Category Archives: Parenting

I’m write. Your wrong. (sic)

It’s nearly 10p.m. and my big kids just got into bed. Carter got a new telescope for his birthday and was excited about looking at the night sky (even if it really was too cloudy to see much at all). We meant to go out after dinner, but decided to wait for the little two to go to bed.  So by the time we made it outside, it was already past bed time and we spent more time outside than we meant to (or than my icicle toes would have liked). This is one of the perks of homeschool for us. If we had to be up and out the door by 7:45 in the morning, I never would have dreamed of letting them stay up so late on a school night. But we had a chance to study the sky while the little kids were in bed and while Daddy was home, so we took it.  (And maybe, just maybe, everyone will sleep a little later in the morning).

This kind of flexibility is one of the main things that I love about homeschool. Get done with a lesson quickly? Either move on to the next lesson or take a break. Struggling with a lesson and just not getting it? Take a break and we’ll come back to it later. See an opportunity on a Saturday that fits in with an upcoming lesson? Do it on Saturday and check it off then. A trip to the doctor/dentist/orthodontist? Ask questions and turn it into a real learning experience. Grocery shopping? Make sure you check the labels and do price comparisons. Reading, comprehension, math, problem solving. Have errands to run? Take your book with you and read in the car.

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We are having such a great experience with homeschool that sometimes I want to do a little dance at the end of the day. While other parents are having to help their kid pound through spelling words again, rushing to get everything done before gymnastics or soccer or piano, I’m in the yard reading a book while the kids play. I have to admit that there are moments like those when I get a little smug about our choice. I think, “Ha! I sure am glad I’m not having to do homework like they are.” And low-and-behold I catch myself being a homeschool snob. It’s embarrassing, really. I know better than that. This homeschooling option is a good options for us for now. It may not be a good option for us for always and it isn’t the best option for many people ever. And that’s okay. Ultimately, I don’t care if you homeschool or if you don’t. I don’t care if you think I’m nuts or not. (If you think I’m nuts, chances are I give you plenty of opportunity to prove your point without adding homeschool to the mix). I don’t care if you ask me about what we learn or how our days go. I don’t care if you ask me details of testing and lesson plans and how we deal with the little kids while the big kids work. I usually don’t even mind if you ask me how I do it all. (I don’t have an answer for that, but I don’t mind if you ask). But I do get my panties in a wad when people try to take their preconceived notions about homeschool and try to fit them on my family like a too-tight pair of jeans. My kids are socialized just fine thankyouverymuch. They experience a wide variety of people and of beliefs and ideals and ideas. They learn the same things that they would be learning at a brick and mortar school. We don’t skip the stuff I don’t understand. (I just have to learn it with them). We don’t shelter them from the world (any more than I did when they were in public school). We don’t homeschool to keep them away from worldly influences. We aren’t bible beaters or have any plans to live in a commune with the other hippies or any thing like that. (Not that there’s anything wrong with being a super-fervent Christian or living in a commune, if that’s your thing). 

It just makes me sad to see the negative stigma so many people have about homeschool and homeschooled kids and homeschooling parents.  As a homeschooling parent, all I want is for you do to what is right for your family and for me to do what is right for my family. I want both of us to be able to see and appreciate that what works at my house may not work at your house. I want us to be able to celebrate our diversity, not hide behind it. I want us to play nice and not bicker about one way being better than another. I felt the same way when we talk about breastfeeding and co-sleeping and baby-wearing. Oh, Mommy Wars…I’m so weary. Let’s just drop the whole thing and hold hands instead, shall we?

And then there were none…

Another last first. Oof.
This time it’s the last first time one of my babies will sleep in a big kid bed.

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And then it will be the last first time I drop someone off at preschool.
And the last first time I hold a little hand as we cross the parking lot.
And the last first time I sing “Edelweiss” to one of my children at bedtime.

Oof.
Oof.
Oof.

With Carter, the firsts were ohsovery exciting!
And we celebrated every!single!one!
Now some firsts slip right past me.
But some grasp me hard around the waist and squeeze, stealing every drop of air.
I acknowledge them with a little hat tip and maybe a tear or two,
So determined to remember the moment that I forget to celebrate every!single!one!

I selfishly want to keep the moments for my own, to not share them with anyone.
It doesn’t make sense, I know…but if I don’t tell anyone then it never happened, right?
Maybe, I think, I can even will time to pause, if only briefly.

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There was no planning, no prepping this time.
I didn’t move the crib mattress to the floor for a little while so she could adjust.
I didn’t have a big talk with her about moving to a big girl bed.
I didn’t think about where I’d move which piece of furniture to make room.
I just snatched the bandaid off – fast and furious.

I saw her try to climb out of her crib onto the dresser top just yesterday.
Bed assembled this morning.
New mattress acquired this afternoon.
Bed linens washed this evening.
And a little (big) girl snoozing in bed tonight.

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The biggest girl so proud to share “her” bed with the little one.
She helped me wipe it up and clean it off and put it together.
She helped me wash the sheets and pulled them warm from the dryer.
She helped me make the bed and carefully place the pillows.
And then she showed off her masterpiece.
The little one grinning beside the big one, my heart nearly popped open wide.

Through cuddles and laughs (and maybe a tear or two), we celebrated.
A baby no more.
It’s bittersweet.

eight wishes.

As you grow, I wish these things…

one.
that your passion for learning never fades,
that you never stop asking why,
and that you never stop trying to make the impossible possible.

two.
that your smile always stays genuine,
that you keep that sparkle in your eye,
and that you keep joy in your heart even when it’s hard to do.

three.
that you continue to show compassion to others,
that you keep asking how you can help,
and that you keep wearing your heart on your sleeve.

four.
that you will always be friends with your siblings,
that you will laugh with them and have fun together
and that you will love and protect and care for each other.

five.
that you will always be a good friend,
that you will know when to help and when to give space,
and that you will have friends who know how to do the same.

six.
that you will feel a connection with your Creator,
that you will ask hard questions and seek the answers,
and that you share what you’ve learned in a kind, loving, and gentle way.

seven.
that you will be brave and courageous,
that you will look for adventure (with a healthy dose of reason)
and that every now and then you close your eyes and leap.

eight.
that you will always be my little (big) boy,
that you will always know how much I love you,
and that you will always know that I am here.
Always.

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Happy birthday, love!
May all your wishes come true.
Love, Mommy

 

The Climb

One foot, then the other.
A slip and a slide and a crash.
Determination.
Try it again.
One foot, then the other.
Forever and always it will be:
One foot, and then the other.
You can do it!
Try it again.

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He called back to her:
Don’t come up here!
It’s too dangerous!
With not even a hint of baby in his voice.
Nothing here but big boy, brave and fierce.

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But she would not be swayed.
One foot, then the other.
She babbled back at him.
With her baby words and her not-so-baby body.
Nothing here but growing girl, brave and fierce.

Toys Toys Toys

I feel very grinch-ish sometimes when I scream about the toys-toys-toys-TOYS and the noise-noise-noise-NOISE, but good LAWD my house gets loud and crazy sometimes! And I don’t mind a few toys out here and there, but if I can’t walk to the bathroom without hitting a Lego land mine? Well, I get pretty darn cranky. But with Christmas and 3 birthdays all within a month of each other, it gets pretty messy around here.

I tried to stay ahead of the curve and clear out a lot of stuff before Christmas. The kids helped me sort it all and they chose what to give to St. Nick. Then he took the toys to the North Pole where they were fixed up and shipped out to other boys and girls. (Bonus: Santa can bring gently used items to our house and no one questions it.) That helped, but there were still way too many toys.

And so after Christmas we pulled everything out. Every.single.thing. WHEW!  And we sorted every.single.thing. And not just dolls, blocks, cars; but American Girl dolls vs. Cabbage Patch Kids vs. other dolls, Hot Wheels vs. Cars cars vs. big toy cars. And then we started boxing up. All the toys for January, February, March, and April went on the floor. One big box for May, June, July, August. Another for September, October, November, December. If you wanted your Halloween bucket when it was time to trick-or-treat, you sure as hang better make sure your bucket was in the October box. Want to take a toy to the beach? You should probably put it in the May-August box.

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I did this when they were little (when there were less children and less toys). It worked really well when I did it but with the help of time and laziness and a few moves, all that organization went out the window. Will we keep this up? I hope so. I think it’s possible. I already have to do wardrobe season changes, what will one more box hurt? (I really hate changing out all of their clothes! Takes for-ever!)

How do you tame the Toy Monster?
Do you give away toys they don’t use any more?
Do you sell toys at consignment?
Or just deal with the explosion of toys?

Do you save any of their (or your) favorites?
I’ve saved some to have when my kids are older, but younger kids visit.
And for (maybe someday) grandchildren.
I love that both my parents and Marshall’s have our toys for our kids to use.

I took the toys. All of them.

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Saturday brought one too many whine.
One too many tears.
Way too many sour words.

So I took the toys.
All of them.

I let them keep the books.
Because I just can’t take away the books.

Stashed in the closet, they may have one back at a time.
If they can prove that they can handle one toy each, they can get another the next day.

I feel like the meanest.mom.ever.
But their behavior has been fantastic.

They spent hours playing outside yesterday.
I didn’t take those toys away.

And for their first toy to get back?
They all chose something they could share: Legos, the car track, the fairies.
And though I am still frustrated that I had to do it,
It makes my heart smile that they picked something to share.

 

A Letter to the Birthday Boy (a few days late)

We snuggled close at the end of the day, at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Having a birthday so close to Christmas means we’re almost always on the move for your big day. You don’t seem to mind, and I hope you never do. For now it seems like an adventure for you, I think.

You said prayers. And then said them again – not because you were afraid they didn’t stick, but because you weren’t ready to close your eyes and end the day.

After the last “Amen” I asked: So what was the best part of your birthday?

You paused briefly, then crinkled your nose and squinted one eye and cocked your head and smooshed up your little lips (as you do) and said: The playing.

I love that you liked your toys, but I love more that you liked sharing your toys with the others.

In big families, very few things are yours and yours alone. There’s always lots of sharing (or, some days, shouting over) toys. Last night we celebrated your birthday at home and then let you stay up after all the others had gone to bed just so you could play with your toys by yourself. You liked them, but you laughed and smiled more when the others were playing with you. Oh, the lessons I could learn from you, my little one. Joy is even more joyous when shared, or something like that.

Happy birthday, my laid-back lil adventurer.
I love you so.
Love, Mommy

Picture Perfect

Last week we tried to do Christmas pictures.
It ended like this:

I almost deleted every single one of the pictures I took that night and decided not to.
One day I’ll laugh at how crazy it all was.
(Heck, I already laugh about it.)

So I kept my eye out for a day when everyone was in good form (which is pretty rare around here).
Yesterday morning we were all laughing and giggling and having fun and I thought, “This is it! Go! NOW!”
I promised a picnic and ice cream if they’d take pictures.
(I am not above bribery.)
And so we did.
And they did great.

Oh, I also promised they would get to take pictures, too!
And although I love the pictures I got of all of them, my absolute favorites are these I snapped on the way back to the car.

Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.   ~Robert Brault

 

Screamy Baby/Smiley Baby

For days, weeks even, she’s been screamy.
Like intolerably screamy.
Like I-can’t-take-this-anymore screamy.
And I know she’s been getting teeth and I know that hurts.
But gah! I was going nuts!

And then, today, she wakes up full of pure happy.
She laughed and smiled, and smiled and laughed.
She cuddled up next to me and squealed with delight when I kissed her cheek.
She clapped when Lydia read the pigeon book aloud.
And she beamed when she used the potty for the very first time.

Gosh, I sure do love her.
(Even when she’s screamy.)

First and Last

I look up and see that she’s sitting with friends, girls a year or two her senior, instead of her brother.
It doesn’t seem to bother him, and I am glad that she’s stepped out on her own.
Her friend says something and she laughs.
Not a big laugh, but the smile-shrug thing she does when she’s almost comfortable with someone.
I am grateful for these girls, the ones who are including her and making her feel a part of something good.
I worry about her.
(I shouldn’t but I do.)
She is so vibrant and vivacious at home.
But it’s hard for her when she steps into the unknown.

As the music begins, she walks up front with the other girls behind her and sits lady-like on the steps.
I’m not surprised that she went, but that she led the way.
And they hear God’s word spoken just for them in their own words and they stand to leave.
All of them.
Even my girl – the one who has always been to skittish to go.

From the choir, I watch her walk out, eyeing the others to make sure she’s doing it right.
And we bring up our songbooks and the music begins to play and I choke back emotions.
Oh, how silly I am, I think.
But really, honestly…I am proud of her.
It seems like such a little thing.
(But it’s not.)

Our song done, we slip out of the loft and into pews.
And I find myself sitting alone for the first time in many, many services.
I am proud of her, happy for her…but I miss her already.
I am overly aware lately of just how much I love them.
And how I miss their little faces and big voices when we are apart, even if for only a short while.

Exactly when, I wonder, did I become such a tearful sap?
Probably when I realized just how fast it all flies by.
You hear it, and you know it…but there is a point when it just settles in and your soul finally understands head and heart.
There is a point when the big things become little and the little things big.
When you realize that this moment
~ this one right here ~
is more monumental in its simplicity than the greatest moments in human history.

Today wasn’t the first last time nor the last first time she will leave me,
but it is none-the-less a moment that shook my soul and made my eyes a bit leaky.
I think of how last week she looked up and whispered rub my back, not quite a statement or question,
And she nestled in like a kitten and closed her eyes and smiled.
And I can feel my hand on her skin in that little space between the button and the fabric loop in the pink princess dress.
I’d done it a thousand times, and yet something in me said “Memorize this.”
I’m so glad I did.