I was asked that twice today. Well, actually, they asked how DO you do it...referring to me. I don't usually give it much thought, because frankly, a lot of days I just feel like a slug. I know I'm busy and all, but some days I just don't feel busy. And other days I want to pull the covers back over my head to avoid the busy. So here's how I juggle full time school for me and homeschooling two and a half kids: I've made friends with imperfection.
See, as a kid, I always had this feeling I could be perfect. I could do everything that was expected of me, some nice stuff for others and keep myself out of trouble. No matter what I did, I expected that I would be the best at it. Not being the best at absolutely everything was simply crushing to me. Yep. I put the fun in dysfunctional. Then I got married and unleashed my perfection on raising a family. And of course, being the second wife, I had to prove I really was the best wife. Too bad no one ever told me that life is a marathon and not a sprint. Over the years, I have found myself sprinted to exhaustion on more than one occasion. Lucky for me, I'm not dumb and I do have a lazy side, so I have learned to ease up some. Some. Mostly in the area of laundry and cleaning. Anyone who sees my house on a regular basis would never guess at the perfectionism that lies beneath this calm exterior. I have learned to step over the laundry piles and let the dishes sit in the sink out of sheer need. See, I figure that educating myself and my children, well, that's probably more important than folded laundry, and being calm and loving towards my kids is probably more important than my need for a clean living room with no PILES of stuff.
I'm not that fru fru high energy mom who hovers over her kids and fills their days with stimulating activity. I'm not that mom who does "school at home". I'm not that mom who volunteers for everything. I do what I do because of some simple time structure during my days, a little planning at night and a whole lot of breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth. I try and handle certain tasks only on certain days and I don't beat myself up if I don't get around to them. I try and keep to a loose schedule to keep our studies on track, but I don't beat myself up (much) if we don't get as far as I'd like. I try to read my scriptures before I fall asleep at night. I try and do my studying the night before I have class and a few hours on the weekends. I try and have the kids help keep the living room from looking horrible and I try to keep the kitchen from utter chaos. I let the rest of it go. I get to it when I can. My neighbors hate me because I have the worst yard on the block. Oh well. I serve in my church calling and I try and find things to show my kids how to serve others. I guess if it bothered them that much they'd offer to cut my grass.
There are lots and lots and lots of things that I can do better. Being forced to embrace my own imperfections is a daily reminder of why I need to depend on my Savior. It's comforting to finally know that my imperfections are built in and it is not within my ability to perfect them through any amount of will power.
Showing posts with label Faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Faith. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Ahhhh, Spring Break
And I'm working on a new project. You can see it here. I have always had a testimony of food storage. My testimony of food storage was formed long before I had the added benefit of hearing revelation from a modern day prophet. My testimony of food storage began each year as we drove our cattle to summer pasture so that our hayfields could grow to their full capacity; as I watched the grasses grow taller and taller, as I restricted my travels across our ranch so as not to trample the growing crop, and as I labored in the fields with my family, and other families in the valley, so that we could harvest the hay and make it available to our cattle all winter long. My testimony of food storage began as I pushed heaping shopping carts behind my mother and grandmother during our "stocking up" trips that took place 100 miles from our ranch; as I helped butcher the steer that was to become the little white packages that filled our freezer each year, and as I listened to my dad groan about the bill that came every September when they came to fill our 1000 gallon propane tank. I say I began with these things, because in the early 1980's, our valley was hit with monumental snowfall. That was the year that cemented my testimony of food storage.
That year the snow began early and piled up fast. Soon, we were not able to take hay to the cattle with our tractors. My grandfather went out and removed the hood off an old car, turned the smooth side down, and lashed the makeshift sled to the back of our ancient snowmobile. We couldn't carry many bales at one time this way, so feeding time took up the better part of each day. I thought we had it pretty tough, and then I went to spend the night at my friend Heather's house.
Each day we watched Heather and her brothers ride up to the bus stop with their mom on a sled behind a snowmobile. It looked like a grand adventure to start each day with a ride behind a snowmobile! So after school one day, I got to bundle into the sled with the other children and we started the trek to their home. They only lived about 2 miles from the highway, but their ranch did not have the benefit of the valley's protection. The windswept plain offered no protection from the driving snow, and the snow drifted all the way to the roofs of the barns and houses. Walk ways had been cleared but making your way from the house to the barn required snowshoes if wind blew in the trampled paths. The herd at Heather's house was much larger than ours, and to my delight, four large, black draft horses were employed to drag a huge sled out to the field to feed the cattle each morning; until I found out how that huge sled had to be loaded: one pitchfork (!!!) full at a time.
The ranch house was warm and snug, and it was at Heather's house that I tasted my first bite of homemade wheat bread. It tasted strange and not at all good to my white bread palette. Not even the homemade jam helped it go down. Good thing there was stew that night, because the next morning, there were buckwheat pancakes, and for lunch, wheat biscuits with gravy. By the time it was time to load my overnight bag onto the snowmobile sled and meet my mother at the highway, I was cold, hungry and tireder than I'd ever been before in my young life. I didn't know it then, but I learned a valuable lesson about food storage that day. Store what you eat. It wasn't until years later I first heard the expression to "Store what you eat, eat what you store." And I have to admit that my idea of food storage is much evolved from what I learned as a young girl snowed into a ranch on Wyoming. Even though I've left the ranch, I'm more passionate than ever about food storage. I'd love to get to the point that I don't visit the grocery store on a weekly basis, not only because I don't NEED to but because I won't WANT to. For me growing up, self-reliance was a way of life and I'd like my kids to experience that.
That year the snow began early and piled up fast. Soon, we were not able to take hay to the cattle with our tractors. My grandfather went out and removed the hood off an old car, turned the smooth side down, and lashed the makeshift sled to the back of our ancient snowmobile. We couldn't carry many bales at one time this way, so feeding time took up the better part of each day. I thought we had it pretty tough, and then I went to spend the night at my friend Heather's house.
Each day we watched Heather and her brothers ride up to the bus stop with their mom on a sled behind a snowmobile. It looked like a grand adventure to start each day with a ride behind a snowmobile! So after school one day, I got to bundle into the sled with the other children and we started the trek to their home. They only lived about 2 miles from the highway, but their ranch did not have the benefit of the valley's protection. The windswept plain offered no protection from the driving snow, and the snow drifted all the way to the roofs of the barns and houses. Walk ways had been cleared but making your way from the house to the barn required snowshoes if wind blew in the trampled paths. The herd at Heather's house was much larger than ours, and to my delight, four large, black draft horses were employed to drag a huge sled out to the field to feed the cattle each morning; until I found out how that huge sled had to be loaded: one pitchfork (!!!) full at a time.
The ranch house was warm and snug, and it was at Heather's house that I tasted my first bite of homemade wheat bread. It tasted strange and not at all good to my white bread palette. Not even the homemade jam helped it go down. Good thing there was stew that night, because the next morning, there were buckwheat pancakes, and for lunch, wheat biscuits with gravy. By the time it was time to load my overnight bag onto the snowmobile sled and meet my mother at the highway, I was cold, hungry and tireder than I'd ever been before in my young life. I didn't know it then, but I learned a valuable lesson about food storage that day. Store what you eat. It wasn't until years later I first heard the expression to "Store what you eat, eat what you store." And I have to admit that my idea of food storage is much evolved from what I learned as a young girl snowed into a ranch on Wyoming. Even though I've left the ranch, I'm more passionate than ever about food storage. I'd love to get to the point that I don't visit the grocery store on a weekly basis, not only because I don't NEED to but because I won't WANT to. For me growing up, self-reliance was a way of life and I'd like my kids to experience that.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Tell Me About It
While preparing dinner last night, K was helping and chatting with me. She said, "Mom, you know how sometimes things fall down even when you didn't touch them or anything?" "Well, I know why," she said. And in a somewhat hushed, conspiritorial tone, she told me, "It's because the world is spinning."
I was taken aback by this little reminder.
Despite my best efforts, there seem to be a whole lot of things in my life that fall down.
I'm glad to be able to remember today that these things do not happen entirely due to my own faults and weaknesses, some of them happen just because the world is spinning.
I was taken aback by this little reminder.
Despite my best efforts, there seem to be a whole lot of things in my life that fall down.
I'm glad to be able to remember today that these things do not happen entirely due to my own faults and weaknesses, some of them happen just because the world is spinning.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Eye Contact
I've been trying to find the words to articulate what's been going on at my house lately. Really, it's none of the cyber-worlds business, but I write about life. My life in particular, so if I get hit by a train or abducted by aliens my kids will have something to remember me by.
You may find it shocking to believe, but we be some pretty po' folks around my house. With the letters behind the Hubster's name, you wouldn't think that would be the case, but alas, it seems to be our lot in life to ride the financial roller-coaster of life each and every month.
That said, a good deal of this is directly attributable to the fact that Hubster and I strongly believe in my being at home with the children. Every once in a while, the balance of responsibility to the kids and financial responsibilities get out of whack and I go off the deep end. It usually goes something like this:
Me: "I need to get a job."
Hub: "It's going to be OK, I think you should wait."
Me: "If I get a job now the first check will get here about the time the world spins off its axis."
Hub: "What are we going to do with the kids?"
Me: "I'll get a night job."
Hub: "Will you make enough to make up for the hassle?"
Me: "Maybe I could get a really good job and we could send them to private school."
Hub: "Would a really good job be worth what you lose?"
And we go around and around. Wondering. Now what I'm about to say could really tick a lot of people off if they choose to take it wrong. So here's the deal: My blog, my words apply to MY feelings as they pertain to MY family and MY situation.
To me, putting my kids in school would feel like committing child abuse, each and every day. I don't think my friends are child abusers for sending their kids to school, I didn't feel like sending the oldest three kids to school felt like child abuse, but there is something deep in my soul that tells me I HAVE to homeschool these particular children at this particular time. If I put my kids in school I would literally have to shut off my feelings toward my children to overcome the feelings of guilt that would consume me. I might not have to move to Antartica, but I doubt I could look them in the eyes as I tuck them in bed at night.
Every once in a while the financial pressures make me think I have no choice but to put away my heart and soul and do what needs doing to help Hubster provide for our family.
So every once in a while I dust off my resume and apply for jobs.
And every once in a while I go to an interview.
I've never gone to an interview and NOT been offered a job.
This week was no exception and the offer is generous.
But for now, I know what the answer has to be.
I will have a lifetime of looking into their eyes.
You may find it shocking to believe, but we be some pretty po' folks around my house. With the letters behind the Hubster's name, you wouldn't think that would be the case, but alas, it seems to be our lot in life to ride the financial roller-coaster of life each and every month.
That said, a good deal of this is directly attributable to the fact that Hubster and I strongly believe in my being at home with the children. Every once in a while, the balance of responsibility to the kids and financial responsibilities get out of whack and I go off the deep end. It usually goes something like this:
Me: "I need to get a job."
Hub: "It's going to be OK, I think you should wait."
Me: "If I get a job now the first check will get here about the time the world spins off its axis."
Hub: "What are we going to do with the kids?"
Me: "I'll get a night job."
Hub: "Will you make enough to make up for the hassle?"
Me: "Maybe I could get a really good job and we could send them to private school."
Hub: "Would a really good job be worth what you lose?"
And we go around and around. Wondering. Now what I'm about to say could really tick a lot of people off if they choose to take it wrong. So here's the deal: My blog, my words apply to MY feelings as they pertain to MY family and MY situation.
To me, putting my kids in school would feel like committing child abuse, each and every day. I don't think my friends are child abusers for sending their kids to school, I didn't feel like sending the oldest three kids to school felt like child abuse, but there is something deep in my soul that tells me I HAVE to homeschool these particular children at this particular time. If I put my kids in school I would literally have to shut off my feelings toward my children to overcome the feelings of guilt that would consume me. I might not have to move to Antartica, but I doubt I could look them in the eyes as I tuck them in bed at night.
Every once in a while the financial pressures make me think I have no choice but to put away my heart and soul and do what needs doing to help Hubster provide for our family.
So every once in a while I dust off my resume and apply for jobs.
And every once in a while I go to an interview.
I've never gone to an interview and NOT been offered a job.
This week was no exception and the offer is generous.
But for now, I know what the answer has to be.
I will have a lifetime of looking into their eyes.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Obituaries
OK, so I know this is sort of morbid, but every so often I read through my hometown obituaries. My Gram does her best to keep me posted on who dies, but it seems I've reached a certain age where it's not just Grams friends and aquaintences that are dying. This activity invariably alerts me to one or two deaths that both surprise me and make me wish I had known soon enough to at least send a card. I'm not a good card sender. Ask anyone on my non-existant Chirstmas card list.
Reading through people's obituaries makes me wonder what people will say about me when I'm gone. Some obits are formal, just the facts and not even all of those. (Face it: People want to know how other people die. "Died at home" doesn't really cut it for me.) Others are as warm and generous as the people who they are about. I wonder which category I'll be in? Having the control issues I do, I can't pretend I'm not tempted to write my own obituary. Then the woman in me takes over and I want compliments and someone else has to GUESS at what I want to hear. Don't lie. We all do it. I'm pretty sure it's programmed into our DNA.
So I'm pretty much OK with someone else writing my obituary, but it has made me evaluate how I'm doing on life. We each leave our mark on the world as we pass through life, but it is up to us what that mark looks like and how long the impression lasts. More than anything, I want my children and family to know I love them and I'll try harder to spend each day erasing the mistakes I've made as I've interacted with them. I hope I can focus more on joy and less on circumstance. I want to be the kind of person that makes people feel better for having interacted with me. I think I've been guilty of letting my woes define me far too often. I've spent too much time wringing my hands over things I can't control and I'm afraid I almost let it change *ME*, the me I know I am, and the me I know I want to be.
I guess it's a good thing I've been given at least one more day.
What about you? How do you think your obituary will go down? Are you living your life in such a way that you will leave a lasting impression, worthy of warm rememberance?
Reading through people's obituaries makes me wonder what people will say about me when I'm gone. Some obits are formal, just the facts and not even all of those. (Face it: People want to know how other people die. "Died at home" doesn't really cut it for me.) Others are as warm and generous as the people who they are about. I wonder which category I'll be in? Having the control issues I do, I can't pretend I'm not tempted to write my own obituary. Then the woman in me takes over and I want compliments and someone else has to GUESS at what I want to hear. Don't lie. We all do it. I'm pretty sure it's programmed into our DNA.
So I'm pretty much OK with someone else writing my obituary, but it has made me evaluate how I'm doing on life. We each leave our mark on the world as we pass through life, but it is up to us what that mark looks like and how long the impression lasts. More than anything, I want my children and family to know I love them and I'll try harder to spend each day erasing the mistakes I've made as I've interacted with them. I hope I can focus more on joy and less on circumstance. I want to be the kind of person that makes people feel better for having interacted with me. I think I've been guilty of letting my woes define me far too often. I've spent too much time wringing my hands over things I can't control and I'm afraid I almost let it change *ME*, the me I know I am, and the me I know I want to be.
I guess it's a good thing I've been given at least one more day.
What about you? How do you think your obituary will go down? Are you living your life in such a way that you will leave a lasting impression, worthy of warm rememberance?
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Sad Day For The Saints Here
Church Fire
This is the earlier edition. On the 7 am news the guy said it's a total loss. I hope it wasn't arson. Whenever we go to church, J is at the age that she is so excited for her "wass" that she asks us "Where Chooch?" from the moment we leave the driveway to the minute we pull in the parking lot. I always tell her the Church never moves, it stays in the same place as it was the week before. I'm so sad I have to tell them the bad news.
When I was about 7 or 8 I watched our house burn down. This feels the same to me. Funny how something like that affects you long after it's gone and forgotten by the world. I'll never forget my Grammie telling me "Stop that crying, crying isn't going to fix it." How right she was. That advice has served me well over the years.
This is the earlier edition. On the 7 am news the guy said it's a total loss. I hope it wasn't arson. Whenever we go to church, J is at the age that she is so excited for her "wass" that she asks us "Where Chooch?" from the moment we leave the driveway to the minute we pull in the parking lot. I always tell her the Church never moves, it stays in the same place as it was the week before. I'm so sad I have to tell them the bad news.
When I was about 7 or 8 I watched our house burn down. This feels the same to me. Funny how something like that affects you long after it's gone and forgotten by the world. I'll never forget my Grammie telling me "Stop that crying, crying isn't going to fix it." How right she was. That advice has served me well over the years.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Drawing on the Powers of Heaven
This little gem was written by Grant Von Harrison and for a time, was included in missionary literature, which is where my perfect BIL came upon it. I'm quite convinced this book is a big part of the reason this particular BIL is perfect. This book clearly lays a foundation for a deeper and more perfect understanding of faith and sets forth a clear and organized way of moving yourself ahead spiritually, benefitting in every possible way, both spiritually and temporally, as you go.
So, I'm going to open up a discussion here. If you have the book, or can get your hands on it, read along and feel free to participate. It will be a worthwhile endeavor. Even if you don't have it, feel free to add your thoughts.
The first chapter talks about faith. The opening statement is:
"Generally, members of the Church do not have difficulty understanding the most basic aspects of faith, such as faith that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, that there is life after death, or with a general faith in the overall plan of salvation. However, many people do have trouble understanding the specific kind of faith required to draw on the powers of heaven to help them be more successful in every facet in their lives." (1)
Basically, we believe in the things we are supposed to, but have a hard time remembering that every action is moved forward by Heavenly Father. When we incorporate this concept into our prayers, and recognize that we have the power to do all things by faith (2 Nephi 1:10), we can gain confidence that Heavenly Father wants to give us all the powers He possesses as long as we put forth the effort and faith to make it possible for Him to bless us.
The book uses the example of someone wanting to lose ten pounds. The faith required to lose ten pounds is different than the faith required to gain special assistance from the Lord. If a person wants to lose ten pounds, they must motivate themselves to action by having faith in the laws that determine weight loss (eat less, move more), resolve to follow those laws, and maintain a constant effort, motivated by faith in the laws that govern weight loss. But many times in our lives, we encounter circumstances that require help from the Lord in addition to resolve and determination on our part. Basically, what I got out of reading this part, is that we should not be afraid to ask for miracles and we should get used to seeing them used to answer our prayers. Which makes sense. Every prayer answered really is a miracle, isn't it? Miracles are the Lords way of letting us know He exists, how much He loves us and how His power is limitless.
The end of the Chapter asks us to explain what is meant by the powers of heaven. I take it to mean that the powers of heaven is the power of God, which can and should be summoned to help us during our mortal lives.
So, I'm going to open up a discussion here. If you have the book, or can get your hands on it, read along and feel free to participate. It will be a worthwhile endeavor. Even if you don't have it, feel free to add your thoughts.
The first chapter talks about faith. The opening statement is:
"Generally, members of the Church do not have difficulty understanding the most basic aspects of faith, such as faith that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, that there is life after death, or with a general faith in the overall plan of salvation. However, many people do have trouble understanding the specific kind of faith required to draw on the powers of heaven to help them be more successful in every facet in their lives." (1)
Basically, we believe in the things we are supposed to, but have a hard time remembering that every action is moved forward by Heavenly Father. When we incorporate this concept into our prayers, and recognize that we have the power to do all things by faith (2 Nephi 1:10), we can gain confidence that Heavenly Father wants to give us all the powers He possesses as long as we put forth the effort and faith to make it possible for Him to bless us.
The book uses the example of someone wanting to lose ten pounds. The faith required to lose ten pounds is different than the faith required to gain special assistance from the Lord. If a person wants to lose ten pounds, they must motivate themselves to action by having faith in the laws that determine weight loss (eat less, move more), resolve to follow those laws, and maintain a constant effort, motivated by faith in the laws that govern weight loss. But many times in our lives, we encounter circumstances that require help from the Lord in addition to resolve and determination on our part. Basically, what I got out of reading this part, is that we should not be afraid to ask for miracles and we should get used to seeing them used to answer our prayers. Which makes sense. Every prayer answered really is a miracle, isn't it? Miracles are the Lords way of letting us know He exists, how much He loves us and how His power is limitless.
The end of the Chapter asks us to explain what is meant by the powers of heaven. I take it to mean that the powers of heaven is the power of God, which can and should be summoned to help us during our mortal lives.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Feeling Joy
Something strange happens to me the moment I become pregnant. I didn't know it would happen with my first child, was in serious denial when it happened with my second child, but there was no doubt I knew what was coming by the time I became pregnant with J.
When I become pregnant, I become unhappy.
I wanted children so badly I could hardly stand to hold our close friends' babies during church. I obsessed over getting pregnant, being pregnant and how I was going to get un-pregnant. I really, really, really, wanted to have kids. What I didn't count on, was the case of the orneries I got each time I got the chance to add to our family.
With B, I was sick. So.so.so.so. sick. I was the only person allowed to use the upstairs bathroom. My softball team kept a large trash can in the dugout, which I visited several times each game. I modified my diet to consume only foods that came up as easily as they went down. Watching my body swell up like a cartoon character did not delight me as it seems to some other members of the female race. The baby moving around was cool for about a month. After that, it just felt like a prolonged case of a wierd stomach virus.
After the baby came, I was thrilled to be a mom, and with barely any chance to breath, I became pregnant with K. I was tired. Overwhelmingly, bone-achingly, w.e.a.r.y. Once she got here, I was sad and emotional. My body wouldn't respond to excersize, I felt dumpy and raving and emotionally crippled. When K turned two, I recognized a shift in my outlook. I became less over-reactive, more patient, and happier with life overall.
When I became pregnant with J, I cried for three days. Along with the discomfort of being pregnant, I also figured out that my life would be seriously tampered with and upset for the next three years. I was right. Along with all the temporal trials we underwent during that time, my own during and after baby slump was added to the mix.
I am happy to report that the slump is coming to a close. I caught myself on SEVERAL occasions this week, slowing down to relish time spent with my children. I stopped working in the yard to watch the girls push each other on the swing. I sat next to B and watched him read and helped him with his homework. I caught myself playing their games with them, watching their shows with them and doing things for them without sighing and feeling pressured to add one more thing to my already full plate. I wish I could take away every harsh word, every impatient remark and every time I raised my voice or brushed them off. I wish I could have those moments back now, when I can fully appreciate the aching lovliness of their skin, the sweet smell of their heads and the charming twinkle in their eyes. I wish I would have written down every cute word, new discovery and recorded every silly dance they ever danced. But I know I can't. I can only move forward and drink in every precious moment from here on out. Unencumbered by my funk, I can try to be the mommy they deserve and be the person they can count on.
I think I'll take extra care with J. She'll probably be the one that picks out my retirement home. (But then again, B has already promised he will build me a house next to his so I can live there and make him spaghetti. K is going to live there with me. She's getting married when she's 35 and needs a place to stay until then. Good to have a plan, isn't it?)
When I become pregnant, I become unhappy.
I wanted children so badly I could hardly stand to hold our close friends' babies during church. I obsessed over getting pregnant, being pregnant and how I was going to get un-pregnant. I really, really, really, wanted to have kids. What I didn't count on, was the case of the orneries I got each time I got the chance to add to our family.
With B, I was sick. So.so.so.so. sick. I was the only person allowed to use the upstairs bathroom. My softball team kept a large trash can in the dugout, which I visited several times each game. I modified my diet to consume only foods that came up as easily as they went down. Watching my body swell up like a cartoon character did not delight me as it seems to some other members of the female race. The baby moving around was cool for about a month. After that, it just felt like a prolonged case of a wierd stomach virus.
After the baby came, I was thrilled to be a mom, and with barely any chance to breath, I became pregnant with K. I was tired. Overwhelmingly, bone-achingly, w.e.a.r.y. Once she got here, I was sad and emotional. My body wouldn't respond to excersize, I felt dumpy and raving and emotionally crippled. When K turned two, I recognized a shift in my outlook. I became less over-reactive, more patient, and happier with life overall.
When I became pregnant with J, I cried for three days. Along with the discomfort of being pregnant, I also figured out that my life would be seriously tampered with and upset for the next three years. I was right. Along with all the temporal trials we underwent during that time, my own during and after baby slump was added to the mix.
I am happy to report that the slump is coming to a close. I caught myself on SEVERAL occasions this week, slowing down to relish time spent with my children. I stopped working in the yard to watch the girls push each other on the swing. I sat next to B and watched him read and helped him with his homework. I caught myself playing their games with them, watching their shows with them and doing things for them without sighing and feeling pressured to add one more thing to my already full plate. I wish I could take away every harsh word, every impatient remark and every time I raised my voice or brushed them off. I wish I could have those moments back now, when I can fully appreciate the aching lovliness of their skin, the sweet smell of their heads and the charming twinkle in their eyes. I wish I would have written down every cute word, new discovery and recorded every silly dance they ever danced. But I know I can't. I can only move forward and drink in every precious moment from here on out. Unencumbered by my funk, I can try to be the mommy they deserve and be the person they can count on.
I think I'll take extra care with J. She'll probably be the one that picks out my retirement home. (But then again, B has already promised he will build me a house next to his so I can live there and make him spaghetti. K is going to live there with me. She's getting married when she's 35 and needs a place to stay until then. Good to have a plan, isn't it?)
Sunday, October 22, 2006
DEUTERONOMY
Chapter 5:7-21.
7 Thou shalt have none other gods before me.
8 Thou shalt not make thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the waters beneath the earth:
9 Thou shalt not bow down thyself unto them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me,
10 And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me and keep my commandments.
11 Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain: for the LORD will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.
12 Keep the sabbath day to sanctify it, as the LORD thy God hath commanded thee.
13 Six days thou shalt labour, and do all thy work:
14 But the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thine ox, nor thine ass, nor any of thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates; that thy manservant and thy maidservant may rest as well as thou.
15 And remember that thou wast a servant in the land of Egypt, and that the LORD thy God brought thee out thence through a mighty hand and by a stretched out arm: therefore the LORD thy God commanded thee to keep the sabbath day.
16 Honour thy father and thy mother, as the LORD thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee.
17 Thou shalt not kill.
18 Neither shalt thou commit adultery.
19 Neither shalt thou steal.
20 Neither shalt thou bear false witness against thy neighbour.
21 Neither shalt thou desire thy neighbour’s wife, neither shalt thou covet thy neighbour’s house, his field, or his manservant, or his maidservant, his ox, or his ass, or any thing that is thy neighbour’s.
Just as we command our children thou shalt not drive fast and wear no seat belt, and thou shalt not eat ten cookies lest ye ruin thy dinner; He gave us these rules not to spoil our fun and rain on our parade, but for our own benefit and safety, and He meant every word, it isn't up to us to pick and choose which ones we want to obey.
I'm thankful for a loving Father in Heaven who gave us rules to live by, and guidelines for raising our children. Happy Sunday!
7 Thou shalt have none other gods before me.
8 Thou shalt not make thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the waters beneath the earth:
9 Thou shalt not bow down thyself unto them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me,
10 And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me and keep my commandments.
11 Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain: for the LORD will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.
12 Keep the sabbath day to sanctify it, as the LORD thy God hath commanded thee.
13 Six days thou shalt labour, and do all thy work:
14 But the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thine ox, nor thine ass, nor any of thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates; that thy manservant and thy maidservant may rest as well as thou.
15 And remember that thou wast a servant in the land of Egypt, and that the LORD thy God brought thee out thence through a mighty hand and by a stretched out arm: therefore the LORD thy God commanded thee to keep the sabbath day.
16 Honour thy father and thy mother, as the LORD thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee.
17 Thou shalt not kill.
18 Neither shalt thou commit adultery.
19 Neither shalt thou steal.
20 Neither shalt thou bear false witness against thy neighbour.
21 Neither shalt thou desire thy neighbour’s wife, neither shalt thou covet thy neighbour’s house, his field, or his manservant, or his maidservant, his ox, or his ass, or any thing that is thy neighbour’s.
Just as we command our children thou shalt not drive fast and wear no seat belt, and thou shalt not eat ten cookies lest ye ruin thy dinner; He gave us these rules not to spoil our fun and rain on our parade, but for our own benefit and safety, and He meant every word, it isn't up to us to pick and choose which ones we want to obey.
I'm thankful for a loving Father in Heaven who gave us rules to live by, and guidelines for raising our children. Happy Sunday!
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Encyclopedia Project
I'm having a blogging block. I tell myself that it's because I'm busy, and why wouldn't I be with all that's going on, but really, I can't think of much to write, and what I do doesn't come out as I'd hoped. All I've managed to do is build up my draft pile these past two weeks. So I was reading a post over at Ittybitty Frog Idea's and, I decided to try doing some blogs like this. I'll start at A and write down what comes to mind. Might be fun. Might be boring like she thought the book was. Either way, it's something.
So for A, the word that comes to my mind is Albatross. Yeah, that's a little random, I know. Bear with me. According to dictionary.com:
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1)
al‧ba‧tross /ˈælbəˌtrɔs, -ˌtrɒs/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[al-buh-traws, -tros] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun
1. any of several large, web-footed sea birds of the family Diomedeidae that have the ability to remain aloft for long periods. Compare wandering albatross.
2. a seemingly inescapable moral or emotional burden, as of guilt or responsibility.
3. something burdensome that impedes action or progress.
4. Textiles.
a. a lightweight worsted fabric with a crepe or pebble finish.
b. a plain-weave cotton fabric with a soft nap surface.
I don't know much about birds, in fact, they kind of freak me out and I don't really like to be too close to them, unless they are chickens, then I don't mind as much. But the part about burden and impeded action, we might have something there.
What is it about being a mom that makes us guilt pros? We carry it around like an old coat. We heap it on the heads of our families. What a great tool Satan has in guilt. Sometimes, it can motivate us to action, but lets face it, usually, we just carry it around and let it drag us down to the murky depths. It allows us to dwell on what we haven't done, or haven't done well enough, or what we should have done, or what we could have done better. Often, it makes us dwell on things we shouldn't have done. What mother hasn't had at least a handful of days when she laid her head down at night and thought to herself, "all I did was yell and nag at my kids all.day.long." I think it is interesting that "impedes action or progress" comes right after the guilt and responsibility part. Does it always have to do that? Or can we find ways to use those feelings and turn it into something positive. Our lesson in Young Women today was about self esteem and feeling good about yourself. One of the classic exercises for this lesson is to list what you don't like about yourself and cross off what you can't change. We should do that with feelings of guilt. Fix what we can, and then quit beating ourselves up over it. I think I'll give that a try this week. What about you?
So for A, the word that comes to my mind is Albatross. Yeah, that's a little random, I know. Bear with me. According to dictionary.com:
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1)
al‧ba‧tross /ˈælbəˌtrɔs, -ˌtrɒs/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[al-buh-traws, -tros] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun
1. any of several large, web-footed sea birds of the family Diomedeidae that have the ability to remain aloft for long periods. Compare wandering albatross.
2. a seemingly inescapable moral or emotional burden, as of guilt or responsibility.
3. something burdensome that impedes action or progress.
4. Textiles.
a. a lightweight worsted fabric with a crepe or pebble finish.
b. a plain-weave cotton fabric with a soft nap surface.
I don't know much about birds, in fact, they kind of freak me out and I don't really like to be too close to them, unless they are chickens, then I don't mind as much. But the part about burden and impeded action, we might have something there.
What is it about being a mom that makes us guilt pros? We carry it around like an old coat. We heap it on the heads of our families. What a great tool Satan has in guilt. Sometimes, it can motivate us to action, but lets face it, usually, we just carry it around and let it drag us down to the murky depths. It allows us to dwell on what we haven't done, or haven't done well enough, or what we should have done, or what we could have done better. Often, it makes us dwell on things we shouldn't have done. What mother hasn't had at least a handful of days when she laid her head down at night and thought to herself, "all I did was yell and nag at my kids all.day.long." I think it is interesting that "impedes action or progress" comes right after the guilt and responsibility part. Does it always have to do that? Or can we find ways to use those feelings and turn it into something positive. Our lesson in Young Women today was about self esteem and feeling good about yourself. One of the classic exercises for this lesson is to list what you don't like about yourself and cross off what you can't change. We should do that with feelings of guilt. Fix what we can, and then quit beating ourselves up over it. I think I'll give that a try this week. What about you?
Monday, September 11, 2006
9-11
Just wanted to take a moment and say that I remember.
We had just moved to Texas. I was listening to the radio while I dropped the kids off at school. The DJ's were confused, no one knew how a pilot could have made such a mistake. I got back to the house and decided to wash the car since hubster and the little kids weren't up yet. As I washed, I listened and as it became clear we were under attack, I went inside to turn on the TV. We watched as the towers fell. We moved around that day in a dream-like state. I remember hearing fighter jets roar over the house, and running outside to see if there were new horrors that weren't yet on the TV.
We watched National Geographic's special tonight, and the images were as horrifying today as they were five years ago.
Yes, I will always remember.
We had just moved to Texas. I was listening to the radio while I dropped the kids off at school. The DJ's were confused, no one knew how a pilot could have made such a mistake. I got back to the house and decided to wash the car since hubster and the little kids weren't up yet. As I washed, I listened and as it became clear we were under attack, I went inside to turn on the TV. We watched as the towers fell. We moved around that day in a dream-like state. I remember hearing fighter jets roar over the house, and running outside to see if there were new horrors that weren't yet on the TV.
We watched National Geographic's special tonight, and the images were as horrifying today as they were five years ago.
Yes, I will always remember.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Please Pray
*Edit to Update*
Handyman Bob is out of surgery, they *think* the retina is OK, they will replace the lens once the eye is stable. Thanks for all your kind thoughts and prayers. I really mean what I said about the safety goggles, glasses aren't enough. Handyman Bob was only driving a nail, no nail gun, just a hammer. He wears glasses, but the nail managed to flip back and get him anyhow.
Girls, if you'd be so kind as to put Handyman Bob in your prayers, I'd be really grateful. There was a handyman type accident this morning, he is being flown to a hospital in the city. If you have a handy guy, or are a handy girl yourself, please, please, please remember your safety goggles, even if you are just doing a routine task. We are praying for his life, his sight and his family. Thanks.
Handyman Bob is out of surgery, they *think* the retina is OK, they will replace the lens once the eye is stable. Thanks for all your kind thoughts and prayers. I really mean what I said about the safety goggles, glasses aren't enough. Handyman Bob was only driving a nail, no nail gun, just a hammer. He wears glasses, but the nail managed to flip back and get him anyhow.
Girls, if you'd be so kind as to put Handyman Bob in your prayers, I'd be really grateful. There was a handyman type accident this morning, he is being flown to a hospital in the city. If you have a handy guy, or are a handy girl yourself, please, please, please remember your safety goggles, even if you are just doing a routine task. We are praying for his life, his sight and his family. Thanks.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Why Homeschool. Part Two.
Picking up where I left off...
Fifth grade was a new life, a second chance at having a good education. How blessed my family was and is, to be friends with both the Director of the lab school, and one of it's best teachers. Now that I think about it, it really is remarkable that the three families that were closest to my grandparents were full of truly talented educators. I don't know how it all went down for sure, but one of the families had a daughter who was becoming a teacher, she was the one who administered the reading test to me as part of her course work. The other two women took care of getting me in the school, and even made sure I had transportation to and from school, since we lived a little hike from town. The school it's self was a learning lab for the students at the college who were training to become teachers. It's simpler to call it a private school, but, that sounds stuffy and privileged. We weren't poor, but my life was not one of privilege. If not for the efforts of my grandparents friends, I would have had no choice but to continue on in public school. This thing they did for us was a blessing beyond measure.
So I started the fifth grade with another round of testing. They figured I could read and comprehend most anything they threw at me now. At some point they made a video of me and a classmate demonstrating our ability to read and regurgitate, like we were some kind of circus act. They managed to make me feel a little bit special and a little more normal and tried to give me a glimpse of what could be possible. The school encouraged students to work at their own pace, and most of the kids that attended were very bright and hardworking. It was something else to be with peers who were above average, it was nice to have it be OK to be smart. And yet, fitting in socially was still elusive for me.
I don't know how I looked on the outside to people, but I was a mess on the inside. I'm pretty sure I spent more time in the councilor's office than the other kids combined. Somewhere along the way, despite the supreme effort of teachers who really cared about me, I lost the thirst for knowledge. What I really wanted, was to fit in, have friends, and not be the butt of people's jokes anymore. School just wasn't fun, it wasn't work, it was just a meaningless time suck punctuated by occasional after school activities that helped keep me from going off the deep end. We still lived on the ranch, and I would awake at four thirty am to complete chores and ride to town with my dad so that he could be at work by 7. After school, I made my way to his office and we rode home at about 7. My sister's accident was followed by my grandfather's illness and I juggled a lot at home. I felt the weight of responsibility around my neck and I resented that it made me even more different.
I was in the seventh grade when I told my family that I didn't want to go to college. I told them I'd change my mind if they'd let me take college classes in place of at least some high school course work. I knew it could be done because the kid I sat next to in typing class took college classes when he was in the ninth grade. I think the push to just hurry up and get childhood over with began around that time. I felt powerless in so many ways, defeated and worn out from wanting to be good, and never quite living up to my potential. In fact, I was sick of hearing about my potential.
The lab school didn't offer high school, so I re-entered the public school system. I had been good at cheerleading, and was encouraged to try out, but just couldn't muster the enthusiasm to do it. I heard you had to pay for the camps and uniforms, and arranging transportation for after practices and games meant negotiations with dad. I figured, "Why bother?" I was just putting in my time so I could get out. Somewhere, I stopped being the gangly girl with the pug nose and became the girl with the small boobs and the great butt. It attracted a few boys, and I picked one. I figured he'd probably use me and dump me, but he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I was 15 at the time and the idea that someone thought more of me than I thought of myself put me over the moon. He was a year older than I and when I was a junior in high school, I asked my parents to let me become emancipated. I didn't intend to marry him right then, I just wanted, needed, some kind of space. I wasn't raised to live with someone out of wedlock, but it would provide a means of survival, I was past caring what people, including my family, thought about me. When they turned me down, I planned a wedding date two weeks after my high school graduation. I turned down being the hometown rodeo queen and concentrated on the freedom that I could almost taste.
Brandi wondered what all this has to do with why I chose to homeschool. To me, it has everything to do with why I homeschool. I came a hair's breath away from screwing up my life beyond all recognition. I didn't love my highschool sweetheart. I loved that he loved me. It took all of 18 months after I graduated and got married to figure out that I could love myself and was worthy of a more suitable mate. I was married, divorced and remarried by the time I turned 21. When I remarried, it was to a man 18 years older than I who had three kids. It was sheer dumb luck and the love of God that I got an incredible husband who really did see through all the crazy, weird behavior, took a gamble on whether or not I'd grow into a decent wife, and gently began the process of helping me understand and gain self worth. My parents and grandparents did everything they could, but they couldn't overcome the feelings of shame, hopelessness and self-loathing that were planted there by my peers.
Academics played a big roll in my desire to homeschool, I figured I certainly couldn't do worse than the two room school house, and if I paid close attention to their individual needs, I could probably do a darn sight better. Socialization played a big roll as well. Socialization is one of the biggest concerns people seem to have about homeschooling, and quite honestly, it's probably the biggest reason I got passionate about it. I want to pick my kids' friends for a while. I want to make sure they look up to people worthy of their respect. I want to help them navigate their social interactions until they have a better idea of who they are and what they believe. I want them to be able to focus on school work while they mature socially, whether that pace is slower or faster than other children their age. I don't want their self worth tied up in whether or not they get picked for dodgeball, or who sits next to them at lunch. When I had my kids, I knew I could never send them to daycare. There wasn't anyone in this world who could love them more or nurture them better than I could. When it came time for school, I knew that nothing had changed. No one cares about their education and their socialization more than I do. When I first brought it up with Hubster, he wasn't completely on board, but he wasn't sold on the alternatives either. Finally, the more we talked and prayed and researched it, we knew it was what we were supposed to do.
I have found myself scared to death that I will screw this up. I worry that my kids will be "the weird kids". The first year, I worried over my ability to teach them what they need to know. But the farther along this path we go, the more success we have under our belt and the more confidence we gain to keep going. So far, both kids have learned to read and write, do addition and subtraction, read time, count money, measure things, and they have the bug, the itch to learn more. They hate it when history time is over and they often don't even realize I'm giving them a science lesson. They just like spending time with mom and dad and playing together. We're starting 1st and 2nd grades this year. They play well with other kids, in the neighborhood, at church, at community sponsored sporting events, and at homeschool functions. We don't plan on homeschooling through high school, but even that depends on what we feel is right at the time. I have struggles with dyscalculia, and the thought of teaching them higher math makes me extremely uneasy. But if that is what needs to be done, I will find a way.
The bottom line is that deeply personal events brought me to my knees to figure out what I could do better for my kids. We've heard differing opinions on whether we should or should not homeschool our kids, but it finally came down to Hubster and I feeling like this is what we are supposed to be doing, and then doing our best to do a good job of it. I can only hope my kids will have a much better experience than I did, and I feel more and more confident that my choice to shield them from the world will help them with the things that matter most. My job is to protect them as long as I reasonably can and do everything in my power to help them set and realize their goals and dreams.
And believe it or not, that's the short version! LOL
Fifth grade was a new life, a second chance at having a good education. How blessed my family was and is, to be friends with both the Director of the lab school, and one of it's best teachers. Now that I think about it, it really is remarkable that the three families that were closest to my grandparents were full of truly talented educators. I don't know how it all went down for sure, but one of the families had a daughter who was becoming a teacher, she was the one who administered the reading test to me as part of her course work. The other two women took care of getting me in the school, and even made sure I had transportation to and from school, since we lived a little hike from town. The school it's self was a learning lab for the students at the college who were training to become teachers. It's simpler to call it a private school, but, that sounds stuffy and privileged. We weren't poor, but my life was not one of privilege. If not for the efforts of my grandparents friends, I would have had no choice but to continue on in public school. This thing they did for us was a blessing beyond measure.
So I started the fifth grade with another round of testing. They figured I could read and comprehend most anything they threw at me now. At some point they made a video of me and a classmate demonstrating our ability to read and regurgitate, like we were some kind of circus act. They managed to make me feel a little bit special and a little more normal and tried to give me a glimpse of what could be possible. The school encouraged students to work at their own pace, and most of the kids that attended were very bright and hardworking. It was something else to be with peers who were above average, it was nice to have it be OK to be smart. And yet, fitting in socially was still elusive for me.
I don't know how I looked on the outside to people, but I was a mess on the inside. I'm pretty sure I spent more time in the councilor's office than the other kids combined. Somewhere along the way, despite the supreme effort of teachers who really cared about me, I lost the thirst for knowledge. What I really wanted, was to fit in, have friends, and not be the butt of people's jokes anymore. School just wasn't fun, it wasn't work, it was just a meaningless time suck punctuated by occasional after school activities that helped keep me from going off the deep end. We still lived on the ranch, and I would awake at four thirty am to complete chores and ride to town with my dad so that he could be at work by 7. After school, I made my way to his office and we rode home at about 7. My sister's accident was followed by my grandfather's illness and I juggled a lot at home. I felt the weight of responsibility around my neck and I resented that it made me even more different.
I was in the seventh grade when I told my family that I didn't want to go to college. I told them I'd change my mind if they'd let me take college classes in place of at least some high school course work. I knew it could be done because the kid I sat next to in typing class took college classes when he was in the ninth grade. I think the push to just hurry up and get childhood over with began around that time. I felt powerless in so many ways, defeated and worn out from wanting to be good, and never quite living up to my potential. In fact, I was sick of hearing about my potential.
The lab school didn't offer high school, so I re-entered the public school system. I had been good at cheerleading, and was encouraged to try out, but just couldn't muster the enthusiasm to do it. I heard you had to pay for the camps and uniforms, and arranging transportation for after practices and games meant negotiations with dad. I figured, "Why bother?" I was just putting in my time so I could get out. Somewhere, I stopped being the gangly girl with the pug nose and became the girl with the small boobs and the great butt. It attracted a few boys, and I picked one. I figured he'd probably use me and dump me, but he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I was 15 at the time and the idea that someone thought more of me than I thought of myself put me over the moon. He was a year older than I and when I was a junior in high school, I asked my parents to let me become emancipated. I didn't intend to marry him right then, I just wanted, needed, some kind of space. I wasn't raised to live with someone out of wedlock, but it would provide a means of survival, I was past caring what people, including my family, thought about me. When they turned me down, I planned a wedding date two weeks after my high school graduation. I turned down being the hometown rodeo queen and concentrated on the freedom that I could almost taste.
Brandi wondered what all this has to do with why I chose to homeschool. To me, it has everything to do with why I homeschool. I came a hair's breath away from screwing up my life beyond all recognition. I didn't love my highschool sweetheart. I loved that he loved me. It took all of 18 months after I graduated and got married to figure out that I could love myself and was worthy of a more suitable mate. I was married, divorced and remarried by the time I turned 21. When I remarried, it was to a man 18 years older than I who had three kids. It was sheer dumb luck and the love of God that I got an incredible husband who really did see through all the crazy, weird behavior, took a gamble on whether or not I'd grow into a decent wife, and gently began the process of helping me understand and gain self worth. My parents and grandparents did everything they could, but they couldn't overcome the feelings of shame, hopelessness and self-loathing that were planted there by my peers.
Academics played a big roll in my desire to homeschool, I figured I certainly couldn't do worse than the two room school house, and if I paid close attention to their individual needs, I could probably do a darn sight better. Socialization played a big roll as well. Socialization is one of the biggest concerns people seem to have about homeschooling, and quite honestly, it's probably the biggest reason I got passionate about it. I want to pick my kids' friends for a while. I want to make sure they look up to people worthy of their respect. I want to help them navigate their social interactions until they have a better idea of who they are and what they believe. I want them to be able to focus on school work while they mature socially, whether that pace is slower or faster than other children their age. I don't want their self worth tied up in whether or not they get picked for dodgeball, or who sits next to them at lunch. When I had my kids, I knew I could never send them to daycare. There wasn't anyone in this world who could love them more or nurture them better than I could. When it came time for school, I knew that nothing had changed. No one cares about their education and their socialization more than I do. When I first brought it up with Hubster, he wasn't completely on board, but he wasn't sold on the alternatives either. Finally, the more we talked and prayed and researched it, we knew it was what we were supposed to do.
I have found myself scared to death that I will screw this up. I worry that my kids will be "the weird kids". The first year, I worried over my ability to teach them what they need to know. But the farther along this path we go, the more success we have under our belt and the more confidence we gain to keep going. So far, both kids have learned to read and write, do addition and subtraction, read time, count money, measure things, and they have the bug, the itch to learn more. They hate it when history time is over and they often don't even realize I'm giving them a science lesson. They just like spending time with mom and dad and playing together. We're starting 1st and 2nd grades this year. They play well with other kids, in the neighborhood, at church, at community sponsored sporting events, and at homeschool functions. We don't plan on homeschooling through high school, but even that depends on what we feel is right at the time. I have struggles with dyscalculia, and the thought of teaching them higher math makes me extremely uneasy. But if that is what needs to be done, I will find a way.
The bottom line is that deeply personal events brought me to my knees to figure out what I could do better for my kids. We've heard differing opinions on whether we should or should not homeschool our kids, but it finally came down to Hubster and I feeling like this is what we are supposed to be doing, and then doing our best to do a good job of it. I can only hope my kids will have a much better experience than I did, and I feel more and more confident that my choice to shield them from the world will help them with the things that matter most. My job is to protect them as long as I reasonably can and do everything in my power to help them set and realize their goals and dreams.
And believe it or not, that's the short version! LOL
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Why Homeschool. Part One.
Chris from Notes From the Trenches has started another blog over here, and I'm not sure why she has two, but I do know I can't get enough Chris. Today she talked some about her homeschool, which I was so glad to read since, even after stalking all her old posts until her site meter flagged me as a potential serial killer, I haven't seen much about how she does things, why she chose homeschooling, what a homeschool day is like in the Big Yellow House. Hmmm. Maybe she'd give me an interview! LOL Anyhow, after I visited Kacey's blog and read about her grandson, I got to thinking I really should put down on "paper" why I picked homeschooling. My kids may someday want to know why I turned them into social lepers chose to school them at home.
Just so everyone is clear right up front; To each their own. Whatever school you dig is dandy with me. The main thing I've noticed is that people usually have a strong opinion about homeschooling, and that's cool, but if you can't be supportive, you can keep it to yourself around this neck of the woods. I'm not trying to convince people that public schools are evil or tell people they aren't being great parents if they don't homeschool, I'm just going to tell you how I, (we, really) feel and felt to make this choice for our family.
I didn't decide to homeschool on a whim. The thought never even crossed my mind until we moved to the great state of TX. The older three have done fine with public schools and I've done my share of parent teacher conferences, wrapping paper fundraising and crazy back to school supply lists. When we moved to TX, our kids did notice that the classes seemed easier, but they didn't complain and life went on. When we moved here, we also started to hear about more and more homeschooling families. Droves of them. Back home, if you were homeschooled, you were a freaky-folk. But I had to admit that the more I thought about sending my cute little kiddos off on that big yellow bus, I thought more and more about my own school experience and I started to think that there had to be a better alternative. So settle in and I'll tell you my tale. I'll start my story by taking you down the path of my education.
School started for me at a young age, I must have been three or four, because I attended two years at a religious pre-school. The thing I remember most about pre-school was graham crackers with milk, the smell of my nap rug and how being around the nuns made me feel like I had swallowed my tongue. I remember being picked up from school when it was dark outside and how I loved to memorize the streets from school to Grandma G's, the bank, the store and home.
I went on to Kindergarten, and I remember the day I decided to learn to read. I was watching Ripley's believe it or Not or some similar show and they showed a child who was four and could read. I was sick about it. I was already past four, and I couldn't read. So I bugged my mom. She says she wouldn't teach me because she didn't want me to be too far ahead of my class. I remember reading signs to her on the way to and from school. Grandma says she thought Mom was talking crazy talk, but I remember her giving me the Dick and Jane book, reading a few pages with me and going into the other room. Within a few hours, I had made it through, and from that day on, I could read. And read I did. I was voracious right from the start.
We moved before I started first grade, and the first day of school, I boarded the little yellow bus bound for the two room school house that served our ranch community. It started the moment I boarded the bus. There were two boys who were in fifth and sixth grade. They called me ski jump, owing to the upturned, button nose that sits in the middle of my face. I couldn't stand it. I had no idea why they would treat me like that, and I remember wishing I was invisible. At school, my class was the largest. There were four first graders, and they were all girls. I don't even remember if there were second graders in our class room, I think there were, and the third to sixth grades were taught in the second classroom.
My teacher was outstanding, one of the best in the district. Tests were taken each year, and I know mom told me that she was given the option of moving me up a grade, but declined because she was worried that I'd miss something I'd need later. The only difference I noticed in the class room was that I sometimes got extra work, and I ALWAYS got poor marks in behavior. Those little boxes at the bottom that graded area's like, "Uses Time Wisely", "Works Well With Others" and "Controls Talking" could be marked for area's worthy of special note were filled with the "Needs Improvement" check mark every.single.time. Grades given were E or E+, S or S+ and U. E=Excellent, S=Satisfactory, and U...well, you get the idea. I thought I deserved an E on everything. I did what I was supposed to, and I was always done first. School for me was like being reminded of things I already knew.
But as much as I excelled in the classroom, I paid for it on the playground. Remember that this is a country school. It doesn't take as long to teach when the teacher to student ratio is 1:6. These were the days of school recess. The teachers talked, the kids played, and the bullies reigned supreme. In this day and age the schools employ "Playground Monitors", but not so at the two room school house. I don't think I made it out of the first week of school when the three girls in my class held my arms back and used my stomach as a punching bag. It's not that it hurt so much, as I just couldn't believe what was happening. I don't remember when, or even who I told, but I remember my mom trying to teach me to hit pillows in hopes I could defend myself, and any other times I complained, it was explained to me that I acted like a know-it-all and that's why the other kids picked on me. Now to be fair to all parties involved, I probably was a know-it-all. After all, I pretty much did, know.it.all. At least where first to third grade was concerned. I probably was a brat, and I had no idea how to be liked, and really, in the scheme of things, that was all I wanted, to be liked. Well, to be liked and be the best, at everything.
Despite the social problems, I had an amazing grade school experience that included afternoons peering over the bridge at the river while we ate our picnic lunches, building snow caves and spending endless hours sledding down snow covered hills, school sponsored weekly ski trips (I ALWAYS ditched ski school after the second year...Sorry dad!) even a real Indian Rendevoux where we got to bead our own moccasins, make coup sticks and sleep in two real, full size, tee pee's. We climbed the rope everyday during our "unofficial PE", and used the mats to make mazes during recess. We had mud bomb wars and got our library books brought to us on the BookMobile. Our PE and Music teachers came once a week, and since I could memorize anything, I was always given the lead role in the school play. The good parts were very, very good. Unfortunately, the bad parts grew worse and worse with the passage of time, and my self-esteem was tossed like a dingy on the sea. Up with one kind word or success, down with every playground snub and awkward moment.
I couldn't tell you for sure when things came completely undone, but I know everyone around me recognized it when I yelled at the music teacher and crawled under my chair. I scared myself that day. I never had an easy time dealing with authority. I couldn't give words to the feelings I felt, so I got frustrated and cried, or lied, but I had never yelled. My reading was tested and it was "discovered" that I could read and comprehend high school level material. I was tutored for reading in the room with the older kids, but my parents knew they had to make big changes. At the prompting of a family friend, they enrolled me in the Lab School at the University and I began attending there in the fifth grade.
Just so everyone is clear right up front; To each their own. Whatever school you dig is dandy with me. The main thing I've noticed is that people usually have a strong opinion about homeschooling, and that's cool, but if you can't be supportive, you can keep it to yourself around this neck of the woods. I'm not trying to convince people that public schools are evil or tell people they aren't being great parents if they don't homeschool, I'm just going to tell you how I, (we, really) feel and felt to make this choice for our family.
I didn't decide to homeschool on a whim. The thought never even crossed my mind until we moved to the great state of TX. The older three have done fine with public schools and I've done my share of parent teacher conferences, wrapping paper fundraising and crazy back to school supply lists. When we moved to TX, our kids did notice that the classes seemed easier, but they didn't complain and life went on. When we moved here, we also started to hear about more and more homeschooling families. Droves of them. Back home, if you were homeschooled, you were a freaky-folk. But I had to admit that the more I thought about sending my cute little kiddos off on that big yellow bus, I thought more and more about my own school experience and I started to think that there had to be a better alternative. So settle in and I'll tell you my tale. I'll start my story by taking you down the path of my education.
School started for me at a young age, I must have been three or four, because I attended two years at a religious pre-school. The thing I remember most about pre-school was graham crackers with milk, the smell of my nap rug and how being around the nuns made me feel like I had swallowed my tongue. I remember being picked up from school when it was dark outside and how I loved to memorize the streets from school to Grandma G's, the bank, the store and home.
I went on to Kindergarten, and I remember the day I decided to learn to read. I was watching Ripley's believe it or Not or some similar show and they showed a child who was four and could read. I was sick about it. I was already past four, and I couldn't read. So I bugged my mom. She says she wouldn't teach me because she didn't want me to be too far ahead of my class. I remember reading signs to her on the way to and from school. Grandma says she thought Mom was talking crazy talk, but I remember her giving me the Dick and Jane book, reading a few pages with me and going into the other room. Within a few hours, I had made it through, and from that day on, I could read. And read I did. I was voracious right from the start.
We moved before I started first grade, and the first day of school, I boarded the little yellow bus bound for the two room school house that served our ranch community. It started the moment I boarded the bus. There were two boys who were in fifth and sixth grade. They called me ski jump, owing to the upturned, button nose that sits in the middle of my face. I couldn't stand it. I had no idea why they would treat me like that, and I remember wishing I was invisible. At school, my class was the largest. There were four first graders, and they were all girls. I don't even remember if there were second graders in our class room, I think there were, and the third to sixth grades were taught in the second classroom.
My teacher was outstanding, one of the best in the district. Tests were taken each year, and I know mom told me that she was given the option of moving me up a grade, but declined because she was worried that I'd miss something I'd need later. The only difference I noticed in the class room was that I sometimes got extra work, and I ALWAYS got poor marks in behavior. Those little boxes at the bottom that graded area's like, "Uses Time Wisely", "Works Well With Others" and "Controls Talking" could be marked for area's worthy of special note were filled with the "Needs Improvement" check mark every.single.time. Grades given were E or E+, S or S+ and U. E=Excellent, S=Satisfactory, and U...well, you get the idea. I thought I deserved an E on everything. I did what I was supposed to, and I was always done first. School for me was like being reminded of things I already knew.
But as much as I excelled in the classroom, I paid for it on the playground. Remember that this is a country school. It doesn't take as long to teach when the teacher to student ratio is 1:6. These were the days of school recess. The teachers talked, the kids played, and the bullies reigned supreme. In this day and age the schools employ "Playground Monitors", but not so at the two room school house. I don't think I made it out of the first week of school when the three girls in my class held my arms back and used my stomach as a punching bag. It's not that it hurt so much, as I just couldn't believe what was happening. I don't remember when, or even who I told, but I remember my mom trying to teach me to hit pillows in hopes I could defend myself, and any other times I complained, it was explained to me that I acted like a know-it-all and that's why the other kids picked on me. Now to be fair to all parties involved, I probably was a know-it-all. After all, I pretty much did, know.it.all. At least where first to third grade was concerned. I probably was a brat, and I had no idea how to be liked, and really, in the scheme of things, that was all I wanted, to be liked. Well, to be liked and be the best, at everything.
Despite the social problems, I had an amazing grade school experience that included afternoons peering over the bridge at the river while we ate our picnic lunches, building snow caves and spending endless hours sledding down snow covered hills, school sponsored weekly ski trips (I ALWAYS ditched ski school after the second year...Sorry dad!) even a real Indian Rendevoux where we got to bead our own moccasins, make coup sticks and sleep in two real, full size, tee pee's. We climbed the rope everyday during our "unofficial PE", and used the mats to make mazes during recess. We had mud bomb wars and got our library books brought to us on the BookMobile. Our PE and Music teachers came once a week, and since I could memorize anything, I was always given the lead role in the school play. The good parts were very, very good. Unfortunately, the bad parts grew worse and worse with the passage of time, and my self-esteem was tossed like a dingy on the sea. Up with one kind word or success, down with every playground snub and awkward moment.
I couldn't tell you for sure when things came completely undone, but I know everyone around me recognized it when I yelled at the music teacher and crawled under my chair. I scared myself that day. I never had an easy time dealing with authority. I couldn't give words to the feelings I felt, so I got frustrated and cried, or lied, but I had never yelled. My reading was tested and it was "discovered" that I could read and comprehend high school level material. I was tutored for reading in the room with the older kids, but my parents knew they had to make big changes. At the prompting of a family friend, they enrolled me in the Lab School at the University and I began attending there in the fifth grade.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Mom of All Trades Blasts Off
Over at To Love, Honor and Dismay, there is a post just like what I've been thinking about on my Blog Draft page thingy, only, his is well written and organized rather than all, ranty and rambling. Honestly, the process of raising teenagers and their leaving home is as profoundly changing as becoming a mother in the first place.
What sent me into outer orbit was the second poster's comment regarding their teen and pre-teen dating at ages 12 and 13. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I'm further astounded by the comment "...but what can you do? You gotta let'em grow up". For starters, you can tell them NO.
Whatever happened to parental responsibility? Are people so blind that they think they can raise healthy, well adjusted human beings by giving them everything they want? In what warped reality are pre-teens able to handle the pressures of dating when older teenagers and adults barely manage to get out alive?
Most people who read my blog know that I belong to the very conservative Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It's not for everyone, and I'm cool with that, but I do think that all parents would be well served to consider postponing dating privileges until children are better equipped to handle the responsibility. For those who may not know, the Church guidelines for dating are as follows: "“When you get in the teen-age years, your social associations should still be general acquaintance with both boys and girls. Any dating or pairing off in social contacts should be postponed until at least the age of 16 or older, and even then there should be much judgment used."
A Time for Every Purpose
Paul H. Dunn, " Time for Every Purpose," Ensign, May 1975, 61.
Now, I wasn't raised with this faith, but my parents used the "No dating until 16" rule while I was growing up. Did I like it? Sadly, no, I did not. Do I see the wisdom in that rule now? Absolutely.
I think the thing that incenses me the most about this person's comments is the fact that they aren't alone and the fact that there are plenty o' parents out there who think that early and pre-teen dating is perfectly acceptable. Is it any wonder that we still have teenagers getting pregnant? Dating moves forward, not backward, folks. Once you get over the thrill of holding hands with a boy, the next logical thrill is kissing, then on to making out, and once you've started, you don't go back to hand holding. These things have a natural time-line, once your passions wake up, you are on the countdown to the big payoff. Who in their right mind would let their kid start down that road at such a tender age?
The commenter concedes that "its scary as heck"; I should say so, and I don't think they even know the half of it. Around age 14 or 15, I overheard a conversation between two boys who's sole goal at the time was to lose their virginity before they turned 12. Even then, I was shocked. I was even more shocked when I heard that the boy must've come close to realizing his goal; his girlfriend had his baby when they were 13. That girl never even saw it coming. That boy was going to obtain his goal, and neither one of them were anywhere close to being able to handle what they'd done. These were kids from good families, who's parents did everything they could to provide their kids with all the things they never had. I'll bet anything those parents were "scared as heck" too.
If we don't teach our kids that there is a proper order to life, and we encourage them to be "mini adults" at earlier and earlier ages, we are surely setting our kids up for a lifetime of heartache. I'd much rather have my kids hate me for a few years because I took the time and effort to enforce boundaries to keep them safe, than for them to spend a miserable life wishing that I had not been such a good friend when they needed me to be a parent. Some kids are easier to get along with on stuff like this than others, but if parents everywhere were more on the same page, I feel like it would make EVERYONE's job a whole lot easier.
Parent's allowing dating at 12 and 13. What is this world coming to?
What sent me into outer orbit was the second poster's comment regarding their teen and pre-teen dating at ages 12 and 13. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I'm further astounded by the comment "...but what can you do? You gotta let'em grow up". For starters, you can tell them NO.
Whatever happened to parental responsibility? Are people so blind that they think they can raise healthy, well adjusted human beings by giving them everything they want? In what warped reality are pre-teens able to handle the pressures of dating when older teenagers and adults barely manage to get out alive?
Most people who read my blog know that I belong to the very conservative Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It's not for everyone, and I'm cool with that, but I do think that all parents would be well served to consider postponing dating privileges until children are better equipped to handle the responsibility. For those who may not know, the Church guidelines for dating are as follows: "“When you get in the teen-age years, your social associations should still be general acquaintance with both boys and girls. Any dating or pairing off in social contacts should be postponed until at least the age of 16 or older, and even then there should be much judgment used."
A Time for Every Purpose
Paul H. Dunn, " Time for Every Purpose," Ensign, May 1975, 61.
Now, I wasn't raised with this faith, but my parents used the "No dating until 16" rule while I was growing up. Did I like it? Sadly, no, I did not. Do I see the wisdom in that rule now? Absolutely.
I think the thing that incenses me the most about this person's comments is the fact that they aren't alone and the fact that there are plenty o' parents out there who think that early and pre-teen dating is perfectly acceptable. Is it any wonder that we still have teenagers getting pregnant? Dating moves forward, not backward, folks. Once you get over the thrill of holding hands with a boy, the next logical thrill is kissing, then on to making out, and once you've started, you don't go back to hand holding. These things have a natural time-line, once your passions wake up, you are on the countdown to the big payoff. Who in their right mind would let their kid start down that road at such a tender age?
The commenter concedes that "its scary as heck"; I should say so, and I don't think they even know the half of it. Around age 14 or 15, I overheard a conversation between two boys who's sole goal at the time was to lose their virginity before they turned 12. Even then, I was shocked. I was even more shocked when I heard that the boy must've come close to realizing his goal; his girlfriend had his baby when they were 13. That girl never even saw it coming. That boy was going to obtain his goal, and neither one of them were anywhere close to being able to handle what they'd done. These were kids from good families, who's parents did everything they could to provide their kids with all the things they never had. I'll bet anything those parents were "scared as heck" too.
If we don't teach our kids that there is a proper order to life, and we encourage them to be "mini adults" at earlier and earlier ages, we are surely setting our kids up for a lifetime of heartache. I'd much rather have my kids hate me for a few years because I took the time and effort to enforce boundaries to keep them safe, than for them to spend a miserable life wishing that I had not been such a good friend when they needed me to be a parent. Some kids are easier to get along with on stuff like this than others, but if parents everywhere were more on the same page, I feel like it would make EVERYONE's job a whole lot easier.
Parent's allowing dating at 12 and 13. What is this world coming to?
Monday, July 03, 2006
Refiner's Fire
I received this as an e-mail a couple of years back, and due to the circumstances in life as I know it in the past couple years, I've referred to it often. It makes me bawl like a baby whenever I read it, so, you're on your own for further discussion. Big cyber hug to all my girlies and blog readin' fam.
There was a group of women in a Bible study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three, they came across verse three which says: "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." (Malachi 3:3) This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.
One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study. That week this woman called up a silver smith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silver smith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot--then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.
She asked the silver smith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silver smith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"
He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy--when I see my image in it."
If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has His eye on you.
There was a group of women in a Bible study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three, they came across verse three which says: "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." (Malachi 3:3) This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.
One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study. That week this woman called up a silver smith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silver smith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot--then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.
She asked the silver smith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silver smith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"
He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy--when I see my image in it."
If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has His eye on you.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Renewal of Spirit
I have said before that it seems as though life moves in cycles. Everyone experiences and talks about "life's' ups and downs", and maybe that's true for them, but I rather picture life as going along in a horizontal motion rather than a perpendicular one, stretched out across the timeline of our existence that stretches from infinity to infinity. And instead of the wheel spinning up and down, I picture it moving along that line, and spinning us like the Egg Beater ride at the fair, round and round as we travel down the timeline to our destiny.
The last two and a half years of my life have felt like we were at the back of the cycle, several yards back from where we had originally progressed, and caught in the g-force that was pushing us back. But every once in a while, I catch the glimmer of progression that seems to indicate that we are about to regain what has been lost, and progress further along the path of life than we have heretofore adventured.
I have spent the last few days ironing out what our life might be like in the next year, and two years, in terms of my husband's employment, my going back to school, and our plans with respect to homeschool. It appears as though the school schedule will allow me to still homeschool B and K. I hope I'm not kidding myself here, but I really think that I can structure my time to provide a quality education for both my children and myself. Having the support and help from my husband in both these endeavors is amazing.
The crowning moment in this new cycle of moving forward came in regard to homeschool.
I've spent the last two days researching curriculum and formulating a plan that goes beyond "if I can get them through this year and not screw up". Anyone who homeschools knows the self-doubt that can go along with undertaking sole responsibility of educating your children. I found a quote today in my research that hit me like a ton of bricks and was the cherry on-top of my freshly renewed excitement and dedication to homeschooling:
The object and design of education is Liberty!
* We teach morality so they will be free from vice.
* We teach literacy so they will be free from ignorance.
* We teach economics to free them from financial bondage.
How true and noble this statement rings! My desire that my children be classically educated by me, in our home has always felt like the right thing to do. The resistance we've met along the way, which felt devastating at first, just melts away when I remember that the education path we've chosen for our children will give them a childhood filled with classical literature, opportunity to think about math as more than problems on a page, a firm grasp on the details of the History of the World, and the opportunity to explore their world and their place in it.
My first and second grader absolutely lit up as we read the Washington Irving version of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I think it really says something about the opportunities afforded by teaching your own children, that as we meandered our way through the unfamiliar syntax and verbiage, we had talks about slavery, learning, descriptive writing, and the feelings of others. I think a great many people would dismiss this incredible work as far too advanced for children this age, instead feeding the child a watered down version with far fewer descriptives and a simplified plot. With little guidance from me, they not only *got* the story, they got excited about it, and wanted to spend extra time talking to me about it, with B even calling me to his bedside to whisper his questions and theories to me in the dark. I have no doubt that their learning and excitement is something that I wouldn't give away for all the world. The impact we have on our children is so incredibly vital to who they become and how they function in the world around them.
So through teaching my children today; amid the piles of laundry, the sinks full of dirty dishes and the never ending cycle of chores that goes into maintaining a home and family, I rediscovered the joy and excitement of parenting. The fact that I get to be these beautiful children's MOM! I'm so excited I could just pee myself!
The last two and a half years of my life have felt like we were at the back of the cycle, several yards back from where we had originally progressed, and caught in the g-force that was pushing us back. But every once in a while, I catch the glimmer of progression that seems to indicate that we are about to regain what has been lost, and progress further along the path of life than we have heretofore adventured.
I have spent the last few days ironing out what our life might be like in the next year, and two years, in terms of my husband's employment, my going back to school, and our plans with respect to homeschool. It appears as though the school schedule will allow me to still homeschool B and K. I hope I'm not kidding myself here, but I really think that I can structure my time to provide a quality education for both my children and myself. Having the support and help from my husband in both these endeavors is amazing.
The crowning moment in this new cycle of moving forward came in regard to homeschool.
I've spent the last two days researching curriculum and formulating a plan that goes beyond "if I can get them through this year and not screw up". Anyone who homeschools knows the self-doubt that can go along with undertaking sole responsibility of educating your children. I found a quote today in my research that hit me like a ton of bricks and was the cherry on-top of my freshly renewed excitement and dedication to homeschooling:
The object and design of education is Liberty!
* We teach morality so they will be free from vice.
* We teach literacy so they will be free from ignorance.
* We teach economics to free them from financial bondage.
How true and noble this statement rings! My desire that my children be classically educated by me, in our home has always felt like the right thing to do. The resistance we've met along the way, which felt devastating at first, just melts away when I remember that the education path we've chosen for our children will give them a childhood filled with classical literature, opportunity to think about math as more than problems on a page, a firm grasp on the details of the History of the World, and the opportunity to explore their world and their place in it.
My first and second grader absolutely lit up as we read the Washington Irving version of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I think it really says something about the opportunities afforded by teaching your own children, that as we meandered our way through the unfamiliar syntax and verbiage, we had talks about slavery, learning, descriptive writing, and the feelings of others. I think a great many people would dismiss this incredible work as far too advanced for children this age, instead feeding the child a watered down version with far fewer descriptives and a simplified plot. With little guidance from me, they not only *got* the story, they got excited about it, and wanted to spend extra time talking to me about it, with B even calling me to his bedside to whisper his questions and theories to me in the dark. I have no doubt that their learning and excitement is something that I wouldn't give away for all the world. The impact we have on our children is so incredibly vital to who they become and how they function in the world around them.
So through teaching my children today; amid the piles of laundry, the sinks full of dirty dishes and the never ending cycle of chores that goes into maintaining a home and family, I rediscovered the joy and excitement of parenting. The fact that I get to be these beautiful children's MOM! I'm so excited I could just pee myself!
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Incredible Days
Hard, but incredible. Saturday, we gathered at the funeral home to make arrangements, and in traditional L Family fashion, the somberness was lightened by someone making a silly remark, and it was increasingly better and better after that.
I was so fortunate and honored to be asked, with my perfect SIL, to join the three sisters in dressing D for burial. It was without question one of the most profoundly spiritual experiences of my life. I will privately journalize the details of this experience, if you need to read it someday, feel free to ask, but for general viewing, I choose not to share it just now. I will say, initially, it was very difficult for us all to see her that way. But as we gathered ourselves and set about the business at hand, it was a beautiful, peaceful gathering and we all felt an incredible oneness with her, with each other, and I daresay, with the Lord. When we finished, she was so beautiful, and the five of us had bonded with each other in a way we never expected. We found the experience to be like balm for the wound in our hearts.
Several prayers were offered that day, my incredible FIL shared with us his powerful and enduring testimony. There were many tears, and everyone's emotions were like raw, open sores. But the ability to laugh and find comfort provided balance and the day was an incredibly healing and peaceful experience.
The Bishop that serves the ward (congregation) was present and offered a family prayer, and before leaving, this kind and loving servant of the Lord authorized a private sacrament meeting to be held in my BIL's home today. He recognized that coming to the regular meeting on Mother's Day would be difficult on the family under the circumstances, and due to his insight and thoughtfulness, the family was able to have what may prove a once in a lifetime experience that was just exactly what we all needed.
We will travel to UT to bury my MIL on Wed. I have no doubt that the Lord will continue to attend us during our preparations and journey. This hasn't been easy, but growing almost never is. It has proved to bring us all closer as a family, and I'm so grateful to be a part of it. Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. It really does mean a lot to all of us.
I was so fortunate and honored to be asked, with my perfect SIL, to join the three sisters in dressing D for burial. It was without question one of the most profoundly spiritual experiences of my life. I will privately journalize the details of this experience, if you need to read it someday, feel free to ask, but for general viewing, I choose not to share it just now. I will say, initially, it was very difficult for us all to see her that way. But as we gathered ourselves and set about the business at hand, it was a beautiful, peaceful gathering and we all felt an incredible oneness with her, with each other, and I daresay, with the Lord. When we finished, she was so beautiful, and the five of us had bonded with each other in a way we never expected. We found the experience to be like balm for the wound in our hearts.
Several prayers were offered that day, my incredible FIL shared with us his powerful and enduring testimony. There were many tears, and everyone's emotions were like raw, open sores. But the ability to laugh and find comfort provided balance and the day was an incredibly healing and peaceful experience.
The Bishop that serves the ward (congregation) was present and offered a family prayer, and before leaving, this kind and loving servant of the Lord authorized a private sacrament meeting to be held in my BIL's home today. He recognized that coming to the regular meeting on Mother's Day would be difficult on the family under the circumstances, and due to his insight and thoughtfulness, the family was able to have what may prove a once in a lifetime experience that was just exactly what we all needed.
We will travel to UT to bury my MIL on Wed. I have no doubt that the Lord will continue to attend us during our preparations and journey. This hasn't been easy, but growing almost never is. It has proved to bring us all closer as a family, and I'm so grateful to be a part of it. Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. It really does mean a lot to all of us.
Friday, May 12, 2006
The Surreal Life
It's always a strange feeling to wake up the day after a major event. When you first open your eyes, you wonder if it was real, and as your brain begins to function, you begin to move forward with what comes next.
I'm so grateful for the great plan of our Father in Heaven. It is beautiful in it's simplicity and comforting in it's promise. The kids have done very well with the news and have spent lots of time talking about their feelings today. I am grateful for their testimony's, which, at times, seem more vast and steadfast than my own.
The rest of the family is gathering, and preparations are being made. I'm honored to have been asked to help with preparations, I know that will be a tender experience which I've not had before, and I thank you all for the kind comments.
I'm so grateful for the great plan of our Father in Heaven. It is beautiful in it's simplicity and comforting in it's promise. The kids have done very well with the news and have spent lots of time talking about their feelings today. I am grateful for their testimony's, which, at times, seem more vast and steadfast than my own.
The rest of the family is gathering, and preparations are being made. I'm honored to have been asked to help with preparations, I know that will be a tender experience which I've not had before, and I thank you all for the kind comments.
The Part Where Everything Comes to a Stop
Hubster's mom just passed away. It's been coming, but we had reason to hope it would be a bit farther out. My heart is breaking to think I'm not with my husband right now. Rand wanted the older children told right away, which I have done, and now I'm struggling with knowing I'll have to tell the younger kids in a few hours. I don't know what else to say or do right now. So I guess this is where I wait.
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