybe I'm looking at it from a different perspective though. No one expects me to homeschool. It was totally my idea and I had to do a bit of convincing of the hubs to get the ball rolling. And where did it come from for me? Where did I get this crazy idea in the first place? Call me nuts, but I've always believed quite strongly that the Holy Spirit led me here. Yes, I am claiming a bit o' the Divine here. In a way, God told me to do it.
How's that for a ridiculous and hard to argue with reason?
But it is the truth. For me, homeschooling isn't an emergency fix for a school system that I find inadequate. It was a leap of faith that has proven to be immensely satisfying. Maybe I'm crazy, or arrogant, or a bit of both, but I think my kids are going to grow up to be well educated and well rounded adults who will be quite capable. A lofty goal? Perhaps. One I think I am capable of achieving? Yeah. I'll own that.
And there I go sounding like I have those crazy ideals the poster was talking about - ideals that aren't really achievable and only serve to make the mom feel guilty for what she isn't doing. Believe it or not, I'm actually quite realistic about what I am capable of and what we can accomplish both on the small and large scale. I read plenty of homeschooling blogs and see what amazing things some people are doing and I'm pretty good at filing away ideas that interest me and leaving the rest, forgoing the guilt of "I don't do it that way, therefore I must suck at this." We do what seems to be working for us and I think that is enough. I won't win any SuperStar Homeschooler awards, but much like the myth of the Supermom, I don't even want to try.
I am enough. I'm not perfect. My homeschool isn't perfect. But it's still awesome and my kids rock and I think I have this. Will I always feel this confident? Probably not. But that's where my reliance on faith kicks up a notch. If God led me here, I'm pretty sure I can trust His judgement.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Sick in body, sick in soul
I feel like every time I get sick, all I want to do is write about it. I didn't bother to go back through this blog (or my old one, which I don't think even exists anymore) to see how many times I wrote about the trials of being a sick Mommy. I'll even admit my tongue-in-cheek letter to "HR" the other day wasn't the first time I've written that, or at least a version of it. But I still think it's funny.
In any case, there's something about being sick that makes you so keenly aware of every sensation in your body. On a normal day, I go about my business not worrying too much about how my lungs are feeling or how my throat is so nice and, well you know, not hurting. I don't notice the lack of achiness in my back or limbs or the fact that my head feels, well, normal.
See, that's the thing - normal doesn't feel like much. It escapes our notice. It is the abnormal that draws our attention to our physical presence. My aching head, back and legs, they hurt. They scream sensation incessantly to my brain, as if sending the unending message of, "Pay attention to me!" through my nervous system. Breathing is noticeable because of the heavy, strained feeling of my airways, calling attention to the air as it flows into my body. Ordinarily, I don't experience the feeling of having lungs unless I think about it to take a deep, cleansing breath. Today I feel my lungs as oppressive and painful, sending a message of illness to my brain each time I draw in air.
It occurred to me today that there must be a spiritual connection to our experience of pain and illness. Not just that Christ suffered and therefore we can join our suffering to Him (although that is a pretty weighty concept). There's something to this awareness that illness affords. I am aware of sensations, bombarded by stimuli, bathed in a pool of messages from my body as it fights this infection.
It is a reminder to be aware - not just aware of my body, but aware of my soul. My soul is just as ill as my body is, only in a few days my body will feel better, but my soul will still be steeped in illness. And like a mother who gently strokes the forehead of her feverish child, God reaches out to me to stroke my forehead and help me find the strength to heal. But it isn't my body that worries him nearly as much as my soul - fever or no. The pain in my body is but a mirror to that of my soul and the illness I feel is only a fraction of that which haunts the spirit that is me, the whole of who I am.
I have a natural tendency to try to find God in bad things because I'm convinced it can be done, and because it makes me feel better. In trying to find God in being hit with the flu while caring for three young children, I realized He is there not only holding my hand and stroking my feverish forehead as I have done for my own children, but asking me to look deep inside and see the pain that wracks my soul. And He asks me to work on fixing it.
Or I don't know, maybe I'm just too feverish to be making any sense.
In any case, there's something about being sick that makes you so keenly aware of every sensation in your body. On a normal day, I go about my business not worrying too much about how my lungs are feeling or how my throat is so nice and, well you know, not hurting. I don't notice the lack of achiness in my back or limbs or the fact that my head feels, well, normal.
See, that's the thing - normal doesn't feel like much. It escapes our notice. It is the abnormal that draws our attention to our physical presence. My aching head, back and legs, they hurt. They scream sensation incessantly to my brain, as if sending the unending message of, "Pay attention to me!" through my nervous system. Breathing is noticeable because of the heavy, strained feeling of my airways, calling attention to the air as it flows into my body. Ordinarily, I don't experience the feeling of having lungs unless I think about it to take a deep, cleansing breath. Today I feel my lungs as oppressive and painful, sending a message of illness to my brain each time I draw in air.
It occurred to me today that there must be a spiritual connection to our experience of pain and illness. Not just that Christ suffered and therefore we can join our suffering to Him (although that is a pretty weighty concept). There's something to this awareness that illness affords. I am aware of sensations, bombarded by stimuli, bathed in a pool of messages from my body as it fights this infection.
It is a reminder to be aware - not just aware of my body, but aware of my soul. My soul is just as ill as my body is, only in a few days my body will feel better, but my soul will still be steeped in illness. And like a mother who gently strokes the forehead of her feverish child, God reaches out to me to stroke my forehead and help me find the strength to heal. But it isn't my body that worries him nearly as much as my soul - fever or no. The pain in my body is but a mirror to that of my soul and the illness I feel is only a fraction of that which haunts the spirit that is me, the whole of who I am.
I have a natural tendency to try to find God in bad things because I'm convinced it can be done, and because it makes me feel better. In trying to find God in being hit with the flu while caring for three young children, I realized He is there not only holding my hand and stroking my feverish forehead as I have done for my own children, but asking me to look deep inside and see the pain that wracks my soul. And He asks me to work on fixing it.
Or I don't know, maybe I'm just too feverish to be making any sense.
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