10 Years Ago...And 10 Years Ahead

I posted a little about this on Facebook earlier, but since it ties in so nicely with a post I was working on last week (and didn't publish because I reflected that it wasn't very polite), I'm going to elaborate on it all here. "It", namely, is what I where I was in my life 1o years ago, and how it relates to where I am now. It is quite possible to wax very eloquent - and for a very long time - on such a subject, but never fear. I am not sufficiently out of my first-trimester haze (my baby hasn't quite understood that I'm officially out of that trimester and no longer need to feel sick or tired AT ALL EVER these days) to put together anything very complicated or, for that matter, anything with too many big words or ideas. After all, as a dear relative (who doesn't read this) pointed out over the holidays, I HAVE had four children and am working on another one - it is doubtful whether I am still as smart as I was when I was a little girl. No joke - although I did laugh, and my feelings are not hurt. :-)

At any rate, ten years ago I was newly married (about 7 months), and we had just recently moved to Greenville, SC, where, incidentally, I was to meet some of you readers in later months! We were settling into married life, and into our very small apartment, and we were also preparing for our very first baby. I was about 18 weeks pregnant at the turn of the new year, and had little idea what was ahead. We were to make so many mistakes and engage in so many struggles in the decade to come, but we were also to gain wisdom and understanding, and to be plunged into deeper joys than we could imagine. Several moves and four beautiful children later, we are in our second house and in our more favored location in South Carolina - I appreciate having met you, my dear friends, but there was little else about Greenville that I loved! - and much is different about ourselves and our lives now as we approach the coming decade. But one thing that is the same is that I am once again pregnant, expecting an arrival next summer, just as I was 10 years ago. Of course, many of the circumstances are different, but there is something about the expecting itself, the secret communion between myself and this hidden treasure, that it exactly the same. It also occured to me today that I have spent the entire first decade of this century pregnant and/or nursing children. It's not the only thing I've done, but it has certainly characterized my life during these years. And that's ok. Not only is it ok, but it's the purpose I want to be fulfilling, and am happy to still be fulfilling. I am not accidentally "popping out babies," or just finding myself pregnant every couple years. I admit that on some occasions I have felt a little shell-shocked upon the discovery - not as if I weren't expecting it to happen at any time, but just being hit with the reality of it, and answering the questions and doubts in my own head. Is this a good time? Do I really want to do this? Usually when other people began asking these same questions out loud - and sometimes with the thinly veiled, "When do intend to be DONE?" - I come to my senses and remember that yes, I do want to do this. I don't consider children merely to be adornments for - or conversely, detractions from - my life, therefore, there's no set number that's "enough", and no number after which they become superfluous kids just draining us of time and money. What am I going to do with another one? A better question is what will this individual, this soul who will carve out a place in this world of their own, do with us? What will our family look like in this coming decade because of this new person? What joys will be ours while watching this person, and the four we have already, grow up? If we are given no more than five, then our joy will be complete - and yet somehow even greater if we have more. I don't know what the end number will be for us, and it's with purpose and peace that I embrace not knowing. I'm not worried that God doesn't know what he's doing and that my reproductive system will just continue to go haywire unless I do something about it. He may give us peace about using outward means to complete our family, but if he doesn't, I already have peace about accepting what he gives us now. And, by the way, if he gives us more boys from here on out, I'll be happy with that, too. More than one person has told my boys that they didn't "need" the brother they confessed to hoping for, and to that I say that we need whatever God intends to give us. It would be fun to have another girl, but I'm not praying desperately for one, as if I just won't know what to do with my life if I have another boy.

But there, I'm beginning to wander into the less-than-polite mode I had hoped to avoid. Suffice it say that this decade will hold for me some of the same as last decade. I will give birth, and nuture young children, and I don't know how long that will last. I do hope to explore some of personal creative outlets and to cultivate interests and ambitions, and it may be - it probably will be- that at some point in the next 10 years I will move past the baby stage altogether. But I'll embrace it for as many years as it continues. The business of bringing people into this world, and of raising them to God's glory, is a good and noble one. I'm thankful to be continuing with this little one growing in me now.

Happy New Year!

One-Word

I have been in a deep, dark, first-trimester, how-long-is-this-going-to-last abyss, which explains my absence from my blog - as well as from my kitchen, any cleaning supplies in general, and basically any other responsibilities that involve moving. People ask me if it was this bad in my other pregnancies, and I can't remember the recent ones. I'm hoping I blocked those experiences out of my memory, because that means that there's a good chance I'll forget this at some point, too.

Anyway, I have no room or energy for creative thought. But this one-word thing (thanks, Jenny and Hannah) seems easy enough.


1. Where is your cell phone? Desk
2. Your hair? Aargh.
3. Your mother? Busy
4. Your father? Eccentric
5. Your favorite food? Nothing
6. Your dream last night? Strange
7. Your favorite drink? Lemonade
8. Your dream/goal? Europe
9. What room are you in? School
10. Your hobby? Reading
11. Your fear? Secret
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Secure
13. Where were you last night? Home
14. Something that you aren’t? Sweet
15. Muffins? Pumpkin
16. Wish list item? Floor
17. Where did you grow up? York
18. Last thing you did? Fed
19. What are you wearing? Sweats
20. Your TV? Hand-me-down
21. Your pets? Many
22. Friends? Some
23. Your life? Full
24. Your mood? Bleh
25. Missing someone? Husband
26. Vehicle? Caravan
27. Something you’re not wearing? Socks
28. Your favorite store? Online
29. Your favorite color? Red
30. When was the last time you laughed? Today
31. Last time you cried? Recently
32. Your best friend? Far
33. One place that I go to over and over? Library
34. One person who emails me regularly? Dad
35. Favorite place to eat? Melting Pot


I couldn't help using 2 words for the Melting Pot, but other than that, I did pretty well!

More on "How to Make Your Mom Go Crazy"

I posted something on this subject last fall. But here are some more helpful hints for how to to really drive your mom crazy. And again, this works best as a cooperative effort - the more siblings the better.

1. Go in and out the backdoor about 150 times (or more, if you can physically manage it). This time, make sure you hold the door open wide enough so that each time you let the indoor cat outside, and the outdoor dog inside. It's best if they cross paths chaotically, and you get bonus points if the dog stays in long enough to eat several of the pumpkin chocolate chip muffins your mom made this morning.

2.Make sure you reference Star Wars at every possible opportunity. Talk about it, argue about it, share with her every single piece of trivia there is to know about Star Wars. It's great if you do this during school time, too. (Such as when your mom asks you if anything sounds familiar about a representative type of government. Your face should light up, so that she thinks you're going to tell her about the United States government, the one you've been learning about since the middle of last school year - except you should say, "Oh yes! You mean like the representatives of Naboo!")

3.When she sends you to your disastrously messy room with instructions to PLEASE clean it up, go in there and stay behind your locked door for about half an hour - but don't actually pick anything up. When she finally asks you to open the door, act completely surprised and offended if she observes that nothing has actually changed. Insist, tearfully, that you DID clean up!

4.After you've played with - and left - a number of things inside the house, go out into the shed and rummage through all the interesting things out there. Take out all the gardening tools, leave the shed door wide open, then play with a fishing pole you found - make sure there's a hook on the end, and then when someone gets hurt, act like you didn't know that might be a bad idea. Do not go back and close the shed door, even if she asks you a couple times.

5.While she's out there with you, a younger sibling should get right to work tearing multiple pages out of a $40 Star Wars encyclopedia, owned by the library, of course. When you hear her reaction when she comes back in to discover this, follow her in and proceed to ask the most trivial question you can think of. Someone else can then ask repeatedly if she's going to have to pay for the book. When she finally answers that she thinks it can be repaired - but still appears to be highly annoyed about the whole situation - go on and on about how you really wished she would have to buy it, because it's such a great book. Maybe even offer some more Star Wars trivia that you learned from said book.

6.Plead for a snack (everybody should chime in). Before you're even finished eating the snack she gives you, hold up another food item and ask if you can eat that, too.

7.Ask to play the Wii when outside it is in the 70's and the skies are blue and sunny. If she says no, ask about the computer, or the TV, or ANYTHING electronic. When she says something about it being a perfectly beautiful day outside and no we are NOT going to get on anything with a screen, wait five minutes and then ask her again, as if you didn't hear what she said the first time.

Go outside some, but keep coming back in and repeating the above... also keep letting the dog in and the cat out...and by all means, keep asking for something to eat (insist there's no way you can wait until dinner).

Eventually she will call your dad and ask him about WHEN HE IS COMING HOME exactly. She will take you all out to the front yard to wait for him. But just when you think you've really got her and she'll finally go off the deep end...she'll take a few deep breaths when he gets home, go in with you all, and serve you tacos for dinner (and pound cake for dessert!). And during dinner she might actually be happy when she tells you about the accomplice she's going to give you on or around the 4th of July.

Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle

Have you read this book to your children? If not, put on it your list! I read it to Aimee and Drew when they were wee ones - when they were the only ones - and now it is back at the top of the circle. Incidentally, that's one of the reasons I enjoy having four children spaced the way they are. The things the older ones discovered in their early years (wait - are they past those already?), the younger ones discover anew several years later, and I am privileged to be able to share more than once the same delight and wonder over familiar and beloved books and stories.
Now, this time, I am reading Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle to all the boys, since Drew doesn't remember much of it from the first time. Aimee read it to herself as soon as I brought it home from the library, and she keeps repeating that she's exempt from this particular read-aloud for that reason - and yet, she also keeps drifting over to us and sitting in anyway. "Oh, this is a funny cure," she'll say, and end up sticking around to hear it all over again.

If you aren't at all familiar with Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, she is a charming little lady with no childen of her own, but who knows everything there is to know about children. She is understanding and sympathetic to the children, and she also knows exactly how to cure their faults, so parents call her when they don't know what to do with children's shortcomings (won't take a bath or pick up toys, etc.). One of the things I find so amusing about reading this is that my children don't see themselves at all in the characteristics of the children in the book. They would NEVER be THAT selfish, or let their rooms get THAT messy, or fight and argue with each other like THAT. I imagine, then, that they would be surprised if I called Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle for a few cures myself.

For instance, I would like to ask Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle if she had a "Put-things-off-until-the-last-minute-and-then-still-blame-your-parents-for-the-consequences" cure. (Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's cures have more succinct names, of course!) We have a world-class procrastinator in our house, who consistently fails to appreciate his/her own culpability when the natural consequences result. Sometimes I think I've got this person - that there's no way I can be blamed if math has to be done instead of reading time in the evening, because I carefully explained what was expected of that person, and the hours were whiled away doing everything else instead. I imagine that person being struck with an awareness of their own responsibility in the matter - "Ah, me! If only I hadn't squandered my time, and had diligently applied myself instead. Thank you, dear mother, for firmly but kindly demonstrating the error of my ways. I shall henceforth do my work in a timely fashion and thus allow myself uninterrupted free time in the evening, made all the more pleasant by the satisfaction of hard work and accomplishment." That never happens, so I wonder if Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle would have a creative cure.

Or might she have a "Grass-Is-Greener-On-the-Other-Side" cure? "Why do THEY get to go to Disney World, and we don't?" "Why do THEY have....?" "Why do THEY get to...", or one of my favorites, "It would be so much easier to have sisters than to have these brothers." I grew up with sisters, and I can tell you that it's just a different set of troubles (and joys,too), but my daughter doesn't believe me for a minute.

It also might be interesting to see a "Complain-about-the-unfairness-of-my-relatively-small-choreload-and-very-flexible-schedule" cure. Perhaps it might be related to the one above.

There are only school-age children in the book, but if Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle did know a thing or two about preschoolers, I might ask her if she had a "Wait-'til-Mommy-starts-reading-aloud-and-then-began-talking-very-loudly-or-making-interesting-sound-effects" cure.

Besides the extra self-discipline required on the parents' part to tackle each of these things, I imagine the biggest cure for most of them is just growing up. Of course, we aults need our own set of cures, such as the "Sometimes-forgets-they're-only-children" cure. Well, I'm reminding myself now.

And we'll go on reading together and laughing at the children who aren't a thing like ourselves.

"When I Grow Up"

This idea was banidied about among the kids in the car on the way home from Wal-Mart just a few minutes ago.

Chase (who believes steadfastly that he already is as grown-up as he'll ever be, -verbally refusing, even, to accept that he's only two - joins in the conversation only because it's what the other kids are saying): "One day, when I grow up, I'm going to play soccer. And one day, when I grow up, I'm going to be a cowboy."

Ryan: "When I grow up, I'm going to be an astronaut and walk on Mars." "You can't do that!" Drew protests vigorously. "No one can land on Mars." They all want my opinion about whether this will be possible. I say maybe and insist we move on.

Drew: "When I grow up, I'm going to be a pilot in the Air Force." ("Or maybe be in the Army. Or the Navy. Or the Marines" - depending on what day you ask him. I think anything with guns, fast-moving machines, and a surplus of tough masculinity will do.)

Aimee: "Oh, I don't know. I think an author. And a lawyer. Is it possible to do both?" I tell her yes, that's definitely possible. Then to Drew she adds, with older sister superiority, "Speaking of being a lawyer, I'll probably have to be yours because of all the trouble you're going to get into when you grow up."

Things to Give Away...And Things to Keep to Yourself

A Few Things You Should Pass on to Other Mothers:

1.Your favorite recipes
2.Great deals at local stores
3.Homeschooling ideas (if you homeschool, of course)
4. Funny anecdotes about your kids
5. General support, a listening ear, a meal if needed, etc. etc.

Things You Should NOT Pass on to Other Mothers:
1. Unsolicited advice
2. Your family's stomach bug
Both of these you should keep AT HOME, especially the second one, because the effects last much longer. I can politely reject your advice, but there's nothing I can do with the blessing of a stomach bug - except, that is, alot of a laundry. It will also deprive me of sleep and will trap me in my home with sick and probably cranky children for at least a week. I can think of so many things I would rather endure than a stomach bug, so please, please, PLEASE...keep this one to yourself.

I should add, for one friend's sake - you know who you are! - that if I know the risks of helping you out during a stomach bug "epidemic" and accept them anyway, I don't hold you responsible if we happen to get it. ;-)

It's the surprise germ attack of which I currently moan and groan. *sigh*

First Language Lessons

I just noticed that Hannah wrote her own review of First Language Lessons, and she is probably quite right! As I commented on her post, we take what we need from FLL and leave the rest, because it can be quite repetitive. I just assume it's like any other teacher's manual, directed toward the lowest common demoninator,and by that I just mean it is written as if the teacher doesn't know a thing about grammar or how to teach it. Knowing something about grammar, and knowing that my kids pick up definitions without having to repeat them 3 times...and 3 more times...oh, and let's say that together 3 times AGAIN, I use the book as a "spine" and do not read the dialogue straight from it.

We also play games at dinnertime (not to be outdone!) like choosing a letter and then assigning parts of speech to each member of the family. We all think of an appropriate word starting with that letter, then put them together in a silly sentence. There are also fun books like, "If You Were a Verb," the author of which I can't remember but will post later if I do, that we have used at times.

A Little About School, Part 2

I also wrote this in the pre-dawn hours, and dedided to break it off from the last post so that it would be slightly more readable and not so hopelessly long.


As for the rest of what we're doing academically, I've been meaning to post something about it, and now seems like as good a time as any.

Art - We are still officially using Drawing with Children, and when we do, the kids are extremely satisfied with their results, which are indeed pretty impressive. In reality, though
I just don't have the time to have drawing lessons consistently. If the little boys are occupied, if everything lines up just right and all is peaceful and harmonious, a drawing
hour is fantastic. Otherwise it can be rather stressful - kids end up yelling and each other, and a frazzled mom will end up just asking everyone to draw what they like.
We haven't done too many drawing lessons yet this year! But we have done a couple of projects from Discovering Great Artists, and that is a neat resource. I don't own it, though,
and have to get it from the library when we want to use it. For art appreciation, we are using Child-Sized Masterpieces, and even the little boys love to play matching games with
the postcards. I wish I could say we had a neatly planned rotation each week of drawing and art appreciation, but usually it's pretty haphazard.

Bible - We are reading from 2 Samuel each night, and a chapter in Proverbs daily (as close as we can to daily, at any rate). AWANA at church has been postponed until at
least after the first of the year, but the kids were so happy to be allowed to take their respective new books home anyway, and they're studying sections from them each day.
They may even be allowed to quote sections to their leaders on Sundays if they like. So this takes the edge of their dissapointment, as well as covers our Bible memory for the
year. I'm also having all of them, including the little ones, continue to learn the Catechism. The little boys are still in the first section, titled "God," Drew is in "The Fall of Man," and Aimee
is in "God's Plan of Salvation." This is just a series of questions and answers, but the kids actually enjoy it.

Crafts - This is by far my weakest subject! :-) Every once in awhile we do a project from the history book, or I'll do something from with the little boys from one of the craft
books we have. Usually we just resort to drawing, painting, and play dough. Actually my favorite kinds of hands-on projects are cooking and baking ones!

Geography - We still like "Geography Songs" and "States and Capitals" songs, both by Kathy Troxel. We look things up on the globe a good deal and sometimes check books
about countries that correspond to whatever we're studying in history. Again, we're going for simple exposure here, not yet any carefully planned studies.

Grammar - We use First Language Lessons at the appropriate age levels. It's a little dry, but thorough, and the lessons are fairly short, so it's not an hour's worth of boredom.

Handwriting - Aimee is working on cursive, using Classically Cursive, which I love because she copies things like books of the Bible, the Ten Commandments, and the Catechism.
I generally let her go at this on her own, and her handwriting is turning out quite nicely. Drew is still printing, and needs more help than Aimee did or does, but I'm not too concerned with
this area at this stage with him. I have a handwriting practice book (we do the modern manuscript style) that I'll have him use very occasionally when it seems he needs practice
with a particular letter, but generally, I just have him do some grammar copywork a couple times a week, and I think his handwriting is at least adequate for his age.

History - We are still going through the Story of the World, but also planning to put a little more emphasis on the corresponding American History timeline as we go. How could
we spend just one week on pioneer history? I plan to keep our library basket stocked full of pioneer fiction and non-fiction for the next few week, as well as do lots of pioneer cooking
and a few pioneer crafts (catch the theme?). In general, the kids LOVE history, and will happily read and read and read and read and read about whatever we happening to be studying.

Latin - Aimee and I began Latina Christiana late in the school year last year, but it didn't go very well. When we started it again at the beginning of this school year, we had much
more success, and she enjoys, for the most part, learning new vocabulary. The other kids like to join in sometimes, too.

Math - Our Big Bad Subject. Well, only for some of us. Aimee is in Saxon 54, Drew is in Saxon 3, and after much begging, Ryan is dabbling in Saxon 1. Aimee and I struggle
with learning this together, although I believe she doesn't have as much trouble actually understanding it as she does getting past the fact that I have to be the one teaching it
to her. It's not that she doesn't like me personally, but we do have a tendency to butt heads over school. And she probably would do better with a different curriculum, I fully admit. I just on't know how well I would do teaching her some of the methods I've seen. We used Saxon growing up, but my mom did something different with my youngest sister, using Cuisenaire rods, and it didn't make much sense to me. I tend to see things much better in black-and-white, whatever the cost. And we all know Saxon can be tortuous at times, so sometimes the cost is rather high in frustration, but I do think it's worth it in the end, and Aimee has cleared a couple hurdles even recently that have made things a little smoother. Drew, meanwhile, is cruising along with little help (for which I'm very grateful). He's got to be the kind of kid Saxon math was designed for, the kind who actually asks for more fact sheets and enjoys every second of the counting exercises.

Memory - Most of this is incorporated into other subjects. We are, as I mentioned already, memorizing the Catechism and Bible verses. For history, the kids are memorizing the American
presidents right now as well as the Gettysburg Address. First Language Lessons (grammar) provides poems at regular intervals, and both Aimee and Drew have a handful each per year that they learn.

Music - I am giving Aimee piano lessons and Drew violin lessons. I think I can handle Aimee's lessons for a couple of years, after which she can decide she's had enough or wants to continue,
in which case we can get her an actual piano teacher. Drew's lessons I can handle for several years, since the violin is actually my instrument.

Reading - We do a great deal of it! I get recommendations from The Story of the World activity book, as well as from the age-appropriate Sonlight and Veritas Press lists, which I
recently spent some time putting into chronological order. Most of these are histoical fiction and are regarded by the kids as "fun reading." If they need any incentive, which they rarely do, we are doing the Pizza Hut Book It! program this year, and I use that toward Aimee and Drew's required reading. For actual "fun reading" - i.e. books other than those we officially use for school, but that usually still qualify as good literature - there are no end of choices, of course, and the older ones, both of whom are strong readers, always have a book (or two) that they're reading for their own enjoyement.Ryan is just learning to read this year, and is having fun with the Bob Books. I have the Veritas Press Phonics Museum, which I do love, but so far have used only on occasion with Ryan, as he seems to be doing just fine with the Bob Books at the moment.

Spelling - We use the Spelling Workout books, just to make sure we're officiallly going over the fundemental spelling rules, but my philosophy is that if they can spell...well then, they
can spell! I don't see a need to make a big deal about this, and spelling seems to come pretty naturally to the kids. Aimee likes to work in the workbook, so I let her, but Drew hates it, so
recently we skipped about 10 lessons in a day with an impromptu spelling bee that proved he already knew the words from those lessons.

Science - The subject is next to my weakest probably, but I hide behind the classical theory that serious science study is not necessary in the grammar stage. We do experiments now and then, continually observe nature, learn animal husbandry hands-on, etc., and when the kids are interesting in something, they check books out at the library on the subject. We do go through
stages that last a few weeks, in which we will reguarly do "science," and we follow the repeating four-year guideline in The Well-Trained Mind - biology, physical science, chemistry, and physics. Being on the physics year, we've done a little with electricity recently, and we'll be moving on to magnets next. As we start the cycle over next year, we'll probably be a little more
organized about it all, but since they're all so young, I haven't stressed over anything yet.

More than you ever needed to know?

A Little About School, Part 1

I wrote this pretty early this morning - posting it this afternoon after ironing out a computer problem.)

It's been ages (again) since my last post. I really wish I could be keeping up with things better. Once upon a time I used to write during the "quiet time" hour - back when we had such a thing.
Every once in awhile we go through phases in which it is more work trying to get everyone quietly occupied with something than is worth the small amount of time I might be able to eke out of it, and here we are. Chase isn't napping anymore, but he isn't quite old enough to be trustworthy in quiet moments by himself. Actually I wonder if in his case that will EVER happen. Just now it seems like I could be stuck forever in this nerve-wracking vortex, anticipating the next "surprise" - "Why is there a battery in the toilet?!" or, "WHO drew with a SHARPIE all over the wall?!", or better yet, "Why did you take your clothes off AGAIN in the backyard?".
And those are pretty mild examples. I have the chance to write now only because I have been up since the wee hours of the morning with a sick Chase, who is now sleeping after
a rough couple of hours (while I am left awake and will probably be half-dead by lunchtime - oh, if only he could remember this kind of thing by the time he is a teenager and thinks
I am hopelessly uncool!)

Somewhere in the midst of this happy chaos (because he is awfully cute) we are trying to maintain some semblance of order in the schoolroom. (The what?) Right now we
are working mostly on a Civil War project for an Academic Presentation day our home school group is having next Friday. We're putting together a display board that's going to be pretty good for our first go at this sort of thing, and Aimee is working on an oral presentation. I thought it would be a no-brainer to have her recite the Gettysburg Address, but I quite forgot
to suggest strongly that she NOT recite it, as, naturally, she strenuously rejected that idea and insisted on writing her own essay. I admit I've struggled just a little with how much input and direction to give here, especially since we haven't done any essay writing, per se, yet. We've done narration and dictation, but I've only just begun to consider purchasing a formal writing course. However, I agreed to the essay, because Aimee does have a long and (and fairly sophisticated for her age) story going that she and a friend are writing together, and I've also seen book reviews (for a box she saw at the library) that she's written on some of her favorite books. I don't think I was supposed to see the latter, probably because they were very good and I don't think she would want me to know that she possesses this kind of skill, should I ever dare to think of asking her to write a book report, which I'm not sure I would actually ever do. It's my opinion, both out of real philosophy as well as out of a certain amount of laziness, that immersion - that's not even a strong enough word - in good literature will do most of the job of teaching most of the language arts, and that good writing skills will emerge in the proper time during this kind of exposure. I exult in this "grammar stage," in which the goal IS simply to let kids wallow around in interesting facts and well-woven tales of imagination and adventure. I really do believe that the result of this is at least a good foundation of good grammar, spelling, reading, and even writing skills. So back to the paper Aimee is writing - it's not exactly how an essay ought to be put together, but there are some glimmers of savvy writing in it. I'm looking forward to her presenting it next week and enjoying the satisfaction of having done it herself.

Happenings

I think I've used this completely unimaginative title before.



At any rate, there's really not a better way to sum up what's been going on around here, other than to say that there's been a lot happening!



First, there have been some pretty significant milestones reached in the last six weeks. We had a weaning, and I wasn't going to say who it was that accomplished this, but I think I will. We didn't widely publish the fact that we had a nursing preschooler, but it doesn't matter what anyone thinks of it now that he's done, so I'll admit that yes, Ryan was still nursing up until a few weeks ago. I know that some of you may be shocked to know this (while you fellow "unconventional" parents aren't in the least), but we didn't consider this out of the ordinary in the grand scheme of things. At the time of his weaning, he was almost off the charts of the American cultural weaning age range, but quite in the middle of the "normal" age range for the human race, when factors of history, culture, and biology are taken into consideration. So this is my opportunity to say that Ryan's experience is actually more normal than that of most of his peers, as well as a chance to say how much I cherished that experience, and everything it meant - ok, well sometimes I was far ahead of his readiness to wean, and would have been happy if he had decided to do so earlier. But Ryan is a sensitive little soul, one we try to handle very carefully. Intelligent and perceptive, he often requires "more" - if you have one of these kind of children, you don't need any more explanation - and we try to let him take things at his own pace, because to rush him is to risk more than his own unhappiness but often ours as well. His weaning process, therefore, was very, very slow and gradual. By this summer, we had managed to get him back to weekend bedtime nursing sessions only, and when soccer season I signed him up for approached, I told him that maybe soccer players were grown up enough to say good-bye to nursing. He agreed, and he made his final nursing session into a rather big production, which was cut short when I noticed he didn't seem to be into it, and I explained that he didn't have to nurse for the length of a song if he didn't want to. He seemed relieved, and made some comment about something else entirely - and that was that.


His younger brother is "still" nursing - although there are times I have thought he might actually wean before Ryan - but he reached his own milestone when he potty-trained himself recently. I think almost all of my readers have done this already, but if you haven't attempted potty-training a little one before, letting them do it themselves is far and away the best tactic. I'm sorry to say I really bungled the job with my oldest, and only did slightly less horrible with the next one, until finally figuring it out with the last tw0, who enjoyed the uninhibited freedom of running around clad in only a t-shirt on warm days when their respective times came. Minus all the cajoling, bribing, fretting, fussing, the task was therefore accomplished in very short order For Ryan it was sometime after he turned three, which was fine, but we were hopeful that Chase, who already has a decided preference for going naked, would be diaper-free this year. Sure enough, one weekend he just decided that diapers were history for him, and he began using the appropriate facilities. Usually he is intensely private about this, but for some reason he likes to display his new skills in a very public way at times - such as at soccer practice, or, like yesterday, in the church parking lot right as soon as church was out. I can only guess it's some kind of male territory-marking thing, but who knows!

Both of these happy and important events took place at the start of probably the busiest school year we've every had. In addition to the usual school load, we have Girl Scouts, 4th-grade girls' club, and American Girl club for Aimee, 2nd-grade boys' club, soccer, and chess club for Drew, and soccer for Ryan, all of which started up in this past month. Then of course we still have the usual rotation of church (except I've also accepted a position on the church board - a little intimidating and humbling), La Leche League meetings, playgroup, horse riding lessons, etc, etc. My house bears evidence that all this has kept us more than busy, and in fact, I've had moments in which I've held down the panic as I've wondered how on earth we're supposed to get everything done. Now, I should say that it could be this a normal kind of schedule for many people, but for me, with a tendency toward hermiting, this is rather new. It was the reprieve from many of my anxiety issues (mentioned in previous posts) that enabled me to sign up for everything, and that allows me now to take everyone all over town, so that's a good thing, certainly - now I just have to be sure we don't get overwhelmed and burned out!

It was also at the start of all this that Dave hurt his knee at work, sending us into a flurry of trying to figure out if he could work, and how much he could work, and how long he might be out, or not be out at all, and how in the world would the bills get paid, and oh yes, thank you, Lord, for being faithful and steady even when we allow ourselves to be tossed around by the wind. I admit I don't handle these things with the kind of faith I would so love to have, but I'm thankful that God never fails. At any rate, Dave finally had the necessary surgery last Friday, and it looks like he will be back to normal relatively soon (not the months of recovery we anticipated).

So that's where I've been and what's been going on. Oh, I forgot to mention a lovely week at Edisto Island in the middle of everything, and that turned out to be an indispensable time of refreshment. I don't know if I'll have a chance to post pictures here, but they'll be on Facebook. For now, I'm off to start another busy week!

Happy Birthday, Drew!

At this time exactly 7 years ago, I was eating a baked potato from Outback (why do I always remember the meal from each birth so vividly?) and looking at my first baby boy. He was tired from a long day of labor, and so was I! Drew spent a much happier day today, playing with friends at his totally relaxed birthday party. Some of those friends he's known since he was a baby, and every once in awhile I would look at them and think about their much smaller selves, and all the growing up together that they've done.

Drew is smart - really, really smart, with a memory that blows our minds sometimes. He has one of the best laughs I've ever heard, and he loves with all of his being. He cares about even the smallest creature, and that's not exaggerating. At the same time, he is the most boy-ish kind of boy. We're so glad he's ours. Happy birthday, Drew!

Back to the Present (or something like that...)

I've been feeling nostalgic lately. Since the springtime, I had been looking forward to the wedding of my friend Carrie, who was in fact my very best friend during our preteen years, and then recently I reconnected (somewhat - it was just on Facebook) with some old friends from around the same time, all of which has stirred memories of being about 14, when my biggest concerns were who liked who - and, more to the point, who didn't. Of course, back then , those were some pretty intense concerns, and since achieving adulthood, I haven't often wished to replay those years full of girlhood drama, unless it were to take with me some common sense to my younger self. (How many movies have been based on that same premise?) But recently I have been feeling perhaps a little wistful about my preteen and teen days, days that were good and exciting and full of cherishable memories for me, with few (real) cares. And -sniff, sniff - I have been thinking about how much I miss having a true best friend.

So on Saturday, I was thrilled that everything had actually worked out for me to drive down to Charleston (Dave rented a car for me, and he and the kids went up to his brother's wedding - what a great husband!), but as soon as I entered the chapel and saw her brothers - her now grown brothers who didn't know me anymore, and I thought of all the years that have passed, and I felt a twinge of sadness. Perhaps that was a slightly ridiculous way to feel at the moment, as I haven't exactly been robbed of anything in those years, except maybe of the time itself. How could it have gone so fast, and how could Carrie and I be 30 now, both with busy, grown-up lives? I remembered, as I watched her tall, red-headed twin brothers usher the guests, when Carrie and I were just 13 and were both praying desperately for her then-pregnant mother to give her a sister. Carrie had three younger brothers already, and she loved them - but a sister was what she was hoping for, and as her best friend, I hoped passionately with her. Her mom went into labor while were at our monthly homeschool roller-skating day, and I fell asleep that night still waiting to hear. I remember waking up the next morning to the sound of my mom talking on the phone to someone and exclaiming, "Twin boys!" I remember hoping it was just a dream, but there it was. (They turned out to be pretty cute anyway, and two years later, Carrie was in fact gifted with twin sisters!) At any rate, there were those boys, now - gulp - around 17. And the older boys! I remember when the one, the more serious (and thus more tolerable to his older sister and friend), gave the famous Patrick Henry speech at a homeschool end of-the-year-program, and I remembered how another brother used to hide behind chairs and under tables to listen in on our phone calls, and how all her brothers used to tease her good-naturedly about how the funny ways we ended said phone calls and how completely swept away we were by all things romantic. Ah, the days, the days! By the time the ceremony started, I was feeling almost bereft, and my tears when I saw Carrie were mixed. I could have been channeling some of my dramatic former self, of course...

Just before I arrived at the reception not too long after, however, Dave sent me a text about what Chase had just done on the potty, and my mood was instantly and almost magically lifted. Before I walked into the reception, I sent him my enthusiastic response, and I thought about how funny it was that this kind of thing is now what makes my world go round - and I that I like it and don't care if it makes me the stereotypical and Hollywood-mocked mother of young children. Thus happily brought back to the beauty of my present (by Chase's bathroom habits, of all things), I was therefore feeling fairly content at the reception, and it was especially lovely to talk privately with Carrie for a few moments. Even though we only touch base every so often, and aren't part of each other's daily lives anymore, we still love each other dearly, and that's enough. Her new husband seems marvelous, and it was a joy, instead of a rather selfish sadness, to see the rest of her family, grown and happy, even if it was still a little disconcerting to see her little brothers with children of their own!). All is as it should be.

I arrived home hours later to an empty house, since the other wedding was much later in the day, and I had some time to rest and then to tackle some laundry (more of the hum-drum of my current life), but as the evening wore on, I was truly eager to see my darlings. It was late, for them, when they finally arrived, and all remaining traces of yearning for days of yore were erased when I saw Dave and the kids, and the latter threw themselves at me as if we had been separated for a week. Then I lifted a sleeping Chase out of his car seat, and as I held him, I felt him squeeze my neck tightly, and that sealed the deal. I could say that my present truly is a gift, or that there's no place like home...but let's just say that here - and now - is where I really want to be.

The Actor and the Housewife

It's a cute title and a quick glance at the plot summary sounded amusing, so when the book arrived for me on the day of the fateful library visit, and after a busy, stressful week, I was really hopeful for a fun, uplifting read. I loved Austenland, also by Shannon Hale, so I thought this would be a good bet. But while Austenland was a fun escape, with brushes of realism to bring it home now and then, The Actor and the Housewife was dissapointing to me. The writing was good, and I still enjoyed Hale's style overall, but I just couldn't wrap my head around the plot. It didn't seem believable, and the dialouge seemed constantly over-the-top. I still read it greedily, with hopes for a good conclusion that would leave me feeling satisfied (and that didn't even have to be the story-book ending that was dangled as a possibilty), but as the story progressed, the reality got heavy. I won't spoil it, if you want to read it, but I wasn't looking for a heavy dose of life lessons, no thanks. After I finished it, I had a crying jag about something inconsequential, and my poor husband wondered what it the world had gotten into me.
Granted, I could probably appreciate it better in a better mood, but as it was, I felt so glum and grounded, when I had hoped to be swept away a la Austenland. Those of you who have read Hale's other works (ahem, Hannah!) should read it, if you haven't already, and let me know what you think.

Ouch

Last week was a stressful week, and because Dave hurt a knee at work and had to drive the van to and from work until later in the week (because his truck is a stick shift), we were stuck at home for most of it, which didn't help matters. By Friday afternoon, we simply HAD to get out and do something, and we decided on a library outing. Not the most exciting thing, but we needed something close and free - it was all we could think of, and the kids weren't complaining about the choice.

But when you've allowed little ones to get cabin fever - well, the results can be disastrous when you finally let them out into public again. The boys were a little rambunctious in the children's area, but nothing outside the norm, thankfully, so I thought it was going pretty well. It was when we needed to check out that things really went haywire. We got in line at the check-out, and something snapped. Chase saw an open area, and went running into it, followed by Ryan. I rounded them up quickly and got back in line, then was almost immediately called to the counter, at which distraction the boys took off again. They made a lap around the magazine shelves. They did, I admit it. I sent Aimee and Drew to get them, which they did with some success, and I tried to finish our business as soon as possible. But we had holds, and then there was a question of how many books could go on each....and then we had to decide which books not to get, since we had too many, which prompted some dismay (and not-so-nice behavior) among the older kids... who wouldn't then go catch Chase...who was working on another lap around the shelves., laughing gleefully. It wasn't acceptable library behavior, I know, but I honestly was trying to wrap things up as soon as possible. The librarian, at any rate, wasn't hurrying (bless her - she's a nice lady), which either meant she wasn't very perturbed by what was going on behind me, or maybe she wasn't aware. I don't know - I just hoped she and all the other library staff realized it was an aberration for us. But apparently that wasn't true of at least one patron, who stormed up to the counter to inform me - loudly - that my kids were running all over the place and I need to get them under control. Fortunately, Chase happened to be right in front of me, and I snatched him up, barely able to respond to the indignant woman, and just glad that we were able to get ourselves out in short order.

I was really displeased with the kids, some of whom should have known better, and I was really angry at the rudeness of the woman, who couldn't crisply but more politely intercept the kids and tell them to get back to where they were supposed to be (which would have served her purpose and mine), but instead felt obliged to announce to everyone within earshot that I was a bad mother. Which of course made me feel more than a little mortified. I made a point of telling the kids that even though their behavior was wrong, I wasn't worried about what one rude adult said about it, but it still cast a pall over the beginning of my weekend. I disciplined the kids later according to age and range of misbehavior (except for Chase, who fell asleep as soon as I put him into the car seat, and honestly, how can you punish a toddler for having been giddy with exhaustion?), and I was glad, at least, that I didn't overreact and punish them based on my level of embarrassment, which, let's face it, was high.

She was rude and unhelpful! I keep telling myself that, but I did spend time over the weekend pondering over whether my mothering had gotten slack, and where I might need to improve, and whether I have the nerve to go into the library again for some time!

Why We Do What We Do - Part 2

I've struggled a little with how to phrase this installment, because I don't think it would serve for me to recount a play-by-play of each birth story all at once (not to mention the fact that it would take me a ridiculously long time to do so - you know, on account of my myriad of children. All four of them.), and I still want to avoid any smacking of why everyone else should do such-and-such. Countless books have been written on the subject of pregnancy and childbirth, by those actually qualified to present and explain all the clinical aspects, so I won't try to do that, either. Of course, those books run an interesting and bewildering gamut of conflicting facts and information,and I myself have been all over that gamut in regard to my own birth experiences. I began on the "Whatever you say doctor... I don't want to feel a thing... I want everything sterile, please deliver me of my baby" end, and I drifted far over into the "My body knows how to give birth without your interference, thank you, and there's no way I'll ever give birth in a hospital again unless absolutely necessary" end. Both "sides" (I hesitate to put it that way, but there it is) tend to look at each other askance, if not even down their noses. The former sniffs, "That's all very well for HER," secretly believing that "natural birth" people are eccentrics, to put it nicely. Incidentally, the way they think and say "natural" doesn't actual sound very natural at all - but rather like something extreme and well outside the normal. I can say this safely because I was one of them. The latter regards the former group with exasperation, and often with a sense of pride in knowing just what's real and true about birth. Not all of them, but some of them DO, and that's just the way it is. I do like to hope that my course from one to the other has helped me avoid some of the superior attitude toward those more ensconced in the conventional medical birth mindset. But at the same time, I also want to be a small part of helping to dispel some of the myths perpetuated by the medical model of birth. I believe, in this area as well as others, that God made things the way he made them for a reason - and often, it turns out the reason is wonderful and amazing indeed. I do wonder if we Christians sometimes labor (no pun intended) under the assumption that childbirth is so corrupted by the Curse that it is something to be treated, the way we regard sickness. But like just about everything else that is part of that Curse, I believe that God has placed redeeming benefits in every aspect. Pain in childbirth, for instance, is not just needless suffering, but an indicator to a woman that she needs to change her position - often into one that will assist her baby in his descent. Overall, I think that for some reason we're afraid to connect with that part of birth that is all at once wild and earthy and yet mystically spiritual - and we think we're too Christian and civilized to admit that God made it just that way. Certainly our American culture, Christian and everyone else alike, has wholeheartedly bought the notion that without doctors and hospitals, ultrasounds and blood tests, pitocin and epidurals, etc, etc, etc., pregnant women are incapable of giving birth. Amazing, isn't it, that the human race made it at all before the past 100 years or so?

But I'm wandering onto the soapbox I'm trying to avoid. My own feelings about childbirth were first shaped by my mother's birth stories. She had four C-sections, the first one (when I was born) after laboring for a few short hours and then being informed in no uncertain terms that she was "too small" and my head was "too big." Thereafter, as was the most common practice of the day, she was not allowed any other option but to have repeat sections with subsequent births. I can't speak for my other sisters, but I believe that doctor not only undermined my mother's confidence, but robbed me of some of my own years later. When I was pregnant with my first baby, I told gave everyone the popular line, "I'm going to try to go as long as I can without pain medication," but I really believed that birth was too powerful for me to handle on my own. I had an uneventful, by-the-book pregnancy, and I was naive putty in the hospital's hands by the time I went into labor. The first thing that a nurse said to me when I went in, by the way, was, grimly, that I was "awfully small." What a confidence booster. I allowed them to give me whatever they suggested - something to help me sleep and something to "take the edge off. I stayed overnight neither sleeping nor resting, but fighting a bewildering combination of nerves and a drug-induced haze. They sent me home after I hadn't progressed, but then I returned later when the real thing hit, and after a few contractions that I thought were intense (as I lay in bed simply waiting for them to come), I asked for an epidural. It gave me some necessary sleep, and shortly after I woke up from a very long nap, I was ready to push, and out my 6 an a half pound daughter came. Oh wait - that is, she came, my small little girl, after the doctor made a "little cut" and I ripped the rest of the way, a fourth-degree tear that would trouble me for months and even years afterward. It was only later that I learned all about episiotomies - the side effects, as well as the extreme and thoughtless overuse by doctors. For my other hospital births, I strenuously insisted, and sometimes I had to be very firm indeed, that such a thing not happen again. The next 3 babies were all over 8 pounds, with much larger heads than Aimee's, and I needed no such intervention. My episiotomy experience was the first that made me aware that I may need to question the accepted way of doing things.

When Aimee was about 8 months old, I found La Leche League, and was put more in touch with women who tended toward the natural in everything, including birth. It appealed to me, and I readily embraced some things, but I still didn't think I could ever have a "natural" birth. When I was pregnant with Drew, I read The Birth Book, by Dr. Sears, and appreciated its balanced approach, but I still had no confidence in my own abilities. Drew was a much larger baby than Aimee had been, and as soon I expressed that fear, the doctor scheduled me to be induced. I knew a little about pitocin-laced contractions, and my fear prompted me to get an epidural as soon as I was allowed, and yet, even before I was experiencing any real discomfort. But it was a horrible experience. My labor didn't progress very well, and my numb lower body held me prisoner in one position in bed while I waited helplessly for my labor do to what it would do. That's exactly what it felt like. Drew, too, reacted badly to the unnatural contractions (which can too strong and close together for babies subjected to them) and I had to be hooked up to all kinds of monitors and tests. The doctor would have done a C-section if he hadn't been too busy. When he had time to check me again, I had progressed satisfactorily enough so that he didn't feel it was necessary, and eventually I was ready to push. It wasn't quite as easy as when Aimee was born , and at one point a nurse snapped at me that I wasn't doing it right. I didn't think that was fair, because I couldn't feel anything and was simply having to guess at what I was doing. At the end, the doctor used a vacuum suction to assist the delivery, and at last, my son was born. He was tired and stressed, and for weeks afterward, I felt badly about having forced him to come before he was ready.

And I was tired of medically directed births and of the hazy, disconnected feeling after both births. Even though I didn't have any other medication besides the epidural with Drew, his delivery still had a dream-like quality about it. It seemed to take days for my mind and body to catch up with each other about what had happened. I was determined to do something different with my 3rd birth, and I went to a group of nurse-midwives during that pregnancy (after one visit at a pristine doctor's office in which no children were allowed and during which a doctor brusquely examined me and then immediately offered me medication to take the edge of my mild morning sickness, which I thought was a little hasty). It was a far different and altogether more pleasant experience than I had ever had before. Still, though because I was terrified about family members missing the birth, I agreed to an induction the day after my due date. The night before, however, my water broke, and even though I rushed to the hospital a little prematurely, that event broke the fear cycle for me. Since things had begun on their own, I was peacefully determined to let them progress without intervention. I had a doula at the hospital who was quietly encouraging the entire time (absolutely indispensable, overall!), and my midwife and the other nurses were actually supportive. They offered me information, and then let me make my own choices, rather than announcing what they were going to do next. At the very end, after a long time of stalled labor, my midwife did persuade me to use a little pitocin, which ratcheted up the contractions several notches and made the last stage nigh unto intolerable. But I remember thinking that I couldn't lose it, because if I did - well, I just couldn't. There was nowhere to go but all the way through and finish it. So I did. And when it was done, it was done. The bliss was immediate, and I was there, fully in the moment. I had felt everything, but I had FELT everything - all the glorious sensations that are muted or even lost when the pain is blocked. Ryan, too, was incredibly alert and aware, and never went through that sleepy newborn phase. Perhaps for me the experience was heightened by the personal confidence it aroused. I remember being wheeled to my room, and saying over and over to the nurse, "I did it! I didn't think I could ever do it, but I did!" I had had to dig deeper than I ever thought possible, but I found there an intense inner strength I didn't know I had, and had conquered greater heights than I had ever known. I don't know how I can describe in words the significance of that - how I can express that it is more than just a nice bonus to experience such a thing, but something of infinite and intrinsic value that every woman has a right to experience. More than a right, almost a need, because it is a natural and normal thing that God has designed as a part of the rite of passage into motherhood, for all kinds of physical and emotional reasons. And at the same time, in a beautiful paradox, it doesn't make a woman superhuman to do it. Someone said that about me after I had Ryan, and while she said it with admiration, I remember thinking, No, not at all! I was just a woman, doing what woman is designed to do - what every woman CAN do. Knowing that - that I had tapped into a deep strength, but one that was always there, nonetheless - was valuable to my entire womanhood from that point on.

In yet another paradox, this birth experience didn't steal anything from the joy I felt at Aimee and Drew's birth. The negative aspects to any birth, whether out of necessity or ignorance, somehow don't, in themselves, demean the basic beauty of birth, and I don't look back on those times with any distaste, even as I learned from what I deemed were mistakes. But I didn't intend to volunteer for that kind of birth model again, so when I was pregnant for the fourth time, I found a midwife at a birth center. She became a friend, and everyone looked forward to my prenatal visits. When we spent an hour there, we spent the whole hour talking with her(as opposed to waiting in a waiting room for most of it), and the kids often "helped" her. Chase's birth turned out to be the longest and hardest for me physically (and, incidentally, the absence of pitocin at the end was an incredible and wonderful difference - there actually were breaks in between the contractions at the end), but by far the most satisfying in every other way. Sandy was skillful, understanding, and supportive, and she was my partner in the birth process, not an authority figure who took it away from me. When Chase was born (finally!), he belonged to me from the very first. She placed him into my arms, and didn't remove him until after I had met him, adored him, and nursed him. She examined him while I held him (even if he had needed oxygen, she would have given it to him there), and it was altogether a gentle, natural contrast to the bright, brisk handling given my other newborns. She did all a more thorough examination later, but by that time he was calm, and it wasn't intrusive in the least. After everything was cleaned up, Dave took the older kids home, Sandy and her assistant left the room, and my mom and I snuggled with Chase in the bed to sleep for a few hours. It was sweet, peaceful, and just right - and all mine. This was how birth was meant to be.

Of course, I know that sometimes things do go wrong, which is the first thing skeptics always say. I had perfect assurance that if there had been a medical problem, Sandy would have been quick to consult our back-up doctor, or we would have gone to the hospital. As natural birth proponents have said, we live in an age in which we could have the most ideal birth environment - skilled midwives (and they are skilled) for normal births, of which there are, or could be, many more than our current American medical community would have us believe, and obstetricians to "stand by" and offer their expertise only when needed. The problem is that this medical community (on the whole, but certainly not every member) has led women to believe that they have rescued us from the danger that is birth and that somehow we are mostly inadequate to do it ourselves. And while I have seen facts and information about the safety and advantages of midwife-assisted births (studies have shown that they are as safe for babies and probably more safe, given the extremely low rate of C-sections, for mothers), I have only ever heard fear-mongering from the other side. "It's not safe," I've actually heard doctors warn, but they won't say why. And worse, women are largely uninformed about the risks of the interventions used in hospitals. Most of those interventions can serve a good purpose at times, but many Americans are completely unaware of possible side effects and risks, and they are willing to do whatever a doctor suggests, without thinking. It isn't right that mothers should have so little an understanding of the natural process of birth, how interventions affect that process, and are thus unable to make informed decisions. From what I understand (and Carrie can correct me if I'm wrong!) many OB's rarely see completely normal, unmedicated births - if they've ever seen one. How interesting to me that our culture will almost unquestioningly and unreservedly trust them with all births, when I doubt we would be willing to trust a doctor so fully in any other area, however great his skill in treating the pathology of that area, if he didn't know what a healthy specimen looked like. Birth is certainly something to be respected - there are dangers and risks, no matter where it takes place - but not something to be feared.

So IF I were to tell another mother my opinion, IF she were to ask me - because I try to avoid being preachy about this and other topics - I would simply encourage her to think. There is a reason God made this process the way he did, and it's not all just a punishment for Eve's folly. It's also so much more than just a necessary, but let's-get-it-over-with, prelude to the long-awaited baby. I would also encourage her to claim her right to her own birth story and not to feel she must kowtow to the practitioner she chooses. Of course there should be a trust relationship there, and I wouldn't advocate constant friction, but a woman should feel she can be informed and can ask questions, and she shouldn't allow herself to be controlled by fear-mongering. I would point her, in addition to a few really good books on the subject, to the documentaries The Business of Being Born and Pregnant in America, both of which I watched after I had Chase, but which confirmed our beliefs and choices.

So as for me, as for us, this is why we treat birth as we do - not because I just want to be different, or because I'm reckless or don't know any better. I've had a range of birth experiences, and in my journey have, hopefully, touched on the mysteriously beautiful and awesomely powerful way God designed the way for life to begin. I believe he did it for a reason, one that ought not be quickly dismissed as unimportant to the larger picture. It's also wonderful the way he made people resilient, so that all is not lost if something changes that natural course, but that still doesn't lessen the greatness and importance of what He has created.

More on Our Current Study

I have to admit, no one else in the house has been as excited about our Civil War study as I have, and I've come to accept that. I'm not even exactly sure why I'm so obsessed with it, although I think it has much to do with my passion for it when I was younger, as I mentioned before. It became almost personal for me, because it was so close and tangible. York, SC where I did most of my growing up and it's surrounding area, has a history that winds back far before even the war in question (nearby Kings Mountain National Park commemorates a historic Revolutionary War battle), and the main cemetery is literally crammed full of history, especially pertaining to the mid 19th century. I used to ride my bike there and walk around - yes, for fun - letting my imagination run riot all over the potential stories. There is one fenced plot in particularly that contains the remains of a C.S.A Lieutenant (whose last name I can't remember, but whose first name was Frederick - very romantic, I used to think!) who perished during the war. His relatively young mother died shortly thereafter, and just a few months later, his older father, a doctor whose name I also can't remember, died as well. I used to weave lovely, tragic tales about how the mother, as young Southern belle, must have fallen in love with the older, distinguished doctor, how they must have doted on their dashing only son, and how they must have both died of broken hearts after his heroic death in battle. It probably wasn't anything like that - and certainly they probably would have preferred a long and boring family life instead - but it was thrilling to wonder about it, because they were real people from long ago, whose resting place I could visit on any ordinary day in the ordinary present.

So I can't blame my kids for not having the same kind of enthusiasm I have for this time period, since they don't have anything like the same kind of personal (well, almost) brush with it as I've had. (We've been to Charleston, but they're also not really old enough to be completely enraptured by the significance.) However, just when even their mild interest was beginning to wane, we came across a great book that kept everyone (except the little boys, of course, over whose alternately happy and contentious racket we had to sometimes read very loudly) enthralled for a solid hour this morning. I happened on Ghosts of the Civil War as I was getting ready to leave the library yesterday, and it has turned out to be the best, most colorful and entertaining overviews (for kids) of the war that I've seen yet. I want to buy a copy just for our personal library. But it makes me all the more disappointed in The Story of the World's treatment of the subject. The most interesting literature suggestions are biographies of Abraham Lincoln; otherwise, there are mostly suggestions for dry titles meant for older children who are studying along. It seems like a pretty big disservice to a pretty important topic in American history - but again, maybe I'm just way over the top in my excitement.

We are still reading through The Boys' Civil War and Across Five Aprils, this week adding the title mentioned above, and also The Perilous Road, for Aimee's required reading. Last week we covered 1862, and we reviewed that timeline this morning, briefly discussing the Battle of Shiloh, the Battles of the Seven Days, the Second Battle of Manassas, the Battle of Anteitam at Sharpsburg, and the Battle of Fredicksburg. We also talked a little about some of the more famous generals and other leaders. And last week after our State Museum visit, we bought some coloring books and paper dolls, including some paper soldiers that the boys have been playing with. We'll work our way though 1863 this week, and at the end of the week I'll post about what topics we covered.

An Afterthought

Ok, I realize that my last post was a little bit of an incoherent jumble of more than one train of thought. I would spend some time correcting it, but I haven't got any such time. If you got the gist, then great! If not, never mind!

Two

Two is a hard age. It just IS - and if your two year-old has never driven you to the point of throwing your own tantrum or pulling your hair out, then I don't want to hear from you. Right now there is a particularly -ahem - determined and...um, expressive little fellow of that age living here, and he makes for some interesting times these days. But even during such times, I still love watching the momentous development taking place. Since we don't remember being that age, it behooves us to imagine what it must be like to be so small - so recent, for heaven's sake - and to be awakening to such an enormous thing as one's very personality. It must be overwhelming to grapple with emotions that are bigger than you are, and to know that you CAN go and CAN choose, etc., but that you are still being told at so many turns where you must and mustn't go and what you must and mustn't do. With this in mind, I do try to steer my little ones as gently through this stage as possible, because while I certainly know they can be stubborn and disobedient on occasion, I believe that most of the time, they are just trying to carve out a place in their world. I try to remember, in addition, that our Heavenly Father is infinitely patient with our infantile attempts at holiness - and I believe it's a similar thing. We are learning, the same way a two year-old is learning.

So anyway, my two year-old, who is doing an awful lot of that kind of learning, has been particularly emotional this week, and even as I've comforted him, it's been very interesting to ponder what exactly must be going though him. A couple days ago, the kids were watching Aladdin, and he unexpectedly burst into tears when Aladdin and Jasmine leave for their "Whole New World" carpet ride - because they left the tiger behind. His distress was so pitiful, I wouldn't have dared to laugh. Then last night we watched Homeward Bound (in the absence of new releases this summer, we are exploring some classics!), and about ten times in the hours preceding our movie night, I cautioned the older kids that it was an adventure movie, so there would be some dramatic moments, but that it did have a perfectly happy ending. I stressed this so often because my kids can become rather emotional over those kinds of moments. What's interesting about this is that I don't mean frightening moments - Drew, for instance, watched Lord of the Rings without flinching, but cried bitterly over Eight Below, which was about the adventures of some Husky dogs. A couple of the dogs died, and some were wounded, and if you could have heard anything over his passionate sobs, you could have heard his heart rending in two. And we don't dare show anything that involves a child (animal or human) being parted in any way from a parent or sibling. Never. I am never quite sure, incidentally, if this a result of good parenting or bad parenting - do they simply have very strong, healthy attachments, or have I somehow made them terribly insecure?

But I digress (and it is not all about me, anyway!). My point is that I had told the older kids this so that they could decide whether or not they wanted to watch the movie. I had thought the younger ones would just have a good time watching some animal antics. As it was, the older ones did choose to watch, and made it through admirably. Ryan enjoyed the animals (and the light bathroom humor, predictably), as expected. But this time it was Chase's lower lip that began to quiver when the dogs began to leave, and the cat was still deciding whether to go. "They going to leave the kitty!" Fortunately, the cat followed in short order. But when she fell into the river later in the movie, the floodgates opened. "The kitty in the water! The doggies NOT going to save her!" he wailed, and as I took him out of the room, I tried to console him with the fact that the cat would in fact be ok. "No, she's NOT! She going to go under the w-a-t-e-r..." he argued passionately through unhappy and angry tears. But he also insisted on going back in to see what would happen, and even after mostly calming down, he asked periodically, palms upraised and with some indignation, "WHERE is the kitty?" Her return to the screen was greeted with a shuddering sigh of relief.

We repeated this a few times, whenever any of of the animals met with trouble, and while I didn't like to see him so unhappy, I thought again of how overwhelming...and hard...and at the same time mysteriously wonderful it must be to be two. It IS "terrible" when this two year-old makes permanent marks on the leather couch (groan!) - and, of course, it is "terrific" when he makes funny comments or does new things. But beyond that, here is this relatively new person finding out who he is, what the world is all about, and how he feels about it. It's a big job for such a little guy, but he'll make it - and we'll have such fun (most of the time!) helping him do it.

Our Current Study

I really ought to be cleaning my house right now, because we had a pretty good day of school yesterday - and whenever that is true, it is also true that my house becomes a disaster area. I keep trying to find a solution for this, and I haven't yet! In any case, I will put off the necessary clean-up until after I've posted a little.

We are one week (and two days) into our Civil War study, and in case you missed my Facebook post about this, it is one of my favorite time periods ever. When I was a girl I bought a set of Civil War paper dolls (from the SC State Museum - such fond memories of those homeschool field trips!), which survived well enough for me to bequeath them to Aimee, who plays with them now. We might even display them somewhere for the rest of our study. Anyway, around the same time, I also did extensive research at our local library in the hopes of writing my own Civil War story. A friend of mine (a boy, no less) who had moved to Missouri (Carrie, YOU know who I mean!) was working on it with me. We would develop characters and write parts of the story, which we passed back and forth via those old-fashioned things called letters. I abandoned the idea only after my dad pointed out that it wasn't just a story, but rather an epic - and THAT sounded just a hair too big a project. I wonder, though, if I have those stories tucked away somewhere. They were such great characters (if a trifle over-romantic, and probably smacking of Gone With the Wind).

My only point is that I really, really, love this time period and am so excited to be studying it with the kids! Conversely, I am dissapointed with the treatment The Story of the World gives it (other users please give me your opinion, by the way). I understand there's a great deal to cover in "Modern Times," but I wonder if Susan Wise Bauer, in attempting to cover a wider range of geography (Eastern as well as Western history) and to address a wider range of students all over the globe, has left us with a somewhat diluted version of modern history. I expected at least a good number of literature recommendations, as well as lots of activities to choose from in the activitiy book - but both areas were rather scanty, in my opinion. It's a good thing I had scoured both the Sonlight and the Veritas Press catalogs for literature ideas a couple months ago. It enabled me to develop our own timeline for studying this particular time period, to which we will devote 4 or 5 weeks (I intend to do the same when we hit the other major wars and significant events).

So we are taking the Civil War (or the War for Southern Independence, or the War to Supress Yankee Arrogance, or whatever you want to call it!) one year per week of study. Last week, therefore, upon tackling 1861, we studied the concept of state's rights, secession, Lincoln's inauguration, the attack on Fort Sumter, the Battle of Bull Run, and the blockade. I am trying to hit the major events and record them on a timeline I found the timeline information here. We're also keeping a list of the major battles, who won them, and the generals and/or heros who were highlighted in each.

Some books we're currently using, with many more coming, are: The Boys' War: Confederate and Union Soldiers Talk About the Civil War (a great overview of the War, filled with accounts from actual soldiers), and Across Five Aprils (a fictional story that does an excellent job of expressing the conflicting feelings and opinions of the common folk). There are more, which I will post about later, as we are getting ready to go to the State Museum with some friends to look at some SC Civil War history!

Why We Do What We Do - Part 1

I have long been meaning to write on our parenting, hoping very much, however, to avoid something like a treatise on parenting in general - as, after all, I know very well that we aren't anything like perfect parents, and we aren't even done, so it would be highly presumptive of me to offer advice before being able to present finished products. Anyway, since we are talking parenting philosophy, it is rather against mine to suggest that a particular way of doing things will guarantee a finished product, or that, conversely, a negative, or even just unexpected, result is necessarily a result of bad methods- as far children are concerned, at any rate.

Instead, what I've been hoping to do is to offer an explanation of why we do what we do. Our parenting has almost always been at least a little off the beaten path of most modern parenting styles, and sometimes I think people assume we just don't know what we're doing - when in fact, if we're different, we're different on purpose. We have thought about it, still think about it, and feel strongly about most of it.

So if you wanted to know what in the world we're thinking when we do some of the things we do, then read on. I'll be posting in installments. If you don't care, or still think I'm being highly presumptive, then do skip. I don't want to bore anyone, neither am I trying to convert anyone, particularly since it's often the very nature of parenting that once we think we have things figured out, we realize that we were wrong.

Everything we do as parents, first of all, stems from a desire to raise godly children. Our children are souls (not just superfluous children in an "overpopulated" world), given purposeful life by their Creator, and we take that very seriously. At the same time, we know that these people have hearts and wills of their own. It's our job to immerse them in a Biblical worldview to the best of our ability, to teach and direct them in God's principles, but we know that ultimately, they will make their own choices and will face God on their own. Furthermore, while the Bible is very clear that carefully raising and disciplining our children is our job, it is less specific on the details. We are careful and purposeful, therefore, to avoid confusing the details a culture provides, with ones that are God-ordained, and in fact, we often find ourselves challenging the culture - even the our American church culture - in regards to matters of parenting that have been turned upside down from the very normal expectations we believe God has of us.

One of those that we face on a regular basis is that of family size - or family planning, or birth control, or however you wish to categorize it. From as soon as I was informed enough to think of it, I never had peace about active. modern birth control. I have grown and mellowed enough over the years that I don't feel it necessary at all to project this onto everyone, but what I do feel passionately about is that birth control should not be viewed as something that God requires of us. And I find it extremely interesting that while God almost always refers to children (and many of them) as blessings, and gives many cautions about the potential evils of money, I have never heard anyone say, with a critical eye, "So how much money do you think you're going to make? Don't you think you have enough of it?"
Of course, it is also perfectly natural to be in a place in which it would seem rather inconvenient, if not impossible to have a baby (or to have another one, whatever the case may be). It's a shame, in that case, that so many young women have no understanding whatsoever of the very natural rhythms and checks that God has placed in our own bodies - and indeed, whenever someone says "natural," and endless succession of pregnancies comes to mind, as if we don't trust God to do better than allow our bodies and our finances to be run to ruin. I am sorry to say that I find this actually to be true of many Christians today.
I am not, I would like to stress again, saying that I regard the use of birth control as error in itself (for everyone else), just incorrect assumptions about it. Another one of those assumptions is that birth control is what you use if there's no way in the world, financial or otherwise, that you could possibly have a baby. If that is true, then for heaven's sake, you had better NOT engage in particular activities. Very few methods are 100% percent effective, after all.

So - yes, we DO know how we ended up with four kids (wink, wink - as if it's appropriate at all for complete strangers to make remarks about our private lives); yes, we know we have our hands full; and no, we don't know how many we're going to have. We don't think it's our responsibility to dictate the number, there are very definite reasons (some of which I have omitted, in an effort to avoid too much controversy here) we choose to avoid artificial means of doing so.

School Post, Part 2

Incidentally, I was not, in my last post, making fun of or otherwise disparaging the child in question as I was illustrating the frenetic downward spiral our mornings often take. I wanted to be quite clear on that. But I did forget to mention myself closing the math book in a huff and announcing in frustration that Daddy would have to take someone to the nearest public school for enrollment. Oh, dear. A handful of M&Ms and a heartfelt apology was in order after that particular incident. It's not as if public school is the worst thing in the world, but it isn't fair, as I mentioned already, for me to be constantly unsure about what we're doing, and much more so for me say it out loud (which I absolutely hadn't meant to do). It makes going to school sound like a punishment, and it leaves a person who craves a solid foundation feel insecure, which certainly doesn't help matters in the least.

I also didn't reiterate that this student does very well when all cylinders of a good, unchanging, and highly structured routine are firing. It is making sure that they are that is the main trouble, as well as making sure we know what all that routine needs to entail, because this person, as I've mentioned in the past, can be somewhat complicated. I've been thinking once again that I may need to seek counseling again. We had gone a couple of years ago, and had been promptly referred to a psychiatrist, at which point all members of my support system in the process took some steps back, unsure if that was really the course to take. Indeed, I myself didn't want to begin down a path that might overdiagnose and overcomplicate the situation, and some things did get better. But I have wondered lately if we have been coping with and accepting as normal some behavior patterns that may rear up in uglier and more unmanageable ways later. I have done it all my life, after all, and have allowed some abnormal anxiety habits to define not only my life but that of my family. I don't want to make constant excuses for myself or to wallow around with a crippled mentality, of course, and I don't want my child to do it. But there are certainly things I should have dealt with, for everyone's benefit, early on, and I don't want to let similar things slide in this growing person's life, hoping they will be able to suck it up or grow out of it, to that individual's great detriment later.

Yes, I am just trying to convince myself of the best thing to do - to your detriment, no doubt, if you are still reading!

But you know - I am actually thankful for these complicated and not-so-easy children, because they are all highly intelligent people who know what they want, do not let themselves be pushed around, and can articulate their thoughts and desires with often astounding clarity. Sure, it means that homeschooling hasn't been as "easy" as perhaps I thought it would be and sleep has always been at a premium around here, because, I believe, no one stops thinking for very long. My mom has observed more than once that we don't have any truly laid-back children, and I have to agree with her. But I wouldn't trade them for anything (forgive the cliche) - and I think I may actually survive raising them.

The School Post - You Knew It Was Coming

My last couple have posts have been replete with typos and other errors - it's a wonder any of you understood what I was saying, but it seems you got the gist of it.

Things have continued to be busy at home, and not so busy for Dave at work. We are, on all levels, learning how to trust the Lord in all things. In regard to work, for obvious reasons, as it is always desirable to be able to pay the bills, and in regard to home, because...well, because our homeschool year hasn't kicked off as smoothly as I would have hoped. Again, I find myself second-guessing myself in regard to one particular child, and wondering if I can really do what is best for that child here at home. We have already had more than one day in which I've called Dave to say that I can not do it. But I have no peace about the public school, and can't afford private school - why do I keep coming back to this?! My waffling surely isn't good for said child. With the others so far, I feel no such indecision, and I'm quite sure that being here is best for them, so it isn't homeschooling itself that is troubling me, just this one person - this one incredibly smart and determined person, mind you. But if there are no other viable options right now, then God must provide the answer for how to make this work... without us harming each other.

The bottom line, as usual, is that this person works best under very defined structure, in which there is little wiggle room, because if you give this person an inch... It happens that because of Dave being out of town half the year, we've had to allow lots of inches. Some of my kids have done just fine with the flexibility, but this person has developed an even larger sense of entitlement than usual, and trying to regain good habits and routine has been a bear. 8:30 in the morning is "WAY too early" - what kind of a mom insists on her kids being awake by then, and doing their CHORES, and not reading at the table, and - WHAT?! - math? Math is pointless, torturous, and there's no way it can be done SO early in the morning, especially if one hasn't had time to "rest," then get some fresh air and exercise first....and oh, by the way, when you teach me, I don't understand ANYTHING you're saying, and I don't remember anything we've ever learned...and WHY are you so upset at me??? And by then it's almost lunchtime, we haven't accomplished anything, and the little ones have upended my house, which further frazzles my nerves. Both for myself as well as for this dear one, I don't want to keep battling constantly over everything. Since making it though just one school week can be exhausting, I wonder sometimes how we'll survive years more. And usually I can honestly say that most of my frustration stems from a desire to have this person be HAPPY and to have pleasant memories of education.

I keep coming full circle, of course, as I've done in more than one post already.

On a positive note, history is almost always a happy subject for everyone here, and we are getting ready to study the Civil War - just about my favorite time period ever. We plan to spend at least a month on it, since there are so many great books to read, and reading is another subject in which we delight. Aimee, of course, practically lives on reading, I have been so amazed and pleased to see Drew devouring chapter books these days, and Ryan showing a decided interest in learning to read (but wasn't he just my baby?! I'm not sure I'm ready for him to be exploring Kindergarten, but he is of a different opinion.) So it's not all a disaster, and I hang on to those glimmers of success!

Hello Again

It's been a long time!

I have meant to post on numerous occasions and and a wide variety of topics, but it's been a busy month. After taking off in June, we began again the beginning of this month, and there has been much I've wanted to say on that note, but have needed more time. Perhaps I'll get around to it soon. The first half of the month, Dave was still working out of town, and while we were all still very grateful for God's provision of work for him, his prolonged absences were beginning to wear on us all. I was just beginning to think that I would rather lose our car, if it meant having him home, than spend another week as a single parent. That said, we were also just beginning to get a real rhythm, so that the last couple of weeks, he would actually come home to a fairly clean house. But he was informed late one week that he wouldn't be needed down in Charleston anymore, and that was that. Unfortunately, we are finally faced with the problem that we have eluded all these months - there is simply not enough work locally. The past two weeks, it hasn't mattered so much, but we will be feeling it soon enough. When he arrived home yesterday morning, with an unpaid day off ahead of him, I was happy, on the one hand, that we could enjoy some time with him, but on the other hand, warding off feelings of anxiety and despair. We've been able to maintain an "emergency fund," for which I am so thankful (we won't starve, at any rate!), but it is hardly enough to keep us afloat while his work hours are cut in half. No, indeed. So August may be a trying month for us, during which we learn complete trust in our God who provides.

I am immensely grateful, though, that I am able to approach this storm in a state of relative happiness - i.e., in a state "I'm not feeling crazy" kind of stability. I have, in the words of my therapist when first assessing things for me last year, "a severe anxiety disorder," which I learned to cope with (often in fairly healthy ways) from childhood - and I wouldn't dare to underestimate the victory the Lord has given me in it. I've had a few dark episodes over the course of my life, but overall, I've generally been able to function without outside help. After Chase was born, however, a variety of factors, one of which was probably postpartum depression, pushed me into the longest "episode" I've ever had. So I've been struggling with this for the past couple of years, sometimes grappling with almost debilitating anxiety. (Last fall I had such a bad episode that when I emailed my therapist, she wanted to see me immediately, for free, which seems almost funny now) I haven't mentioned it often, and sometimes people are surprised to hear it - because I have learned to hide it without even thinking, as well as to cope - and I only mention it now to highlight the exhilarating difference. The abnormal (which I won't even begin to describe for you) was beginning to become my personal normal - even though I did my very best, and usually succeeded for the most part, in rising above it for my children's' sake - when somewhere in the last few months, I came out of the very long tunnel. Some of the OCD traits (and I don't mean the amusing TV variety, or the kind that everyone says they have when in fact they just like to be organized or clean) that have just become a part of who I am are still with me, but those I can handle, and in fact, I think it's more relaxing for me to embrace them rather than fight them. But I am free at the moment from the suffocating darkness that often made daily life exhausting at the least. Since those kind of episodes are recurring for me, I know I may have to face them again at some point - but hopefully there will not be another one so long, and I do pray, as always for God's grace and mercy in battling them. He is, and has always been, faithful in those times.

Forgive me for sharing so personal a topic, but I did so to emphasize the significance of "happiness" for me now. My creative juices are flowing so much freer, and every part of our family life is moving forward with a lighter, faster beat, which I am sure everyone is glad of. Even with trying time in our very near future, I do not feel that I will be overwhelmed by it, and that it saying something!

I have been here too long already, far longer than I had intended, and some little boys are getting eager for breakfast. But I don't think it will be another month before I post again!