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?
On the whole fingernail thing, Karen Cheng’s son Callum did the same thing (I’m so impressed with her ability to snap a picture free from dried blood or spent nail polish) and the nurse said that since the cuticle was ripped out, it would never grow back. The base of the nail looks very similar, but from cosmetology school, I know that it’s the cells beneath the lunula (moons) that make the nails So I’m not holding out hope that those cells underneath are still intact. In the meantime, I’ve emailed Karen (who is incidentally struggling with pregnancy depression right now and could maybe use some happy thoughts) and hopefully she’ll get back to me. Perhaps the joy of Callum’s perfect new fingernail will pull her out of the slumps and we’ll all live happily ever after.
Is that too weird and insensitive? I’ve had my share of sensitivity today, thanks to the beautiful little Tuesday Whitt. Please send her family your love, too. I really don’t have much else to say about that. My husband says I should stop thinking about it. It doesn’t help anyone to get all depressed. He’s right, but that doesn’t make me look at each of my girls differently. What if it was this one, or that one, or another? How can a mother recover from that? And if she’s snuggling in bed with her kids at 8am, how can she be gone at 9pm? She was diagnosed 6 months ago. Imagine- having one less child in six months. He’s right, I shouldn’t think about these things. But how can you not?
In case you wondered- it was the white fingernail and it’s beginning to lift off and she comes running upstairs with her finger held high above her head yelling “my finga nayool mamma. my finga nayool ees getting off of me. Moooooommmmm” She wanted to glue it. She doesn’t want a band-aid. She’s guarding it so nothing bumps it.
Plus- I took a picture. In the picture it looks crusty on the side, but it doesn’t show any sign of infection. She washes it all the time because she thinks washing it makes it feel better. Whenever we put bandaids on it (several times a day, but they only stay on for 2-3 minutes) they have neosporin and when she falls asleep I drip fresh-ear-piercing-cleaning solution into it because I think it can get into the hard-to-reach spots way better than the neosporin can. Also while she’s sleeping, I poke at it to see if she reacts. I figure that an infection would really really hurt a lot, and that if something was wrong she’d be very sensitive to the touch. So far, so good. I sure hope her nail bed isn’t permanently damaged. I think it’s amazing how she just goes about her day playing the whole time. I’d be whining, for sure.
When she discovered that it was coming off, she was more interested than upset. I was trying to comfort her by saying “It’s Ok, it will grow back” and she said “Hey, I can twick daddy and make him fweak out. I will say yookit my pwitty nayools daddy and he will say eeewwww yuck.”
EDITED_ because I just realized that the video was the wrong one. So here’s the real video that I thought I was posting. That other one was a freebie.
So we’re getting in the car. My kids have this habit of taking their coats off when they get into the car. So they can seat belt comfortably. Then the car is nice and toasty and when we stop to get out, their coats are still in the car. I’m worse, I just don’t wear one. And I have this theory that if people are cold, they’ll put a coat on. Humans are capable of living in a variety of climates and where my husband is afraid we’ll look negligent if our 12 year old goes without a coat, I just think she looks like a kid who thinks she’s too cool to wear a coat.
So anyways, we’re headed for the car and I am cold. I climb into the front seat with the baby on my lap while the other kids race for the door.
Except Gabriella closes the door the minute she gets in and I’m thinking that the reason grace is standing outside the door screaming like hell is because the door was closed and she’s cold.
But that’s not the case.
And I’m sitting in the front seat shivering while the baby is wrapped in my coat, yelling “Open the door, Gabriella” and darnit, that girl isn’t listening, well no wonder, she can’t hear me because Grace is screaming. Oh great, the lady from the art store is walking past. I smile, hoping it looks like the smile of a mom whose 3 yr old is having a nonsense tantrum outside the car and FINALLY Gabriella opens the door to let the other kids in. Grace is still screaming. 3 year olds do that sometimes, they’ll scream for something and when they get it they’ll continue screaming, while they wind down. Sometimes. other times, they’ll stop instantly. it’s a roller coaster sometimes.
And sometimes they’re just screaming because their fingers were stuck in the closed door hinge.
My husband approaches the car and I’m thinking “Oh great, he’s going to give her a hard time for screaming.” But instead he goes pale and starts blabbering on. Now she’s screaming even more. He’s terrible in emergencies. That’s how I can tell something is wrong.
So I fly out of the warm cozy driver’s seat and scoop her up. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if we needed a hospital or something. They looked normal at first glance. Not my husband’s first glance. He’s going nuts. So I smile as I shuffle her past the art lady (who is probably thinking I am the most neglectful mom on the planet.) i don’t really want her to see him freaking out, because that scares kids and she’s already upset. i hug her close and bounce her soothingly, AWAY from him as fast as I can and inside to the first aid kit. He follows me, he’s asking a million questions about hospitals and 911 and I can tell he’s making her nervous. i mouth “shut up… calm down” in between telling her we’re going to wash it off and put a band-aid on it. She loves band-aids.
He’s so sweet, unwrapping a band-aid from the first aid kit. I nearly lost my lunch when i saw that her middle fingernail was almost completely detached. I saw up under her entire nail bed. We got her rinsed off, some antiseptic antibiotic cream and fresh band-aids. She’s sniffling but a little more calm now that she’s bandaged. All fingers move. No strange swelling. She has feeling in each fingertip. No indication of breakage.
He made her a little sling with the gauze roll int he first aid kit. And he packaged up her whole hand with a few huge gauze pads, so she looked like a little boxer.
She fell asleep in the car on the way home, with Gabriella apologizing ten thousand times.
As soon as we got home, she wanted the band-aids off so she could play.
One fingernail was purple and another was white. I really don’t remember which one was detached. I am sure that over the next few days it will reveal itself as the nail bed begins to heal and a new nail grown back.
Few things amaze me more in life than the logic of a three year old, the drama of an 8year old and the love of a 5 year old.
Drama, age 8
“Fine then, I am removing this metaphorical ring of friendship and I will not forgive you until you apologize”
or how about
“My life will never be the same. When I got this shirt, it was a special day and I never get brand new shirts and now I can never wear it again, ever. Now what will I do? How will I explain this to people? My friends are EXPECTING to see me in familiar clothes.”
Love, age 5 “Mommy, I love you bigger than the mountains and God. Did you know God loves us? How can God make Mountains? If God makes people big and small, then why does everyone start off as a baby, they’re not big. I love you, mommy. You have big lumps under your skin on your legs. They’re like… um… oatmeal. What is that? I think God just makes small people. And then they get big all by themselves. Unless he is making them GROW (her eyes light up) that’s why I’m growing, isn’t it? I love you, mommy. You are the prettiest mommy I ever had.”
emptied the contents of a jar of Vick’s vapor rub today. She smashed some of it into my favorite hairbrush (I wonder if it will stimulate my follicles? maybe it’s a new cure for baldness- not that I need that) She also finger painted it all over the lid of the toilet, and rubbed it all over a tube of toothpaste. Then, she put it all over the bathroom floor and practiced some ice skating moves. I’m so glad her eye didn’t itch or anything.
WTH?? What was she thinking. I asked her and she said “It was weawwy fun, mama.”
So.. um… that’s all. Not much more to say.
Other than this…
So when Grace is born, we’re opening a restaurant, right and we name her Grace. Like you say Grace before you eat, right? Now we’ve got Evelyn and we’re moving into an apple orchard, like Eve and the apple. Yeah- this is what happens in my brain while the kids are talking all day. Enjoy. I’m just proud these thoughts made it to the keyboard. I promise there were smarter things rattling around in there, I’m keeping them. You get this.
UM- so I jumped the gun and sent my husband off to his appointment a day early. Unfortunately they were just about to call us because the doctor had some kind of emergency (WHat the heck kind of emergency can a wee wee doctor have that lasts 3 weeks?) Anyways, they needed to reschedule him until January. So he’s leaving the office and the nurse asks him “do you need a note?” And he said “Oh- yeah, good idea. Otherwise my wife would never believe me. And he’s right, I wouldn’t. So I got the note. Smart lady. I can’t wait until this is all over and he’s OK and I can tell him the vasectomy horror stories I have been hearing from women over the years. WHATEVER_ Birth has horror stories, too and I did it six damned times, so whatever.
Anyhow- the restaurant is looking beautiful. Almost cute enough to make me want to stop hating the business, but not so cute that I plan to ever work there again and miss my kids. Maybe if the kids were grown or something. Hopefully then I’ll be too busy traveling the REAL Italy.
Anyways, that’s about it. My 3 yr old Grace makes a real funny face where she lifts up her top lip and uses it to block the airflow into her nostrils, then she inhales really hard and her whole face gets sucked inside. I have a picture, but I need to upload it. Just enjoy the mental image. Not currently amused by the “crazy crud” line that used to follow each post.
On the whole fingernail thing, Karen Cheng’s son Callum 
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