Far Beyond Pearls

The cashier at the grocery store was an older woman and she looked admiringly at Megan and said, “She’s such a beautiful girl.”  And then she added what is quite possibly the most bizarre indictment against homeschooling I’ve ever heard: “It’s a shame she’s homeschooled.  Think of all the boys who don’t get to enjoy looking at her!”

“She’s ten,” I said patiently.  “She doesn’t need to be worrying about boys just yet.” In my mind, I was casting for a deeper answer, thinking of the cultural pressures on children to begin dating at an early age and the effects of this pressure on the children themselves and on the larger society: promiscuity, low self-esteem, teen pregnancy, abortion, single motherhood, entire generations of irresponsible and uncommitted men, entire generations of children raised by daycare providers and public school teachers, divorce and the critical failure of the most basic unit on which civilization is built: the family.  I don’t believe I’m exaggerating.  There is really no “safe” level of romantic interaction between the sexes.  One thing will always lead to the next, and I’d much prefer that my children be children as long as possible.  They’ll have the whole rest of their lives to be grown up.  But the checkout line is not really the place for this conversation, so I kept my (very strong) opinions to myself.

A minute later she made some other remark that boiled down to the very common “socialization” issue.  I laughed out loud.  “We just came from a homeschool group meeting of some fifty children,” I said, much to the relief and delight of this woman.  This always baffles me, though.  Homeschoolers don’t live in a bubble.  We go shopping and talk to strangers.  We go to church and talk to elderly people and nuns and public-schooled kids.  We join clubs and start groups and meet people who share some interests but differ in others.  We find opportunities to practice charity every day.  Even in the checkout line.  Most of us are pretty good people.

A few minutes later, I was herding my little crew of wandering children toward the door.  Two Korean woman stopped me to comment on my large family and to ask, “Are you done yet?”  Talk about socialization issues.  When did it become acceptable to discuss the sex life of a perfect stranger in a public place in the presence of children? I answered as politely as one can in such situations and moved on.  When I related all this to David later, he said, “You should have embarrassed them.  Next time, say, ‘My husband is hung like a horse.  I just can’t get enough of him!’”

I wish I could.  But I’m too well socialized.

Just on the off chance you thought I had a lot of free time over here, I thought I’d let you know: I’ve been busy.  Really busy.  Which is why I don’t get to blog or take photos as often as I’d like.  If it’s any consolation, I think my posts way more often than I type them.

What I’ve been busy at is mostly planning for our first quarter or two of school.  I’ve never planned for such a long period with such thoroughness before.  This is Brenna’s first high school year, though, and I thought I’d better get myself in gear.  Finally.  We’re already a whopping two days into school and Megan has declared that this is “the best school year ever!”  It really is.  All that hard work in the planning stages was really worth it.  But you probably already know that because you are much more organized than I am.  No, really.  You are.

While I was busy planning, David got us a piano.  You see, some months ago, a friend gave us an organ.  It was very nice, but we are very new at playing the piano and the keys on two levels was just more than our poor dexterity could handle, so it mostly just took up space in the school room, space I very much wanted back.  So I listed the organ on Craig’s List, offering it for free.  In twenty minutes, I had an email from a fellow who wondered if we might want to trade it for a piano.  Can you believe that?  God works in mysterious and wonderful ways.  So, Davey drove out there with the organ and came back with a (very heavy) piano.  There it was, in the driveway, and I was wondering how we were going to move it with just one big strong man and mostly not-so-strong women and children.  At that very moment, the neighbors got home from work.  Three more strong men!  God is good, no?  (So are the neighbors.)  We’ve all been happily practicing our piano in whatever spare moments we have.  I’ve been able to play for about an hour a day in ten to twenty minute snatches of time here and there.  Even Davey is learning.

One last thing before I go:  We’re giving Latin a go this year, and we’re using a copy of Latina Christiana that I purchased – with most excellent intentions – FIVE YEARS AGO.  Day One of Latin lessons, Jonny shrugged and sat down and said, “I already know Latin.  I can say ‘bus’ in Latin.  Usbay.  See?”  I guess he’s good to go, then.

A baby up too early, drifting off again in my arms, smiling silly, sleepy smiles at me.

Just a few more lessons to put in my planner and a whole block of 45 minutes unscheduled, right in the middle of the morning, three days a week.  It is obviously meant for Penny.

A school room nearly clean, nearly clutter-free.  It’s nice out there.

The freedom (!) of a plan, a concrete, written-in-ink plan, and the hopefulness – the confidence – that it will all work in practice as well as it does on paper.  (Setting aside the schedule shifting knee surgery my husband scheduled for a Wednesday morning, of course.)

Having the option to say, “No!” to outside activities this weekend.  I just can’t afford to give up my fight for order now, in the end-game.

The piano my beloved husband is going to pick up this afternoon, in trade for an organ.  And the fact that he is going with good will and without me because I wanted to call the whole deal off due to the travel time.  I hope it’s worth the trip.

And last, but definitely not least: frank conversation that lets two lost lovers take just one more step back toward real love.

Hey, there.  Watcha doin’?

Me?  Oh.

Well, I have chickens in my living room that need to grow up and move out.  I have no idea how to integrate them with the rest of the flock so that the older birds don’t kill them.  Also, I think that if we’re going to have chicks in the living room on a regular basis, which seems to be the norm, we might want to make some sort of brooder that is more attractive – and secure – than our 12-inch high kiddie pool.  I’m not concerned, though.

I also have sheep in my field.  I’m not a real big fan of them right now, so they were slated to be dinner, but they’re starting to grow on me.  The two lambs will definitely be dinner, but I don’t know about the sheep.  Anyway, I’ll have to figure out pretty soon how to go about getting an animal slaughtered and turned into neatly wrapped packages for the freezer.  No stress, though.

We might be getting a piano.  Someone gave us an organ, and I found someone who wants to trade, but the organ is stored in the garage and I’d want a piano in the house.  Our house is not designed with any particular amount of wall space and I can only think of two potential places to put a piano.  One is right here at my desk.  I wouldn’t have a desk anymore.  The other is in the living room where the bookshelves are.  We wouldn’t have bookshelves anymore.  I don’t have any anxiety about it, though.

And did I mention that school starts next week???  Not that I’m worried, of course.  Lessons for all six children are planned out.  We have a disaster-proof schedule in place to get it all done.  I located an additional three hours per day which prevents me from having to teach phonics and algebra while milking the cow.  The school room is in perfect order, clean and uncluttered, an ideal learning environment.  And the freezer is stocked with ready-made, home-cooked meals so I won’t have to worry about dinner till the first quarter break.

NOT!

Okay, maybe I’m a little worried.

I have a lot of curriculum materials which I have purchased but never quite gotten around to using.  Sometimes, they just weren’t a good match for us, and sometimes my good intentions had to yield to reality, but most of it I have tucked away, hopeful that we’ll someday get around to it.  Someday was going to be next week for one of those things, the Beautiful Feet geography study using the Holling C. Holling books.  Tragically, I can’t find the guide or the tube of maps.  It’s possible I got rid of them already, but I don’t remember that.  More likely, they’re wallowing somewhere in the mess that is the storage attic.  So the race is on.  Will I or will I not find the materials I want before I need them next Monday?  Or will we succumb to the already half formulated Plan B?  Plan B will probably be more fun anyway.

With chocolate cupcake crumbs still lingering on his lips, Jonny came to me and asked, “Do we grow cupcakes?”

I looked at my eight-year-old, ought-to-know-better boy and wondered, not for the first time, if homeschooling was really working out.  “Do we grow cupcakes?” I repeated.  “Like on a  cupcake tree?  That would be great, wouldn’t it?  We could plant a cupcake and in a few months we’d have a cupcake bush, frosting and all.”

“No!” he giggled.  ” I meant, do we grow the ingredients for cupcakes!”  Just as I was feeling relieved about the whole homeschooling thing, he added, “Besides, I already know you can’t plant things like that and get them to grow.  Like you can’t plant money and get a money tree.”

“Oh?” I said, curious how he’d come by this knowledge.

“Yeah,” he went on, “once, when I was about Rosie’s age, I planted a penny by the garage and poured some water on it.  All I got was a dirty penny.”

We’re all about the hands-on learning here.

Round Two of the chicken pox has finally caught up with us.  Brenna and Penny have it, but Penny doesn’t mind.  That’s a big benefit of being very young, I think.  They just assume that whatever state they find themselves in is normal and continue on cheerfully.

* * * * *

I’d been hoping Daisy-the-dairy-calf and I could peacefully coexist, sharing Maybelle’s bountiful milk without incident.  I hoped that because I wanted Maybelle to do the work of raising her calf and because I think she’d learn the art of being cow so much better from an experienced one.  What do I know about being a cow?  However, being such a dedicated mama, Maybelle wasn’t letting down her milk, holding it back for her calf.  Understandable, of course, but unacceptable. She’s a milk cow, after all, and we want milk.  That’s why we got her.  So yesterday, we separated them.  Maybelle is not particularly pleased with us and has not yet let down all her milk, but even subtracting the calf’s rations, we’re getting a lot more already.  As a bonus, that little calf likes me a lot better now that I’m the one with the warm milk!

* * * * *

We got a fair bit of snow last night, so today is house cleaning day.  And bread baking day.    I like when I get a day to stay mostly indoors and do some inside work.   It doesn’t happen so often anymore.

* * * * *

Thomas celebrated his first birthday yesterday!  I can hardly believe it’s been a whole year since he was born, and at the same time, I can hardly believe he’s only been here one year.  It’s funny how, when I’m pregnant, I just think about the logistics of adding one more: where will he sleep, what will he wear, how will we arrange the car seats in the van.  But then, holding that new baby in my arms, something happens, something changes, and suddenly I can’t imagine that this perfect little person ever wasn’t a part of my life.

* * * * *

Thomas has just recently begun kissing me.  Forcefully.  He grabs hold of my face with both his pudgy little hands, turns me right toward him, and lays a big wet one on me.  I just have to be careful that he doesn’t bite me, too, while he’s at it. 

* * * * *

Our garage school is working very well.  I was worried that I would get really behind on things like laundry, but I’ve actually noticed improved productivity all around.  At least, on the days when my back doesn’t hurt so badly.  I remember to take dinner meat out of the freezer early in the morning, so no last minute wondering about what to make.  I usually have all the laundry washed by the time we go out, since we’re up early anyway.   I just feel like we need to come up with a good lesson schedule out there, and plan for the younger ones better, and we’ll be good to go.  We all like this new arrangement very well.

* * * * *

I finished up that art history course last weekend.   Woohoo.  Or something.  Here’s hoping I’ve gotten rid of that college bug once and for all.    Anyway, I did well enough on my written assignments and got a 91 on my midterm, so the results of the final exam shouldn’t matter much as far as passing goes.  I’m glad to have that off my back, at least.  Now I can expend my energy on blogging again. 

Happy Saturday, friends!  Thank you again for your prayers, too.  Today, I am fairly mobile, luckily, since I wanted to do a few things and I actually can.  It doesn’t last for long, so I take advantage.  I know.  Maybe if I rested, it’d keep.  But I think you all know how that goes.

   11
 X14
_____
   44
+11
_____
 121

The mommy looked over two pages of math work done so consistently wrong, she thought there must have been some method to it, though she could not see what it might be. Perplexed, she called out to the owner of the workbook that she held in her hands.

Said the mommy to the young mathematician who appeared at her side, “I don’t understand how you got these answers. Can you explain them to me?”

The mathematician hung her head and, judging by her silence, pleaded the Fifth.

The mommy spoke into the void. “I can’t help you learn if you don’t tell me. I don’t see what you did to get these answers.”

The mathematician considered this for a moment, then looked up and pointed to the numbers after a plus sign. “I just added these together and put the sum in between,” said she.

Aha! The mommy engaged in an epic battle to squash her natural impulses, but failed mightily. It was several minutes before she could explain the proper methodology to her young charge. It took her that long to stop laughing.

Question: I noticed from by all that subtle linking that you just finished up a Brave Writer course with your kids. Which course did you take? What did you use? It looks so overwhelming!

Answer: I have had the manual, called The Writer’s Jungle, by Julie Bogart, for an embarrassingly long time. The whole philosophy, with it’s decidedly Charlotte Mason flavor, appealed to me. That’s the kind of lifestyle, the kind of education I want for my kids. But making it work? I struggle with implementation. I signed us up for the class because I love to write and I wanted and needed to know how to get my kids to love to write, too. And it worked! What I discovered is that my eldest two, at thirteen and eleven, actually want to write, love to write, and have so much to express, but they were bogged down in the mechanics of writing. This class let me help them to get their thoughts out first and worry about the spelling and punctuation later. My nine year old Meg was reluctantly participating. She took the course pretty much because I made her. Once she got going, though, she was eager for each new step on the road to a finished piece. And she’s proud of what she did. They all are. So am I.

It was so liberating for me to sit my kids down to write and be able to tell them -and really mean it- that spelling didn’t matter, that punctuation didn’t matter, that it’s all about their ideas. Every time I said that, they beamed. And every time I read their work with that thought in mind, it was like I was reclaiming my status as their adoring mother and stuffing that annoying teacher lady in a closet somewhere. I could just be happy with what was really some pretty good writing, even if it was raw and unreadable by anyone except the writer.

Everything we learned in that course can be transferred over to any other writing assignment we ever do. Sometimes, we’ll write just to write, with no expectations, but when we need to or want to, we know how to turn out a finished piece with no tears and no stress for any of us. That’s a priceless gift, if you ask me.

The course we took is called Kids Write Basic and it’s their foundational course. They offer others, but I’d say this one is a must if you are having trouble teaching your children to write. It’s fairly expensive at $175 for the first child plus $50 for each additional, but if you compare that with the amount of money you’ve spent on courses that aren’t working for you or your kids, you’ll probably come out ahead here. The course brings to life the information in the book. I like having the book to refer to when I need to refresh my memory, but you don’t need it to take the class.

And if you sign up for one of her courses, tell Julie I sent you. Maybe she’ll give me a discount on that Help for High School book. We’re coming up on that a little too fast for my tastes!

Nine year old Megan’s piece can be read here.
Eleven year old Delaney’s piece is here.
And last, but not least, is thirteen year old Brenna’s, here.

Next up in this brand spanking new Q & A series: The bare bones cloth diapering kit! Because my sister asked.

Got a question? Send me an email: armyofeight at gmail dot com.

1. We finished our writing class! Okay, that’s not a small one. That’s four weeks of a whole lot of work for all of us, resulting in one mama having a plan of attack to teach her kids to write and three kids feeling a whole awful lot like writers.

2. Diligent cleaning up of accidents and frequent reminders of where the barn is have resulted in a kitten who is NOT pooping on the porch. God is good.

3. Yesterday afternoon, Penelope suddenly decided that she knew where the potty was and she wanted to use it. No wet undies since sometime yesterday, and she didn’t wet her diaper last night, either. Okay, that’s not a small one, either. We’ve only been working on this for a week.

I don’t usually join in these carnivals, but I was feeling it this week. Cheer for the other moms at Faith and Family Live.