Back to work

Yep, its that time again.  Time to get back to work, to get back to the daily grind.  The rush of the ballet performance season is behind us.  The holiday season is coming to a blessed end very soon.  In the midst of it all I had two wisdom teeth extracted, which is something I would suggest you not do the week before Christmas, but then again having an infected wisdom tooth two weeks before Christmas isn't any fun either.  So, it was inevitable, as were the lingering side effects and problems to fight through.

Today is the first day in a number of weeks that we've gotten back to a nearly full day of schoolwork.  It was driving me nuts,not being in a daily routine--not feeling like the day had accomplished anything lately.  I finally looked at some of the kids' workbooks that they've been doing while I've only been half-involved in their educations and fully involved in everything else.  Oh my.  Its bad.  I almost wonder if they were doing such a sloppy job because they knew I was only going to spot-check things, or because they truly were making such silly mistakes.  Today, my kids learned that they will be repeating the material in which they aren't showing mastery.  They think this is an awful fate, and I would be a terrible person to make them relearn the boring stuff.  I do too, but I want them to learn the material, not just skate along in life.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Yep, a day late and now a dollar shorter. :)

As I sit here the evening of Black Friday, I give thanks for leftovers.  How else could I gross my kids out with my "turkey bowl extravaganza"?  Mm... Turkey, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, fruit and nut dressing, broccoli, cranberry sauce all in a convenient bowl.  I have to admit that going a little more primal for the dinner has been a great thing.  Very little bread and flour to assault the tummy and create a miserable bloated feeling.  The carbo-licious potatoes and sugar laden cranberry sauce weren't at all primal but they sure were tasty!

Black Friday shopping has left me with regret.  I keep thinking I should have gone to two more stores, but 5 hours and only 3 stores in I realized I probably really didn't need to go.  Nope, I didn't need to, but I sure regret not going.  Those last two stops would be primarily to purchase stuff for me.  I have a hard time allowing myself to shop for myself on days or trips dedicated to Christmas or other gift giving days.  I wish my guilt conscious would give me a break now and then, its costing me money.

But as it is, my list is well under way for a Merry Christmas, and for that, I am thankful.

Let's beat the different drummer

Have you ever gone off the beaten path in life?  Have you ever gone against conventional wisdom?  I grew up somewhat offbeat in a way.  We didn’t always do what everyone else was doing, and for the most part that’s pretty much ok. 

Now it’s my turn.  I’m good with being offbeat myself.  I breastfed my kids all past 1 year, made our own baby food, cloth diapered the younger two.  I stay home with the kids, we home school, use hand-me-downs, and avoid a lot of commercialism.  It seems pretty normal to me, but it isn’t when you compare us to mainstream families.  So it should really be no surprise when my husband and I decided to change our way of eating.  My oldest sister had suggested the South Beach diet, but it seemed too hard--too organized for me.  I liked the idea, but lacked the motivation and follow through.

In playing a game of “follow the link” one day, I ended up on Mark’s Daily Apple.  I read a lot of what he had to say, and it made sense to me.  Grains and gluten are bad for you.  “White” foods like potatoes and rice aren’t good for you.  Stop eating these things and see what happens.  What happened for us is that we started to feel better.  There are 10 basic “laws” or ideas that Mark Sisson espouses that will help you live better.  I can dig that.  They make sense.

But this idea is so foreign to others that they can’t help but be all out jerks about it.  Well, they could help themselves if they wanted to, but I suspect it’s more fun to be a jerk than it is to just say, “hey, good for you, I’ll buy my own bread.”  Or “Oh, you forgot the potatoes?  No big deal since you cooked dinner for 20 other people while I sat on my butt and did nothing.” 

This, and my last post about the itsy-bitsy spider bring me to the conclusion that people will allow you to follow your own drummer only when they can set the beat.  Otherwise, you will be treated poorly for making a decision that is healthful for yourself and your family.  I don’t know if it’s a guilt thing or if its an asshole thing.  It is something though.  It is being mean and cutting others down to make yourself feel better.  It is being small and acting like the ill-mannered troll that lives under a bridge, but with an ax to grind because someone went against the crap that you can’t say you believe in, but you can’t let go of.  It is believing that it is a personal affront if someone does something different and right for themselves and their family.   

The ill-fated, diminutive arachnid which ascended a rooftop drainage device prior to a precipitation event

Apparently, I am a failure for not pushing my children to sing, upon random relative’s command, a verse about a small spider.  I haven’t found it necessary to reinforce the motions of a preschool song, which they mastered and moved on from years ago.  They know the song, and could sing it if they desired, but I would never deem it an important enough song to ask them to perform for an audience, especially before they’ve had their breakfasts, and I certainly wouldn’t allow someone else to force them to sing.  Indeed, the children’s memorization lessons are focused on the character and faith reinforcing the words of our religion’s prevailing text.  Their music lessons come from the same source and encompass verses focused on extolling the virtues of following and believing in our God’s written word.  Yet, I would still never deem it necessary for them to perform these recitations upon the demand of someone they are unfamiliar with.

Aside from this sore situation of abuse, where I’ve allowed my children to pursue their current interest of astronomy by learning and memorizing the heavenly bodies instead of learning the musical importance of the ill-fated, diminutive arachnid which ascended a rooftop drainage device moments prior to a precipitation event, I have been informed that no one cares about the planets nor the constellations.  Which stands to reason that no one cares about the explorers navigated by those skybound objects burning in the night.  This means that the lessons the children learned immediately prior to setting out from home on this vacation were for naught.  We should have sung nursery rhymes instead of discussed the night sky.

So do not bother to question why we are here. 

Nor ask how people traveled in the past. 

No one cares about space.  Its all about the ill-fated spider. 

How do I know?  The previously referred to relative was a teacher for 30+ years.  She is an expert on what people should know, and she knows that no one cares about how the peoples of the world have traveled and redistributed population prior to GPS--or even how the global positioning system works.

Likewise, my crimes include not requiring my children to talk to people that make them feel uncomfortable.  I do not require them to make conversation when they are in the midst of acclimating to a wakeful state.  I do not require them to do the chores that are better suited to a person of adult stature and skills, without reasonable modification.  I also do not require them to clean up after more than themselves.  I know, I know, it’s a horrible thing to promote personal responsibility at the ages of 7, 6 and 3.  I must be failing my children by focusing on tasks that reinforce the concepts of cleaning up after yourself, taking care of your possessions and learning the best way to complete assignments via supervised learning. 

I wonder if this offended feeling will fade in time, or if its just the beginning.  I do know that I do not have to answer to a person who has spent very limited time with my children, and that I will limit my family’s exposure to such toxicity.  I suppose that this is something seasoned home educators have dealt with quite often, and I had no reason to expect that we would be exempt from such bias and attitudes.  I am just taken aback by the attack on a child who refused to sing the itsy-bitsy spider. 

35 things

Taking a cue from a number of stories I've read over the past year, I decided to spend my 35th birthday doing kind things.  What a noble idea, and if I felt it a wonderful success I wouldn't be sharing this, instead I would be secreting my kindnesses and feeling all warm and fuzzy about my morning of good deeds.

It was a simple idea to start with.  The kids and I pulled 35 items from the pantry to take to the Mustard Seed food bank.  Once I looked at what we pulled out I realized that we could give more and it wouldn't matter.  So we overran the 35 item count by quite a bit.

Then I thought about the things Dan and I had talked about getting rid of over the weekend, and how we needed to pare down.  So I called the Pregnancy Crisis Center and asked what they needed and what they would take.  The kids and I pulled out 35 things to donate.  We ended up with quite a bit more, once you count the toys each child added to the bags, and all the other items that I looked at and wondered why I was keeping them.  They didn't get passed on, as they were either packed or added to the gear between moves and babies (I didn't get rid of the collective stuff, in case the collective is reading ;) ).  This was our first stop on our journey this morning.  The people at the center were so appreciative, and all I could think was "Geez, its just stuff-- stuff taking up space and yet they are so thrilled with all of it, even the 60 boppy pillows that drive me nuts."  (60 may be an exaggeration...)  I felt kind of hollow.

Our next stop was the Mustard Seed to drop off the canned goods.  We emptied everything into boxes and the gentleman who helped us wished me a happy birthday. I felt like I should be the one carrying the heavy boxes into the building as I looked into his worn, leathery face--you could see a much harder life etched in every wrinkle.  The Mustard Seed employs people who might not otherwise have any opportunity to work, and many who are disadvantaged due to circumstances that seem insurmountable.    A few cans of food is nothing when you think about it.  It certainly didn't feel like it was enough when I looked at the people who were digging through the give-away bin.

The kids wondered what our next stop would be on this bizarre morning.  We drove over to the pet store and bought milkbones and tennis balls.  They couldn't figure out what I would buy something for Bandit that he can't eat.  Our ancient dog is allergic to corn (if you think corn and its derivatives are in nearly all processed human food try buying corn-free dog food sometime).  Then we went to the party store for balloons.

Our next stop took a bit longer when you consider all of the road construction in Twin Falls, but we did make it to the animal shelter where we donated the pet items.  The kids and I looked at the dogs and cats for a few minutes and then left.  Scared little pups, giant dog whining, so heartbreaking, by this point I just wanted to be done with the day and to come home.  It was too much.

The kids asked for one final stop--to go to Dan's office.  There, we gave balloons to some of Dan's coworkers.  It was there that the full disappointment of the morning hit me as I listened to my children whine about the selection in the candy dish.  In the van, on the way home, I fully realized that this whole morning was stupid and self-serving.  It certainly wasn't about helping others, or doing acts of kindness.  It wasn't about serving others or putting them first, as much as I thought it would be.  The fact is, its one lame, lousy day out of the 365 days.  Why did I need an event or special date to do something kind?  Why hadn't I gone through the closet and given those baby things away before?  Why don't I take canned goods in every week?  Heck, its not even out of my way to do it--the church has a place set aside where they'll take food donations to the food bank.  Its one half-assed attempt to teach my kids to be better people and realizing that this lesson didn't sink in anymore than any other lesson.  Perhaps, I should have asked for big gifts and had great expectations of the day.  I didn't. 

 Its just another day in my life, and I'm left feeling disappointed and empty by it. 

This is going to make me crazy, isn't it?

I should start a list of unusual potty incidents, or maybe I shouldn't, but I can't help myself.  It all stems from The Boy peeing in the fridge.  Seriously!  WHY the fridge?  Why, why, why?!  Oh, because he wanted a piece of bread and it was easier to pee while standing in the fridge then it was to run to the bathroom.  I'm 75% tempted to put a locking gate across the spanse between the counter and the wall.  My own laziness is what is stopping me.  First, the idea of finding the gate, fixing it and then finding a lock, followed by the idea of having to unlock the dang thing every single time I went into the kitchen deters me.  Not to mention, The Boy would just climb over the counters and pee in the drawers as he climbs down them into the kitchen proper.  So, I guess, I hope that he limits his kitchen accidents to the pantry, the floor and the fridge?  ACK.  There is not enough bleach in this house to deal with this problem.

Some days are better--yesterday was better in the realm of potty training.  But still, his sister was playing with her hair in the bathroom, door locked shut and The Boy hadn't enough time to change courses and go clear to the other end of the house to potty.  If his sister were 15, I might understand a bit better, but she is FIVE.  There are so many twitch-worthy things about the whole situation.  The day before, the kids discovered the secret pocket on the little boy underpants.  [insert heavy sigh here]  The oldest told the Boy that the pocket was for his pee.  So he peed, expecting the pocket to catch it. 

Yesterday, ignoring the whole hair/locked door incident, I was picking out the new furniture that will be my reward for surviving the infancy and diaperdom of 3 children.  Today, I'm apologizing to the 17-year-old cast-offs that approximate the function of furniture.

Things that irritate me

No one calls my house number to talk to me anymore.  That doesn't really bother me, I've long gotten over my need to talk on the phone for hours on end.  Instead, the people who call my number call for the neighbors, or relatives or what I can only believe are random people who once listed my phone number on a credit application.  I find this absolutely, amazingly obnoxious.  Yet, I usually answer the phone when these people call, so that I can politely let them know that I don't know my neighbors, I don't talk to my relations, and seriously, I've had this phone number for the past 2 years.  Its not my fault that your files aren't updated, and I have no freaking clue who you are talking about!

I do not understand why on earth people think its ever acceptable to be rude to the person that they've inconvenienced with their phone call.  I pay my bills.  I'm not the bad guy here.  I don't know my neighbor's first or last names, and I don't know if they even have a phone of their own, but if they aren't answering your calls... that really isn't my problem.  My problem is some schmuck who thinks I live in my neighbor's back pocket and that I know their lives.  I don't.  I don't want to.  Just like those random relatives... I don't know their business either.  Its not like they send me a financial statement with the occasional Christmas card.  Again, I don't even know where these people work, or what their zip code is, why are you calling me??

I don't want to take a survey at 9:00 pm. 

I don't donate money to random causes over the phone, and I don't really care if my lack of donating over the phone means the terrorists have won. 

Perhaps this all falls under the general heading of "people suck." 

Lighten up

Dear Me,
Lighten up.
Love,
Everyone

I was eavesdropping on a couple of other homeschool mothers this afternoon.  One is like me and this is her second year of homeschooling, except her kids are older and she is cobbling a lot of her curriculum together.  I prefer to buy most of my curriculum from one source and then supplement (except for Science, you can see that post elsewhere).  The other mother is tackling her first year.  Listening to the advice being given, my initial thought was that both women needed to lighten up.  But then I realize as I spend the mornings nagging, sighing heavily, growling at my kids that they need to get their assignments that I give out done, and that they need to finish the day, and they need to write this other thing, and read that... Really, I'm the one who needs to lighten up.  Why am I homeschooling?  Seriously.

Seriously?  I'm homeschooling my children because I want to make sure they get a good education regardless of where we live.  We might move a lot or a little, but I want consistency for them.  I moved a lot as a kid and teenager, nothing was worse then the guidance counselor telling me that my credits weren't enough and that I would have to take another year of school.  Not that I had failed too many classes (I retook Algebra, but I didn't fail it the first time, that was my only "failure"), not that I had screwed up for any reason other than my family moved a lot and I wasn't going to graduate with my class.  It was a humiliating experience.  I want more for my kids than I had.  I want to help them learn, and know that they are learning.  I don't want them to fake it.  I want them to have the chance to understand, and if a subject interests them they can pursue it.  We can work with it.  If they don't understand we could slow down.  I want them to have our beliefs honored in our schoolwork, its so nice to be able to include that in our day.  I want them to have time with their father and I, and with one another, learning to cherish and love each other instead of despising thier siblings and parents.  I want... a lot.

Here in Idaho, we have it pretty simple.  Provide your children with an education that is equivalent to what the public school kids graduate with.  The government isn't going to hunt you down if you study World History before American History, as long as in the end, your kids learn something, and finish with similar educations as the public school kids.

What I need is to slow down.  Again, we live some place where we are privileged enough to not have to be held accountable to an outside source.  This means that my kids can work at their own pace.  I just need someone to tell me that one day of quality Science instruction is better than 3 days of dry text and a vocabulary list that a 5 year old has little hope of remembering.  I need to recognize that sometimes subtraction is hard for a 7 year old who doesn't particularly care for Math.  I need to encourage my kids to enjoy thier studies, not groan their way through assignments (a little griping is to be expected, but tears?  I'm not sure).  So I guess I need to take a deep breath.  We might not get through the curriculum before the public school kids break for the year.  Who cares?  If we are still learning, and more importantly enjoying our educational endeavours then perhaps that should be enough. 

So dear self, settle down, let the kids learn at their own pace.  That's why we are here.  And yes, they'll screw around, and yes, some days are going to be unpleasant, but all days shouldn't be.  We're here to learn, but that's not all we are here for in life.

Now may God give me the peace to accept this all ;)

The Boy has a cold

The Boy has a cold.  You know what a cold means when you're the parent of a toddler?  It means, don't wear dark, solid colors because you get to be the human tissue.  Now, this wasn't the case with dear sweet Becks.  At an early age she figured out that snot running down her face was disgusting so she learned how to wipe her nose.  I love that child.  A child who wipes her nose at an early age is a blessing. 

I digress.

The Boy has a cold.  I think the girls are feeling puny too, and since its been hard to get their glassy little eyes to focus, we've done very little school today.  Its ok.  We'll do more tomorrow.  They all went willingly to their room, no negotiating (and I had planned on letting the girls skip quiet time so we could work on phonics, but they thwarted me by wanting to nap).  Boy crawled up the ladder to the bunk bed and snuggled down into Becks' pretty, oh-so-pink, princess bed.  Becks was less than impressed, moreso due to the fact that boy is a snot fountain.  Looking at my watery-eyed, tired, little boy, I asked him to get down.  Sadly, he looked into my eyes and asked me to make sissy snuggle him.  I said no. Lower lip sticking out, big, sad, blue eyes looking at me he said "pwease", I looked at sweet, germophobic Becks and knew I couldn't cave, again I said no, trying to reason with Boy... then he brought his chubby hand to his face, I thought he was going to smear it across that fount of snot, instead, he brought his thumb to his nose, looking me in the eye with his serious, big blue eyes, and he extended his fingers and waved them.

The whole room was silent, and then the girls and I lost it.  Gnomes offers Boy a place in her bed to snuggle with her. 

And quiet reigns for the moment.

Me against the world

Its one of those days.  The alarm went off too early (any day I hear an alarm go off is too early, I have no need for an alarm, I shouldn't have to awaken to one).  The kids have been little...um...knotheads.  Its that time of the month where I want to inhale the Hershey's Symphony with Almonds and Toffee factory.  Plus its early dance night.  The night I send The Boy to class and listen to him cry, while I stand outside the door telling myself its ok, and that they'll tell me if its not.  They haven't said he's not welcome back yet, so surely its ok, right?

To start, we went boot shopping for The Boy.  He wanted boots, but when we got to the farm supply store he tried one pair on and started whining for his sneakers.  OK, should we try on a second pair?  Nope.  No second pair.  The girls had scattered like the beads of a broken bracelet throughout the clothing section.  They want $40 leather belts.  Um, no.  How about $36 belts?  No.  How about $25 belts?  No.  But this one has a pretty silver buckle and pretty flowers on it? No.  Do you want dance shoes or a belt to hold up your adjustable waist jeans--which I buy so I don't have to keep track of belts?  We leave. 

At home, the kids eat ham sandwiches.  Why does no one tell me we are out of mayo until they all want the same kind of sandwich?  Really, a quick "Mom, we're out of mayo" would put it in a mental list where it would at least be filed under "stuff I ignore worrying about until there is a mayo shortage crisis."  I eat the aforementioned chocolate bar. 

After a few more fights with, and between, the kids, finally the blessing of naptime ascends.  I check a few sites, read and reply to emails and generally relax for a moment.  Sure, an on-top-of-it mom would have straightened up, gotten a fab lesson ready for her kids, started dinner.  Nope, I pop onto sites about being fantastic--eating right, exercising, teaching... I want to be fantastic, but I'm not.  I may never be.  Then I go lay down.

The phone rings.  Dan has a dinner meeting tonight.  I secretly wish I had a dinner meeting, one that involves a drink or 5.  A dinner meeting with a bottle of wine--the wine could be my guest, then I wouldn't have to split it.  I'm a lousy conversationalist anyway.  Remember that website about being healthy?  Forget it.  Wine as my dinner companion.  Just me and Wine, eating something that I didn't have to cook, somewhere where someone else serves me.  No knothead children to referee.  Wouldn't that be a lovely dinner?

The clock screeches 3pm.  The kids stir.  Its early dance night so I have to start finding leotards and doing hair so that my children are semi-presentable (this is a problem with homeschooling.  If I let my children out in public looking like they normally do, then I'm judged poorly for not doing their hair, if I do their hair right before we go, then I'm judged harshly for having too much time on my hands.  Who knew that children's hair styles said so much?)  I have to get the girls lessons that they didn't do today ready to do in the car while Boy whines through his dance class.  I have to shove the awkward stroller into the van so I can get my own exercise.  I have to worry about being social for even the few minutes we have drop off.

And really, I just wanted to take a nap.

Almost 3

The Boy is almost 3.  His birthday in in a little more than 2 weeks.  Birthdays and I don't get along for some reason.  I think partly because I tend to forget about them until its too late.  My siblings and nieces and nephews and even my husband can attest to this.  I'm just a forgetful sort of person when it comes to these days.  Maybe there is some deep down thing that a psychologist would like to discover stemming from the fact that my family often failed to recognize my birthday even though it was only 3 days after my oldest sister's.  Indeed it was forgotten more years after I turned 10 than it was remembered.

Anyway, The Boy's birthday is soon, and he wants a "Mitkey Mou Hou Ting".  Confused?  Me too.  Looking online the only Mickey Mouse Clubhouse playset I can really find is $60-ish.  Yikes.  I'm not even sure where the boy has come up with this idea of a Mickey Mouse House thing.  We normally don't even watch Mickey Mouse or even advertisements that are on during the shows we do watch.  But he repeats over and over that he wants a Mickey Mouse House Thing. 

This is where I wonder if 3 is too old to be able to fool him by making a Mickey Mouse cake and having Mickey Mouse plates and cups.  Maybe buy him a number of Mickey Mouse toys and accessories so that he doesn't realize he didn't get the mysterious Thing he keeps asking for? 

I know I have to step up for this birthday.  The third is generally one we celebrate well.  Actually, the 3rd is the birthday we all go to Boise to celebrate, but I don't think we'll be doing that this year.  So I really do have to be serious in planning Boy's birthday and getting him something he remotely wants.  And this creates a huge feeling of stress and fear.  I mean he'll probably be scarred for life if I screw this up, right?

Hmm... a primal corrolation?

So I jumped on another bandwagon a week ago.  It makes sense to me, and I'm relatively happy to follow this plan.  I can see myself eating this way for a long time.  One of the big things is to avoid grains.  Normally this isn't that hard for me.  I'm not a huge sandwich eater, and while I like the occasional piece of toast with my breakfast its too much of a hassle to get the toaster out, make the toast and then put the toaster away.  So I've done pretty well avoiding most grains as of late. 

On Saturday, we broke out the frozen pizza for dinner.  Immediately after dinner the kids were on my nerves big time.  And then my head started to hurt.  And my allergies kicked up.  I didn't think too much of it.  Then today, after making fresh homemade butter, and whipping it to a lighter texture I was so tempted that I decided to have a piece of bread and butter.  Mmmm...  It was good.  We buy our bread from the bountiful basket co-op and it full of all sorts of grains, no HFCS or anything unpronounceable.  Its really a quality bread if you are looking for a replacement to homemade.  EXCEPT... My head started to hurt, my sinuses started to feel awful, my throat started to bother me.  I felt just great this morning, but less than 5 minutes after that piece of bread I felt terrible.  I demanded everyone take naps including myself.  I felt drained of energy. 

So now, I'm very curious, if I feel this way after eating bread is it because of a grain problem?  After a week of very few bread-like foods, I'm beginning to see the wisdom behind this new lifestyle.  I guess we'll see how this all works out over the rest of the month.

Primally me

If you don't know, I'm fat.  I'm happy to blame plenty of causes for it, from PCOS, to "genetics" to an unhappy childhood, to laziness, to the cost of crap foods when I first started out on my own, but blame doesn't fix the fatness it just helps me wallow in it.  And I'm very good at wallowing in the pool of blaming for my fatness.
If you don't know, last spring I suffered a miscarriage.  Now over the years, I've learned to keep the worst of the PCOS symptoms at bay.  I know the weight that I have to struggle to keep at in order to be able to be as active as I want to be.  I know what I need to do to keep it from going up.  I can manage to make sure my skin doesn't break out too bad, and I know what I need to do to hide the issues of hair growth or thinning depending on what part we're talking about.  So, I approached the need for birth control pills to gain control of my body after the miscarriage with trepidation.  I asked that the doctor be sure to prescribe me something that wouldn't make the PCOS worse.  HA!  Like that would happen--a doctor listening to a patient's concerns.  This is the long way to say that I took pills that made it all worse. 

Now I'm fighting to get my hormones under some semblance of control.  Every morning I brace myself to stand on the scale and see another half pound or more register.  After close to a decade of careful moderation to just stay fat instead of getting superfat I'm struggling again.  I hate it.

This time, I'm not going to run to the doctor for a prescription to fix this.  I've been following a blog for a while, reading what the creator Mark Sisson suggests for how we can reprogram our genes and beat our propensity for fatness.  I've slowly started to change, but I admit its hard.  Its hard to give up crappy foods, easy to make and easy to eat.  Its hard to say goodbye to refined sugar and baked goods--especially when baking is a great hobby of mine.  But the idea that I can be healthy, that I can enjoy my family and life is too appealing.

So it is with great hope and not just a little fear that I am joining in the MDA 30-day challenge http://www.marksdailyapple.com/ .  At this point I'm hoping to just stop getting fatter.  I'd be thrilled if I could drop some weight, but the weight gaining that has plagued me since the miscarriage has to be stopped.  Wish me luck.

How we start our school day

Its September 7th, the first day for the elementary school across the street.  The bell rings at 8:25 and my kids run outside, in their pajamas, as I force my lazy self to get out of bed and start the day.  The kids have at least put on shoes, jackets and mittens as its 40 degrees outside.  They play while I get around, and then we meet in the kitchen for a breakfast.  They eat while I get the morning books out. 

Today, we learn about Jacob and his return to the land of Isaac, Muslims, Syria, the Middle East.  I like the fact that our books aren't editorialized with bias of dislike and hatred.  I like that my kids are learning and understanding that people are people no matter where they come from, and that Muslims have contributed so much to our culture and the cultures our culture has come from.  Its hard, because they hear the sound bytes on the 15-30 minutes of news I watch only a few times a week.  They hear of the unease and unrest in the world, although for now, we shield them from the more violent images and actions of mankind.  They hear the words of those around us, who believe only the worst actions of a people speak for the entire belief system.  At least for now they'll learn to love people who are different. 

Lazy Tooth Fairy

So two days ago, Dan got fed up with the 3 little baggies of teeth that are floating around the house. He insisted that Becky turn them into the tooth fairy or throw the teeth away, because they were never put away, and always contributing to the clutter zones in the house. After this stern, insisting reprimand about leaving things out and all of that and how these teeth needed to be dealt with, he didn't have enough coins for the teeth that night.


One of the baggies had fallen down on Nate's bed, so he made up a story about the tooth fairy being confused that a tooth labeled "Rebekah" was on Nate's pillow so she didn't leave any money. Yesterday, he made sure to go to the bank and get more dollar coins for the missing teeth and future missing teeth. While he reminded Becky to have her teeth all in order, he forgot about his tooth fairy duties yet again. Becky didn't say anything to Dan about the teeth this morning, so he thought he'd be safe in swapping them while she worked on a picture she was drawing.

Apparently, Becky had indeed checked on her teeth this morning. Yet, she accepted the coins with much grace and not many questions about how Dad had found the money under her pillow when she had only found teeth. I remain quiet on the subject, as I ponder again, if we didn't encourage our kids to celebrate Santa, and the Easter Bunny, why did we get sucked into the Tooth Fairy for 60 teeth worth of worries?

...and then someone pees in the pantry

Its been one of those days. 
You know the kind.  Its starts out well, but then someone pees in the pantry and from there on out you are counting down the seconds until the reinforcements come.  And that pee in the pantry?  That happens at 9:30 in the morning, before you've finished your last cup of coffee. 

As you can tell we are potty training--sort of.  I'd like to be done with diapers soon.  I like the idea of being done, getting through the accident phase and then buying new furniture.  I can see hope on the horizon.  Such glorious, bright, beckoning hope calling to me, encouraging me to ditch the diapers and put the time into another round of potty training. 

And then someone pees in the pantry.

Of hoarseness and other things

I'm facing the hoarseness that comes with the beginning of the new school year.  Its one of the drawbacks of the Charlotte Mason method of educating your children.  One of the basic tenents of this method is exposing your children to excellent literature.  I love this.  I love reading good books to my children, I love encouraging them to research further when an idea comes from the reading.  I love relearning and refreshing my own mind of the facts that lurk there, learned so many years ago, and learning new things alongside my kids.  I enjoy the reading we do and the lessons so much.  We read for hours a day, outloud, to one another, its a joy that I relish.  My only complaint is that my voice is completely shot. 

Sadly, I get so involved in our reading that I cannot help but dramatize the stories as I sit surrounded by my children.  Truly good books require that sort of respect I think. Yet I think much is lost when midst the living argument I read aloud, I am reduced to coughing fitfully.  So do I slowly make our way through our daily studies too hoarse by the time we get to Science that I can barely squeak out "molecule" or "atom"?  Do I wait and attack our studies with more vigor once the public school kids return to their classrooms?  Or do I simply accept that I will be hoarse for another few months until my voice is returned?  I suppose that I'll simply accept my lost voice and continue on in our studies, because like the kids I cannot help myself when a good book calls to me.  How can you deny your children when they beg to be taught? 

Such a bizarre conumdrum.

A Brand New Blog for Bethany

Today I had nothing to say on Facebook.  That's not a bad thing, sometimes I feel like this social networking world has gotten out of hand.  Mind you, that doesn't stop me from starting a new blog--joining a new interface to randomly connect with others.  Maybe its my stifled creativity that leads me to strike out.  Maybe its the piles of laundry.  Laundry tends to be very stifling even when the creativity is waning in your day.  And there is trip laundry to attend to, so I feel very stifled.  But avoiding laundry isn't the only reason I felt compelled to start a blog.  Like I said, we just got home from a trip to visit family.  I realized it would be a lot easier to catalog, organize and share our dreams, desires, joys and feelings with the people who are truly interested in just exactly how I'm warping my children.  So welcome to my blog!