Lego creations by Faith
Doctor Who with his sonic screwdriver and the TARDIS
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Confession Time
I have a confession. I hate cleaning. My house shows it. There are so many other ways I can find that are very valuable ways to spend my time. My school. Home school. Reading, games, puzzles, activities, crafts with the kids. Backyard fires. Long bike rides. Walks. Movie night.
When we do clean, it is with the kids too. They do dishes, laundry, sweep, scrub, vacuum, and dust. We work together to get it done as quickly as possible. And it looks like the kids helped. They are still learning.
There is always clean laundry stacked on the couch. And crafting remnants on the floor. And Legos everywhere. Game pieces on the living room floor, school work on the dining room table, and glitter all over. We have toys on the floor, books on the love seat, and movies stacked up by the DVD player. There is at least one fake bug somewhere in every room of our house.
You see, we live here. All the time. And we do school here. There are some hyper kids, some slow to complete task kids, and some kids who are much bigger and are just trying to enjoy the little ones while they are still little. And waiting for some little woodland critters to help has not yet paid off. So we dust in between subjects, scoop up toys so we can vacuum, and shift school work to eat together. Regardless of how clean, not or so clean it is, I always step on or hit the bugs, just in case...
When we do clean, it is with the kids too. They do dishes, laundry, sweep, scrub, vacuum, and dust. We work together to get it done as quickly as possible. And it looks like the kids helped. They are still learning.
There is always clean laundry stacked on the couch. And crafting remnants on the floor. And Legos everywhere. Game pieces on the living room floor, school work on the dining room table, and glitter all over. We have toys on the floor, books on the love seat, and movies stacked up by the DVD player. There is at least one fake bug somewhere in every room of our house.
You see, we live here. All the time. And we do school here. There are some hyper kids, some slow to complete task kids, and some kids who are much bigger and are just trying to enjoy the little ones while they are still little. And waiting for some little woodland critters to help has not yet paid off. So we dust in between subjects, scoop up toys so we can vacuum, and shift school work to eat together. Regardless of how clean, not or so clean it is, I always step on or hit the bugs, just in case...
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The Truth About Socialization
When people hear that we home school, there are a few things they usually ask. Why?? Is that legal?? What about socialization?? I am often tempted to give a sarcastic response. "No, actually it's not legal, so please don't tell anyone!" Usually, because I am supposed to be setting a good example for my children, I answer honestly and openly. And maybe with more than the asker bargained for in some cases.
You see, my least favorite question is socialization. According to dictionary.com, socialization is "a continuing process whereby an individual acquires a personal identity and learns the norms, values, behavior, and social skills appropriate to his or her social position". Nothing in the definition states that this happens by being in a group of their peers for over a decade. Actually, I think that the process of obtaining socialization took me longer because of peer pressure. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to fit in. Almost every stupid decision I ever made was a direct result of peer pressure. And it never worked. I was not cool. I did not fit in. And I felt like a sell out every time I saw an injustice and said nothing. Choose to be silent when seeing bullying. Knew my friends were taking up destructive habits, but said nothing. Did not say what I thought or believed because I did not want to be ridiculed because of my faith.
I can give many examples of home schoolers that I know that do not feel the crush of peer pressure. Who stay true to themselves, their beliefs, and their faith regardless of circumstances. Mainly, I see my oldest daughter. Who she is. Who she is becoming.
Angel does not feel the need to impress anyone. She does what she enjoys, regardless of who finds that popular. She wears what she likes. She watches, or does not watch, things based on her preferences and beliefs. She forms her own opinions. Strongly. Her taste in music is not the same as her friends. Or her taste in books, games, activities, or how she feels about school. We are more alike than she will want to admit. But by middle school I had already felt the pull of peer pressure shaping who I was, even though I was strong. She does not. I have seen her decline opportunities with friends because she wants to spend time with extended family. Or at church. I have seen her not participate in activities because she felt that something about those activities was wrong. She sings, dances, and acts because it is fun for her. She performs dances to praise music for church that she choreographs herself because she enjoys it. She participates in youth group, joins her father onstage, and is actively involved in community service. Not because it is what her friends do, but because she finds meaning and enjoyment in those activities.
And yet, despite not caring what others think of her, we can not go anywhere without someone calling out "Hey Angel!" or "Look, Angel's here!" The post office, the bank, the playground, the park, swimming, restaurants, grocery stores, the library, even in our back yard. She knows people everywhere we go. Just tonight we were running at the local school track, just the two of us. We get out of the van , and hear "Angel!!" There were only a handful of people there, and most of them knew her. Children, parents, teachers, coaches.
I am convinced that this happens not despite her being true to herself, but because of it. You see, she learned something already that took me until the beginning of twelfth grade to discover. It does not matter in the long run who likes what you do if you do not. It does not matter what others think of your faith if God is not pleased. It does not matter what others think of you if you are not happy with who you are. She is very comfortable with who she is, and that appeals to others. Spending time with a variety of ages makes her comfortable talking to her peers, their parents, and any siblings. She is kind, likes listening to people, and enjoys serving God and others. I know that she is this confident in who she is because she has been given the freedom of home school. Freedom to help choose what she learns, and how. Freedom to excel, or take some extra time. Freedom to interact with her great grandparents, uncles, younger siblings, friends, parents, coaches, teachers and even those people who ask if we are sure our children will have enough socialization.
You see, my least favorite question is socialization. According to dictionary.com, socialization is "a continuing process whereby an individual acquires a personal identity and learns the norms, values, behavior, and social skills appropriate to his or her social position". Nothing in the definition states that this happens by being in a group of their peers for over a decade. Actually, I think that the process of obtaining socialization took me longer because of peer pressure. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to fit in. Almost every stupid decision I ever made was a direct result of peer pressure. And it never worked. I was not cool. I did not fit in. And I felt like a sell out every time I saw an injustice and said nothing. Choose to be silent when seeing bullying. Knew my friends were taking up destructive habits, but said nothing. Did not say what I thought or believed because I did not want to be ridiculed because of my faith.
I can give many examples of home schoolers that I know that do not feel the crush of peer pressure. Who stay true to themselves, their beliefs, and their faith regardless of circumstances. Mainly, I see my oldest daughter. Who she is. Who she is becoming.
Angel does not feel the need to impress anyone. She does what she enjoys, regardless of who finds that popular. She wears what she likes. She watches, or does not watch, things based on her preferences and beliefs. She forms her own opinions. Strongly. Her taste in music is not the same as her friends. Or her taste in books, games, activities, or how she feels about school. We are more alike than she will want to admit. But by middle school I had already felt the pull of peer pressure shaping who I was, even though I was strong. She does not. I have seen her decline opportunities with friends because she wants to spend time with extended family. Or at church. I have seen her not participate in activities because she felt that something about those activities was wrong. She sings, dances, and acts because it is fun for her. She performs dances to praise music for church that she choreographs herself because she enjoys it. She participates in youth group, joins her father onstage, and is actively involved in community service. Not because it is what her friends do, but because she finds meaning and enjoyment in those activities.
And yet, despite not caring what others think of her, we can not go anywhere without someone calling out "Hey Angel!" or "Look, Angel's here!" The post office, the bank, the playground, the park, swimming, restaurants, grocery stores, the library, even in our back yard. She knows people everywhere we go. Just tonight we were running at the local school track, just the two of us. We get out of the van , and hear "Angel!!" There were only a handful of people there, and most of them knew her. Children, parents, teachers, coaches.
I am convinced that this happens not despite her being true to herself, but because of it. You see, she learned something already that took me until the beginning of twelfth grade to discover. It does not matter in the long run who likes what you do if you do not. It does not matter what others think of your faith if God is not pleased. It does not matter what others think of you if you are not happy with who you are. She is very comfortable with who she is, and that appeals to others. Spending time with a variety of ages makes her comfortable talking to her peers, their parents, and any siblings. She is kind, likes listening to people, and enjoys serving God and others. I know that she is this confident in who she is because she has been given the freedom of home school. Freedom to help choose what she learns, and how. Freedom to excel, or take some extra time. Freedom to interact with her great grandparents, uncles, younger siblings, friends, parents, coaches, teachers and even those people who ask if we are sure our children will have enough socialization.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
How very odd...
Pregnancy does odd things to a woman. To her body, to her mental state, to her emotional state, and even to her family. There are things other people notice by a glance, like my freaky hair, my double wide booty, or a belly that looks 6 months but is only 15 weeks. Then there are the things that my family notices, like the fact that I no longer drink coffee everyday, that peanut butter make me sick, and that I am oversensitive about things like babies and Batman. Then there are the things I notice, like I have to go to the bathroom every half hour all night long, that I sweat doing even the most mundane things, or that I eat like a hobbit. My feet grow wider, my nose gets bigger, my hair is curly one day and straight the next.
Pregnancy has made my family extra irritating. For example, they do crazy things like eat the last of the chocolate, drink the last of the water, or breathe at me. Or, while I am sleeping they crawl into my dreams and do irritating stuff so that I wake up grumpy. Or they do horrible things like ask me where I would like to eat for supper, which makes me cry. Or they are really nice to me when I am mad for no rational reason.
Then there are the times that I crave some specific food, only to make it and gag over the way it looks. Or those times when I want two foods that will never go good together, like chocolate ice cream and lemonade. The times I will die if I do not have a Sheetz hot dog right now, even if I was sound asleep five seconds ago.
There are those times when I cry at the baby on the baby wipe box. Or because Andy told me that I am beautiful when pregnant. And he did not even mention that I am also crazy. Or I cry because my son told me that Batman is not real. Or when I cry because it is Tuesday. Or reading a poem about a bird to my son, or a birthday cake book to my other son. Or when I am talking to my daughter about Narnia, or dinosaurs. I cry when I do not even know that I am crying. At first my children found it alarming. Now they laugh behind their hands. In a different room. Which also makes me cry.
But the worst has to be that somewhere, deep down, there is a remnant of the rational me that sees all of this crazy. And she protests. And she tries to reason with my hormone saturated brain. She struggles to make sense of my tears, my fears, my craving, and my brand of crazy. She knows that Batman is (probably) not real. She knows that of course the baby on the wipes box is cute. And that it is actually me who is irritating, not my family. She tries to explain that it is ok if they eat the chocolate, because it makes me sick anyway. And that I do cry too much, and when it was not me, say it was my mother, I found it funny too. But she is too quiet to hear over my craziness, and I am the only one who sees her daily.
She also knows that soon this will all be over. The world will not end. People do not die from being pregnant, even if they also homeschool. There will be a wonderful tiny baby, and we will laugh and cry and be a family forever. And, very importantly, she knows that soon I will be able to stomach chocolate. And a daily cup of coffee. But I will be reluctant to give up my nap.
Pregnancy has made my family extra irritating. For example, they do crazy things like eat the last of the chocolate, drink the last of the water, or breathe at me. Or, while I am sleeping they crawl into my dreams and do irritating stuff so that I wake up grumpy. Or they do horrible things like ask me where I would like to eat for supper, which makes me cry. Or they are really nice to me when I am mad for no rational reason.
Then there are the times that I crave some specific food, only to make it and gag over the way it looks. Or those times when I want two foods that will never go good together, like chocolate ice cream and lemonade. The times I will die if I do not have a Sheetz hot dog right now, even if I was sound asleep five seconds ago.
There are those times when I cry at the baby on the baby wipe box. Or because Andy told me that I am beautiful when pregnant. And he did not even mention that I am also crazy. Or I cry because my son told me that Batman is not real. Or when I cry because it is Tuesday. Or reading a poem about a bird to my son, or a birthday cake book to my other son. Or when I am talking to my daughter about Narnia, or dinosaurs. I cry when I do not even know that I am crying. At first my children found it alarming. Now they laugh behind their hands. In a different room. Which also makes me cry.
But the worst has to be that somewhere, deep down, there is a remnant of the rational me that sees all of this crazy. And she protests. And she tries to reason with my hormone saturated brain. She struggles to make sense of my tears, my fears, my craving, and my brand of crazy. She knows that Batman is (probably) not real. She knows that of course the baby on the wipes box is cute. And that it is actually me who is irritating, not my family. She tries to explain that it is ok if they eat the chocolate, because it makes me sick anyway. And that I do cry too much, and when it was not me, say it was my mother, I found it funny too. But she is too quiet to hear over my craziness, and I am the only one who sees her daily.
She also knows that soon this will all be over. The world will not end. People do not die from being pregnant, even if they also homeschool. There will be a wonderful tiny baby, and we will laugh and cry and be a family forever. And, very importantly, she knows that soon I will be able to stomach chocolate. And a daily cup of coffee. But I will be reluctant to give up my nap.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Top ten reasons why I love to home school
In any random order, not the order of importance!
10. Those days when we stay in our jammies all day.
9. Sleeping in on yucky days.
8. Cuddling all the kids in my room in the morning.
7. Starting the day with devotions and prayer.
6. Watching my children as they play together during breaks.
5. Catching that "ah ha"moment when understanding dawns for the first time. Every time.
4. Seeing my children work together at school, around the house, and as they help me.
3. Co-op classes that allow all the kids to get together to learn and play, and the moms get a bit of a break.
2. Reading aloud a great book, sipping hot chocolate.
1. Growing closer to each other and closer to God.
10. Those days when we stay in our jammies all day.
9. Sleeping in on yucky days.
8. Cuddling all the kids in my room in the morning.
7. Starting the day with devotions and prayer.
6. Watching my children as they play together during breaks.
5. Catching that "ah ha"moment when understanding dawns for the first time. Every time.
4. Seeing my children work together at school, around the house, and as they help me.
3. Co-op classes that allow all the kids to get together to learn and play, and the moms get a bit of a break.
2. Reading aloud a great book, sipping hot chocolate.
1. Growing closer to each other and closer to God.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Things I overheard from the children today...
Isaac and his cousins playing Wii:
"Cousins are like friends"
"Yeah, but they have to like you."
Faith to her cousin, still playing Wii:
"Hold still and let me beat you up!"
M to Angel:
"I want to come over everyday. Can I shop in your room everyday?"
Faith to her cousins:
"Oh yeah, just ask my mom about him when they were growing up. Does she have some stories for you!"
Faith to her cousin:
"We should do this more. What are your plans next weekend?"
Best line ever:
"Let's all spent the night together at Grandma's!" They meant all 11 of them! I am in! Dan, Amber? Scott, Theresa? What do you think??
"Cousins are like friends"
"Yeah, but they have to like you."
Faith to her cousin, still playing Wii:
"Hold still and let me beat you up!"
M to Angel:
"I want to come over everyday. Can I shop in your room everyday?"
Faith to her cousins:
"Oh yeah, just ask my mom about him when they were growing up. Does she have some stories for you!"
Faith to her cousin:
"We should do this more. What are your plans next weekend?"
Best line ever:
"Let's all spent the night together at Grandma's!" They meant all 11 of them! I am in! Dan, Amber? Scott, Theresa? What do you think??
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Yield. And then maybe smile a bit.
I live in a small town. We have small town roads and sidewalks in most places. In other places we have one lane bridges and no sidewalks. Almost everything is in walking distance. I enjoy this very much. But I have come to find something unsettling on our ventures out, especially when my kids are riding their bikes.
We have a grocery store within about a block from our home. On the way there is a one lane bridge. And construction that covers the sidewalk. I have some young bike riders, but they know the rules and are cautious. I am not worried about them, I am worried for them. Because of the adults around.
My nine year old has Asperger's Syndrome, which is on the Autism Spectrum. We were told she probably would not have the balance to ride her bike without training wheels. We never told her that. We coached, worked, practiced, and prayed. It may have taken her two years longer, and she is a bit unsteady, but she rides. Without training wheels. And she can go far.
My seven year old was quick to get his training wheels off his bike. He started taking them off himself. He is fast and steady. He was riding without training wheels before his big sister. He rides slowly with his sister. To keep her safe. He encourages her up the hills, and even down the other side.
And I am proud of them both. Her perseverance. His protection. Her smiling face. His kind heart.
You see, that one lane bridge is scary for her. She has to pedal up a small hill. She is close to cars. She may seem like she does not see them, but that is because she doesn't want to make eye contact with the drivers. She knows you are there. And sometimes she panics if cars are too close, too loud, or too fast, even if they are on the road and she is on the sidewalk. But on that bridge she has no choice. She has to step out of her comfort zone, away from her safe place. Again. She does this in many ways everyday, but this is the only time I fear for her.
On that bridge, she has to be on the road. And adults are impatient. And rude. They beep at her if she is taking too long. Or creep up onto the bridge invading her space. Sometimes it alarms her enough that she jumps off her bike and runs. I am usually right there, but she will still get afraid. And so Isaac rides between her and the road. To protect her.
If I could say one thing to the drivers we see often, especially today, it would be shame on you. Shame on you for your impatience. For your frustration. You see, even if she was not a little different in this area, she is still a child. She will go too slow. Or too fast. She may swerve a little. She may not see you coming up behind her. But as a child, that is to be expected. As adult, on the other hand, should know better. Should yield to the child that seems "in the way", your child or not. Your relative or not. Your neighbor or not. Because by your actions you teach each child you meet. You are teaching impatience. Frustration. Lack of compassion. I am a firm believer that the only thing wrong with "kids these days" is the adults that they have to look to as an example.
So if you are in my town on a nice day and you see a beautiful little girl on a pink bike with a rubber snake in the basket, please be patient. Give her an extra moment. Maybe a smile. She may not respond in kind, but she will notice. And so will her sister and brothers. And her mother. And they will be very grateful.
We have a grocery store within about a block from our home. On the way there is a one lane bridge. And construction that covers the sidewalk. I have some young bike riders, but they know the rules and are cautious. I am not worried about them, I am worried for them. Because of the adults around.
My nine year old has Asperger's Syndrome, which is on the Autism Spectrum. We were told she probably would not have the balance to ride her bike without training wheels. We never told her that. We coached, worked, practiced, and prayed. It may have taken her two years longer, and she is a bit unsteady, but she rides. Without training wheels. And she can go far.
My seven year old was quick to get his training wheels off his bike. He started taking them off himself. He is fast and steady. He was riding without training wheels before his big sister. He rides slowly with his sister. To keep her safe. He encourages her up the hills, and even down the other side.
And I am proud of them both. Her perseverance. His protection. Her smiling face. His kind heart.
You see, that one lane bridge is scary for her. She has to pedal up a small hill. She is close to cars. She may seem like she does not see them, but that is because she doesn't want to make eye contact with the drivers. She knows you are there. And sometimes she panics if cars are too close, too loud, or too fast, even if they are on the road and she is on the sidewalk. But on that bridge she has no choice. She has to step out of her comfort zone, away from her safe place. Again. She does this in many ways everyday, but this is the only time I fear for her.
On that bridge, she has to be on the road. And adults are impatient. And rude. They beep at her if she is taking too long. Or creep up onto the bridge invading her space. Sometimes it alarms her enough that she jumps off her bike and runs. I am usually right there, but she will still get afraid. And so Isaac rides between her and the road. To protect her.
If I could say one thing to the drivers we see often, especially today, it would be shame on you. Shame on you for your impatience. For your frustration. You see, even if she was not a little different in this area, she is still a child. She will go too slow. Or too fast. She may swerve a little. She may not see you coming up behind her. But as a child, that is to be expected. As adult, on the other hand, should know better. Should yield to the child that seems "in the way", your child or not. Your relative or not. Your neighbor or not. Because by your actions you teach each child you meet. You are teaching impatience. Frustration. Lack of compassion. I am a firm believer that the only thing wrong with "kids these days" is the adults that they have to look to as an example.
So if you are in my town on a nice day and you see a beautiful little girl on a pink bike with a rubber snake in the basket, please be patient. Give her an extra moment. Maybe a smile. She may not respond in kind, but she will notice. And so will her sister and brothers. And her mother. And they will be very grateful.
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