"I would not interfere with any creed of yours,or want to appear that I have all the cures.There is so much to know... So many things are true...The way my feet must go may not be best for you.And so, I give this spark of what is light to me,to guide you through the dark, but not tell you what to see." -Author Unknown
So the other day, Emilee (16) carries a very limp & teary-eyed Grace (4) into my bedroom where I’m working and says “Mom, Grace is sad.” So I stopped working and held her in my arms and asked her why she was sad. She explained, with Emilee’s help, how it bothers her that Maddy (7) always wins. She was so very sad about it, so we tried to help her think of things she’s good at, so she can beat Maddy. She was amused with our suggestions, but ultimately rejected each one, including “nose picking” and “being 4″ and “jumping over floor tiles” These are things we know she’s proud of.
In the end, she came up with her own ideas, “a race” and “tying people up” and “making homemade band aids.”
Madelyn wouldn’t even compete in the tying people up category, which made grace a winner by default. The look of joy & pride on Grace’s face when she beat Maddy at making homemade band-aids was priceless and I suspect Maddy let her win the race, when she realized what was going on.
Around here, we’re not much into competitive sports, where other people make up the rules. And we’re definitely not the types that wake up at the crack of dawn to drive the kids out to a field to play. I prefer that the kids engage in activities that encourage them to be their personal best, rather than focus on “beating others.”
In principle, I’d let them participate in group sports, but in realty, it hasn’t happened. Sign-up dates have often eluded us, as this information gets sent home with kids at school. I’ve often wondered why these groups (soccer clubs, little league, etc..) don’t have more informative websites. I don’t make much of an effort to find out about these things because I’m not interested in attending practice 2-3 times a week or sitting in the sun or wind at 8am on a Saturday while they play.
Yes, competition is a natural part of life. Yes, competition is healthy and normal. No, we don’t need to invent situations where kids can experience arbitrary competition. Life presents plenty of natural opportunities to experience competition, without expensive uniforms, ongoing repetitive “championship rounds” or anything like that. Rivals can (and should) be friends, always. There’s more to competition than warfare.
Arbitrary rules of competition set kids up to live by the other people’s definition of success, instead of creating their own happiness. This might work well for people who define success by keeping up with their neighbors, but around here, we have different expectations.
I expect my kids to excel exactly as much as they wish, at whatever they choose to be a worthy exploit. I expect that they are in tune with their own inner longings, and find it easy to decide what games they’ll compete in and whether or not they intend to win, or just want to play. I trust that the activities they choose and the decisions they’re making today are part of their ultimate identity, something I would never dream of influencing or “shaping,” to do so would be blasphemous.
So the other day I posted an entire entry about my Grace. I’ve been watching her closely because she’s the first of my children to be completely and technically unschooled forever.
If we were a schooling family, she’d be getting ready for kindergarten, which would begin in a few months. As I watch her, I’m completely blown away by her intelligence, her strong personality, her thirst for knowledge and her pride at displaying the things she’s learned. She’s clever, witty and fun to be around.
I can’t imagine sending her to school, to me that would be a completely foreign territory. None of my kids has left home for kindergarten. But now, after being involved in the usnchooling world for a few years, I can’t even imagine inflicting “lessons” upon her. She so eagerly and readily gobbles up information from the world around her. So isn’t it logical to provide a stimulating world for her, with unlimited opportunities to experience life, rather than subjecting her to my limited perspective and preferences? I don’t know what her world will be like when she’s an adult, why would I presume to limit her learning in that way? How pompous of anyone to suppose to “teach” a 5 yr old anything. They’re already learning, duh.
We went a little crazy with the art supplies, Grace likes art
We got a bunch of Magic Schoolbus Science activity kits. They’re supposed to be for older kids, but she likes to help Gabriella (9) and Maddy (7) with the experiments. If I didn’t have to work, I think my kids would do science experiments all day long. Each kit comes with 10-20 experiments and a little guidebook that explains the science behind each one. It amazes me to hear the questions she asks, the conclusions she comes to and her logic process especially when she’s explaining the experiment. “So then glue is a polymer, right, mom?”
She loves to invent her own magic tricks (which aren’t quite magic, yet) and she’s hugely interested in how her body works. She’s taught herself how to count by 2’s (and argued with me when I told her that’s what she was doing. “No, mom, I’m just skipping numbers” as if she invented it)
She likes to eyeball a situation, solve it in her mind and then execute the solution, whether she’s making sure each Barbie has matching shoes, solving a maze, or constructing a lego dacta project.
It amazes me that anyone who has spent time with a 4-going-on-5 year old can look at the process of development a child goes through and say- at this age- that they need to start school. I wonder what people expect of a curious, self-directed learner (and that’s what a 4.5 r old is)
I wonder how many people realize that institutionalized education actually destroys the very children it was intended to serve. I wonder how many homeschoolers see that recreating that environment crushes the little souls they’re trying to protect.
Learning- in the real world- isn’t about meeting someone else’s expectations, or reaching someone else’s goals. In the real world we learn because we want to know, we want to experience, we want to DO. Why remove a child from that?
I love that Grace has “school books” that she enjoys. She has a math book she carries around that she plays with in the same way I played with puzzle books as a kid. She turns to any random page and asks me how to do it. If I’m not around to ask, she looks at the numbers and figures out her own way. She once had an addition worksheet and decided to multiply instead. Not that she knew it was called multiplication, she just saw numbers and decided to multiply. She knew each page had roughly the same directions for each problem, so she multiplied each one. She used game pieces as manipulatives and got them all right. I can’t imagine forcing her to spend weeks and weeks adding up one problem after another when she wants to multiply. Multiplication CONTAINS addition, so why do we waste so much time breaking it down?
She likes making lists. Her letters mostly look like H’s, x’s and t’s, with periodic o’s mixed in. She learns new letters by copying words in books. Sometimes she’ll copy a word and bring it to me to ask what it says. She has it memorized for a while and then forgets. She’s putting together patterns in her mind and remembers that the letter M says mmm, the letter S says sss and she instinctively, mentally, breaks down words into phonetic syllables as she pretends to read. She’s proud to be learning to read.
In our garden, she knows that ladybugs eat aphids. She delivers ladybugs to our rosebushes every time she finds them. I need to remind her to bring some to my tomatoes, too. She takes her “job” very seriously. I love that she feels useful and important. I love that she’s empowered and outspoken. I love that she knows what she wants and expects to get it. I love watching her grow, think and explore the world.
Grace is my 4 yr old. She’s the one that was born in the shower. It’s a weird age, being 4. I know there are a lot of in-between ages when you’re a kid, but I’ve always thought that 4 was really a landmark transition. I mentioned before that we’ve never had a problem with terrible two’s, but 4 is an entirely different story.
At 4, the desire for independence outweighs so very many things. She wants to do everything herself, everything. But then she’ll show fear or vulnerability in contrast. She insists upon picking out her own clothes and dressing herself completely. On the other hand, she’s afraid to go upstairs alone. She wants to make her own sandwich, but she doesn’t like to be in the kitchen alone. She’s enjoying testing the limitations of her body, seeing how high she can jump and how many marshmallows she can fit into her mouth at once.
Seeing how far she can jump
She loves Spongebob Squarepants, doesn’t mind being represented by the boy Barbie and still eats jelly sandwiches all the time. She’s grown out of the butter thing, and no longer views it as a snack food. She loves playing games on the computer and she’s a steward of bugs, collecting caterpillars, ladybugs and roly polies. She hates making messes. Whenever she spills something, she cleans it up before anyone else sees it. If people see her spill, she gets upset and wants to cry. She enjoys cursing when no grown-ups are listening. She gets amused when her teenage sisters laugh at her foul-mouthed humor but she won’t repeat it in front of me. She just blushes, throws her hands up and smiles, that Grace Face smile. If she says anything, it’s “What, did you hear me say anything?” She has the most pinchable cheeks in the family. She takes care of her baby sister, holding her hand in public and making sure that she’s not overlooked in the shuffle of our crazy house. She’s particular about the clothes in her dresser. Shirts can’t go in the pants drawer and pajamas can’t go with sweaters. I’m not sure what all of her laundry rules are because she doesn’t let anyone else put her clothes away.
Grace, protecting Evelyn on the Lion
She hates wearing socks, even with sneakers. She doesn’t enjoy helping in the kitchen as much as Evelyn does, but when she sees Evelyn helping she will jump in to make sure she’s doing it right. She likes to sing. Kanye West’s Heartless is one of her current favorite songs. She claims to not be a fan of Hannah Montana. She enjoys showing off the letters of the alphabet that she can write and recognize. She likes drawing pictures of me and of animals.
Mixed media collage. She drew a caterpillar and now she's adding glue to stick fabric to it
She takes really good care of her coat and remembers to bring it everywhere we go. Sometimes her easygoing personality makes her overlooked in this crazy house, but she knows how to make herself be heard when necessary.
In the unschooling community, there’s a great respect for children’s inner wisdom. This week, for me, has been filled with confirmation that I need to follow my kids’ lead more often and to value their life’s experiences and authentic reactions.
Be fearless
I love going to the park and often, when we’re waiting for kids to finish their dance, drama or singing classes, we wait at the park where we swing, skate, climb, run or just do gymnastics in the grass. Yesterday, Maddy and I were doing tricks and she said “Can you do a front flip?” I said “no, can you?” It didn’t look like she even had time to think about the answer, she just did it. When she was done, I clapped my hands and said “Oh my goodness, I didn’t know you could do that, wow” and to my surprise, she said “Neither did I, I just did it.” I said “have you ever done it before?” and she said “no, I just did it.” WOW. OK. SO I did it. I was amused at my inner dialog, wondering whether or not she had mentally talked herself into it or if it really was as simple as she’d made it sound. In the end, I took a deep breath, pictured myself doing it a few times and just DID it. She was so excited for me, which was sweet. It was easier than I thought it would be and we both spent the next few minutes perfecting our front flips. I just thought it was funny, though, that I tell people “just do it” all the time and here I was being “schooled” by my 7 year old. Thank you, Maddy.
Flipping, for the fun of it
Love and conflict aren’t opposites
When my kids fight with each other, I don’t always handle it well. Over the years, I’ve gotten better. By stepping back and letting them work it through, I notice they end up fighting less. By discussing anger management techniques and communication skills during peaceful times (rather than in the heat of the moment) we’ve all learned how to avoid conflict or resolve it quicker, finding win-win situations and making allowances for one another’s preferences sometimes. But sometimes, I fail. The other day, Gabriella and Madelyn were fighting and Gabriella lowered her voice to a scary tone and threatened Madelyn. I snapped and made my own voice scary and told her to get out of the room until she could communicate without being mean (Ironic and pathetic, I know) Gabriella left the room and Madelyn looked at me with the sweetest face and said “It’s OK, Mommy, she can talk to me that way. She just wants her Barbie back. We were working it out. I’m not giving it to her until she gives me my doll’s dress back. I planned it this way.” I felt about half an inch tall. I brought Gabriella back and apologized for sending her out, I apologized for using a mean voice and I explained that I am still learning how to handle things nicely and I get upset when I think someone is being mean. I should have asked if they wanted my help first. Then I thanked Maddy for helping me understand the situation.
One of ten million pictures of Barbies my kids take almost every day
Forgive, forget and whistle while you work
My 2 year old LOVES to put her own laundry away. There are other household tasks she likes to do, too. She likes to scrub the kitchen table while I load the dishwasher, she loves to help push the clothes into the washing machine, she loves to help carry groceries in, she follows me around all day “helping.” Well the other day, I put her clothes into her drawer for her. She was so angry with me. She can’t reach her drawer, so when she puts her clothes away I have to lift her up (while she’s holding the folded clothes) and she puts them into the drawer. It seemed like more than I wanted to do at the moment. She was taking her shoes off and I didn’t feel like waiting until she was done, so I just put her clothes into her drawer. You would have thought I’d stabbed her with an ice pick. she grabbed her belly and screamed at me “You puttid my clothes away, I wanted to do it MYSELF.” Her little angry yell was adorable, her face was red and filled with tears. I snickered a little bit because she’s so tiny and so sweet and I loved that she was so passionate about it. I took the clothes OUT of the drawer and scooped her up to apologize (I really should have known better) Then, I helped her put her clothes away, like normal and she went on about her business, without the slightest sign of anger. Later on, she said “Mommy, I sorry I freaked out about my yaundry” and I apologized for putting it away. I really do love that she values her “work” and enjoys helping around the house. I have to remember that it’s ME who secretly wishes someone else would do the laundry, not her. I’m also proud of myself for not teaching her how to hate housework, when we clean, we sing and dance and have a very good time together. If I keep this up, she will gladly take over the responsibility one day. (not that I have any coercive ulterior motives, right)
Being in tune with my kids, communicating honestly and respecting their preferences and desires is a very important part of what goes on in our house. I am, by no means, perfect at this. Clearly, I screw up. We all screw up. But I guess we’ve been doing this long enough that we’ve established an open and constant dialog that they’ve mastered faster than I have. I will continue to be impressed and amazed by their pure love and sweet dispositions.
Six or seven times this week I’ve heard the term “terrible two’s” and honestly, I thought it was gone; dead, like the notion that it was OK to leave infants to cry alone in a crib and that women were less intelligent than men. I haven’t ever experienced a terrible two year old. Ever. Two has developmental distinctions from other ages and perhaps it’s the exploring, investigating and vocalizing that parents have a hard time dealing with. It’s always been one of my favorite ages, though, even when I was a mean mommy.
Madelyn, at 2 yrs old
Personally, the developmental stage I’ve most often called “terrible” occurs around age 4, but since we’ve learned so much about peaceful parenting my current 4 yr old really doesn’t seem terrible. Translation- I have learned to be a better mom, our family is more sensitive to the kids’ needs, so I’m not having a “terrible” time understanding her, like I did with my older children.
I have full faith that the ease with which we’ve navigated the teen years thus far is also credited to a developmental understanding and open, honest communication. Genetically and historically, there’s absolutely no backup for the idea that any specific “age” in childhood be any more “difficult” than any other. Parenting is a relationship, not a set of hurdles.
Anyway- I find 2 yr olds amusing and amazing, here’s a list of things my 2 yr old has done today (in order)
1-wake up & tickle my neck saying “you want yours coffee mama, come on yets make yours coffee now, time get up”
2- “Nooooooooo” upon seeing me turn over & try to steal a few more minutes of sleep “It’s sun shining mommy, geeettt uuuupppp ppllleeassee”
3- “gankgoo” which is her word for thank you because I just couldn’t resist her saying please to me, I don’t want to teach her that good manners don’t work, so in our house, please really IS a magic word. I’ve noticed that if I ignore my kids when they’re two they become demanding and repetitive. Do you know any kids like that?
4- We arrive in the kitchen (she’s pulling me by the hand) and she gives me step-by-step instructions for making the coffee. I’ve noticed that I can be lazier if I keep her talking, so I just ask “What do I do next?” and she enjoys telling me. If her instructions are vague or worded wrong, I smile & enact a literal translation which simultaneously frustrates & amuses her. We make it as far as putting the cup on the counter when she says “You do the rest yo-self now, I need go potty” I offer to help & she yells “NO- I do myself, I big girl”
2 year old Grace
5- She yells from the bathroom that she needs help. Removing the TP from the roll is hard for her, she hasn’t quite figured out how to rip it off. I often leave a few squares removed for her, but today there were none. I didn’t detect any shame at having rejected help, then needing it. I pondered for a while if that was a natural feeling, or if we’re taught to feel bad asking for help. I return to the kitchen. and hear her washing her hands and flushing the potty
6- I’m playing farmville on facebookmaintaining online relationships with family and friends all over the world and she climbs up on my bed with my wallet. It’s a daily ritual of hers, to remove the contents, separate all the coins, cards and receipts into three stacks and count everything. Today, I notice, she has a few different stacks of coins. it looks like nickels and dimes are in one stack, there’s another stack for pennies and another for quarters. She’s counting everything. She counts 18 pennies, 7 nickel/dimes and 18 quarters (even though there’s only 12 there) After she’s done counting, she puts everything back very carefully and puts it back into my purse.
7- After disappearing for about 45 minutes, my FaceBook time is over and she wants something to eat. She heads into the kitchen to see what everyone else is eating. At one end of the table, there’s a jelly sandwich, then leftover corned beef & cabbage, then plain noodles with butter. After discussing their food with each sister, she decides upon the plain noodles. The other girls and I are amused at the way she “works a room” making eye contact with everyone, then having a brief conversation “Whatchoos eating?” and “It’s yummy?” and “Oh, yous make it for you?” and “Is any yeft for me?” and, when offered a bowl of it, replies “No gankyou, maybe yater, OK- I talk to Maddy now” I think the girls decided to eat slower, so that they could have a turn discussing their food with her. When she decides upon the noodles (I had a hunch) I put them in front of her high chair and she ravished me with hugs and kisses and “thank-you’s” and proceeded to eat with her sisters while I took a shower.
It’s only 9am. I can’t really record her entire day’s worth of activities, but here are a few other things she’s probably got on the agenda:
Changing her clothes after she’s done eating. She changes her clothes several times a day because whenever she spills the slightest thing on them, it bothers her. Who am I to thwart a child’s preference for being clean? I just make sure that her laundry is always done because she usually knows EXACTLY what she wants to wear. The funny thing is, she calls it all “jammies.”
Coloring- she likes to draw pictures. She prefers a fresh sheet of computer paper and a variety of crayons, colored pencils and pens. She makes several scribbly shapes and then rolls it up & folds it in half. Then, she comes to me to tell me what’s in her picture. It usually takes her longer to interpret her artwork then it takes to actually draw it. When she’s done telling me about it, I ask her if she’s done coloring. The answer is usually no and she runs away to color the back of the page. (lather, rinse, repeat)
Going on a hunt- this is what they call it when Grace (4) draws a map and they wander around the house on an imaginary search for something (usually saving a Princess)- this map apparently leads them through every room in the house and makes them collect things from one room and bring them to the next. later when we clean up, I will hear the details from both of them, in case I missed them the first time.
“Helping” me in the yard. When we moved into this house, part of the deal was that it was filled with shit- for lack of a better term. Room after room the carpet was covered in 30 years of cat and dog pee. the previous resident left all kinds of crap behind- furniture, broken appliances, and garbage. We were in a hurry to move in & the guys that were helping us hauled it all to a back corner of the yard and every week I spend a few hours filling up our dumpster to get rid of it all. When I work in the yard, I’m either getting rid of the crap or I’m maintaining our vegetable garden. She likes to “help,” either way. while we’re outside, we discuss the plants and animals we see. it probably lasts about an hour a day.
A bath, after she’s played outside in the afternoon. She enjoys looking at worms and bugs, she’ll pick up a rock to LOOK at the roly-poly bugs underneath, but she doesn’t like touching them. Every time she comes in in the afternoon, she wants to wash her hands and then her feet. When she discovers that she’s mostly wet and cold, she decides to take a bath.
SUGAR- she tends to want a sweet snack after her bath. Usually fruit will do, but if we happen to have other sugars in the house she likes those, too She went through about a week where all she wanted was a spoonful of plain white sugar. that was hard for me, but it passed quickly, thank goodness. Today she’ll probably eat grapes and a spoonful of strawberry jelly.
Unload the dishwasher- She really thinks this is her job. I try to load it while she’s in the tub. It’s not because I want to rob her of hot water, it’s just because she likes to climb inside of it and I kind of enjoy loading it, I listen to my iPod and rock out, trying to invoke a feeling of bliss to be mentally associated with providing my family clean dishes. It’s a lot more fun than grumbling about it. When she helps me unload, I grab all the sharp knives & put them away while she’s walking back & forth with cups & bowls. She likes to do the silverware, pushing a chair up to the counter and placing each piece in its spot. I prefer that she does it, because I tend to just dump it in the drawer)
Caillou or Kipper the Dog- these are her two favorite shows. Sometimes she’ll watch Dora the Explorer, but I think she’s mostly grown out of that now. She watches for about an hour. Sometimes she falls asleep, sometimes she stays awake. I call it her “nap” because she’s restful. Wherever I am, she climbs up to the computer (because that’s where she watches, on Netflix) and yells “MOM, I WA WATCH CAILLOU NOW” and wherever I am in the house, I put it on for her. If there’s an older sister around who can do it, she sometimes tolerates their help. other times, she insists that “Only mommy do” which is fine
After her show is over, it’s usually near dinner time. She’s always “starving, mommy” when I’m cooking, so we sneak little bites of dinner. She pushes a chair over to the counter and “helps” while I try to set aside jobs that she can do. She rarely asks for specific jobs, but when she does, I let her do it. When dinner is served, she always tells the girls “I made dinner for you.”
After dinner, she sometimes goes in for a second bath, sometimes with sisters. If I have the energy, I load the dishwasher again.
When the final bath is over, it’s time for real jammies. She loves bedtime stories, and usually has one picked out before her hair has dried. She tends to fall asleep during stories.
I really honestly have never experienced a terrible 2 yr old. It can’t possibly be genetic, or a coincidence. It HAS to be environmental. Our lifestyle allows them to live at their own pace, 2 yr olds are on a mission. The way she explores her world matters, and having the freedom to do what she wants when she wants, to forge honest relationships with her siblings and live life on her terms really makes her rather agreeable and fun to be around.
This week we had a round of some sort of vomiting bug hit our house. So far actually only 3 of us have been affected, but one was me, so I feel very much attached to this affliction. I really don’t like vomiting, I never did it much while pregnant and I also never really went through any kind of drinking rebellion, so I can’t say I’ve vomited much ever- for any reason- YUCK.
2 year old Evelyn, very tired
I was hunched down, losing my lunch when she runs past, playing. She sees me & says “Awww, you pooking, mommy?” “Yes,” I moan and she replies “Awww, pooking no fun, huh mommy.” “Nope,” I tell her, “it’s no fun at all.”
Each day, she reminds me to be grateful for our freedom, to not get worked up about the stupid things, to embrace whatever may come and to explore the world as if I’ve never seen it before. How can that be terrible?
So the other day I was feeling defeated in the “Trying-to-be-my-best” category. I was probably tired. Probably because my husband was out of town leaving me to do everything by myself. I fell asleep wondering why I even bother.
We all have days like that.
I awoke about half an hour after I laid down to a high pitched scream right in my ear. Evelyn had a nightmare, I guess. She was crying “it’s gone” and “she taked it.”
I was shooshing her. Not very nicely, either. I think I said “Oh my god go to sleep.” With Daddy gone, my room turns into a King-sized nest. Grace (4) sits up, bleary eyes and pats Evelyn on the back and says “It’s gone?” Evelyn replies “yeah.” and Grace says “I will get it for you, just lay down sweetie. I love you.” And Evelyn lays down and goes right back to sleep. Gabriella lays her hand on my cheek and says (still half asleep) “Mom, you are the best person in the world.” I said “Thank you honey” feeling totally unworthy but flattered nonetheless.
That’s why I even bother. If even one of these kids is going to grow up thinking I’m awesome, I damned well better do my best to live up top that.
The kids got some money from their Grandma recently and Grace (4) spent her money in the store of Emilee (16) & Meagan (13). Emilee & Meagan tend to set aside some trinkets and things they know the little kids will like and when the little kids get any money, the older girls will sell things to them.
I used to get so annoyed that they were taking advantage of the little ones. I recently came to my senses, though. If they’re happy with their purchase, what business is it of mine? As they get older they will understand the value of their money without my mistrust, and they will demand better “deals” and make smarter purchasing decisions. Or not. Either way, what business is it of mine to interfere?
Today Grace bought a little wooden box from Emilee. She wants to get a pet mouse to live in it. One of the first things she had to do , though, was to paint the box. She asked me if she could paint it and I really didn’t give it much thought,except to say “please clean up the paint when you’re done.” When she was done, it took me less than 5 minutes to wipe up the paint and make sure the lids were on tight.
She’s also what some might call a picky eater. Her eating schedule is just a little bit different than everyone else in our house. So she never seems to be hungry when we’re eating- she uses that time to make all kinds of art. Because of this, I save her a plate for when she’s hungry, otherwise she’d eat nothing but jelly sandwiches all day.
Grace is 4 and she loves Microsoft paint on the computer. She creates these little drawings and each has a name and a story. Sometimes it takes her a while to think of a name and when she does, they’re very very cute. Files we saved today were called “Sparkling love for Maddy,” “Colored mommy surprise,” and “Pancake man with a big happy smile.”
Today when I was cutting the crust from Grace’s sandwich, I realized that I’ve come a long way. I never cut off crusts for my older kids. I used to shy away from the idea that kids’ preferences mattered. It’s accepted, in our culture, to dismiss the wishes of children by placing ourselves upon a pedestal.
I grew up so often hearing things like “Yeah right, like I’m going to cut the crust off your sandwich? Do I look like a slave? When I was your age, we had to eat the crust or we’d starve. Cut off your own crust. Or better yet, learn to like the crust, otherwise I’m not making you sandwiches anymore.” Imagine how that would feel, though. Imagine if you were in a restaurant and the cook came out of the kitchen to tel you that. You’d be a bit offended. You certainly wouldn’t choose to dine there again, at least I wouldn’t.
I have to give a product recommendation here. We go through jelly because we have 6 kids, y’know. Plus, I like jelly, too. But we gave up on Smuckers and even generic brands because they all had high fructose corn syrup in them. I could find teeny jars of sugar-only or no-sweetener-added or (God forbid) artificially sweetened (which I never once did buy) but this Danish Farms makes the most delicious strawberry preserves. Basically, it’s nothing but the chunks. It comes in a little blue bucket.
With this stuff, you don’t make a sandwich, bite several bites and every now & then say “mmm, I just got a strawberry.” These guys put ginormous whole berries in every bite. So you know that they’re not physically over-processed, they’re intact, recognizable. It’s the absolute most delicious thing. And it’s only $1 or $2 more than the big jars with hfcs in it. I think this summer we’ll try mashing fresh strawberries for sandwiches
So anyway, I’m downstairs in the kitchen with Evelyn. We’re cleaning up the dinner mess and she wants a little more rice. I’m putting the leftovers in a divided plate for a midnight snack or Grace’s dinner. She hadn’t eaten yet. I got everything cleaned up and Grace came in. She was hungry, so she sat up at the table with Evelyn eating a late-night dinner. The two shared a plate and had a very sweet conversation. “You getting dat bite?” “Its yummy?” “You want my chicken?” “You yike yours rice?” I kept the dishwater running really low so I could hear their sweet little voices.
When I put away the hot sauce, I noticed the awesome jelly in the fridge and was so excited about how delicious it looked that I pointed it out to both girls and offered them a jelly sandwich. I wanted a pb& j but they prefer their peanut butter by the spoon, not on bread with jelly. It’s one of their favorite meals. A few years ago, I would have said “No way. You’re not eating a jelly sandwich. That’s not a meal.”
They each wanted half a sandwich. Grace, I noticed, used to insist upon two breads. She saw me making two-bread sandwiches for the older girls and felt ripped-off for a while. I think she’s noticed though, that she can’t ever really eat a two-bread sandwich. I’m glad I never told her “No, you can’t eat that much.” When she first asked for two-bread sandwiches, she got annoyed with me for offering her a choice. So I stopped offering her a choice. I made absolutely no issue about the size sandwich she was asking for, it was a completely struggle-less transition. I learned to wait until she was done and add some peanut butter to the leftover half for myself. Or just get over it and throw it away. Often, she’d want it wrapped up for later, until she discovered that jelly sandwiches aren’t that yummy leftover.
She was experimenting with a different sandwich size and learned that it was too much for her. I never once said “Are you sure you can eat two” The only time I’d do that was if we were just about out of bread. She hates the crust, so I couldn’t even turn around the butt-end of the bread.
The girls enjoyed sharing a sandwich together, especially the tasty jelly chunks. I brought them milk in their favorite cups and Evelyn was the first to say “gankgoo mommy”
After they ate, Grace went upstairs to paint again while Evelyn wanted to drink some water. It took her a while to get the water bottle out of the case, it was the last one. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she stuck her arm in and out of it, pick it up & shook it, tried turning it over. She didn’t want help and I was cleaning anyway.
After she got the water bottle out, she danced a little dance of joy while I opened the lid and she took a few sips. She wanted me to put the lid on and take it off in between each sip. I only groaned a little bit. The sound of her voice and her happy little face when we’re communicating with each other is so very sweet and addictive. Dishes can wait.
After she takes her last sip (apparently she needed 4 of them) she sang and danced. She made up a little song on the spot about a ducky shhleepling (which means sleeping) I can’t even say it had a tune, but her voice was raised at a very high pitch and she stretched out certain random syllables of a few words. Every now and then she’d catch me looking at her and smiling and she’d blush a little and then sing louder.
After a while she stopped and said “Joo hear my song mommy? Joo hear me sing dat song mommy? I singed dddduuuuuucckkkkyyyyy song mommy. I singed ducky schleeeeepling, OK” Yes- I tell her. “I heard your little song about the ducky sleeping, that was cute. Did you have fun?”
It’s really cute when she says her name. “I Evie” or “I Evelyn” So today Meagan asked her “Who are you?” She got a sly look on her face and said “I Effalint” (which is actually elephant) I was surprised. “You don’t look like an elephant, you look like a little girl.” “No I just lying.” I was amused that she knew the word lying, we don’t use it much around here. I asked “You’re a lion?” “No, I lying. I sayed me EFFALINT.” She sure set me straight.
We’re interrupted. Gabriella comes in to tel us that Grace is so cute painting her little box upstairs.
My 2 yr old is reaching for a basket. She’s in my arms and it’s just out of her reach. She grunts and says “Help me reach it mommy” (but not like that, it’s more like 2 words “hewlpme reachitmommy”) and I lean over so she can reach.
I discover she was really reaching for the crochet hook inside. It’s hooked around one of the basket’s bottom pieces of straw, so the basket comes, too. She laughs “gottit bakstick mommy” and I turn to see why she’s laughing. She’s fumbling to get the basket off the hook.
I’d rather her play with the basket than the hook. It looks like she’s caught a fish. I tell her so and she thinks it’s funny.
She frees the crochet hook and looks in the basket. (which seems way more fun than the hook now, luckily) There’s nothing in there, obviously. She gives me a funny look. “Got fish in there?” She asks me. I said “You do?” and she decides that this is fun and plays along.
“Yeah, I got jellyfish in there, hold it.” I had a traumatic jellyfish issue in Hawaii when I was 9. Portugese man-o-wars, to be exact. I strung them all over my arms and stomped around the beach like a sea monster. A few hours later I was soaking in the tub with herbs and potions under the supervision of the local witch doctor, waiting for the swelling to go down and for signs of emergency, which would involve an air lift to the hospital. It wasn’t much fun. Nor was it fun that my Grandma stood over in the doorway, alerting everyone in the neighborhood that my breasts had begun to develop. To this day, I think she scared them. I’m not messing with jellyfish, I tell my daughter.
“No way, jellyfish sting, I don’t want to hold jellyfish.” “Oh” she looks down, a little dismayed, so I suggest she catches another kind of fish. She dumps the jellyfish back into the imaginary sea and catches “nahwahn fish” (another one fish) to show me. We admire the fish. it’s wet and floppy. She says that it “yooks yummy” but I’m not so easily convinced. She wants to go upstairs and show the girls. But first, she dumps out the new fish in order to catch more jellyfish.
So I go upstairs with her because it’s time for the nightly bedtime ritual anyway. I’ve mentioned before that we don’t have bedtimes, instead we just hang out and the kids still fall asleep.
Just because we don’t have a bedtime, it doesn’t mean we don’t go to bed, and it doesn’t mean we don’t have similar bedtime rituals. Ours are just more fun
Generally, We snuggle in on the 9 yr old’s bed, I go through a nightly checklist “did you brush your teeth?” and when the answer isn’t “yes of course” I sometimes ask “are you going to?” (only one sometimes doesn’t want to. A piggyback ride down the stairs usually solves it, she doesn’t like to be downstairs alone) Then we make sure feet are clean, especially in the summer. We make sure jammies are on, I collect the dirty clothes basket, helping make sure their toy are put away and sometimes we watch a movie.
The other day we had a great time making friendship bracelets. Sometimes we just tell stories or play word games or board games. Usually we read books, They each pick one (because I can guarantee I won’t fall asleep through 1 book each. If I’m still conscious when those are done, I’ll read more. The limit of 1 book is imposed because I tend to fall asleep reading and jumble the words, which the find amusing until they discover I can’t read anymore.
Tonight, I went in to escort Evelyn & her jellyfish, then read to them (not knowing exactly what was in store, I never do).
When we reached the top of the stairs, she goes in to my 16 yr old’s room first. “Embahlee, yookit, i got jellyfish. see jellyfish. yookit me bakstick (basket)” and she proceeds to show Emilee her basket and Emilee is notably impressed. Then we head out (cordial goodbyes and goodnights included) While I’m busy giving Emilee a goofy look, Evelyn is yelling to me from the hall “gum on mommy yets go” We arrive into the younger girl’s room and Evelyn goes from girl to girl, telling them about her jellyfish. They’re almost completely ignoring her and she’s annoyed, so I announce out loud. “Evelyn has caught some jellyfish in her basket and came all the way upstairs to show you girls.”
Within 5 minutes, we’re all sitting on the bed, pretending to catch fish in the ocean from our boat (the bed).
So yes, it’s true. We don’t have bedtimes.
But we do have bedtime rituals, which consist of enjoying each moment together until our bodies would rather sleep.
We sing songs, we make art projects, we watch documentaries, web videos, broadway shows and silent movies and old musicals or music videos, we draw or write or work out puzzles in schoolbooks or coloring books. Our bedtime stories, when we read them (sometimes 20 minutes a day, sometimes 90 minutes, sometimes zero minutes a day, even a week at times) may be fiction or nonfiction, color or black and white, classic or new or used, bought with allowance or given as a gift. They may be bestsellers, and sometimes they suck. Sometimes they’re not even in English, or a language we understand. It’s not about the books, it’s about the time we spend together. And falling asleep should be a pleasant part of one’s day.
So no, we don’t have a bedtime and we don’t fight about going to sleep. I’m not concerned about their sleeping habits because I don’t make a habit of scheduling things that will interfere with their natural sleepy times.
I’m not afraid that they won’t “learn to sleep” because they already know how to sleep. I don’t feel the need to manipulate their sleep times. It’s exhausting enough keeping up with their awake times.
After the deep-sea fishing expedition, we settled down. When the girls agreed upon tonight’s bedtime plan, we were to watch Dora the Explorer, then the 2nd half of Hannah Montana (they fell asleep last time, so we agreed that we’d have to watch the rest tonight)
The kids laughed at me when I mistakenly referred to “The Hoedown Throw Down” as “The Barnyard Stomp.” I was impressed that they knew the entire dance. That’s Gabriella’s favorite song. Because Gabriella got to play her favorite song for me, we needed to play Madelyn’s, too. She’s 6 and teeny, shrimpy, petite and squeaky. But she knows all the words to “The Climb” and I really had to fight back the tears. Who knew Hannah Montana had such a positive message? I sure hope she maintains her good-girl image.
Anyway, I asked the girls where they wanted the dolls (because the bed was covered with barbies, all of whom were arranged in rows, with swimsuits and beach blankets (made of socks and washcloths)
Grace swooshed them all off the bed into a pile in one motion. I started picking them up & said “Which toybox do these belong in?’ and Gabriella (not at all offended by Grace’s swooshing, by the way) said “They don’t go in a toybox, mom. They have a life, you know. They each go to their own houses, and she proceeded to place them all over the room, carefully into lifelike positions. The other girls seemed to know where each doll’s house is and what position they should be in. Most of the dolls were in beds, but some were sitting and reading, others were on their computer, one had to get in the car & drive all night to get to the airport and some were on the phone (presumably with each other)
The putting Barbies “away” took about ten minutes and when it was complete, I asked that the light be turned off so we could watch the movie. Someone pushed play & we watched the rest of the film, snuggled in together. By the time it ended, only I was awake.
I headed downstairs feeling like the luckiest mom in the world. When I hear other moms say “I know you don’t have a bedtime but I need to put my kids to bed at 7:30 or I will go crazy” I just shake my head. I’m not sure what they picture, but nothing is more fun or relaxing than allowing sleep to come, giving in to what the children want and just being present with them, approaching the end of the day with love and patience, allowing things to be put in order and letting love define the time, rather than the clock.
So what if it was almost 10:30 when I left their room. Instead of going in at 6am to wake them up (before the sun rises) for school, I get to sip my coffee (relishing one of the rare silent moments in my day) tiptoe in and kiss their foreheads. I get to make pancakes in peace and quiet, wondering which child will wake up to the smell & greet me with stinky kisses first. I’m not a morning person. Peacefulness and love, to begin and end each day, that’s what I need for my sanity.
And the pointless after-words: (because I don’t “do” short stories very well) is that on November 19th he went in and once January rolls around we can be quite sure and positive that every last one of them will be gone and we can MOVE ON from this phase in life (as much as we love it, of course)
Trying to explain to the kids was funny, though. They like to wrestle with him and jump on him. Madelyn (6) was worried to pieces when she heard he had surgery, she thought for sure there was something wrong. I mean, people don’t just GET surgery for no reason, right?
And Grace (4) was concerned that we “didn’t want any more kids.” She thought we were saying that we “don’t want kids anymore” and she was crying, she said “But we still want you” and it was the most adorable, pathetic thing, she just about broke my heart.
I spent some time reassuring her and explaining it a little more, I am sure that she understands better now. It’s just a reminder to take the time to communicate with kids (to their understanding) and to stay “connected” to be sure that they’re feeling secure and safe.
So anyway- that’s the biggest thing I am thankful for. Here are a few others:
1- I’m grateful for the luxury to work from home, control my own income and set my own hours, I wish I could share that with more moms.
2- I’m grateful that even though our families are all so far away, we’re able to keep in touch over Facebook and the kids can have relationships with our families, too even though we rarely see them in real life.
3- I’m grateful for my kids who are so fun to be around. Nothing is more fun than watching them grow up and embrace this amazing world that we live in. I love their righteous indignation at the world’s injustices. I love their questioning nature, grilling me for details so they can come to their own conclusions. I love to see their passions develop, to watch them learn about the world simply by doing what they enjoy. I love how quickly they notice the beauty in everything around them.
I see a rock, they see a million colorful spots all coming together into one mass that looks gray from just a few inches away. I see a ladybug and they see a small life, crawling along for a reason. They wonder where he’s going and why. They wonder what he’s feeling- is he scared of them? I wonder if I should step on it.
4- I’m grateful for blogging because of the wonderful friends I’ve made online and the women who inspire me, encourage me and make me a better mom
5- I’m grateful for my real-life friends, nothing can quite compare to girlfriends, can it? I hope that you are all enjoying this day with your families, and looking forward to dinner at the Indian restaurant in December, the roller-skating party, the Mom’s Xmas party, and exchanging cheer this holiday season.
6- I am grateful to live in a world where everything we want is within reach. Knowledge is free, a diverse field of perspectives and views enable us to see our own more clearly, and humans are ready to share their experiences, interest and knowledge with one-another, for the good of all.
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A word about our Thanksgiving “Dinner.”
The way that cooking has developed in our home over the past few months, we’re taking a very nontraditional approach to Thanksgiving this year.
I slow-roasted the turkey overnight (yep, it was completely frozen when I stuck it in the oven at 5 p.m. and I just took it out at 5 a.m. When the kids get up we’ll have banana pancakes and as they’re ready they’ll pop into the kitchen to make their side-dish with me. I haven’t done Thanksgiving in such a small kitchen before, so we plan to just cook and eat all day, without a specific meal time, probably. It’s not like we all fit at the table anyway.
We generally go see a movie on Thanksgiving but we’ve decided to save up money to attend the Unschooler’s Adventure cruise to Jamaica, Haiti and Cozumel in April.
It’s a very lofty goal, but our travel come-documentary that we’ve been working on for the past 6 years is coming into fruition as we speak. We have assembled an awesome team of producers who are passionate about the product and have worked their butts off making it something better than even we imagined. (and we’re quite imaginative)
I wish I could announce more about that, give me a week or so and you’ll hear all about it. Let’s just say that we have quite an adventure planned over the next year.
About that Cruise- Jamaican beaches, The warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, Ancient Mayan Ruins, can I even express how much my heart swells to think that my family could be present in the same space as something so fascinating and ancient.
And also to share a great blog I found from a family who lives in their RV. It’s called Where the Fuhkaui. I love their blog’s tagline:
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely. Broad, wholesome, charitable views can not be acquired by vegetating in one’s little corner of Earth.” – Mark Twain
Sometimes when homeschoolers or unschoolers are trying to explain how life and learning are naturally integrated, they use the example of cooking. I tried to intellectualize it in the article Cooking with Kids, but last night’s dinner hour was particularly good example of this “in action.”
All my girls love to cook. In fact, I was telling a friend the other day that sometimes we don’t have official “meals” because there’s someone cooking something all day long. A plate full of crackers with melted cheese, a blender full of fruit smoothies, a recipe someone saw on TV or invented from scratch. With so many people who like to cook, dividing our meals into specific menus really made it more work than is necessary.
Maddy (6) & Gabriella (8) like cook and serve food. When I am in my room working and the older girls are upstairs doing whatever t is older girls do (gossip, watch TV, write stories and song, dance or listen to music…) Maddy & Gabriella like to come around and offer everyone food.
Last night I was making dinner and Maddy came in, saying “I need a pan… the noodle-y kind”
In the past, I may have said “what for?” or otherwise grilled her, and come to the conclusion that since I’m making Dinner, she doesn’t need to cook. Instead, though, I just accepted that she needed a pan and decided to work on dinner alongside her, as equals.
So I opened the dishwasher (they rarely get a chance to cool off and get put away until we need them again) and I showed her all the clean noodle pans, she rejoiced with so much enthusiasm, saying “You are a master.” I thought that was pretty cute, but the conversation just kept getting better.
So we’re cooking together, she told Emilee that she’d make her a Top Ramen (blech) She knew how to prepare it all by herself. I wanted to carry the pan full of water for her, but we settled on having me bring it down from the sink. (me, being a control freak)
So she carried it to the stove, not missing a single drop. (physics)
Afterward, I said “Wow Maddy, I underestimated you. You really kept that balanced well” and she said “thank you. I know how to cook things because you showed me. I can just see you doing things and it makes me see that I can do them, too.” (self awareness, love of learning, gratitude, communication)
I was unloading the dishwasher when she said that and it was so relaxed and easy just being together. She was so proud, so articulate. (LIFE- kids are wiser than we give them credit for)
We made jello together, too. It was her first time making it. She was surprised that it was made with hot water because when she eats it, it’s cold. We discussed how the hot water melts the crystals and makes them swell up and the refrigeration glues them back together. (chemistry, physics) We measured water (doubling the recipe for math)
Both Maddy and Grace wanted to pour the crystals into the bowl. It takes 2 boxes for our family, so Grace (4) poured the first one and Maddy poured the second one. I pointed out that the pink Jello mix was the same color as their jammies. When we poured water into it, the girls pointed out that the red liquid was the same color as my shirt. We discussed the idea that everything pink turns red when wet and decided that it depends what it is. Pink toys won’t turn red. pink paint won’t turn red and their jammies would just look darker. (science, math, communication)
When the noodles she was making her sister were ready, I brought them out with a fork and asked “does she like the noodles with a lot of broth or a little? Maddy said a little and we both agreed that she preferred more firm noodles rather than mushy ones. Although Maddy likes them better mushy and I don’t like them at very much all. Maddy said “Everybody likes different things mommy, and that’s OK” (scientific observation, communication, Psychology)
Then she said “nobody would like cabbage and radish and (list of yucky things) in their noodles” so I said “there are some things everyone agrees upon, huh” I reminded her that perhaps in some country, some people eat that every day and it’s their favorite thing. (social studies)
She carried the soup upstairs to her sister, brought down the dirty dishes and said “Mom, I love cooking with you.”
These are the times that I wish more people understood. There’s no need to “make learning fun” because it already is. All we need to do is relax, and share our lives with our children. imagine- trying to pack all of that into a lesson plan for a first grader. Look at the insanity of standardized education. Look at what we would NOT have learned if I had said “I’m making dinner, sweetie. get out of the kitchen.”
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Upstairs, while we were cooking Dinner and the three oldest were watching a movie, Emilee asked Gabriella (8) what she should put as her facebook status.
Gabriella’s response:
” follow your heart, your heart will lead you to where you want to go.”
Watching my kids learn has been the most fascinating aspect of not sending them to school. Partly, I’m sad for the children whose education isn’t self-driven, because the “love of learning” face that toddlers are known for grows more beautiful the older a child gets.
At 4, Grace is very helpful around the house. Recently, she wanted to help me fold laundry. She sat by my side, wadding things up into little blobs while I obsessively created perfect folded squares. She looked at her pile and said “Mommy, show me how you fold.” So I did, we started with long sleeve shirts and she mastered it after 2-3 of them. Madelyn (6) came in and Grace was beaming at her new “pile” of perfectly folded shirts.
At 6, Madelyn is enjoying writing notes. Of course it’s faster to speak out loud but she is enjoying writing notes. She’s been playing Farmville and Yoville and some other silly FaceBook games and she has friends who write her notes while she plays. She loves chatting online with her friends and has decided that she’d rather communicate with everyone in writing. I must have spelled “I love you” out loud for her a thousand times last week. She doesn’t want me to write it for her to copy, she just wants me to say the names of the letters, including spaces and punctuation, for her to transcribe. She runs into the room several times a day to ask “Mom, how do you spell “get your stinky feed off of my pillow or you can’t be on my bed anymore” or maybe “Please please please get out of the bathroom I need to pee.” If I don’t say “space” or comma” when it’s time, she gives me an odd look. If a word doesn’t look right to her, she says “Are you sure this is spelled right?” At the end of each note, she EXPECTS a period, a question mark or an exclamation mark.When I don’t tell her to write one, she asks “Is this a complete sentence?
The kids have set up a system of mailboxes at everyone’s door and spend all day long passing notes throughout the house. So they’re learning to write and read and use punctuation and capitalization through love, through the desire to communicate. At this point, I can’t even imagine another way anymore. Imagine being assigned “Write “I love you” fifty times today. Wouldn’t that be ridiculous? It’s become increasingly ridiculous to me that kids are taught reading and writing OUTSIDE of the desire to communicate. THAT is what reading and writing are for. No wonder schools fail, when written communication is irrelevant.
At 12, Meagan spent many years as a victim of our aggressive work schedules. There just wasn’t much time or money to do the things she wanted to do. She always wanted to do Soccer but I could never find the sign-up information and Saturday 7am practices and games were NOT something we wanted to participate in. Actually- here, they practice like 3 days a week and play games on Saturdays at the crack of Dawn. So this year she decided she wants to take tapdancing. It works for us. We signed her up for a class for her age group and all of the girls in the class have been dancing since they were toddlers. The teacher showed them the dance really quickly. Meagan felt a bit lost, like she was in over her head. She set up the laptop in the kitchen and watched youtube to learn the beginner’s moves. She practiced tapping in the kitchen for hours and hours and hours. She didn’t even consider giving up. At class yesterday, she remembered the entire routine. She practices at home all the time. It’s noisy, but beautiful. She’s taking jazz, too and her smile is just phenomenal when she dances.
Learning is beautiful, when it’s rooted in love. Sometimes it’s my 6 yr old pleased to present us with personalized love notes or surprising us with notes she’s spelled on her own. Sometimes it’s my 4 yr old screaming at anyone who tries to fold a long-sleeve shirt because that’s her responsibility and sometimes it’s my 12 yr old tapdancing in the kitchen at 2am.
I am not a “morning person.” I wake up confused, my eyes are blurry, my voice is gritty and my body moves slowly. I tumble into the kitchen, straight for the coffee pot and stare at it cross-eyed until there’s enough to fill my cup. Sometimes I squat in the kitchen so I don’t have to use any muscles or energy to stand up.
Because of this (and the fact that it’s easier for me to work when they’re asleep) I get up between 5 and 6 a.m. while my kids don’t start waking up until 9 or so.
I have a happier day when I can wake up to peace and take care of my needs for coffee,solitude and silence before tending to the needs of the children. The kids have a happier day when the first words they hear are “Good morning sunshine” rather than “quit stomping on the stairs please.”
Most of my kids wake up chipper and happy, eager to get on with the business of whatever they’re interested in. Sometimes in the night, they find their way into my bed. There’s always someone extra in there when we wake up. This morning it was Grace, she’s 4 years old. She wakes up and rubs her eyes a little, looks around the room and smiles when I say “good morning.” Then she turns and snuggles in, saying “good morning” to the baby, kissing each one of her little toes. Within minutes, they’re giggling, kissing and hugging and asking for pancakes.
When the pancakes are ready, they come to the table, holding hands and Grace insists that their plates be identical this morning. Matching plates are rare in our house
Madelyn (6) comes down the stairs, we can hear her stomping. She’s a skinny little girl but sometimes I think she’s trying to press her foot through the stairs. Her first words to her sisters are “good morning” and she gives them each a kiss before sitting at the table for pancakes.
The other kids are asleep, it’s just me and the younger half most mornings. I don’t usually eat breakfast, I usually zip over to my computer to finish up whatever it is that I was working on when they woke up. As they finish their breakfast, they’re planning their first adventure for the day. “Grace, wanna go pick flowers with me?” or “Maddy I’m going to take a bath.” Every day it’s something new.
Some days I have surprises planned. Whether it’s an art project or a “field trip” (is there a non-school-y term for this… going somewhere just to learn more?) they’re usually excited about the plans I make. Since we both work from home, everyone doesn’t HAVE to go with us.
So what do your mornings look like? I was listening to a call-in radio show where the caller said something about how he can’t work from home because his kids go to school, the house is too loud in the morning. The host said “I know what you mean man, mornings are the worst.” Which was followed by an article I stumbled across that was trying to teach parents how to help their kids wake up in the morning for school.
I found the advice a bit sad, “Don’t let them press snooze” was probably the most painful. I remember how much I hated waking up for school as a kid, especially in high school. I’ve often thought that the “answer” to some of the problems schools have would be to operate a set of classes between noon and 6pm instead of forcing everyone to comply with the 8am-2pm thing. What’s wrong with waking up and getting a good start to the day. With school kids and their parents so over-scheduled, a 12noon start-time might help everyone start their day with a hearty breakfast and a peaceful home instead of the yelling, stress and rushing around that I hear so much about. Sure, some people function better in the morning, I’m not one of them, though.
We have moths. This old house doesn’t have all of its window screens and every now & then a moth will fly into the house. In the daytime they hold very still somewhere and hope that I don’t kill them. On this day, Evelyn found the moth camping out on our living room wall. It didn’t feel right killing it in front of her, so I captured it in a glass using an envelope, and set it on the table for her to look at.
She’s 18 months old, and she watched the moth for nearly an hour. Grace was interested in it, too. it was really neat seeing the moth up close. At rest, we could see teeny little hairs on its face and legs, and even see a little powder being sprinkled from its wings as he flapped them. Grace (3) noticed that his wings were attached differently than a butterfly’s wings. After nearly an hour the girls got bored with it, so we released it into the yard. Today, nearly 3 weeks after that incident, grace brought me a picture she drew (today) of the moth. She has a side view and a top view, with sufficient enough details that I’m impressed. Learning IS fun.
The trip we just took to San Juan was exhausting, but wonderful. In my mind, being stuck in the car for hours was probably the worst part. Having 8 souls with different needs occupying a mere 25 square feet (my guess) makes for some piercing shrieks, lots of crumbs, inopportune pee breaks, cramped bodies that want to lay and stand and climb rather than sitting still and disagreements over the radio.
Nonetheless, the morning after we returned home, I found the kids in the living room playing car with all of the dining room chairs. I was mopping the kitchen and moved the chairs into the living room. ince we don’t really have a dining room right now, our table is in the kitchen.
Evelyn is actually sitting in a car seat that gGrace had grown out of and the baby doll is sitting in the infant seat that Evelyn grew out of. They had water bottles and even backpacks (stowed under the seat in front of them like an airplane) They sat there “driving” for at least half an hour. They sang to the music on the radio, they promised to get off at the next exit to go potty, they saw amazing things out the window and when they finally “arrived’ at their destination the backseat passengers all climbed out one door.
Best of all, the kitchen floor was able to dry without little footprints on it, or anyone getting hurt. It’s not that I don’tt love little footprints, but come on, we’ve had little footprints for the past 15 years. Hooray for road trips:)
Wow- can this have been the best day in our family’s life so far? We arrived at the loading dock for the ferry on time, since I misread the itinerary and didn’t realize that our crossing was figured into the time line. There’s nothing like thinking you’ll be driving for 2 hours and only ending up driving for an hour. Anyways, the hotel breakfast wasn’t much to speak of. I always realize what a picky eater I am at hotel breakfasts. Thank goodness it’s complimentary, and that my kids aren’t nearly as picky as I am. Give them some mini boxes of cereal, juice they can dispense themselves, individually wrapped tablespoons of cream cheese on cold bagels and my girls are in heaven. And coffee, with flavored creamers. Isn’t vacation fun? Crabby old me wants to wake up with PROTEIN- so I get a cold, hard-boiled egg. At least there’s that, though. Some places don’t even have that.
The ferry ride to the island was an adventure. Madelyn, always cautious, wanted to understand how all these heavy cars could possibly stay afloat. Gabriella was fascinated by the nesting birds at the dock- swooping down into the water to bring seaweed and small fish to their babies in the nests. We all wondered how the baby birds would be affected by nesting over water. (If their first flying lessons go awry, do they swim back to the pole and – then what?) We also wondered if Octopus Giganticus ate birds. We all got to play titanic, closing our eyes against the wind at the front of the boat, like flying.
Landing in Friday harbor was fun, it’s absolutely adorable. It’s so clean, there’s a fine of over $1000 for littering, which includes cigarette butts. The weather was perfect, and I mean P to the E to the R – you know what I mean, sunny but not too hot, slight breeze of fresh, clean ocean air with occasional whiffs of lavendar from the lavender farm store, absolutely beautiful.
Funny thing- we took a little stroll downtown, husband was hungry. They have a bunch of little shops and art galleries. We just kept walking past them. I was getting annoyed, so I said “Honey. maybe it’s a girl thing, but every time we walk past a store or gallery, we want to go inside. Some look less interesting than others, and we don’t have a schedule, but we can’t just keep walking past everything.” WHEW- he got it, and we all scattered into three different groups, to see the most recent place-that-was-calling-us-in. We LOVED the lavender store, but chose not to visit the farm. The homemade ice cream- well, after owning a gelato shop for several years, can I say I was totally NOT impressed with the homemade ice cream, but the man who owned the place was very nice. The art gallery was lovely- I’m not sure which one we went into, but my older girls learned of a shwimaanakku (spelling murder, sorry) legend, that they had to write down to look up, it involves a stone monument that they liked. We also saw a few souvenir shops, My oldest daughter spent her allowance on the coolest heart key chain thing, with beads- it’s called a “forever heart” I think and you can put different beads in it. I tried to convince her to get the “I love my mom” bead, but she insisted she’d rather have something red.
We got into the car and drove to the other side of the island for lunch. OMG- no mini marts, no corner stores, no nothing. It’s pristine and absolutely amazing, we were in heaven. We stopped our car in the middle of the forest to look at a very young deer, who just looked back at us while he chewed. I snapped a picture, but he’s kind of hard to see. The whole island is a preserve, no hunting. The deer wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of us.
On the other side of the island, in Roche Harbor, we ate lunch at the marina, tasting life on the “other side” of financial freedom. One day, when I grow up, I wanna sail the world in my Yacht. If you promise not to steal the name, I’ll tell you. It’s called “Nauta Yittle” And it’s bad ass, too. I’m sure I’ll post pictures when I buy it.
Unschooling at Roche Harbor
The kids were eager to show us the marine life that had built its home under the dock. Funny- I brought all these books about exploring tidepools, field guides to insects, trees, birds and wildlife. I tried getting the kids interested in the books on the way there “Here- check out all the cool stuff we’re going to see” and not a single one of them took a bite. After we laid on the dock watching these things, they had to look up the names, and make sure I was right about anenomes (whew- I read the books, OK) I don’t think we figured out the name of the “palm tree worms” yet.
Anyways, I have to get dressed & ready now for today’s adventure- Port Townsend. Here’s a picture of the 5 oldest girls, Gabriella just HAD to go down to the water’s edge “Mom- I NEED to turn rocks over and touch things.” Who can say no to that? When she emerged from underneath, a family, just stepping off of their yacht, was quite surprised to see this heathen child, filthy from some muck. We groaned “OMG Bubba- look at you” She was thrilled with whatever treasure she had in her hands (a giant clam, I think- alive) and the 20something young man in the crowd thought she was just the coolest kid ever, she loved it. We rinsed her feet off with the hose at a pristine little garden, Gabriella was proud when I asked for the hose. “We have a future scientist here, researching…. muck. Can I please use your hose?”
Future scientist explores roche harbor hands on
Anyways, I gotta go, I will have to write more in the car, it was an amazing day. Our family needed this, thank heaven for digital photography. I think the picture that captures the feeling of bliss the best may just be the one one I put first here- of seeing my kids & my husband lying on the dock, getting an up-close look at the sea life. Hmmm- later I’ll add the lighthouse pictures. What a perfect day.
Last week we went to visit my parents in Baltimore, Maryland. We took the kids to the National Zoo and they had a wonderful time. My sister went recently with her son and was going on and on about how it was “Just like when we were kids” and “hasn’t changed a bit” She actually remembers the layout of the place. Me,. not so much. (OMG- I just said “not so much” I keep reminding myself to blog about that phrase- where did it come from and why is everyone saying it? I thought Alli Worthington invented it, I learned it from her- now if only I’d learn how to rule the internet the way she does)
Grace is sad
Anyways, we saw lions, pandas, tigers, a million little monkeys and the funniest thing, really. In the small mammal house, they had a section full of rodents. What’s the difference between a rodent and a gerbil? Rats, guinea pigs, ferrets, and other small, warm blooded furry things. Then, one little display case, amidst the cases full of furry things, was covered in brown paper. Some bozo put the paper on the outside of the window instead of the inside, so if someone nosy passed by, they could just bend back the corner to peek inside. Someone must be nosy because, they did. It wasn’t me, I swear. But when I saw that it was bent back, curiosity got the better of me. What on earth are they hiding? The room was filled with mouse traps. Why didn’t they just put up a sign that said “mice?”
Panda at the National Zoo
Anyhow, we had a wonderful time. No one was sunburned, and the only temper tantrum came when little Grace accidentally dropped her icy dessert in the Panda house. She was tired and I think someone bumped into her, but we were able to clean it up, and the older kids snapped a few pictures of the pandas. Grace was so sleepy, I pushed the stroller outside so she could have a change in scenery and some fresh air but she kept asking for another icee. She was even more unhappy when we put the baby in the stroller next to her. Evelyn heard her crying and wanted to comfort her, so she kept leaning over the center divider and kept trying to stroke her face and hug her. Grace didn’t want comforted, she wanted an icee. They both fell asleep on the way home. Best of all, they got to build memories with grandparents they seldom get to see.
Flying with 6 kids, we’ll discuss that later.
Grandpa and the little girls
[caption id="attachment_1484" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Us with Grandma Vicky"][/caption]
It makes my blood boil just to write that. I had to say it, though. It’s not the slightest bit true, by the way. I really don’t hate you. It’s just what this post is about.
Last week I needed to wrap my head around the whole graffiti-mural thing, and writing about it, combined with some advice and perspective from my amazing readers, really helped. I didn’t puke in my throat at all when I drove past it yesterday.
So give me a hand with this one now, OK.
Why do my kids say that they hate one another? Before I had a houseful of kids, way before my kids ever became official homeschoolers, life was sweet. We were gentle and wholesome. There was no fighting. What happened?
Sometimes I blame it on the years I spent working. The kids bounced around to babysitters and supervised themselves twice a day during the lunch & dinner rushes at the restaurant.
Blaming won’t solve it and neither will complaining about it. What the heck will, though? Does it need to be solved? Must I know how this started in order to put an end to it, or am i thinking too much?
It used to be a pet peeve of mine, kids who fought with each other all the time. Surely, their parents were failures, right? I mean, what kind of family breeds hatred. Maybe it’s karma, I should have strived for more understanding? Maybe it’s karma, my sister and I fought a lot as kids. I know that blaming isn’t productive, but at least if I have the power to own it, I have the power to solve it.
I once wrote about how sibling rivalry prepares kids for adult conflict. I’m a really good B.S. er and really good at rationalizing and justifying, so I’m not sure if I ever believed that or if I just wrote it.
Maybe I also think that actions speak louder than words, and even though my three year old shouts “I hate you” every time she’s the slightest bit upset with her sister, she also grabbed her head to kiss her when the chicken pecked her in the eye. That was love, right?
Are they just repeating the angry words that bounce around between them? I’m sure they are. Why do I get so freaked out about one stupid little word? True and ugly hatred doesn’t look like my little girls. It’s just talk.
If they knew what true hatred could look like they’d be horrified. If you have suggestions, please share them in my comments, because I am listening.
I’m sure I described this face a few months ago. I finally found the picture I snapped and had to share it. This is Grace. She has a smooshy face. She lifts her top lip and uses it to seal her nostrils shut, then she inhales very deeply so that her nose gets sucked inside. I hope the picture makes you laugh. When she does it, she takes a deep breath, leans her head back and suddenly, POOF, her face is distorted. That, my friends is something she would definitely not be learning in head start.
So every now and then I get goofy, and today i was rhyming up some cat-in-the-hat style parenting, which is really just a sign of me losing my noodle at the end of the day and getting goofy because it does no good to get crabby, y’know.
Your laundry’s sitting on my bed
please take it to your room (OMG they’re ignoring me…)
Put it in your drawer
not on the floor
not on the bed
not on your head
not on the top
don’t let it drop
put it all in the drawer (they’re ignoring me again)
Did you hear me when i said I don’t want to see it on the floor (they heard THAT)
not by the door
OK, hun (short version of honey)
and my 3 year old Grace looks at me and says “Can I put it in my bum?”
Yeah- and the first thing I though was what a great rhyme it was, because she used the same rhythm that I had used. So I answered
You can not put it in your bum, you can not put it on your tongue, you can not dump it here or there you can not dump it anywhere, you put your laundry in your drawer or I will tickle you to the floor (and I curled up my hands and made the scarry tickle-monster face.)
and they all ran upstairs with their arms full of their laundry. Do I dare go upstairs and check to see if it’s in the drawers?
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