Forgot that Karen asked
If Brett and I are and have been on the same page re., homeschooling. Mostly yes and occasionally no.
Brett was more pro-homeschooling than I was in the middle there but he also (rightly) felt that it was ultimately my decision since I was going to be the one home with him and giving up the chance to get a regular job, etc. He stayed neutral while I wrestled with it but every once in awhile he let a smile slip when I’d say, “Maybe we should try it…”
He’s less unschoolish than I am and so the things he does with Noah are more structured. Every once in awhile we argue a bit about what I’m having Noah do versus what he thinks Noah ought to do and then we come to some compromise that will make neither of us crazy. He just wants to make sure that Noah has the option of going to school and so wants to see him grade-ready all the time and I don’t worry about that as much as long as I see forward movement. (The way things are with Noah is that he learns a big chunk in something and then doesn’t touch it for a long time. He’s a stealth learner. And then sometimes we’ll come back to something he wasn’t getting a few months back and somehow he’s mastered it even though we haven’t practiced it in the time being. It helps convince me that, for Noah anyway, when he’s developmentally ready for it, it’ll show up.)
First we’ll talk about homeschooling
Since that seems like a popular topic! (And thank you so much for the questions because now I’m all revived. I’m like the guy in Caps
for Sale; I am “refreshed and rested”!)
Ok, back to homeschooling. When I first had Noah I was all about homeschooling with all of the passion of a new mother who has not yet become a parent to an actual school-ager. This passion I had for homeschooling was because I couldn’t imagine him out of my sight at all and that I wanted to protect him from the evil, cruel world. Then he hit three and I most definitely did NOT want to homeschool him. I remember talking to a friend of mine about it because all of the other women in that playgroup were totally going to homeschool and I was crazy against it and I felt like I was being this terrible mother that I didn’t want to do it. (Irony alert — of that playgroup I am the only one homeschooling. Yeah. Life is funny like that and let that be a warning to those of us who make proclamations.)
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It’s 11:15am
So far I’ve
–Put two dinners-worth of pinto beans in the crockpot.
–Made Noah cry by threatening to throw away his stupid Tamagotchi.
–Flipped out and locked myself in the bedroom to pace and growl because Madison took a handful of her weird little zippy-looking building toys and tossed those f*ckers right across the room for kicks.
–Sent the children outside to play and then choked back tears when they came back minutes later because Madison peed her pants.
–Made a happy little project of taping paper all over the table so Madison could decorate! the tablecloth! for daddy! so Noah and I could start his timeline.
–Did not kill anyone (including myself) when Madison ripped up half the “tablecloth” while I went to get the crayons.
–Gritted my teeth and retaped the damn tablecloth.
–Realized Noah was more into the tablecloth than Madison so gave up the timeline ’til her nap.
–Fell off the wagon and made myself a cup of half-caf/half-decaf. And then did it again.
–Told Noah that I am serious and if we don’t figure out a plan for his tamagotchi and the computer and the stupid damn television with the stupid damn cable, he is so going to school because he thinks his life is so hard when we ask him to do one or two little things and he just does not realize how lenient we are and I’m tired of feeling like a damn slavedriver because I’ve asked him to look through the (very expensive and impressive) ancient history book we just got to let me know what he thinks of it.
–Felt guilty when he started to cry.
–Felt guiltier when I realized that I, of course, have no intention of sending him to school and I’m just pushing his buttons because the morning isn’t going my way and I am sick of him treating me like a slave driver but I could just say that and leave the “s” word out of it.
–Felt guiltier still when later he came and put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I’m sorry. I know you’re having a tough day. Let me know if you need me to help out.”
Ugh. I have (another) earache and it kept me up half the night and then I slept wrong so now my eart hurts and I have a crick in my neck and I’m exhausted and I meant us to go to the library first thing this morning but it was raining and now it’s too late to go before lunch and nap and I feel like the whole day is screwed up even though it’s just the morning and the morning is almost over anyway so what do I care.
Bleah.
But last night since I couldn’t sleep I fixed my archives (sorta) while I waited for the ibuprofen to kick in. They look bad (I hope to figure that out sometime today) but now if you click on a category you actually get to read entries in that category instead of getting a “page not found” error.
Father’s day gone MAD
Brett barely got a birthday this year (and it was his fortieth!) and now he’s barely getting a father’s day. Poor Brett. He deserves a parade and instead he’s getting a turkey sandwich. We’re going to have a Father’s evening celebration this week when life gives us more room for celebrating.
I was thinking about Dr. Tiff’s recent decision to put her kids in school next year and Little Blue School’s reaction. I tell you, I hear both their screams.
Last year it felt like Noah lost another homeschool playdate friend every time we turned around and it hit me somewhere around the solar plexus. Some of these weren’t so surprising — they were friends who always planned to put school on the calendar or friends who were ambivalent and struggling — one was a hard-core homeschool family and we were all shocked. Oh lord, the emails! They were flying around as we deconstructed it (and I know her ears were burning because she knows how we all talk). What I heard most often was, “I totally get why she did it. There are days when I am thisclose to doing the same damn thing.”
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