...OR, the post you should read if you want to feel better about your day...OR...the post you should definitely not read if you are considering homeschooling.
Yesterday was just one of those days. It started out with good intentions, hopes of learning and accomplishing and succeeding, and ended in a big bang of...well, of not many of those things. I made pancakes and tried to get everyone up and moving relatively early (at at time which is probably considered really early for some relaxed homeschoolers, and shamefully late for more structured homeschoolers). I announced to everyone, as I prodded them to get dressed, that we we were going to start the day with math and music, and that we were going to try to get in a good day's worth of school by lunchtime so I could take the younger ones swimming at the Y. One of the kids said, "A whole day's work of school in half a day?" as if he thought this was really going to happen. Another - or maybe it was the same one - observed, "Why does it seem like math and music is all we ever do?" I could have shared my perspective that it seems rather like we don't get in enough of those subjects, but I just said, "Because I'm the boss."
One child started - eventually - on practicing the assigned musical instrument. Another sat down at the table with me to do math. The younger kids played outside for about five minutes, then proceeded to wreak havoc elsewhere in the house.The math lesson quickly went south. At one point the child doing the math exclaimed, "Stop yelling at me!" And I asked how the voice I was using could possibly be thought of as yelling. "Well," returned the child, "it's the voice you use when you're trying not to yell at me." Which is exactly the same thing, of course. At some point during this happy time, Scarlett and Chase pulled leftover Chinese food out of the refrigerator, warmed it up and had a morning snack (most of which ended up all over the table and floor), which I let pass so I wouldn't have to interrupt the math lesson -that, however, only got worse. I dismissed the student to do something else so that we could come back to it later with less frustration and no almost-yelling.
I called in the next child up for math. Usually this child doesn't have many issues at all with this subject, so it should have gone fine, but early on, I began sniffling and my eyes began watering and itching. And then they began to swell. The neighbor had been mowing his grass and cutting weeds, so I'm guessing he stirred something up that caused an allergic reaction (note: I had never had seasonal allergies until I moved to Ohio). "What's wrong with your eyes?" queried the student. "Nothing - keep going." I mean, I can barely see you because my eyes are almost swollen shut, and I'm sure I must look a fright, but don't let that distract you! But it was a little difficult to focus when the child did have a problem, and all the more so when we heard the sound of something breaking on the tile floor in the other room. "It's okay!" shouted one of the boys. "Scarlett just dropped a light bulb." I went to asses the situation, and sure enough, ,they had ransacked the hall closet and were playing with light bulbs- because why wouldn't that be a good idea? I cleaned it up, then tried to get the math thing going again. But then Scarlett came into the dining room and had an accident. (Now, I know this is the second post in a row in which I've described her having an accident, but I promise she's been potty trained for over a year. An accident is rare.) So I cleaned that up, and she stripped down, but we forgot to get her dressed again. So while I was sniffling and sneezing, trying to help one child divide decimals, and trying to get another one to do what he could of his math lesson, I looked out the window to see that Scarlett and Chase were bouncing on the trampoline...and she was stark naked. I went out to get her, and came back in to check on the progress inside, but it appeared that like the first student, no one remembered a single thing we've ever learned about in math. The second math student was stuck on something really basic, the third didn't know how to do anything on his page, and then the first student came back into the room to say that, oh, by the way - the other non-math assignment was also impossible.
And the area around my eyes had now broken out into hives.
I thought we should probably come back to academics later, so I sent the boys out to clean the deck out back. The day before they had been playing with deer corn - again, why wouldn't that be a good idea? - and it was all over the deck. But they came back in a few minutes later to say that the broom was broken. And indeed, it had been irreparably damaged when they were swatting at a bee. Too bad for me! So - there was still deer corn all over, and I also couldn't clean up the mess in the kitchen...and the dining room...and the living room....and who knows where else. So I calmly put the broom down and sweetly observed that this was a stupid day. Chase gasped, in a mixture of shock and delight, "You said 'stupid'!" (Ironic, coming from him, as he's the worst offender when it comes to forbidden words.) "Yes, I did," I replied, "and I quit!" Another of the boys remarked that he was glad to quit school, too, and I reminded him that I'm the only one who's allowed to quit. The boss, remember?
At any rate, I told them to get their suits on, and I hastily made some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which I had them eat in the car. It actually took us forever to get everything ready for the Y, but we made it, and we had a good hour or so of swimming, which was in fact calming. The only stress during the Y experience was after swimming, when we were getting dressed in respective locker rooms. The boys were being so incredibly loud their locker room that Scarlett and I could hear every word and gleeful shout all the way over in the women's locker room. I contemplated how best to handle the situation, but decided that hollering, "Be quiet or I'm coming in there!" would not be appreciated on any level, so I just got dressed in a hurry and hoped they would do the same. No one kicked us out of the Y, so I guess we got out of there fast enough.
Then we had to stop at the store to get some things for dinner. Taking Chase (in particular) to the store is like taking the Tasmanian devil grocery shopping, and is all kinds of stressful, but we actually got through it without buying anything we didn't want or running shopping carts into strangers. We got home, spent about twenty minutes getting ready for quiz practice and church, then we headed over to church...only to realize about halfway there that we had forgotten the quiz questions for practice. So Dave, who was with us at this point, helped us get things in the church building, and went back for the questions while I set up and began practice on my own. Then he arrived and we had a good time with the kids...but then we realized we had forgotten something else, so Aimee and I had to run back to the house after practice, eating dinner on the run. We got back a few minutes late for church, and everyone went to their classes, except for Chase, who couldn't be persuaded by anything to go to his. Scarlett was really tired and wouldn't go to hers - she wouldn't leave my side at all. So Dave sat out with them while I went to my Bible study - a full thirty minutes late by that point.
And when we got home, we just wanted bedtime to happen. It did, but only after we all dealt with a full-scale preschool meltdown, because when Scarlett had commented in the car that she wanted a "princess ipod," she hadn't, apparently, just mean sometime in the future - she had meant right then and there.
I wish I could leave you with something wise and wonderful we learned from our struggles...but sometimes the best thing you can say about a day is that you survived it!
PS We did get those math lessons done today. It seems they do remember some things, after all!
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Sunday, September 22, 2013
In Which We Prove We Aren't "Warm and Fuzzy" Material
Our school year (philosophically, of course, we eschew the notion that there is a stop and start date to our learning, and even that there is need for us to take a long summer break; practically, we acknowledge that there is a school calendar that dictates when most of our activities stop and start - but enough of that) is a busy one this year. Busy for us, that is. I am in introvert, for one thing, and for another, we've never really had an excess of money, so we've never really had to decide if we've been doing too much. We've never done sports for every season, or have been doing too many lessons, or any such things. Sometimes I've felt badly about that, but over the years I've realized that we've been "forced" to have a kind of schedule that, for the most part, some overly busy families wish they could make themselves choose.
But I digress. This year is a relatively busy one for us. One of the ways our schedule has changed is that both Aimee and Drew have science classes early on Monday mornings. Last year, Aimee took one of the classes with a friend, and she just rode along with her friend's family, which was nice of them and rather easy for me. This year Aimee's friend isn't taking the next class, but I still wanted Aimee to do it, and Drew wanted (that's right - his request) to take the one she took last year, so now I have to take them. And of course that means the rest of the crew has to come along. Aimee's friend's family used to go have breakfast and do a little school at a nearby muffin shop during the science classes, and that sounded endearing to my younger kids. "Ooh, we get to go to the muffin place every week?"
Why yes, that sounds delightful and quaint. Very homeschool-ish. Ah, but one of the important facts of life that real homeschool families ought to know is that things never work for your own family in the charming ways they work for other families.
Well ,I know this, but sometimes I ignore it.
So. This past Monday was the first opportunity we had to spend the morning out and about while Aimee and Drew were at science. My plan was that we would have "Math and Muffin" Monday, first at the muffin shop and then perhaps at the library. For starters, I couldn't find the math books, so I was just going to bring along some science for the younger set, but Ryan had been reading it over the weekend (the nerve of him, not waiting until I had scheduled it) and couldn't remember where he had left it, so I just had to throw in some history books. "History and Muffin" Monday, doesn't have the same ring, of course, but darn it, I was going to make this a warm fuzzy homeschooling moment! We dropped off the older kids at science, then headed down the road to the muffin shop. It took us ten minutes to get out of the car for some reason, so I'm sure the other patrons, who might have seen our shenanigans just getting to the door, were already a little worried by the time we walked in. They were mostly older couples enjoying what they had assumed was going to be a quiet breakfast. There were definitely no other energetic kids who have no volume control. When we got in, I tried to direct them straight to the counter, but of course that didn't go according to plan , either.
"Scarlett, LOOK. LOOK, IT'S A TABLE JUST YOUR SIZE! Mom, hey Mom, Mom, HEY MOM, LOOK! It's a table for Scarlett!"
I finally got them to look at the muffin selections. Scarlett just wanted a "baby" muffin, and pointed to a miniature variety. That was easy. The boys couldn't decide. For a very long time, they couldn't decide. I kept having to wave other patrons around us. Even the girl at the counter, worried, I guess, that we might hold up the line, would announce occasionally, "Can I help the next person in line who's ready?"
One of the boys wanted to know if he could have a bagel. I told him that Mondays are when the muffins, and not the bagels, are half price. Please choose a muffin. After all, there about twenty different varieties! He asked if he could have a muffin and a bagel. I finally just told him I was going to decide for him. After pondering thoughtfully for a (long) while, another one observed that there was a "blueberry coffee cake" muffin, and a "cinnamon coffee cake" kind, but he wanted to know if there was just a regular coffee cake kind. Really? I'm pretty sure he hadn't even known such a thing as coffee cake existed before then, not to mention that there were all kinds of choices I was pretty sure he did know of and would like better, and he had to have a "regular" coffee cake muffin? I asked the girl at the counter if there was such a muffin, and she said no. He looked at the case dejectedly, declaring that there wasn't a kind of muffin he did want, in that case. I moved forward to the register. I ordered Scarlett's and the one I had picked out for the first boy, and at that the other one piped up, "Fine. I'll have an apple pie muffin." Okay, done.
Finally, after we had secured the long-awaited muffins, we straggled over to a table. They each took about a bite and announced that they were thirsty. Deathly thirsty. No, it couldn't wait at all. The looks from the other patrons indicated that maybe insisting that the boys wait might not be appreciated. We went to the drink cooler. I told them they could share. Share? But one didn't like orange, and the other didn't like cranberry, and fine! I got two different kinds. Juice secured, we went back to finishing our breakfast. I thought maybe that would be a good time to have our homeschool moment. I pulled out the history book. They started talking a little louder, and at this point, I remembered that this is what they do at home, so how in the world did I expect to read aloud quietly in public, when I'm almost shouting by the end of a read-aloud session at home?
So I put it away. New plan. We needed to get out of there relatively quickly, but a glance at the clock indicated the library wasn't going to be open for another thirty minutes. I remembered seeing a pet shop nearby, so I told them we were going to stop there, and that got them to the car with relative speed and quietness. The pet store experience actually went well. We were the only people there, and the girl working there let them pet the cats. Now on the the library.
We reached the library, only to discover that while the library we usually go to opens at 9:30 (I thought, anyway), this branch didn't open until 10:00. It was 9:35. After I wrangled them away from chasing a squirrel around the building, I convinced them to get back into the car to wait, and dang it, we got that history lesson done! At 10:00, we spilled back out of the car and into the just-opened library. I really needed to use the restroom, so I took Scarlett with me. I asked her if she needed to go, and she said no. When I got out, I corralled the boys and we went to the children's section, which at this library is all the way at the other side of the building. As soon as I put our bags down, Scarlett said "I have to go potty!" and Chase added, "Oh,, so do I." Of course. I picked our things up, and Scarlett said, "Never mind! I don't want to go," and was going to make a scene, so I determined I would let them get one thing each and that we would leave in a couple minutes. But about thirty seconds later, Scarlett said, "Oops, I went potty!" Rather loudly. Super duper. We mopped it up, and I tried to ask her to lower her voice every time she mentioned that her clothes were wet. I told the boys to get the books they had in hand, and we walked back toward the entrance to check out. I held Scarlett so things would be a little less obvious - getting rather soaked myself in the process, and wishing more than a little that we had settled for a hum-drum morning at home rather than attempt to create a warm-fuzzy moment.
But hey - guess where we plan to be tomorrow morning? Only we'll bring our own juice. And ditch the books. And maybe spend a lot longer keeping the girl and the cats at the pet store company.
But I digress. This year is a relatively busy one for us. One of the ways our schedule has changed is that both Aimee and Drew have science classes early on Monday mornings. Last year, Aimee took one of the classes with a friend, and she just rode along with her friend's family, which was nice of them and rather easy for me. This year Aimee's friend isn't taking the next class, but I still wanted Aimee to do it, and Drew wanted (that's right - his request) to take the one she took last year, so now I have to take them. And of course that means the rest of the crew has to come along. Aimee's friend's family used to go have breakfast and do a little school at a nearby muffin shop during the science classes, and that sounded endearing to my younger kids. "Ooh, we get to go to the muffin place every week?"
Why yes, that sounds delightful and quaint. Very homeschool-ish. Ah, but one of the important facts of life that real homeschool families ought to know is that things never work for your own family in the charming ways they work for other families.
Well ,I know this, but sometimes I ignore it.
So. This past Monday was the first opportunity we had to spend the morning out and about while Aimee and Drew were at science. My plan was that we would have "Math and Muffin" Monday, first at the muffin shop and then perhaps at the library. For starters, I couldn't find the math books, so I was just going to bring along some science for the younger set, but Ryan had been reading it over the weekend (the nerve of him, not waiting until I had scheduled it) and couldn't remember where he had left it, so I just had to throw in some history books. "History and Muffin" Monday, doesn't have the same ring, of course, but darn it, I was going to make this a warm fuzzy homeschooling moment! We dropped off the older kids at science, then headed down the road to the muffin shop. It took us ten minutes to get out of the car for some reason, so I'm sure the other patrons, who might have seen our shenanigans just getting to the door, were already a little worried by the time we walked in. They were mostly older couples enjoying what they had assumed was going to be a quiet breakfast. There were definitely no other energetic kids who have no volume control. When we got in, I tried to direct them straight to the counter, but of course that didn't go according to plan , either.
"Scarlett, LOOK. LOOK, IT'S A TABLE JUST YOUR SIZE! Mom, hey Mom, Mom, HEY MOM, LOOK! It's a table for Scarlett!"
I finally got them to look at the muffin selections. Scarlett just wanted a "baby" muffin, and pointed to a miniature variety. That was easy. The boys couldn't decide. For a very long time, they couldn't decide. I kept having to wave other patrons around us. Even the girl at the counter, worried, I guess, that we might hold up the line, would announce occasionally, "Can I help the next person in line who's ready?"
One of the boys wanted to know if he could have a bagel. I told him that Mondays are when the muffins, and not the bagels, are half price. Please choose a muffin. After all, there about twenty different varieties! He asked if he could have a muffin and a bagel. I finally just told him I was going to decide for him. After pondering thoughtfully for a (long) while, another one observed that there was a "blueberry coffee cake" muffin, and a "cinnamon coffee cake" kind, but he wanted to know if there was just a regular coffee cake kind. Really? I'm pretty sure he hadn't even known such a thing as coffee cake existed before then, not to mention that there were all kinds of choices I was pretty sure he did know of and would like better, and he had to have a "regular" coffee cake muffin? I asked the girl at the counter if there was such a muffin, and she said no. He looked at the case dejectedly, declaring that there wasn't a kind of muffin he did want, in that case. I moved forward to the register. I ordered Scarlett's and the one I had picked out for the first boy, and at that the other one piped up, "Fine. I'll have an apple pie muffin." Okay, done.
Finally, after we had secured the long-awaited muffins, we straggled over to a table. They each took about a bite and announced that they were thirsty. Deathly thirsty. No, it couldn't wait at all. The looks from the other patrons indicated that maybe insisting that the boys wait might not be appreciated. We went to the drink cooler. I told them they could share. Share? But one didn't like orange, and the other didn't like cranberry, and fine! I got two different kinds. Juice secured, we went back to finishing our breakfast. I thought maybe that would be a good time to have our homeschool moment. I pulled out the history book. They started talking a little louder, and at this point, I remembered that this is what they do at home, so how in the world did I expect to read aloud quietly in public, when I'm almost shouting by the end of a read-aloud session at home?
So I put it away. New plan. We needed to get out of there relatively quickly, but a glance at the clock indicated the library wasn't going to be open for another thirty minutes. I remembered seeing a pet shop nearby, so I told them we were going to stop there, and that got them to the car with relative speed and quietness. The pet store experience actually went well. We were the only people there, and the girl working there let them pet the cats. Now on the the library.
We reached the library, only to discover that while the library we usually go to opens at 9:30 (I thought, anyway), this branch didn't open until 10:00. It was 9:35. After I wrangled them away from chasing a squirrel around the building, I convinced them to get back into the car to wait, and dang it, we got that history lesson done! At 10:00, we spilled back out of the car and into the just-opened library. I really needed to use the restroom, so I took Scarlett with me. I asked her if she needed to go, and she said no. When I got out, I corralled the boys and we went to the children's section, which at this library is all the way at the other side of the building. As soon as I put our bags down, Scarlett said "I have to go potty!" and Chase added, "Oh,, so do I." Of course. I picked our things up, and Scarlett said, "Never mind! I don't want to go," and was going to make a scene, so I determined I would let them get one thing each and that we would leave in a couple minutes. But about thirty seconds later, Scarlett said, "Oops, I went potty!" Rather loudly. Super duper. We mopped it up, and I tried to ask her to lower her voice every time she mentioned that her clothes were wet. I told the boys to get the books they had in hand, and we walked back toward the entrance to check out. I held Scarlett so things would be a little less obvious - getting rather soaked myself in the process, and wishing more than a little that we had settled for a hum-drum morning at home rather than attempt to create a warm-fuzzy moment.
But hey - guess where we plan to be tomorrow morning? Only we'll bring our own juice. And ditch the books. And maybe spend a lot longer keeping the girl and the cats at the pet store company.
Friday, September 6, 2013
Relighting the Spark
Has it been almost two months since my last post? It hasn't been for lack of material that I haven't posted, or even for lack of time. And I haven't been in the depths of despair, or hanging on by just a thread of sanity. I have, however, been thoroughly burned out. Functioning, living, even enjoying some things...but all without that spark of motivation and satisfaction that makes life truly good. So at the beginning of the day, my mental and physical energies were directed to getting through the day, and at the end, there wasn't anything left for creative expression. Even if there was, I just really wanted to put on the metaphorical blinders and retreat to bed. I didn't want to see the mess and the unfinished projects or spend any time pondering the feeling of flatness that pervaded everything. Sometimes it was more than the "blahs," of course. When you are burned out you also don't have much tolerance for stress. The slightest things tend to fray you even more at the edges, and the bigger things do tend to push you closer to the edge than they would if you had that spark alive.
And there were times of stress, with Dave's frequent travels over the summer and Scarlett's stay in the hospital...and expected expenses and unexpected expenses, and needs and wants, and learning to be done, and things to plan, and things to consider, and things to do - always things to do. So while I wasn't always teetering on the edge of sanity, sometimes I felt like I was drifting pretty close. My overall sense of joy was the first thing to go, of course, followed my ability to make good decisions and to see situations with clarity and perspective, and one of the casualties of this period of burning out was, for a time, our vacation. With everything going on, and all the decisions to be made and all the many, many little and big things needed and wanted (like pencils - for heaven's sake, why can't I even keep pencils stocked?), was it at all wise to try to tuck away large sums of money for a vacation? Because pencils and paper and school books and food and clothes and more and more and more and more.... So I finally told Dave I couldn't handle the stress of trying to work in our annual trip to the beach when I was pondering how to feed and clothe and educate these growing kids, and we cancelled our plans for the beach.
And I cried and cried - it didn't make me feel any better. The kids were lovely - disappointed, but so sweet about letting me know that they weren't disappointed in me. After just a few days, Dave and I quietly begin to reconsider, and to pray about whether it would be acceptable and possible to take our yearly trek to Edisto Island with family after all.
So...here we are. As usual, now that we're here, it hardly seems like a luxury, but pretty close to necessity. A week of rest, of peace, and of family isn't frivolous. It wasn't too much to ask for, and it hasn't been a waste of anything. God provided, and we can enjoy the gift freely, as a good thing. If we have to wait a month or two or longer to get all the school books we need or want so that the kids could spend hours upon hours outside, in sand and water and exercise, identifying all kinds of flora and fauna, watching the grace and beauty of dolphins daily, soaking in the recharging energy of vitamin D, and creating memories with family they rarely see...well, it's hardly a choice, is it? Anyway, I have a feeling that God can provide the mundane things like Latin books and pencils, too.
If that perspective were all that I gained from this trip, all the time and resources would be worth it! As it was, there has been that and so much more. Has the burned out spark been re-lit? Time will tell, of course. We start making our way home tomorrow, and we'll hit the ground running when we finally get back to Ohio. Everything starts back up next week - we've already started school-ish endeavors (pencils or no pencils!), but all the church activities for the school year, co-op, and all other classes and activities start for us. Dave even starts a new job on Monday. There will be no easing back into things for sure! I don't know if I'll bounce back with renewed energy - bear with me, friends and family, if I don't right away! - but I hope so.
And there were times of stress, with Dave's frequent travels over the summer and Scarlett's stay in the hospital...and expected expenses and unexpected expenses, and needs and wants, and learning to be done, and things to plan, and things to consider, and things to do - always things to do. So while I wasn't always teetering on the edge of sanity, sometimes I felt like I was drifting pretty close. My overall sense of joy was the first thing to go, of course, followed my ability to make good decisions and to see situations with clarity and perspective, and one of the casualties of this period of burning out was, for a time, our vacation. With everything going on, and all the decisions to be made and all the many, many little and big things needed and wanted (like pencils - for heaven's sake, why can't I even keep pencils stocked?), was it at all wise to try to tuck away large sums of money for a vacation? Because pencils and paper and school books and food and clothes and more and more and more and more.... So I finally told Dave I couldn't handle the stress of trying to work in our annual trip to the beach when I was pondering how to feed and clothe and educate these growing kids, and we cancelled our plans for the beach.
And I cried and cried - it didn't make me feel any better. The kids were lovely - disappointed, but so sweet about letting me know that they weren't disappointed in me. After just a few days, Dave and I quietly begin to reconsider, and to pray about whether it would be acceptable and possible to take our yearly trek to Edisto Island with family after all.
So...here we are. As usual, now that we're here, it hardly seems like a luxury, but pretty close to necessity. A week of rest, of peace, and of family isn't frivolous. It wasn't too much to ask for, and it hasn't been a waste of anything. God provided, and we can enjoy the gift freely, as a good thing. If we have to wait a month or two or longer to get all the school books we need or want so that the kids could spend hours upon hours outside, in sand and water and exercise, identifying all kinds of flora and fauna, watching the grace and beauty of dolphins daily, soaking in the recharging energy of vitamin D, and creating memories with family they rarely see...well, it's hardly a choice, is it? Anyway, I have a feeling that God can provide the mundane things like Latin books and pencils, too.
If that perspective were all that I gained from this trip, all the time and resources would be worth it! As it was, there has been that and so much more. Has the burned out spark been re-lit? Time will tell, of course. We start making our way home tomorrow, and we'll hit the ground running when we finally get back to Ohio. Everything starts back up next week - we've already started school-ish endeavors (pencils or no pencils!), but all the church activities for the school year, co-op, and all other classes and activities start for us. Dave even starts a new job on Monday. There will be no easing back into things for sure! I don't know if I'll bounce back with renewed energy - bear with me, friends and family, if I don't right away! - but I hope so.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)