Who Knew??

It was 60% / 40%.

Or maybe 70% / 30%.

Okay...fine.  It was totally 95% / 5%.  I was only going to go for the fun girls that were going with me.  And because it was a fantastic excuse to ditch the testosterone and surround myself with estrogen for three whole days. 

I mean, really, how much fun could a place harboring under the name Great Homeschool Conventions be?  I was imagining a dresscode that required apple appliques and an addition problem sewn somewhere onto one or more pieces of clothing.  And the speakers?  Seriously?  They were, no doubt, going to be have-it-all-together-apple-applique moms. 

Yep...definitely going just to get out of the house and hang with super fun girls.

Lemmetellya...I'm still munching on my words, and they taste like crow.

I learned a ridiculous amount from ridiculously normal people and came away feeling ridiculously bonded to a ridiculously amazing community.  Sound hokey?  Nada....

Here's a snippet of what I learned:

• All homeschooling moms want to pull their hair out.  And if they say that they don't...they're lying.
• All homeschooling moms want to strangle their children at some point.  And if they say that they don't...they're lying.
• Most homeschooling moms are disorganized and can't seem to stay on top of maid/teacher/wife/mother/chauffeur/short-order-cook duties.  And if they say that they can...they're lying.
• If a homeschooling mom actually manages to be somewhat of an organized personality, something in her home/life/school is a complete and utter disaster.  And if she says that everything is perfect...she's a liar.
• Homeschooling moms also have the joy of dealing with ADD and ADHD kids.  We just can't send them home at 3:30 everyday.  We get the pleasure of hanging with these precious pups 24/7.  Lucky us.
• Most homeschooling moms feel totally overwhelmed and completely inadequate at the idea of holding their children's entire educational future in their hands.  But most of us are actually doing a darn good job. 
• Really.really.really.normal people homeschool.  People who use the tv as a babysitter just so that they can breathe for 5 minutes, and people who think sports are important, and people who let their kids play way too many hours of video games on school nights.  Really normal people. 
• And.
• And.
• And.

My list could go on and on. 

I did learn some very specific tips and ideas, and I made some very serious curriculum decisions while there.  But, mostly what I took away from the convention was that homeschooling isn't weird anymore.  It's becoming very much of a social norm.  I felt very comfortable in this skin that I'm wearing, and I came away with a new outlook on this very.very important role I'm playing in my boys' futures.

I've also realized that I am in a position of great privilege.  I know that I am, along with my fellow homeschoolers, the envy of many folks.  Folks that, for whatever reason, wish that they could do what I get to do, but can't or don't or won't.  I get the joy of not only being in control of what my kids learn and when and how they learn it, but getting to witness every second of their little lives. 

Sure, there are days that I am looking for the first big yellow bus that will drive by the house, so that I can flag down the driver and shove the offspring onboard.  But, far many more are the days that I just lavish the time.

I started homeschooling because the other options just weren't working.
Now I realize that I'm homeschooling because I just love being with my kids.

Remind me that I said that the next time you see me waving down that school bus.......


(To Brandi, Jennifer, Sadie, and Amy....thanks for the great company, the great talks, and the great encouragement.  xoxoxoxo)

Randomness....

Ancient China has been our topic of study this week in school, and my lesson plan suggested that we make our own Chinese food at home.  I gave myself quite a bruise when I fell out of my chair laughing at even the mere thought of that ever.happening.  So, I did what any other resourceful teacher would do.  I loaded the children up and took them to a Chinese Buffet.  And we dove into the culture headfirst....  Well, actually, the boys only ate fried shrimp, jello, and ice cream...but still.  It was the fact that I didn't have to cook a meal at home the educational experience that matters.  I did, however, come out with a fortune that filled me with a bit of anticipation....

All I found when I came home though were 14 loads of laundry that need to be washed.

Some fortune.

~~~~~~~~~~

We journeyed into the wide world of tackle football this fall.  Sawyer was so excited to play, and though I had my reservations at first about sending my 8 year old out to be pummeled, I soon realized that at this age, tackle football is more of an exercise in bear-hugging.  Not so much with the hard tackles.

Our little team wasn't the best, but they had an amazing set of coaches, and the boys learned a lot about the fundamentals of the game.

Plus...they're just cute.

~~~~~~~~~~

The principal and I have decided to move to a year-round schedule for school.  Right now it sounds absolutely fabulous that we have several little 2 week breaks scheduled in to our school year.  Love the idea of that.  I probably will be rethinking my decision come July and we're still doing fractions. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Our town has this fun festival coming up to celebrate a not-so-much friendly rivalry between the two colleges in our town.  The football game between the two is this Saturday, so the festival is including some fun activities for the kids who are supposed to come all dressed up in their Halloween costumes.  Um...our costumes are still MIA.  And it's Wednesday.  And the festival thing is Friday.  Just call me the Queen of Preparation.

~~~~~~~~~~

I've been debating about posting this picture, but I've just decided that I can't not.  It's just too good to keep to myself.  Brace yourself...this might just be the most fascinating thing you've ever seen.....

Yep.

It's totally for real.

My favorite is the slide coming off of the back deck.  Totally resourceful.

And since this picture was taken, the good people who inhabit this funland have added an upholstered couch and chair to their roof.

Yes.  I said roof.

I.Love.My.Neighbors.

In Which I Feel Not A Bit Like Myself

I don't even know myself anymore.

• I have not slept past 8:00 all week.  One day, I was even up by 6:00.
• I have fed my children perfectly balanced, well-portioned lunches for the past 3 days.
• I have been actively involved in the breakfast process this week.  As opposed to just hollering from my bed to open up a box of Lucky Charms.
• I have called Rascal Academy to order promptly each morning, and we have not wrapped up our day until absolutely everything is checked off in the lesson plan book.
• The absolutely everything lasted until 2:30 today....and yet, I hanged..hung..hunged..tough didn't stop.  Even though I was already 1.5 hours past due for my nap.
• The dishwasher, washing machine, and dryer are providing a whirr of background noise as we do our lessons.  (Read:  I actually am keeping my house semi-clean.)

We started school this week.  And so far, I have no idea who the person is that is inhabiting my skin.  I won't say that I did a terrible job of schooling the children last year, but I certainly wasn't this on top of things.  We did start a brand new curriculum that I'm absolutely in love with, so I'm dead-set on doing it right and slurping up all the corners of its loveliness.  BUT...still....

All of this is so out of character for me.

But, I suppose, there is always next week to resume slacker-related habits, should the change be too much of a shock for my system.

The Denim Jumper Production of Peter Pan

We've been part of our local homeschool group's co-op for the past year.  Fridays were co-op days, and I'd have to remember how to get up early, shower, dress in clothes that weren't made of fleece or flannel, and actually get my family somewhere on time.  How we ever made it to school last year before the bell rang, I have no idea. 

Once we got to co-op, the kids would go to various classes and learn about stuff that I would never have taught them at home.  Like art history.  And suturing a pig's foot.  And how to make a duct-tape wallet.  You know...the crucial things in life.

If I'm being 100% honest, co-op was way down on the list of my favorite places to be.  Come Fridays, it was all I could do to muster up the gumption to put on mascara and go.  And most days, the only thing I looked forward to about the day was that we would always go to The Shack for pizza afterwards. 

But I muddled through the year because the boys loved it.  The social interaction was a blessing for Keaton especially, and...well...they learned how to make a duct-tape wallet. 

And this past Friday night, it slapped me in the face.  All the getting up early and trying to wipe the obvious bad attitude from my face every Friday morning had finally shown what it was meant for. 

One of the classes that the boys were in was a Drama class.  They put on a great production at Christmas, but for their Spring Production, they were taking on the daunting PETER PAN.  It is possible that I called their drama teacher (also a sweet friend) "CUH-RAZY."  Both behind her back and to her face.  Because I knew the kids that were involved....

The thought of it just made me snort-giggle.  PETER PAN.  Yah...okay.

I ate my snort-giggles Friday night.

Because they rocked it.  Our rag-tag group of ragamuffin redneck homeschoolers busted out one of the greatest children's theatre productions I have ever seen. 

Now...we aren't Broadway ready, mind you.  But no one freaked on stage.  And everyone remembered their lines.  And no one was killed backstage.  SUCCESS!!

To top off the fun for the kiddos, they were granted permission to hold their production in the Theatre on OBU's campus!  Quite a step up from the church platform that they had been practicing on. 

Here's some PlayBill worthy evidence:

That's cutie-pie Tate on the right.  He was Indian Chief Great Big Little Panther.  And he said stuff like: "Yohr ow hewoah, Petuh Pan."  Nothing like an Indian Chief with a speech impediment.  Spoon-worthy.

Aw...the Lost Boys.  The traditional script says woodland creatures; but a prior church production of already-readied Noah's Ark costumes says jungle creatures for us!  We're a resourceful group, I tell ya!

Sawyer was the Very Lost Zebra Boy -- Terry

And Keaton was the Super Lost Elephant Boy -- Tootles

When Keaton wasn't Lost, he played the part of Father.  A Father who thought that the Mother was gross.  Have no idea how Wendy, Michael, and John came about.  Crack.Me.Up.

This is Father before his party...when his tie wouldn't tie.

And this is Father at the end of the play....AFTER THAT PARTY....it must have been a doozy!! *wink*

It really was an amazing production.  My friend S did a great job putting up with leading our kids!  We're so super proud of all of them.

Shame on me for wanting to pull our family out of co-op.....because if I had....I'd have missed this:

And that's just too good to miss.

Gladitudes: Sun-Schooling Edition

We have 38 days of school left.  So says my handy dandy planner.  38 days.  I may be able to squwosh it down to 35, or even 30, since I'm having an affair with the principal.

Y'all, I have a major caseage of spring fever.  What I really want to do is pack up the school books, say "Pashaw" to the rest of the school year, play from morning to night in the sunshine, and lie to everyone I see by saying, "We homeschool.  We're done. We're exceptional."

But, since I have some sense of conscience (and because the principal hasn't completely lost his mind to my wiley female ways), we're still plugging along; ripping off a ring of our paper chain with what probably could be mistaken as too much joy each and every day.

Oh..and we're taking school outside.  A lot.  Because I the children need to be outside.   

Yesterday we had school on the back deck.  And today we headed down to our little community park.  Thus giving me some very Gladdie Moments.....

My Gladderific Gladdies About Gettin' Our School On In the Sunshine

1.  If you must do fractions, then doing fractions in the sun is at least a teensy bit pleasant.  Aw...who am I kidding?  I despise fractions in any kind of weather, but if the sun is shining, at least it's tolerable.

2.  It is much easier to bribe the middle child who hates anything school-related to do his schoolwork when a playset and a fresh yard of grass is staring him in the face.

3.  I HATE fixing lunch.  It is my least favorite meal to fix evuh.  But slapping together PB&J on a picnic blanket doesn't fall in the same category as lunch-fixin'.  So, technically, I got a day off of cookin' lunch.  Suhweet.

4.  Sunshine and playgrounds make the rascals tired.  And tired rascals equal quiet afternoons.  And quiet afternoons means mama gets her nap.  Score.

5.  I'm very glad that the neighborhood dogs didn't crash our party.  There's nothing fun about fighting an 80 lb. mutt with a John Deere collar for the last crumbs in the chip bag.  Nothing fun a'tall.

6.  The self-proclaimed "Community Constable" will come by and just want to know your business promise to keep an eye on things so that we can "enjoy the facilities in peace and safety."  What that really means is that he and his nosey wife wanted to know why there were kids out of school in the middle of the day....but I let him play his little game.  I did, however, get invited to a community Political Pie Rally, which sounds intriguing.  I'm not sure if the pies are for consumption or for throwing at the politicians, but I don't think you could go wrong with either option. 

7.  When I get out of my house, then the mess that is my house is non-existent.  Delusion is a great color for me.

8.  Calories don't count while consumed at a picnic. 

9.  My fear of my car being dead when we got ready to leave didn't come true.  The thought actually crossed my mind, and I was nervous about having to go find the constable and ask him for help...only fueling his ego for park-saveage. 

10.  I was able to cross off Day 39 in my planner.  With a bright pink colored pencil.  While I sunned myself.

That was the Gladdiest Gladdie of all.

Oh...and though this has NOTHING to do with sun-schooling, I have one more Gladdie:

GLEE STARTS BACK TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  WAHOO!!!!!!

My good buddy Gretchen is always super Gladdirific.  Go over and visit her!  She's the best.

Testing Schmesting

Standardized testing.

Ugh.

The thorn in the side of any educator.  Whether you work in the conventional school setting or teach at home, it all boils down to this.  Or so they would tell you.  Although I still haven't figured out who THEY are...but THEY sound scary enough.

The test that reflects what your students know.  What they have absorbed.  Whether you did your job as their teacher or not.

Oh, sure...it's supposed to be a reflection on the student.  Of their level.  Of their abilities. 

Puh-shaw. 

We all know it's really a test of the teacher.  Did you teach fractions efficiently?  Did you cram in enough new vocabulary words to increase the student's climb up that percentile ladder?  Did you review how to properly fill in an answer bubble sheet enough?  Perhaps you should have studied up on tried and true "guessing" methods and passed the priceless knowledge on to your pupils.  Maybe. Perhaps.  I wonder.

Today Keaton took the test that reflects my ability to do this home-schooling thing.

His answer when I asked him how he thought he did?

"I think I failed."

Awesome.


(Please hear me:  I do understand that the evidence of my children's academic successes are not held entirely in the palms of these tests.  I really do.  But I also can make myself believe that a piece of chocolate cake is a health food.  I'm American.  It's what we do.  But there is just something terrifying about ONE test that holds this grasp of culmination on  your entire effort at something incredibly hard.  And don't pretend like you wouldn't feel the same way....because you know you would!  And if you wouldn't...then eat all the chocolate cake you want...because you're perfect.)

Bat Poop Day

This whole homeschooling business almost kicked my tail today.

It is possible that I lost my cool over the ancient Sumerian civilization.  And it wasn't pretty.  Even in that old bat-poop-as-mascara kinda way. 

I repeated the word "ziggurat" and its definition 1,674 times.  And drew a diagram on the board.  I explained the thrilling relevant correlation of the Father of the Jews, Abraham, being from that civilization.  And I even dug deep and busted out the play dough (and I.don't.do.playdough) to allow the children the superior educational experience of creating their own languages on "clay tablets."

And they still couldn't tell me ONE thing that they had learned.  Not one thing.

Blank stares.

Fishing for random words like "band-aid" and "Popsicles" when I asked for definitions.

Nothing.

And I think I yelled.  Just a smidge.

And then I stomped around and packed up the play dough in a huff and informed the children that if they weren't going to hang with me and pay attention then I wasn't going to hang with them and do fun stuff. 

And then I made one of them cry.

And then I walked away. And breathed.  And counted to three hundred and fifty two ten. 

I sat back down at the table and calmly went through the lesson again.  I didn't ask review questions.  And I didn't do any extras.  And then I closed my book and dismissed them from the table.

And now they are eating big ole bowls of BlueBox and have moved on to other important business of the day such as what's up next on Animal Planet and who gets the last Fruit Roll Up in the box.

And I'm on the couch processing.

This homeschooling stuff is hard, y'all.  Some days it just downright sucks.

Some days I want nothing more than to load those stinkers up and drop them in the carpool lane at the nearest school.  I want to spend my days cleaning up alone and grocery shopping alone and running errands alone and napping if I want to nap without being interrupted 56 times in an hour.

And then other days I just stare in the faces of my babies and realize that I might quite possibly the most blessed person on the planet. 

But today isn't really one of those days.

Today I'd pretty much rather lick an electrical outlet than hang out with these people.

But I'm trying.

Because I know that I'm supposed to be here.  I really do. 

But today I think I'd rather be in Sumeria.  Even if it meant bat poop.

Mammals....Not As Innocent As They Seem

I didn't breastfeed my kids.  I just didn't.  Didn't even try. 

I think it is a beautiful thing, and y'all can be all judgy and send me all kinds of emails telling me what an amazing experience I missed out on, how I have deprived my children of a stronger immune system, and how I shouldn't have stopped before I even started...I get it....but it was a choice that Kirk and I made, and it had nothing to do with any disregard for its significance or its beauty.  I just didn't do it.

But maybe I should have.

For the least of the significant reasons....because I was rendered completely and totally speechless yesterday.

It all started with a relatively normal day of school.  We had already finished up with our core subjects and had moved on to Science. 

The lesson:  Whales and Their Babies.

Sweet, right?  I was imaging a blessed little lesson in which we would "ooooh" and "aaaah" over cute little whale baby snapshots and talk about how amazing it is that these huge mammals are such caring, nurturing, and sacrificial mothers to their young.  Precious....this is what I thought, too.

Yah.  Sure.

We get to the part in our book where it reads something along the lines of "as with all other mammals, whales feed their babies with their milk."  And then it goes on to give a brief G-rated anatomy lesson on the exact placement of certain glands and so on.

All going well.  Until.

Sawyer:  They're like cows.
Me:  That's right.  Like cows.  Because cows are mammals.  And all other mammals do the same thing, we're just really used to seeing the cows giving milk.
Sawyer:  (because he's random)  I like cows.

Moving on to cute pictures.  No sweat.

Uh...not so fast.

Keaton:  (with the horror of realization crossing through his eyes)  But.....uh......we're mammals.
Me:  (with the horror of realization of where this convo is going)  Uh...that's right.  Humans are mammals.

The longest pause of silence known to man.

Keaton:  (sheer terror) Nuh-uh, Mama.  Nuh.Uh.  Please tell me that it isn't true.  Because that.is.gross.

And so induced the mystified haze my eldest offspring walked through all day.


Ranger Rick Safety Tip For the Day:  When making your pros-and-cons list for whether to nurse your very-mammal babies or not, add this one to the PROS side:  "Being around you while you are nursing your child's younger siblings will most likely eliminate the horror and traumatizing that will come one day when your nine year old son studies mammals."

You're welcome.

So....... So, So Random

---- So tomorrow is the Youth Hunt for deer season here in good ole' Arkansas.  And Keaton just informed me that he didn't want to hunt because he doesn't want to "hurt the deer."  I quickly put that conversation off on his daddy and am now waiting anxiously for it to take place.  Really just to see the husband's face.  Him being so into animal rights and all. (Just ask our 3 legged dog and the deer he hit with the truck....they're voting him in as the next PETA president, for sure.)

---- So the other day the boys and I were elbow deep in school books and flashcards, and my phone kept ringing.  And ringing.  And ringing.  I usually keep my rule about not answering the phone during school, because I the children have attention issues, and if I get on the phone then I the children forget all about the education of their little brains.  Anyhow, the phone kept ringing.  And ringing.  And the caller i.d. said that it was my parents.  After the 76,456th ring, I decided that I had better answer it, because it was beginning to ring like an emergency.  So I answered the phone expecting the worst.  Well....it was.....

JIM-DAD:  (said with extreme panic) Amb? 
ME:  Yah?
JIM-DAD:  I need help!
ME: (thinking along the lines of falling and not getting up)  What????
JIM-DAD:  I'm on FaceBook, and Randy is trying to chat me and I don't know what to do!

I will now be answering to "Geek Squad."

---- So the next day my daddy calls me back.  To thank me for introducing him to wide wide world of internet chat. 

Dear Jim-Dad,
You're welcome.
Love,
Geek Squad

---- So I'm going to try to be very respectful of my fellow homeschoolers out there, but I just cannot go another day without mentioning the oddities that I'm experiencing.  I realize that I seem as strange to them as they do to me, and I'm not claiming normalcy by any means.  It says a WHOLE LOT more about me than it does them that I find these things odd, but I will tell you that I am in shock awe of folks who are actually able to get their offspring to eat things like chickpeas and wheatgerm and goat cheese.  And that people raise their own chickens for eggs...and live smack-dab in the middle of a neighborhood not on Old McDonald's farm.  And that people don't believe in cheetos.  And chocolate.  And plastic.  And microwaves.  I'm in awe.  Really.  In awe.

---- So I just saw on television a story about a couple who were in bed sleeping and a car slammed through their wall and landed on them.  That is scary.  But thankfully they were wearing clothing.  And I am tucking that story away for all the people who argue that you should sleep..ahem...comfortably.  Hello!  A car could smash through your wall at any given moment while you are sleeping.  Wear clothes.  The firemen who come to rescue you will thank you.  This has been your Rascal Raising PSA for today.  You're welcome.

---- So this post may just be the best post that I've read in a very very very long time.  Tiff's words are powerful and meaningful and encouraging.  If you are a mom....go now.  NOW.  This is an order.  LOVE.HER.LIKE.CRAZY.   What?  Did you miss the link??
Go HERE.

---- So I had someone comment the other day about my lack of correct grammar and punctuation in my posts.  And they were curious about my lack of grammatical discernment because my history is in teaching..uh...Grammar.  Um...my answer to that is that I know my way around a gerund phrase and can identify dangling participles with the best of 'em.  And I really do sit around and diagram sentences just for fun (you think I'm kidding, don't you?  I'm not.).  I just choose to not do it here.  Because this is my place to chat.  And I write like I speak.  And though I understand that fragmented sentences, extreme usage of ellipses, and prepositional phrases lacking appropriate objects bothers many of you....they don't bother me.  So continue to write like this, I shall.  Thanks for asking!  And a big conflicting pronoun antecedent to ya!

---- So I'm heading into the bowels of my kitchen in a few to clean up dinner from two nights ago.  Goodness....I heard your "Oooo, gross"s and "Nasty"s from here.  Don't be so judgy.  I've been busy.  Fieldtripping with folks who eat figs for dessert; watching Grey's Anatomy; and rockin' my groove thang in Hip Hop Dance Class (watch out, Beyonce!...that's all I gotsta say!).  So I'm just now getting to scrubbing the crockpot.  Hey...you knew my domesticky (props to the HighHeel Mama Who Wants To Gag Me With Carrot Juice for that word!) wouldn't/couldn't last forever!

Off to the bowels....and possibly to diagram a sentence or two....

Taking My Poison Ivy To Oklahoma

I watched the seconds tick off this morning, waiting and watching for 8:00 so that I could call the doctor's office to make an appointment for this blasted poison ivy.  They set an early appointment time for me (Praise Jesus!), and I might have done a little happy dance while I got ready to go.  At the risk of being redundant, but needing to say it again, this poison ivy stuff is for the birds.  No, actually, I wouldn't even wish it on birds.  It is h.o.r.r.i.b.l.e.  Positively, absolutely, and magnified to the 300th percent horrible.  Like taking a trip down to the depths of Hades horrible. 

I deposited the rascals off at their daddy's office, math books and spelling books in hand, and then skedaddled off to the doctor.  I sat in the waiting room and realized that I would most certainly leave the office with piggy flu in addition to my poison ivy, thanks in part to the sneezy snotty man who insisted on blowing his nose 3 inches from my sleeve.  Thank you so much,  Mister.  Really. 

Finally, they called me back, and I spent a few minutes with the nurse and the doctor, who both started itching just because they looked at me.  Yes.  It is that bad.  The doctor asked if I wanted a shot or pills, and I urged her to give me the good stuff (i.e. whatever works the fastest).  She shot me in the rear.

And you know what?  I didn't care.  She could have shot me a dozen times, and I would have just stayed hunched over that exam table grinning.  Because that shot....well, that means no more clawing my flesh off and feeling like I have alien babies hatching in my epidermis. 

So....two hours later, I am feeling much better.  AWESOME.  She also doped me up with a doozy of a medicine that is supposed to make me sleep until next Tuesday. 

Poison Ivy....bad.  Very very  bad.

In other news, I stretched my spontaneous legs today.  I stretch those legs often, but usually it is just for stuff like impulse shopping an Almond Joy at the check-out counter or the Red Bomb mysteriously driving itself to Old Navy and buying its driver a new shirt. 

But, today, I decided that we would just up and go on a trip.  To Oklahoma.

Now before you think that my brain has been eaten alive by the poison ivy, it really makes more sense than that.  And...if I was just going to up and drive somewhere, I'd drive to Georgia.  Not Oklahoma. 

But let me explain.

The husband is heading out today for a business trip to OK City today, and I was telling him goodbye this morning before he left for work.  Then it hit me.  WE CAN JUST GO WITH HIM!

So we are.

We're loading up in a rental car (which the boys think is the most amazing thing ever) in just a few minutes, and we are heading out.  We're going to swim in the hotel's indoor pool, do school in our hotel room, and go to the OK City Zoo.  And all because...we can.

HOMESCHOOLING SPONTANEITY AT ITS FINEST!!!

This is what I do love so much about homeschooling.  The flexibility to just up and go and try new things. 

So...next time you hear from me, I'll be in good ole' Oklahoma!!

Argh. But a Good Argh.

Today it happened.

The crazy mix of wanting to throw in the towel on this whole homeschool business and of pure confirmation that I was doing the right thing.

My burden to homeschool began with Sawyer.

My precious redhead from whom all things stubborn, mischievous, and temperamental flow. If you haven't had the privilege to meet The SawDog in real life, then you are missing out. This kid has the hind legs of a mule mixed with the heart of a big ole' slobbery puppy dog. To know Saw is to love him, but on the same token, to know Saw is to want to pull your hair out of your head one painful strand at a time.

Sawyer is a smart kid. Really, he is. He just isn't quite the brightest bulb on the tree. Bless his heart, he gets his common sense from his mama (and she didn't have much to spare...ahem), and there are days that he just has to be reminded to walk in a straight line or else he would be constantly turning circles trying to remember where he was going.

Sawyer is also a follower. He has tremendous potential to be a leader, and he even masquerades as one once in awhile, but for the most part, Saw's viewpoint is that everything is always greener on the other side. He's a walking xerox machine....from mannerisms, to sayings, to actions, to you name it....and because of his periodic lack of judgement, he usually isn't xeroxing the right folks.

Mix all of these characteristics together, and not only do you have a funny, hysterically cool kid (he really is a great kid), but you have a recipe for trouble. Just keepin' it real. Because Sawyer is our one that we struggle with. He is the one that causes Kirk and I to constantly check to make sure our parenting cards haven't been revoked. I love him to ever-lovin' pieces, but he is just a tough kid. Tough...as in...Dear Jesus, Please come back before he's a teenager...tough.

And so came my burden to homeschool. I kept feeling that if we didn't get a grasp on his behavior and attitude issues now, then there was the potential for losing him when he was older. I knew that keeping him at home with me during the foundational years would allow me to remove some of the distractions that so hinder my precious son, but also give me the minutes and hours that are so crucial to instill God's Word in his heart and refocus some of his energy in a more positive way. I knew it would be a long hard road, but admittedly looked through rose colored glasses as our homeschool process started.

Our first couple of weeks have gone as smooth as silk, but this morning, the gloves came off. It was more than a battle of wills. It was an all out massacre. Two hours were spent on copying 15 spelling words. There were no less than 4,934 tantrums thrown, and we had to change shirts once because the first one was soaked through from all the crocodile tears.

After the 495th time of me saying, "You can do this, Saw. You can. We'll get this done and then we'll move on," I was about ready to snap. It was really all that I could do to not leap across the table, rip up the spelling words, and rip him to shreds in the process.

But, it hit me.

This is why we are here. This is why we're home.

The easy thing would be to send them to conventional school. To send Sawyer off to another teacher to handle. To not deal with things like spelling word meltdowns and handwriting hissy fits. It really would be easier.

But confirmation came today in the middle of the throwdown, because I was reminded of exactly why I'm doing what I'm doing. Because I know that we can get through it. That Sawyer is going to see patience and perseverance modeled in his mother, no matter how hard it is for his mother to pretend like his stubbornness isn't making her crazy. That Sawyer is going to come out better because of our experience. That Sawyer will grow.

And that is enough.

Even if it means that by May my hair will be completely gray, and my prescription for Prozac will be tripled.

It will be enough.

Sick Days and Fish-Shootin'

I'm going to have a talk with my principal.

As soon as he gets home from shooting fish with his man posse.

Shooting fish, you ask? Why, yes. Shooting fish. It is this strange man sport that is a mix of fishing/bow-hunting/spotlighting, but happens to be perfectly legal. I don't understand it, but I smile and pretend like I do. It keeps the manfolk happy, and it gives me freedom to watch Project Runway marathons. So it works for us.

But, I am going to have to discuss a serious issue over with the administration.

Because now that I'm employed by my house....

We need to discuss Sick Days.

I woke up this morning feeling just plain nasty. Like paying homage to the porcelain gods nasty.

But, yet, I have the education of the three namesakes of this family line to consider. No driving them to school, dropping them off in the car-rider line, and then heading back home to spend the day in mismatched jammies, sipping on Sprite, and only getting up to rewet the washcloth for my makeup-less forehead. No, sirree.

And because the husband and I haven't discussed our sick-day plan of action, and because it was only Day 3 of this crazy little homeschooling undertaking....I felt extremely guilty for punching the breaks and already calling for a 3 day weekend.

The thought crossed my mind to just pretend today was Saturday and do school tomorrow...on actual Saturday. But that just seemed sacrilegious to all things weekend holy.

So. I got up.

Admiring my dedication, aren't you?

Yah. Don't get excited. Because we only did the essentials.

Like Math.....and I hollered through that.

And English....and I cried through that.

And Handwriting....and I had to walk away and count to 10 during that.

And then there was Phonics with the little person....and. well. that's when I announced early dismissal for the day.

And I went to bed.

And stayed there.

And the children thought it was the coolest thing ever. And are now praying mom is sick every day.

Thanks a lot, kids.


(Note to my family.....I'm fine. I'd call you if it was really bad. So don't worry, Jim-Dad.)

The Survival Post

I followed a school bus this morning.


And felt a little pang of sadness. For about 3 seconds.


Because this is the first day of school. And kids all over were getting up and putting on their brand new school duds that their mamas had just ripped the tags off of the night before. (Unless they are super-awesome mamas, and they washed them before the first wear. Ahem. That would not be me.) And then half of those same kids were either sitting down to breakfasts that incorporated all of the food groups, or they were eating what my kids always ate on school mornings....a bag of dry cereal and a sippy cup of milk in the van. And then they were going to school and taking pictures with their new teachers and then they tried really hard to not get their brand new tennis shoes dirty at recess.


And my kids weren't going.


Yep. Made me a little misty.


But then I was over it.


And I was determined to make our first day of school pretty darn special.


So....


I woke up early.


I went to the gym while everyone was still snoring (hence why I followed the bus).


I came home and spent some time with Jesus.


I did laundry and cleaned the kitchen. While everyone was still snoring.


I drank 3 cups of coffee. Out of my penguin mug. Because it seemed like the right thing to do.



I took a shower and even dried my hair. And I even put on mascara. Because I felt like my rascals deserved something more than my jammies and bed head on their first day.

I woke up the sleeping angels, and they got started on their morning chores.

I smiled to myself because my day was going swimmingly. I was totally rockin' this whole homeschool thing. If I rocked it any better than I was soon going to be donning denim jumpers and growing my own turnip greens.

I made breakfast. And it wasn't in a ziplock baggie. Now...I didn't go to the culinary genius of CPQ and Whimz, but I did make cinnamon toast.




My children thanked me. Because it wasn't a poptart or a bowl of cereal they had to fix for themselves.


I smiled to myself again. Knockin' this thing out of the park. I can see the milk cow grazin' in my backyard, and my homemade candles drip-drying as I type this.


And then we started school.


Don't get me wrong....things went well. Surprisingly well, for me not really having any clue as to what I was doing.


I had a schedule made out, but had no idea if it would work.


So, I jumped in with 2 feet and just went with the flow.


We did Bible. And Math. And English. And Phonics. And Sawyer informed me that he already knew what I was teaching him. And I informed Sawyer that I already knew that he was going to be scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush if he kept sassing me.


And then Handwriting. And Science. And Social Studies. And Reading.


And we only had two meltdowns. One when Keaton had to do corrections on his Math, because apparently he was under the impression that he was perfect. And the other when Tate decided that he didn't know how to draw a shark.


Could have been worse, I suppose.


No one was stabbed with a pencil. No one jammed their new Fiskars in their eye (although I thought about it). No one locked their teacher in the laundry room. And no one was locked in the laundry room by their teacher.


So, all in all, Day 1 of Rascal Academy will go down in the books as success.


But I'm thinking no denim jumpers just yet.

Whew. I need a nap.

~~~~~~~

Lest my shower, dried hair, and wearage of normal clothes go unseen except by my little men, we snapped a few first day of school pictures.

See...I got all kinds of dressed up. Woo Hoo!

And the boys actually match today. A miracle, really.

And here are the boys hard at work on their first day of school entries in their journals.

So....

We made it!!

There was one point today (I think it was around the great shark debate) when I was about to talk myself out of this silly idea all together, but then I remembered that this is where I'm supposed to be. Where I'm called to be. And what an amazing blessing that I get to spend all my days with 3 of the most awesome kids that God ever created.

Even if it is guaranteed that they are going to have me searching for the Fiskars to jam in my eye before the year is over.

First Day of School Letters

Dear Kirk,

Thank You doesn't even seem to cut it. Two words that get tossed around like yesterday's trash, but yet carry so much power. But I am left with not much else to say. Thank You for being the amazing provider for our family that you are. Thank You for caring enough about me and the boys to make all of our dreams come true. Thank You for being what a good father should be. Thank You for showing our boys what a real man is like. And at this stage in our life, Thank You for trusting me enough...trusting me enough to go along with this crazy notion of me staying home to educate our children. You are amazing, and I thank God every single day for giving you to me.

I love you with all my heart.
Thank You,
Amb

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Keaton,

You made it! You made it to 4th Grade! You, my darling man, are one of the smartest, most creative, and most talented people I know. I cannot even begin to tell you how excited I am to be your teacher this year. I'm looking forward to learning new things right alongside you, and I'm so looking forward to you teaching me a thing or two. Your enthusiasm for learning is contagious, and your delight over new discoveries is infectious. You make me smile. And I can't wait to see what this year holds for us. Even if it means you helping me through 4th grade math!

I love you, buddy. Like a Jedi loves the Force.
Love,
Mom

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Sawyer,

My main man! You, my darling, are a firecracker! And though you make me shiver and shake in my boots at the thoughts of you and I going head to head over math problems and penmanship (you know it's gonna happen!), I'm tickled pink over getting to spend my days with you. When you were in school last year, I missed you like crazy. The days were long and painful without seeing your precious blue eyes and your adorable red head. Ever since we made the final decision to keep school at home this year, I haven't been able to wipe the smile off of my face....because it means I get to be with you. Oh, I'm sure that there will be days that I will want to ship you off to Mongolia, and that there will be days when you will wish I would go jump off a bridge....but even on those days, my sweet, I will not want to trade this opportunity for the world. You are a great kid. And I'm the luckiest gal in the world. Because I get to be your girl.

I love you to the moon and back.
Love,
Mama

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Tate,

My darling baby, can it be time for Kindergarten already? Not possible. But while other mommies are sending their babies off to school, I'm so lucky because I get to keep you home with me. I can't wait to see the twinkle in your eye when you realize that you can read for the first time. Or the pride over writing your name in your best handwriting. Or the joy that will come with your first count all the way to 100. You, my TaterTot, are priceless. And I'm so excited about spending my minutes with you every day. Watching you learn. Watching you grow. And watching you become the little person that God has planned for you to be.

You are my dream come true.
And I love you. Forever.
Love,
Mommy

4th Grade Math Scares Me

Overwhelmed doesn't even begin to cut it.

Reality is beginning to set in, and I've found myself neck deep in emotions that are ranging from just plain giddy to sheer panic.

We've been a homeschooling family for almost two weeks.

Two weeks.

That's it.

In just two short weeks, everything about my life has been completely turned upside down.

The way that I view my home. The way that I view my children. The way that I view my husband. The way that I shop. The way that I clean. The way that I cook. The way that I eat.

Everything.

Has changed.

And although I can't wipe the silly grin off of my face, I, on most days, am searching the house frantically for a paper bag because I'm about to hyperventilate. (On a side note....I still don't understand what good a lunch sack is, but I've seen it in in the movies, so it must be an accurate remedy.)

Because now I HAVE to make this work.

I HAVE to get over myself and see this through.

And though I've been an educator for the past 10 years, I have always taught other people's kids. And there is just something about teaching someone else's children that isn't quite as intimidating as teaching your own. Weird, huh? Should be the other way around. But it's not. I can't explain it. I just know it's true.

But though I know that I HAVE to make it through this, I know that I WILL make it through. Because I feel with everything in me that this is where we're supposed to be.

That home is where God would have me and boys right now.

So I'm anxious.

But it is a good anxious.

Because I know GOd must have something amazing up His sleeve for my little rascals. And I'm feeling so blessed that He's letting me be a part of it.

Now. If God can just get me through 4th Grade Math. Oh dear.

Alright. Fine. I'll Tell You.

I’m pregnant.

Yes. The rascals are adding one more minion to their evil plot to take over the world.

And they’re hoping for a baby sister. Because they totally have respect for the spell that hairbows and prancy dresses have on most of the world’s population.

I can’t do it.

TOTALLY KIDDING.

Totally not pregnant. And the husband is still alive. Because if I ever did come up with news that I was pregnant, I’d have to first peel Kirk off the ceiling, and then pray that I remembered everything from my CPR class that I took 536 years ago, which I’m pretty sure I chit chatted and snickered through.

So….on to the big news.

What you’ve all been waiting for. With baited breath, I’m sure.

Some of you guessed bun in the oven. Already established…Nope.
Moving? Nope.
Buying a new house? Nope.
Remodeling? Nope.
New job? As a matter of fact……..


YES!!!!!!!!!

That’s right. As of last week, I resigned from my position at the highschool that I have been employed at, and I have accepted a fantastic position at a new school.


The pay cut was pretty drastic, but it was totally worth it. Because the school has the most amazing principal, and the most ridiculously fabulous dress code.

Not to mention total freedom over my own teaching materials and curriculum.


And did I mention that the principal was hot?

Oh….and then there are the students. I’m not sure a more perfect class of students exists anywhere.


And the principal….smokin’.

I start in a couple of weeks. This new job of mine. And my principal was so nice, he even told me that for my first day, I could just wear my favorite jammies. And that I could work from home. And that I could keep my favorite mug of coffee at my side all day long.


Oh…and did I mention that the principal is hot?

I’m thinking of having an affair.


I hope his wife won’t mind. *wink*


(Yes. You read right. We’re are now a homeschooling family. The Lord has clearly given His guidance and His Word that He will walk alongside me in this new endeavor. And although it was a very sudden decision, Kirk and I both feel at peace about our boys and this piece of their education. We have no idea what the future holds for our family, but we have always pledged to take one year at a time and trust the Lord with the rest. We are thrilled. And excited. And slightly overwhelmed. But we are resting comfortably in the arms of our Jesus who has promised that He would never give us too much for us to handle, and that if He calls us to do something, He will most certainly provide the tools with which to accomplish His work. We covet your prayers as we step out on this faith journey of ours.)