here we go, homeschooling...

Aach. I'm nervous about this decision.
But going ahead with that bravery and resolve that mommies get when their babies need them.
Drake has been struggling in school this year, and also, now that I look back, last year as well...He's been attending a fabulous charter school for highly-gifted kids. It was a good match for his test scores, but not, I see, for his learning style and work habits. Drake is just not a homework kid, and he has a hard time switching gears. He really likes to dive into a subject and learn about it 100 different ways, and he gets angry when he has to switch classes, or when he doesn't get the research topic he wanted...on the flip side, he has a hard time seeing the value to some of the (perfectly reasonable) lessons and practices that are asked of him at school.
This is showing up in his mood and 'tude. He's less happy, more cranky, more likely to blow up at his sisters, peers, parents. Not a happy kid. Not looking like an eager life-long learner.
So, I'm pulling him from the school and I'm going to homeschool him the rest of this year. We will be applying for him to attend the local Montessori charter for the next school year.
In case you don't know me real well, I never thought I'd be a homeschooler. I'm not that kind of person. I was a public school teacher, for Pete's sake. I'm not a conservative Christian, which is one reason that many home-schoolers cite for bringing their kids home.
But my son needs me and I need to do what I can to help him be a happy, healthy, functioning kid. Then a learner who gets to follow his passion.
Working it out. Our term starts January 5, when the other kids go back to school. Until then, research and listening. Oh, and some holidays! Taking time to count our blessings.

fall crafts

My son, aged 9, was evaluating the mess on our breakfast bar while he ate his eggs.
"So, what were you guys doing with all these leaves?"
I proudly picked up his little sister's crafts of leafy window hangings, showing how the wax paper and red leaves looked with the light behind them, explaining the process of heating the wax paper with an iron, and how it melts together, creating a seal. This son is my engineer, who always has lots of detailed questions about molecules and things I almost can't answer.

Incredulous, he looked at me, forming his question, "You have an iron?"


Ouch.

Why it comes in cans

Now I know why pumpkin puree comes in cans.
Whew!
In my locavore/seasonal/slow foods zeal, I decided to roast a pumpkin. We had 5 of them on our patio, with more threatening from other grandparents next week. (I did bring 2 of them home, guilty as charged, but Simone and I picked them ourselves at the farm, so bring it.)
So I took the one I'd picked, rinsed it, quartered it, scooped the seeds and goop (ooh, the memories!) and roasted it for 2 hours at 350. I also washed and roasted the seeds, but only for one hour.
After those two hours, I let it cool and cut it into smaller chunks and peeled it. Then I realized it was still not done. So, I nuked it for about 8 minutes. I think it still could have used more, but it was adequately softened.
Then I mashed it in my stand mixer and moved it to a large measuring cup. I had about 5 cups.
I'd thought I'd make some cookies. Screw that. Too much!
So, I made two dozen muffins, two loaves of bread, and a pan of cake. This is strangely like trying to use up zucchini. I'm exhausted. My kitchen is trashed. I have no place else to put cooling pumpkin goodies.
But...my house smells really good and I'm strangely satisfied. The freezer can hold quite a bit of this, and we really like our baked goods.
And I know where the pumpkin came from and exactly what's in those loaves. Besides love.

choice time

Monday, (it's taken me a couple days to get over this) Sophie showed her vulva to her friends. At school. During "choice time". Apparently some choices are more welcome than others. It upset the little boys that are Soph's best kindergarten buds. Seemed to have the same effect on the teacher and the principal. Not much better on Mommy, I'll admit.
So, following the saga of "What the hell happened to her tights and underwear," and a really awkward discussion with the principal, we have decided that she must wear pants to school for a while. No dresses. That's a big deal for her, and well-suited to this problem. Gets to the crux of it, so to speak.
So, when we got home from school that day and Sophie took off her sweater, I saw a red ribbon prominantly displayed on her shirt: "I've got better things to do than drugs!"
Bet they didn't have that in mind!

Did you have any hobbies as a child?

This morning, I had to evaluate the origin of the foul smell in my older daughter's room. I sniffed, and reported to her, unfortunately, it was her underwear.
"You've gotta wipe every time. EVERY time, sweetheart," I reminded her, knowing she'd had a bath last night, and, well, there could be no other explaination.
"But I can't, Mommy," she insisted. "It's my hobby."
"Not wiping is your hobby?" I repeated, incredulous.
"Yes, it's my hobby and I can't quit."

I'm thinking she meant habit.

Monkey Mouth!

"This is my homework!
I'm drawing a picture; it's a picture of me!
I'm running outside with no clothes on. That's my vulva!"


Quoth the kindergartner.
Exclamation marks were hers.

I convinced her that her teacher might me more comfortable with it if the drawing had a skirt on.
Yet, it was a fetching crayon drawing. The vulva she drew looked like a sideways monkey mouth. Yikers!

Seven days in...

My friend just moved out and I miss her.
In case there's any concern, that is not my husband. He and I are great. He still lives here and is at work, which is normal at this time of day.
No, this is about my friend, A.
She needed to be away from her hubby for a while.
I got to have my best friend move in.
With four kids.
So, our house has been a whirlwind this week.
I am so glad for her that she and her hub are finding a way to live together again. I hope it works forever and ever.
But I miss my friend. Not that she's more than 2 miles away. Not that she doesn't still have stuff to come back for. Not that we aren't still friends--we're actually closer now than before, if that's possible. But I liked having a wife.
I know I'm being selfish, but I'm not actually trying to make her come back. I'm just writing in my blog. Just me and the blog. And you...
Okay, time to go clean a bathroom, hug one daugher, pick up another, and get ready for dinner.
Enjoy some family time with no visitors.
Love for the world.
Things are turning out okay.
What a difference a week makes!