Yeah, so it's been a long time since I've written. Lots have been going on. Really. One thing after another since August or so.
Within seven days…
1.) Baby gets the flu
2.) Dog is throwing up for three days. I take her to two different vets and six hours later they tell me, "She needs to have surgery RIGHT NOW. Sign here on the dotted line." I ask how much it's going to be and they give me an estimate of $4,500-$7,500. Nice and precise.
3.) Boy gets the flu
4.) In between vomits, I am called to pick up Dog after three days in the hospital with a list of instructions longer than my arm. Things like "Don't let her jump, run, play, or lick the incision." Well, they must thing she's a snake and not a canine. How am I supposed to not let her do those things and be Florence Nightingale to sick boys?
5.) Dog is healing, children are healing, only to discover that little tiny winged insects are landing on my bed. By day three of finding them on my bed, I have found approximately 100 of them. And this is gross… they shed their wings all over my bed. Apparently these little insects are attracted to light so many of them have found their way into my pillowcases. Discarded wings, crawling insects inside my bed and pillowcases. We have no other bed so I'm not exactly sure where we are going to sleep.
6.) After a little googling I discover that our house has termites. Really?
7.) I frantically ask around for some eco-friendly treatments for termites and a few grey hairs later I discover that there is such a thing! They use heat instead of chemicals. Beautiful. However, in between all of this searching, none of these companies are really in a hurry to inspect because I have learned that termites don't destroy your house in a matter of hours or days. It takes a couple years before there is significant damage. So everyone is pretty relaxed about the whole thing, taking a day to get back to me. Little do they know that these little demons are landing on MY FAMILY'S BED!!!!!!
8.) I discover that they are entering thru a loose air vent right above our bed, so I put a step ladder on my bed (oh yes, very stable) and tape a trash bag around the vent because I will die if any termites decide to land on my face or in my mouth while I am sleeping. This trash bag stays up there for four more weeks till we finally make our appointment for the treatment.
9.) We discover…. WE'RE PREGNANT!!!!!
All this in one week. It's now December and things haven't slowed down. But with stuff totally not worth writing about. Except for the pregnancy part of course! Yup, Baby #3 due in May. We are beyond thrilled and loving the experience. I am blessed to have amazing pregnancies, amazing births, and well… amazing children if I do say so myself. But who doesn't say that about their own children! By the time it's all said and done, I think I will have been breastfeeding for eight or nine years straight without break. And hopefully tandem nursing this time around will go as wonderfully as it did the first time between Boys 1 and 2. Breastfeeding is like the magic elixir around here. It's what keeps us all sane.
Anyway, I really wanted to post this TED Talk by a 13 year old kid. Seeing how hard it is for me to write these days, this video got me to the computer to write this blog, THAT'S how great it is. At first I just thought it was my super weepy pregnancy hormones but I have shared it with others already and they are in agreement: It is worth watching!!!!! Really, just trust me on this.
He's a kid that talks about being happy. He really put a spotlight on what you've been doing your whole life and how miserable or less than satisfied so many people are on a daily basis because of societal pressures. And what's the point of living like that? He is of course a homeschooler… I wasn't surprised. He inspired me at just the right time on our own homeschooling journey. Second guessing whether I can really take on this experience. After watching him I realized that not only am I able to take it on, but I must. For my children's sake.
This is the kind of child I hope my own kids will grow to resemble. Not to be like him, copy him (although I did love his long hair!) or act like him. But I want my kids to know what makes them happy, as this kid so clearly knows about himself at the young age of 13. I'm not hoping for overachievers who have resumes as long as Steve Jobs by the time they're in college, I just want them to know how to make themselves happy.
Enjoy it...
http://thefreethoughtproject.com/13-year-boy-blows-myth-public-education-water/
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Addendum to Education Journey
So... after writing that enormously long blog I spent the day thinking about all the things I left out. I could talk about this stuff all day.
I specifically want to thank my sister for opening the door to the world of bioluminescence. She saw a learning opportunity and she went with it. She didn't have a hidden agenda to "teach" him something when opening that big book. She wanted to simply explore learning together. She had no idea that that idea was going to be carried on this far. She didn't stop the discussion until my son was ready to be done with it. There was no time limit on that learning moment. In our house, we all learn from each other at the most surprising moments. Thank you, Angella, for being in the moment and being present with what was happening in front of your very eyes.
I also remember in detail a conversation I had with our friend James who now, at 40, has created a successful career for himself. A memorable conversation happened when we were first discussing our choice to homeschool. With overwhelming support, he said he fully believed in the power of homeschooling. I didn't know James as a kid, but I can imagine him to be one of those guys that knows a lot about a lot. Well, he said that he was so completely bored in school from the time he was little. Very common for kids who know a lot about a lot. I think at 11 years old (if I remember correctly) he came home and asked his mother to homeschool him. He was desperately wanting to be challenged and stimulated - mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. He knew, even at 11 years old, that he was smarter and more capable than what the school could provide him. Just like how I, in the second grade knew that Julie Parker's god (or her parents who fed her this garbage) was idiotic for allowing her believe that I would go to hell for not believing in her god. James' story stayed with me and helps me to accept that my children will sometimes know what's best for them, better than I. I will remember to take the time and courage to listen honestly to them and not make judgements on their observations. They will tell me how they will learn best. Either through words or through actions, I will listen. James also told me, with a bit of sadness, that he often wonders how different his life would have turned out if he had been appropriately challenged during those early years. What if he was given opportunities to really follow his passions and intellect? Instead his spent most of his childhood trying to figure out how to stay sane long enough to just graduate and be freed of the system. Thank you, James, for sharing your stories with me. I'm sorry that you never had the educational experience that you knew you deserved. You have inspired me to make sure my children don't have those same regrets.
My earlier writing about my boys checking on their pumpkin patch in the front yard made me think of something important that I wanted to share. I was thinking about disappointments in life and how one learns to deal with them. How important it is to handle disappointments with grace and courage, so that you can move on and learn from them. It led me to thinking about the kinds of lessons from disappointments that I would I like my children to have. A while ago I was arranging a homeschool field trip to see the Alvin Ailey Dance Company at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. This was a big deal. I had 202 people signed up for this trip. Everyone knew that the chance to see Alvin Ailey Dance live was a BIG deal. A powerful and memorable experience. For some, it is even life changing. The coordinator I was in contact with was letting me know that sometimes there are classes or even whole schools that cancel at the last minute so there may be extra seats for us. This would not be known until the day of the performance. I wondered what would cause a school or class to cancel such a great field trip. The woman said that there were countless things that could cause students to lose their field trip rights. It could be because of the misbehaving actions of one student (usually the "class clown" I assume) after being warned that everyone in class must behave perfectly or the field trip is off. Or perhaps the class didn't perform well on the standardized tests which made the teacher look bad and therefore needed to enforce some kind of punishment. Or the ever popular... there were too many absences in the school which affects how much money they receive from the district. Or maybe something as simplistic as Mrs. Teacher woke up on the wrong side of the bed and snapped at her class, "All right!!! I've had it!!!!! If I hear another sound from this class in the next hour we are not going on our field trip!!!!!" Well, it's really hard for an entire class to not make a sound for an entire hour. And it's also really hard to be a teacher and not stick to your word. Field Trip to Alvin Ailey CANCELLED.
If my son were in those situations, that would enrage me to know that he would have to learn about disappointment in that way. He would be deprived of an amazing experience because of someone else's poor test scores, or "bad" behavior??? That is not acceptable for me. Nor is that fair. This year, our pumpkins practically rotted on the vine and only grew as big as cantaloupes. After all that hard work and tending to weeds and watering, Mother Nature was not fair to us. So I guess the overall theme is that life is not always fair. But which situation would you rather learn about disappointment from?
Which leads me to my son's soccer coach. Again, an all around amazing teacher. When I tell others about his classes and his style of teaching they sometimes frown at the price we pay to have such a great coach. In comparison, he's about $25 more than other programs out there. Not $2,500 more, just $25. That is the problem with our country. We seem to have a problem with paying teachers, great teachers, what they are really worth. There are a few bad apples in the bunch, but for the most part teachers are the one of the hardest working people I know. They are with not just your child, but several dozens of children for eight hours a day. We need to pay them like they are in charge of the future of our country and our world. Oh, yeah, guess what???? THEY ARE!!!!! Can we not recognize that teachers need to be compensated appropriately so that they can continue to do their jobs with joy? Why do we have such a hard time appreciating such a noble profession? And just because Rocco is a soccer coach does not mean that he is not a teacher. He helps guide kids to improve their coordination, boost their confidence, their resourcefulness, teaches them how to work together, problem solve, think ahead, be mindful of others, etc, etc, etc. Isn't that what a first grade teacher does when he teaches how to write the alphabet or do a book report? I feel sad for all the teachers out there who join this profession thinking they can makes changes in the world while being under the strict, unrelenting watchful eyes of our school district. The nice thing about Rocco is that he completely leaves out terms like: scoring, winning, losing, and beating your classmate. Thank you, Rocco, for being a great teacher to my son. You ARE worth it.
Now, leading to my dear beautiful friend who was a public school teacher for 15 years. She quit because she had had it. Her last school was in a rougher neighborhood. Often when seeing one child do some horrendously horrible act like punch a kid in the face, kick someone down to the ground, or threaten a student's life, she would send them to the principal's office. She would expect the principal to take appropriate actions which would support her. Soon this kid would be back in her classroom with a note from the principal stating that their school can no longer afford any more expulsions or absences, so therefore the student's horrific actions are ignored, or in other words: allowed. Did you know that each school gets docked money from the school district for every absence they have? Again, how is that fair to poor little Sally who never misses a day of school? How is my friend expected to do her job with no support or hope of being respected? She often would be held captive in her classroom because there was a lock-down going on. For those that don't know what that is: Lock-down is when there is a dangerous situation outside or on the school campus which could potentially endanger the students' lives. For example, a shoot out or an angered person who is waving around a gun, or a possible kidnapping/hostage situation. In those situations, it is the teachers' sole responsibility to keep all the children safe in their locked classroom until the police have arrived to say it's okay to leave. The children must pee in a bucket because they are not allowed to go to the bathroom. The children have no food or water. And it's all up to the teacher to keep order and sanity in the classroom. My friend would regularly be locked in her classroom until 8 or 9pm!!!! She did not get overtime, extra vacation, or even a little gold star next to her name for such commitment. What the hell is wrong with our attitudes towards teachers? Thank you, Rose-Yvonne for your 15 years of wanting to help our children.
You may be thinking that you don't really have to worry about that kind of environment for your child because you'd never live in that kind of neighborhood. Well, welcome to the other side of the tracks, in private schools where I hear kids can do horrendous acts in school (as above) and never fear of being kicked out because their parents donate absurd amounts of money. How is THAT fair? Neither environment is one that my children will have to endure.
And last but not least... on going to college. When I was entering as an 18 year old freshman and choosing my first semester classes along with choosing my major, I was a bit confused and overwhelmed. I had never been asked to pick my classes before. Except maybe whether I wanted to take P.E. during 4th period or 6th period. My mother was standing next to me in the orientation room helping me. I wanted to be a major listed as "Undecided". Why not? Was there some stigma to entering college and being undecided? To my mother, I guess there was. She said that I should be a Communications Major. What??? Why??? I don't even know what that means?!?! She made some cockamamie statement to me about how I was good at communicating with people. So she filled in that bubble for me on my form. I was undecided, but she decided for me.
To a naive and young 18 year old, being asked to decide on your major feels like you are being asked what you want to be for the rest of your life. Eternity. Until you die. I thought I was signing away my life on the dotted line, right next to the question about whether or not I was going to eat in the cafeteria that year. That was it, I was doomed to be a Communications Major and find a job with a company that knew what that meant. Really, this is no exaggeration. I remember being depressed for several days as I started school. I really thought this was the beginning of the rest of my life in hell. Then I met other students, Seniors even, who were STILL undecided! Thank god I was not the only one.
My entire school life had been controlled by teachers and the "system" and my parents. They told me when and how and what to study. Pressuring me to make certain grades and pursuing things that I didn't want to pursue so that I could look "well-rounded". With that upbringing and reins so tight on who I should be, how could any 18 year old answer such a heavy question with certainty and confidence. I did not know who I was. I only knew who they wanted me to become.
This is why we homeschool. Because my children came into this world to blaze their own paths. Not to follow every one else's.
I specifically want to thank my sister for opening the door to the world of bioluminescence. She saw a learning opportunity and she went with it. She didn't have a hidden agenda to "teach" him something when opening that big book. She wanted to simply explore learning together. She had no idea that that idea was going to be carried on this far. She didn't stop the discussion until my son was ready to be done with it. There was no time limit on that learning moment. In our house, we all learn from each other at the most surprising moments. Thank you, Angella, for being in the moment and being present with what was happening in front of your very eyes.
I also remember in detail a conversation I had with our friend James who now, at 40, has created a successful career for himself. A memorable conversation happened when we were first discussing our choice to homeschool. With overwhelming support, he said he fully believed in the power of homeschooling. I didn't know James as a kid, but I can imagine him to be one of those guys that knows a lot about a lot. Well, he said that he was so completely bored in school from the time he was little. Very common for kids who know a lot about a lot. I think at 11 years old (if I remember correctly) he came home and asked his mother to homeschool him. He was desperately wanting to be challenged and stimulated - mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. He knew, even at 11 years old, that he was smarter and more capable than what the school could provide him. Just like how I, in the second grade knew that Julie Parker's god (or her parents who fed her this garbage) was idiotic for allowing her believe that I would go to hell for not believing in her god. James' story stayed with me and helps me to accept that my children will sometimes know what's best for them, better than I. I will remember to take the time and courage to listen honestly to them and not make judgements on their observations. They will tell me how they will learn best. Either through words or through actions, I will listen. James also told me, with a bit of sadness, that he often wonders how different his life would have turned out if he had been appropriately challenged during those early years. What if he was given opportunities to really follow his passions and intellect? Instead his spent most of his childhood trying to figure out how to stay sane long enough to just graduate and be freed of the system. Thank you, James, for sharing your stories with me. I'm sorry that you never had the educational experience that you knew you deserved. You have inspired me to make sure my children don't have those same regrets.
My earlier writing about my boys checking on their pumpkin patch in the front yard made me think of something important that I wanted to share. I was thinking about disappointments in life and how one learns to deal with them. How important it is to handle disappointments with grace and courage, so that you can move on and learn from them. It led me to thinking about the kinds of lessons from disappointments that I would I like my children to have. A while ago I was arranging a homeschool field trip to see the Alvin Ailey Dance Company at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. This was a big deal. I had 202 people signed up for this trip. Everyone knew that the chance to see Alvin Ailey Dance live was a BIG deal. A powerful and memorable experience. For some, it is even life changing. The coordinator I was in contact with was letting me know that sometimes there are classes or even whole schools that cancel at the last minute so there may be extra seats for us. This would not be known until the day of the performance. I wondered what would cause a school or class to cancel such a great field trip. The woman said that there were countless things that could cause students to lose their field trip rights. It could be because of the misbehaving actions of one student (usually the "class clown" I assume) after being warned that everyone in class must behave perfectly or the field trip is off. Or perhaps the class didn't perform well on the standardized tests which made the teacher look bad and therefore needed to enforce some kind of punishment. Or the ever popular... there were too many absences in the school which affects how much money they receive from the district. Or maybe something as simplistic as Mrs. Teacher woke up on the wrong side of the bed and snapped at her class, "All right!!! I've had it!!!!! If I hear another sound from this class in the next hour we are not going on our field trip!!!!!" Well, it's really hard for an entire class to not make a sound for an entire hour. And it's also really hard to be a teacher and not stick to your word. Field Trip to Alvin Ailey CANCELLED.
If my son were in those situations, that would enrage me to know that he would have to learn about disappointment in that way. He would be deprived of an amazing experience because of someone else's poor test scores, or "bad" behavior??? That is not acceptable for me. Nor is that fair. This year, our pumpkins practically rotted on the vine and only grew as big as cantaloupes. After all that hard work and tending to weeds and watering, Mother Nature was not fair to us. So I guess the overall theme is that life is not always fair. But which situation would you rather learn about disappointment from?
Which leads me to my son's soccer coach. Again, an all around amazing teacher. When I tell others about his classes and his style of teaching they sometimes frown at the price we pay to have such a great coach. In comparison, he's about $25 more than other programs out there. Not $2,500 more, just $25. That is the problem with our country. We seem to have a problem with paying teachers, great teachers, what they are really worth. There are a few bad apples in the bunch, but for the most part teachers are the one of the hardest working people I know. They are with not just your child, but several dozens of children for eight hours a day. We need to pay them like they are in charge of the future of our country and our world. Oh, yeah, guess what???? THEY ARE!!!!! Can we not recognize that teachers need to be compensated appropriately so that they can continue to do their jobs with joy? Why do we have such a hard time appreciating such a noble profession? And just because Rocco is a soccer coach does not mean that he is not a teacher. He helps guide kids to improve their coordination, boost their confidence, their resourcefulness, teaches them how to work together, problem solve, think ahead, be mindful of others, etc, etc, etc. Isn't that what a first grade teacher does when he teaches how to write the alphabet or do a book report? I feel sad for all the teachers out there who join this profession thinking they can makes changes in the world while being under the strict, unrelenting watchful eyes of our school district. The nice thing about Rocco is that he completely leaves out terms like: scoring, winning, losing, and beating your classmate. Thank you, Rocco, for being a great teacher to my son. You ARE worth it.
Now, leading to my dear beautiful friend who was a public school teacher for 15 years. She quit because she had had it. Her last school was in a rougher neighborhood. Often when seeing one child do some horrendously horrible act like punch a kid in the face, kick someone down to the ground, or threaten a student's life, she would send them to the principal's office. She would expect the principal to take appropriate actions which would support her. Soon this kid would be back in her classroom with a note from the principal stating that their school can no longer afford any more expulsions or absences, so therefore the student's horrific actions are ignored, or in other words: allowed. Did you know that each school gets docked money from the school district for every absence they have? Again, how is that fair to poor little Sally who never misses a day of school? How is my friend expected to do her job with no support or hope of being respected? She often would be held captive in her classroom because there was a lock-down going on. For those that don't know what that is: Lock-down is when there is a dangerous situation outside or on the school campus which could potentially endanger the students' lives. For example, a shoot out or an angered person who is waving around a gun, or a possible kidnapping/hostage situation. In those situations, it is the teachers' sole responsibility to keep all the children safe in their locked classroom until the police have arrived to say it's okay to leave. The children must pee in a bucket because they are not allowed to go to the bathroom. The children have no food or water. And it's all up to the teacher to keep order and sanity in the classroom. My friend would regularly be locked in her classroom until 8 or 9pm!!!! She did not get overtime, extra vacation, or even a little gold star next to her name for such commitment. What the hell is wrong with our attitudes towards teachers? Thank you, Rose-Yvonne for your 15 years of wanting to help our children.
You may be thinking that you don't really have to worry about that kind of environment for your child because you'd never live in that kind of neighborhood. Well, welcome to the other side of the tracks, in private schools where I hear kids can do horrendous acts in school (as above) and never fear of being kicked out because their parents donate absurd amounts of money. How is THAT fair? Neither environment is one that my children will have to endure.
And last but not least... on going to college. When I was entering as an 18 year old freshman and choosing my first semester classes along with choosing my major, I was a bit confused and overwhelmed. I had never been asked to pick my classes before. Except maybe whether I wanted to take P.E. during 4th period or 6th period. My mother was standing next to me in the orientation room helping me. I wanted to be a major listed as "Undecided". Why not? Was there some stigma to entering college and being undecided? To my mother, I guess there was. She said that I should be a Communications Major. What??? Why??? I don't even know what that means?!?! She made some cockamamie statement to me about how I was good at communicating with people. So she filled in that bubble for me on my form. I was undecided, but she decided for me.
To a naive and young 18 year old, being asked to decide on your major feels like you are being asked what you want to be for the rest of your life. Eternity. Until you die. I thought I was signing away my life on the dotted line, right next to the question about whether or not I was going to eat in the cafeteria that year. That was it, I was doomed to be a Communications Major and find a job with a company that knew what that meant. Really, this is no exaggeration. I remember being depressed for several days as I started school. I really thought this was the beginning of the rest of my life in hell. Then I met other students, Seniors even, who were STILL undecided! Thank god I was not the only one.
My entire school life had been controlled by teachers and the "system" and my parents. They told me when and how and what to study. Pressuring me to make certain grades and pursuing things that I didn't want to pursue so that I could look "well-rounded". With that upbringing and reins so tight on who I should be, how could any 18 year old answer such a heavy question with certainty and confidence. I did not know who I was. I only knew who they wanted me to become.
This is why we homeschool. Because my children came into this world to blaze their own paths. Not to follow every one else's.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Our Educational Journey
I just read this fantastic blog called Mind the Gaps written by another mama. It's all about our educational system. I was only half way through the first paragraph when I knew I was already in the right "place" with my kids, my family, and my mind. Please read and then come back and read my response to her insightful words.
http://www.demandeuphoria.com/
So... you read it and went "Aaaaahhhhh, I never thought of that." Didn't you? I wonder how many of you felt you were on a train during your schooling years.
We are an unschooling family. Pretty much from around the time my first son was about 9 months old. That's pretty young to start thinking about my son's educational journey, but I new I had to start opening some doors quickly. I live in an "okay" neighborhood" with lousy schools. My options for "just good enough" schools were 1.) Move to a neighborhood where I can be in a posh school district. Or 2.) Continue to live in my "okay" neighborhood and drive 30 minutes one way to spend $18,000 PER YEAR on kindergarten with a school that I am sure I would just love. For $18,000 I better not just love it but I want to see Jesus, Ghandi, and Muhammad walking down the halls and teaching children as they sit under apples trees.
Here's my problem with Option #1: I happen to love my house. Why should I move into a more expensive house that we can not afford to send my kid to a "good" school???? Shouldn't EVERY SINGLE FRICKIN' KID IN EVERY SINGLE FRICKIN' NEIGHBORHOOD get to have access to something so fundamental as a decent education? How are we supposed to advance as a race when more than half of our kids are not being inspired to learn, not being engaged to participate in life, or not being treated as an individual? I pay taxes as a resident of this state, taxes which supposedly go into our school system. Therefore, I should be guaranteed a good school no matter where I live. (Dream on.)
Here's my problem with Option #2: Even if we could afford the money, do I really want my kids to go to a school with other kids whose parents can afford $18,000 X (how many kids they have) = $54,000 PER YEAR???? What kind of attitudes would we have to deal with? What about the sense of entitlement that often comes with being so rich? Have you ever talked to a seven year old that thinks that $18,000 is like buying bread? I do not wish my children to not know what it's like to play with "poor" toys or the "poor" kids, or have a problem with wearing second hand clothes. I do not wish them to live in such a bubble. There's a lot of things our family can do with $18,000 and home educate is one of them.
The system is broken and I don't want my children to be the lab rats that our government is using to find the solution. Look at where "No Child Left Behind" got us. Bored, disinterested, intelligent kids waiting around for the other children that they were not supposed to leave behind. Is that really their responsibility? That program is a whole new rant for me, so I"ll leave it at that.
Anyway, that's how we ended up deciding to homeschool. I guess for the sake of this article, I should be clear: We UNSCHOOL. But I am starting to get bugged by the different terminology out there. The bottom line is that I feel that the educational system in California is failing us so we are taking matters into our own hands. I did not have children to send them away so other people can teach them in a way that is not effective for them. We are guiding our own kids to becoming free thinkers, creative geniuses, self-confident, and resourceful. This is what makes for a well-adapted, ready for the "real world" adult. Not whether they got a 4.25 or a 2.50 GPA, or whether they go to Cal State or Princeton. And certainly not whether they know Trigonometry.
People say, "Wow, that takes a lot of commitment and time on your part to homeschool." My husband's philosophy is you either take the time and have the commitment to guide them through their educational pursuits during their youth. OR you find the time and gather up the commitment to be involved with their six hours of homework every day, help them on reports on the weekends, find the right supplies required by the teachers, call teachers when there are problems in school, play phone-tag with teachers because you can't get a hold of them when there are problems in school, and last but not least DEAL with the problems in school that you didn't know were bubbling beneath the surface for the last semester. And then squeeze in the time to just have fun as a family, IF you are not too tired do that or if that's even important to you.
I started talking to a mom at the beach the other day about her 1st grader who just finished his first week of school in a very posh neighborhood. This is a neighborhood which they specifically moved to so that her kids could go to this particular school. After one week, this mother is considering pulling her 1st grader out because she is astounded by the amount of homework her seven year old son has. She says that he's in school for eight hours every day and then they have to work on homework together for three more hours when he gets home. That's completely absurd, she tells me through tears. When is he supposed to play? Just FREE play? Not organized sports, not art class, not recess where they have no choice but to inhale their food before they are forced to go back inside? (This is her rant, not mine.) And then asks where I send my kids to school to see if my school is any better. We homeschool, I tell her. So, yes.... it's better.
This is September, so the buzz is all around us about how or if Johnny likes school this year, how they're changing schools because they can't get along with the teacher, how one school has 32 kids in a classroom and the school across town has 40 kids in a classroom but they are blessed with a teacher's aide. Oh yeah, then there's the ever popular: We lie about our address so that we can go to the best school this side of the hill. (That's the best lesson of all... Teaching your kids to lie to get what you want.) After one month of hearing this at every corner, I am a firm believer in my husband's philosophy. The time and agony and money spent and sleepless nights trying to fix the school's problems I will never have to deal with. I get to spend the same amount of time and money finding really fun things to do for my kids.
I was talking to my son's soccer coach, who by the way totally rocks for coaches out there! He knows kids like no other teacher I've seen. Anyway, this amazing soccer coach and I were talking about education reform and how desperately we (as a country) need to make some serious changes. I think it's really ridiculous how we over-use the word "alternative" when it comes to education. Alternative to what???? Alternative as an escape, a loophole, a "back up" plan, a surrogate, a replacement, a substitute to what is considered the norm? Obviously we need an alternative because what we have now is not working. Why should I have to look for a school that labels itself "alternative"? My son's coach said, "What about just calling it LOGICAL education?"
After reading "Mind the Gap", I felt completely validated about my own childhood feelings going through school. All thirteen years. I went to a private Catholic elementary and middle school. We are not Catholic. My mother sent me there so that I could have a better education. Even she got caught in the rat race. So, for all those years I grew up having to pretend we were just as good as those Catholics so that I would be allowed to sit in their church during masses. I had to learn religious stories that didn't pertain to us as a family or as a culture, just so I could have a better education. I remember in the second grade Julie Parker said to me, "You're going to go to hell because you don't believe in God." I replied to her, "Well your god is stupid then if that's what you believe." College was really just about getting out as fast as I could- my train could not have been fast enough. Who cares what I learned, who cares how I learned it, and who cares how I regurgitated it back to the teacher.
I want to have children who LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE learning. I want to have children who learn because they are inspired and passionate about what they see in front of them. I rode the "train" my whole life, and now I'm ready for a different experience. I was usually on the front of the train, but always wishing I was on the back because I wanted to "dilly-dally". I wanted to take my time. I was interested in things that teachers didn't even have knowledge on because it wasn't part of the curriculum.
I remember in the 8th grade during "silent reading" time I had questions about the meanings of words in a fairly advanced book. (She was a former English high school teacher and her reading list was representative of high school level reading despite the fact that we were in 8th grade.) Anyway, I went to her desk while she was busy trying to grade her stack of papers. Clearly, "silent reading" time meant "Leave me alone so I can get some work done." I went to her desk not once, not twice, but three times to ask her about three different words and to please explain it to me in the context of the different sentences. After the third time, she just glared at me and said that I needed to move on, and not ask questions every time I don't understand a word. She told me that I don't need to understand every single word all the time. Thank you, Ms. Leon. My lesson for that day was don't bother the teacher during "silent reading" time and when there is something that I don't understand I should just move on and pretend like I understand. Also, what about the underlying lesson of it doesn't really matter what I understand as long as I can fake it. Also, what about the other lesson no child should have to learn: Don't bother asking, no one really wants to help you anyway. To her, I have to say, many years later, "Why in the world are you giving 8th graders a reading list more appropriate for 10th graders and then not helping us with it when we seek help??????"
And Ms. Leon was one of my better teachers too.
We are a bike-riding family. Well, not really a bike-riding family because my sense of coordination is a bit out of whack so I crash pretty easily on real bikes. But in the vain of this article, we are a true bike-riding family. And it starts from when my boys are infants. Even now as my not-quite-two-year-old wants to buckle the big buckle on his car seat. Does it take him forever to buckle? Yes! Does he do it incorrectly half the time? Yes! Is it boiling in the car and I want nothing more than to turn on the air conditioner so that my other child doesn't melt? Yes! But is it soooooooo important for him to fasten this buckle all by himself? YES!!!!! And what's amazing is the amount of patience my older son has for his baby brother while he learns things. Around here, everybody gets to learn their own pace. That's what it's like in my house. We stop when something interests us. We change plans often and at the last minute because something else caught our eye. We drive all over town to have that amazing experience to milk a cow, hear some Taiko drumming, see an Alvin Ailey concert, learn about Jazz, sit on my lap to watch in detail how my teeth are cleaned at the dentist's office, sit and listen to the LA Philharmonic play Mozart, and then come home to see how much their pumpkins have grown in their gardens. And we do most of that in one week.
There is not one "train" in any country in this world that can guide my children better than I. I like to think I know what they like and with that I gently guide them towards those areas. And I am sure these areas are not on any curriculum for any school we can afford. When I'm wrong in some areas then they tell me so, without fear of being told they are wrong. Who am I to say what they must like and don't like? And for that matter, who am I to say what they must learn about and when they have to learn it? And why should they have to try something for a whole month before really knowing they don't like it? I just listen to them and let them guide themselves to find their own interests. And just like with food, something they may love and be obsessed with for a whole year can quickly change into something they are completely sick of. My son ate avocado almost every single day for about a year, getting as much of it as he could, filling his tummy to his content. Now, he barely eats it. He's ready to move on. The beauty of our learning environment is that it can often times work in the other direction. Something that they don't want anything to do with all of a sudden is what they are crazy head-over-heels about. And I don't tell them we don't have time to learn about what interests them. We will always have time to learn because we are learning every single time they breathe in. And they spout off everything they learned to their daddy every single time they breathe out. They learn while they live, eat, and breathe and this is what it should be. Not learning limited to the hours of 7:30am - 2:35pm.
I love this connection that I have with their little growing minds. I love that they trust themselves so completely to dive into areas they don't understand without fear of being told they're too young, too old, or something is too complex for them. Sometimes, as homeschoolers, you have to have a name for your "school" so you can apply to do some things that regular schools get to do, like see shows, go on field trips, etc. The name I came up with is the School of Curious Adventures and Risk Taking. Doesn't that sound so much more fun then Jefferson Elementary?
Am I ashamed that my 4.5 year old can't write, or read, eat like a normal person with a fork, or tie his shoes yet? Not at all. He knows all kinds of other things that other 4.5 year olds don't know. Does that make him better? Not at all. It just makes him unique.
There was a great cartoon illustrating the difference between regular schooled kids and homeschooled kids that I saw a few years ago. The illustration of the "class" who were in regular school was a can of sardines, half opened. Some of the fish were struggling to squeeze out the sides, but most of the sardines had no choice but to just stay squished together. All the sardines looked exactly alike and very unhappy. The illustration of the homeschool group was of life underwater where there were several different types of fish, shellfish, sharks, seals, sea anemone, a whale, and beautiful coral, etc. This is the diverse environment that I wish my children to grow into.
My sister was visiting last spring and looking through a book called "Big Book of Why" with my older son. They stumbled across the word "bioluminesensce" and had a nice long conversation about it. He really likes sea creatures so the word really stuck with him long after she left. Since then we have gone on to explore that word, and that world for that matter. Our bathroom is slowly starting to look like an underwater scene as we draw and cut out sea creatures and paint them with glow-in-the-dark paint. Then we have fun being silly sitting in our dark bathroom and imagine we are in the midnight zone of the ocean.
Yes, he knows what the midnight zone is and one days hopes to visit as a deep sea diver. I love our family bike rides.
http://www.demandeuphoria.com/
So... you read it and went "Aaaaahhhhh, I never thought of that." Didn't you? I wonder how many of you felt you were on a train during your schooling years.
We are an unschooling family. Pretty much from around the time my first son was about 9 months old. That's pretty young to start thinking about my son's educational journey, but I new I had to start opening some doors quickly. I live in an "okay" neighborhood" with lousy schools. My options for "just good enough" schools were 1.) Move to a neighborhood where I can be in a posh school district. Or 2.) Continue to live in my "okay" neighborhood and drive 30 minutes one way to spend $18,000 PER YEAR on kindergarten with a school that I am sure I would just love. For $18,000 I better not just love it but I want to see Jesus, Ghandi, and Muhammad walking down the halls and teaching children as they sit under apples trees.
Here's my problem with Option #1: I happen to love my house. Why should I move into a more expensive house that we can not afford to send my kid to a "good" school???? Shouldn't EVERY SINGLE FRICKIN' KID IN EVERY SINGLE FRICKIN' NEIGHBORHOOD get to have access to something so fundamental as a decent education? How are we supposed to advance as a race when more than half of our kids are not being inspired to learn, not being engaged to participate in life, or not being treated as an individual? I pay taxes as a resident of this state, taxes which supposedly go into our school system. Therefore, I should be guaranteed a good school no matter where I live. (Dream on.)
Here's my problem with Option #2: Even if we could afford the money, do I really want my kids to go to a school with other kids whose parents can afford $18,000 X (how many kids they have) = $54,000 PER YEAR???? What kind of attitudes would we have to deal with? What about the sense of entitlement that often comes with being so rich? Have you ever talked to a seven year old that thinks that $18,000 is like buying bread? I do not wish my children to not know what it's like to play with "poor" toys or the "poor" kids, or have a problem with wearing second hand clothes. I do not wish them to live in such a bubble. There's a lot of things our family can do with $18,000 and home educate is one of them.
The system is broken and I don't want my children to be the lab rats that our government is using to find the solution. Look at where "No Child Left Behind" got us. Bored, disinterested, intelligent kids waiting around for the other children that they were not supposed to leave behind. Is that really their responsibility? That program is a whole new rant for me, so I"ll leave it at that.
Anyway, that's how we ended up deciding to homeschool. I guess for the sake of this article, I should be clear: We UNSCHOOL. But I am starting to get bugged by the different terminology out there. The bottom line is that I feel that the educational system in California is failing us so we are taking matters into our own hands. I did not have children to send them away so other people can teach them in a way that is not effective for them. We are guiding our own kids to becoming free thinkers, creative geniuses, self-confident, and resourceful. This is what makes for a well-adapted, ready for the "real world" adult. Not whether they got a 4.25 or a 2.50 GPA, or whether they go to Cal State or Princeton. And certainly not whether they know Trigonometry.
People say, "Wow, that takes a lot of commitment and time on your part to homeschool." My husband's philosophy is you either take the time and have the commitment to guide them through their educational pursuits during their youth. OR you find the time and gather up the commitment to be involved with their six hours of homework every day, help them on reports on the weekends, find the right supplies required by the teachers, call teachers when there are problems in school, play phone-tag with teachers because you can't get a hold of them when there are problems in school, and last but not least DEAL with the problems in school that you didn't know were bubbling beneath the surface for the last semester. And then squeeze in the time to just have fun as a family, IF you are not too tired do that or if that's even important to you.
I started talking to a mom at the beach the other day about her 1st grader who just finished his first week of school in a very posh neighborhood. This is a neighborhood which they specifically moved to so that her kids could go to this particular school. After one week, this mother is considering pulling her 1st grader out because she is astounded by the amount of homework her seven year old son has. She says that he's in school for eight hours every day and then they have to work on homework together for three more hours when he gets home. That's completely absurd, she tells me through tears. When is he supposed to play? Just FREE play? Not organized sports, not art class, not recess where they have no choice but to inhale their food before they are forced to go back inside? (This is her rant, not mine.) And then asks where I send my kids to school to see if my school is any better. We homeschool, I tell her. So, yes.... it's better.
This is September, so the buzz is all around us about how or if Johnny likes school this year, how they're changing schools because they can't get along with the teacher, how one school has 32 kids in a classroom and the school across town has 40 kids in a classroom but they are blessed with a teacher's aide. Oh yeah, then there's the ever popular: We lie about our address so that we can go to the best school this side of the hill. (That's the best lesson of all... Teaching your kids to lie to get what you want.) After one month of hearing this at every corner, I am a firm believer in my husband's philosophy. The time and agony and money spent and sleepless nights trying to fix the school's problems I will never have to deal with. I get to spend the same amount of time and money finding really fun things to do for my kids.
I was talking to my son's soccer coach, who by the way totally rocks for coaches out there! He knows kids like no other teacher I've seen. Anyway, this amazing soccer coach and I were talking about education reform and how desperately we (as a country) need to make some serious changes. I think it's really ridiculous how we over-use the word "alternative" when it comes to education. Alternative to what???? Alternative as an escape, a loophole, a "back up" plan, a surrogate, a replacement, a substitute to what is considered the norm? Obviously we need an alternative because what we have now is not working. Why should I have to look for a school that labels itself "alternative"? My son's coach said, "What about just calling it LOGICAL education?"
After reading "Mind the Gap", I felt completely validated about my own childhood feelings going through school. All thirteen years. I went to a private Catholic elementary and middle school. We are not Catholic. My mother sent me there so that I could have a better education. Even she got caught in the rat race. So, for all those years I grew up having to pretend we were just as good as those Catholics so that I would be allowed to sit in their church during masses. I had to learn religious stories that didn't pertain to us as a family or as a culture, just so I could have a better education. I remember in the second grade Julie Parker said to me, "You're going to go to hell because you don't believe in God." I replied to her, "Well your god is stupid then if that's what you believe." College was really just about getting out as fast as I could- my train could not have been fast enough. Who cares what I learned, who cares how I learned it, and who cares how I regurgitated it back to the teacher.
I want to have children who LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE learning. I want to have children who learn because they are inspired and passionate about what they see in front of them. I rode the "train" my whole life, and now I'm ready for a different experience. I was usually on the front of the train, but always wishing I was on the back because I wanted to "dilly-dally". I wanted to take my time. I was interested in things that teachers didn't even have knowledge on because it wasn't part of the curriculum.
I remember in the 8th grade during "silent reading" time I had questions about the meanings of words in a fairly advanced book. (She was a former English high school teacher and her reading list was representative of high school level reading despite the fact that we were in 8th grade.) Anyway, I went to her desk while she was busy trying to grade her stack of papers. Clearly, "silent reading" time meant "Leave me alone so I can get some work done." I went to her desk not once, not twice, but three times to ask her about three different words and to please explain it to me in the context of the different sentences. After the third time, she just glared at me and said that I needed to move on, and not ask questions every time I don't understand a word. She told me that I don't need to understand every single word all the time. Thank you, Ms. Leon. My lesson for that day was don't bother the teacher during "silent reading" time and when there is something that I don't understand I should just move on and pretend like I understand. Also, what about the underlying lesson of it doesn't really matter what I understand as long as I can fake it. Also, what about the other lesson no child should have to learn: Don't bother asking, no one really wants to help you anyway. To her, I have to say, many years later, "Why in the world are you giving 8th graders a reading list more appropriate for 10th graders and then not helping us with it when we seek help??????"
And Ms. Leon was one of my better teachers too.
We are a bike-riding family. Well, not really a bike-riding family because my sense of coordination is a bit out of whack so I crash pretty easily on real bikes. But in the vain of this article, we are a true bike-riding family. And it starts from when my boys are infants. Even now as my not-quite-two-year-old wants to buckle the big buckle on his car seat. Does it take him forever to buckle? Yes! Does he do it incorrectly half the time? Yes! Is it boiling in the car and I want nothing more than to turn on the air conditioner so that my other child doesn't melt? Yes! But is it soooooooo important for him to fasten this buckle all by himself? YES!!!!! And what's amazing is the amount of patience my older son has for his baby brother while he learns things. Around here, everybody gets to learn their own pace. That's what it's like in my house. We stop when something interests us. We change plans often and at the last minute because something else caught our eye. We drive all over town to have that amazing experience to milk a cow, hear some Taiko drumming, see an Alvin Ailey concert, learn about Jazz, sit on my lap to watch in detail how my teeth are cleaned at the dentist's office, sit and listen to the LA Philharmonic play Mozart, and then come home to see how much their pumpkins have grown in their gardens. And we do most of that in one week.
There is not one "train" in any country in this world that can guide my children better than I. I like to think I know what they like and with that I gently guide them towards those areas. And I am sure these areas are not on any curriculum for any school we can afford. When I'm wrong in some areas then they tell me so, without fear of being told they are wrong. Who am I to say what they must like and don't like? And for that matter, who am I to say what they must learn about and when they have to learn it? And why should they have to try something for a whole month before really knowing they don't like it? I just listen to them and let them guide themselves to find their own interests. And just like with food, something they may love and be obsessed with for a whole year can quickly change into something they are completely sick of. My son ate avocado almost every single day for about a year, getting as much of it as he could, filling his tummy to his content. Now, he barely eats it. He's ready to move on. The beauty of our learning environment is that it can often times work in the other direction. Something that they don't want anything to do with all of a sudden is what they are crazy head-over-heels about. And I don't tell them we don't have time to learn about what interests them. We will always have time to learn because we are learning every single time they breathe in. And they spout off everything they learned to their daddy every single time they breathe out. They learn while they live, eat, and breathe and this is what it should be. Not learning limited to the hours of 7:30am - 2:35pm.
I love this connection that I have with their little growing minds. I love that they trust themselves so completely to dive into areas they don't understand without fear of being told they're too young, too old, or something is too complex for them. Sometimes, as homeschoolers, you have to have a name for your "school" so you can apply to do some things that regular schools get to do, like see shows, go on field trips, etc. The name I came up with is the School of Curious Adventures and Risk Taking. Doesn't that sound so much more fun then Jefferson Elementary?
Am I ashamed that my 4.5 year old can't write, or read, eat like a normal person with a fork, or tie his shoes yet? Not at all. He knows all kinds of other things that other 4.5 year olds don't know. Does that make him better? Not at all. It just makes him unique.
There was a great cartoon illustrating the difference between regular schooled kids and homeschooled kids that I saw a few years ago. The illustration of the "class" who were in regular school was a can of sardines, half opened. Some of the fish were struggling to squeeze out the sides, but most of the sardines had no choice but to just stay squished together. All the sardines looked exactly alike and very unhappy. The illustration of the homeschool group was of life underwater where there were several different types of fish, shellfish, sharks, seals, sea anemone, a whale, and beautiful coral, etc. This is the diverse environment that I wish my children to grow into.
My sister was visiting last spring and looking through a book called "Big Book of Why" with my older son. They stumbled across the word "bioluminesensce" and had a nice long conversation about it. He really likes sea creatures so the word really stuck with him long after she left. Since then we have gone on to explore that word, and that world for that matter. Our bathroom is slowly starting to look like an underwater scene as we draw and cut out sea creatures and paint them with glow-in-the-dark paint. Then we have fun being silly sitting in our dark bathroom and imagine we are in the midnight zone of the ocean.
Yes, he knows what the midnight zone is and one days hopes to visit as a deep sea diver. I love our family bike rides.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
My Day With Urine
So it all started at Bed, Bath and Beyond. I take my two boys into the bathroom and when I turn around from locking the private bathroom door I see my little tiny baby with both hands on the toilet seat. Not on it, actually. But holding the seat from underneath. I gasp. His immediate reaction to my gasp is to step back and stick both hands in his mouth. I breastfeed him IMMEDIATELY. Breastmilk will kill anything. Or so I tell myself.
Then at home, my older son says he has to go pee. Fine. He goes into the bathroom and then I hear his little brother say, "Uh Oh" several times. I ask what is wrong. Kien tells me some crazy story that I don't quite understand. "I lifted the lid and saw that it was stuck to the wood." We don't have wood anywhere near where he is peeing but I don't ask. And then what? "The pee went all over the place." Oh dear, let me clean that up right away before his brother slips and falls in it.
After I clean up that urine I notice that the little baby has taken the potty seat and is dragging it all over the house. Just because this potty seat is made for little bottoms and is not quite as heavy as a regular toilet seat does not mean that it is any less dirty.
Urine is fine. I hear that it is sterile.
And now at 3am, I am cleaning up a heap of my dog's vomit the size of a softball on the carpet. It is basically undigested kibble stuck together with stomach slime.
I am going to go to bed now.
Then at home, my older son says he has to go pee. Fine. He goes into the bathroom and then I hear his little brother say, "Uh Oh" several times. I ask what is wrong. Kien tells me some crazy story that I don't quite understand. "I lifted the lid and saw that it was stuck to the wood." We don't have wood anywhere near where he is peeing but I don't ask. And then what? "The pee went all over the place." Oh dear, let me clean that up right away before his brother slips and falls in it.
After I clean up that urine I notice that the little baby has taken the potty seat and is dragging it all over the house. Just because this potty seat is made for little bottoms and is not quite as heavy as a regular toilet seat does not mean that it is any less dirty.
Urine is fine. I hear that it is sterile.
And now at 3am, I am cleaning up a heap of my dog's vomit the size of a softball on the carpet. It is basically undigested kibble stuck together with stomach slime.
I am going to go to bed now.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Bread Crusts and Other Cold Foods
I have realized lately that my relationship with food has changed over the past four years. To be clear, I still understand and taste the difference between:
1.) something yummy
2.) something slightly off yet still edible
3.) and then the taste buds that have been super refined which signal, "That's been left out for four days. You are an idiot for putting THAT in your mouth."
I've got those three categories covered.
I've always loved food. I'm a big eater, love trying new things, and love most all spices from all cultures. I never really "forgot" to eat. To my surprise, in the beginning of motherhood, I would forget all the time to eat. Around 3pm on most days I would discover the clean, empty bowl sitting on the counter that was supposed to hold my cereal at 9am. It's mostly because there was never time to prepare a meal (pour cereal in bowl, add milk), sit down with proper utensils, chew and swallow. I was so used to that style of eating. I know, I'm asking a lot right? I just kept pushing eating aside until I could follow these common steps in preparing my food. I never really noticed I was hungry because I was so busy- you know, being a new mom and all. Then after a few months or years of that style of eating, I found out I was losing weight because people said to me, "You're REALLY skinny. Are you eating?" Oh, I guess I'm not.
So now I have a new style of eating. I am, what I call, The Clean Up Crew or just The Garbage Collector. Now, I eat what I can, when I can- even if it means I'm not actually hungry at that point. And because I don't like to waste food, I eat all the left overs from two boys.
I eat whatever is in front of me because who knows when I'll get to prepare anything myself. I eat when I can because who knows when I'll see food again. And it kills me to see food go to waste, especially if I'm the one who prepared it.
Four and a half years later, I have to say with the utmost confidence that I am totally sick and tired of making entire meals out of:
sandwich crusts
very soggy cereal
toast
any crusty/crispy parts of a fried egg
half eaten egg yolks
the heels of bread loaves
half eaten containers of yogurt
grapes bitten in half
the skins of fruits (peaches, nectarines, plums)
half finished smoothies
Why not save it for later, you may ask? Why eat it when you're not hungry, you want to know? Just wrap it up and put it in the fridge. Well... how disgusting would it be to try to reheat a piece of toast? How about saving fried eggs for later? Drinking a green smoothie which has formed a thick crust around the edges? Has anyone ever saved sandwich crusts for future enjoyment? I think not.
No matter what it is, I am eating cold food. All the time. OR.... I actually have the opportunity to eat something hot because I was lucky enough to prepare something, but then I burn my tongue repeatedly because I'm so excited to eat something hot. And it's usually standing up by the stove, where I just dished it onto my plate or heck... right out of the pan using the spatula or large slotted spoon with which I used to cook the food. Who has time to dish it, find utensils, carry it to the table three feet away and eat???? Those three feet can really mean the difference between eating RIGHT NOW and eating two hours later. You probably haven't seen my house to know the vast array of clutter that covers the floor in those three feet.
And really, c'mon... waiting until it cools down defeats the purpose of eating something hot. There's countless amounts of things that can happen between really hot food and "hot yet not burn your tongue" food. In my house, ALL of those countless amounts of things DO happen, which brings me back to my plate when the food is cold. In the olden days, I would have heated it up again and it would have been no big deal. But I have learned that heating it up again just puts me back into that same situation- hot food, wait, crisis in the bathroom, come back, cold food. Besides, eating food that's been re-heated, really??? RE-heated??? That's almost as much trouble as preparing the food in the first place, with the addition of it not tasting quite as fresh.
Like this morning... my son wanted pancakes. Great! I can do that. I scrambled around the kitchen gathering whatever ingredients I figured would taste somewhat what a pancake is supposed to taste like, furiously mixed them in a bowl, since I only have 3.2 nanoseconds to complete my task. Started dropping them in the pan. Baby is screaming and pulling at my leg indicating that he wants one NOW! My older son is lying half awake on the floor asking repeatedly, "When are the pancakes going to be done." And sounding as if he has been waiting for 47 years for his one pancake. I take out the first four pancakes - one to child, one to baby, two to Daddy. Next batch - four more sizzling away. I watch and wait. The recipe says three minutes on each side. What???? That's six minutes.
Okay fine, I guess I have no choice but to wait. Because turning up the heat in the pan so they cook faster, when the recipe specifically says "MEDIUM HEAT" means that you'll burn the pancake. And there's all kinds of things that come out of my children's mouths when they eat burned pancakes- like um... the pancake. So I wait not four minutes, but at 5.25 minutes I hear, "I would like another pancake please."
Have I mentioned yet that at this point, I am hungry too? It's morning, my eyes are sleepy, and I am operating on minimal energy and no clarity in the brain. I WOKE UP hungry, so you can bet that 90 minutes later I have reached the level of starvation that comes close to the really poor people on the streets in India. Close, not quite. But really close.
So... my reply to the request for another pancake is, "Who said that?" Well, one of the three boys has no ability to form sentences. So, it could be Daddy who needs to eat because he has to go to work soon. Or my older son who needs to eat because.... because... because? Well, because he's four and without food there might be another upheaval or mutiny which would prevent me from eating any sooner anyway.
I succumb to my fate. Even closer to the streets of India, I give one pancake to child, one pancake to hubby. But what's this??? Alas! There's a pancake. FOR ME! It's just sitting there, steaming hot from the pan. But I have to watch the next new batch in the pan- six minutes and remember to flip at three so do not set the spatula down. However, all three boys are happy, pancakes are looking happy, and I get to grab a steaming hot pancake and shove it in my mouth. Utensils? Syrup? Butter? Plate? Chair? Who needs any of that! It's hot, a wee bit on the "Burn Your Tongue" hot but who really cares. I got to eat a pancake. I feel triumphant. Really. Triumphant is the accurate description.
And guess what? I am bold enough to think I can conquer the last pancake sitting there, because Baby wasn't quite ready to eat his second one yet. I hold it to my mouth about ready to shovel it in, and then I hear, "Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma." My precious baby is doing that cute little sign language sign for "more" (also repeatedly) and grins at me. Full of sheer joy and excitement for my yummy pancakes. He can almost fall out of his chair when he gets that excited.
I look at the pancakes in the skillet. Since I ate the first pancake in 13 seconds, I still had roughly five minutes and 47 seconds to go until that next batch would be ready to eat. Then there's the insanely long cooling down period so the baby can actually eat it. And it all sums up to me just giving him that pancake.
And just to round off what usually happens after every meal, both children quickly finish eating just as I'm about to take my next bite standing up near the stove. But I become paralyzed as I get my first glimpse of the crumbs that are stuck to their hands with the syrup, the clothes which are horrific, and often stuff in hair that needs to be cleared. They start climbing down from their chairs and threatening to touch every single wall in the house. They're done eating so they automatically assume it's play time, so I have to act fast. I herd them to the bathroom and try to wash hands as fast as possible so that I can still eat a warm pancake and flip the ones that are in the pan slowly turning black.
Some turned black- which will have my name on them for tomorrow's breakfast. I ate one hot and three cold pancakes. All standing up and over the course of about two hours. Yes, it sounds like four pancakes is a lot but to fully understand my definition of "Clean Up Crew" here's what it looked like: one nice and hot, one at room temp about 30 minutes later, and then while I cleared the table I ate the left over half of an eaten one drowned in syrup by my older child, and then I ate another left over half of my Baby's pancake that was squished so tightly in his hand that it resembled more like a brown sponge or loofah.
But I ate... and my stomach really can't tell the difference anyway. I have a pretty big clue as to what I'll have for lunch. Just pick something from my list above.
1.) something yummy
2.) something slightly off yet still edible
3.) and then the taste buds that have been super refined which signal, "That's been left out for four days. You are an idiot for putting THAT in your mouth."
I've got those three categories covered.
I've always loved food. I'm a big eater, love trying new things, and love most all spices from all cultures. I never really "forgot" to eat. To my surprise, in the beginning of motherhood, I would forget all the time to eat. Around 3pm on most days I would discover the clean, empty bowl sitting on the counter that was supposed to hold my cereal at 9am. It's mostly because there was never time to prepare a meal (pour cereal in bowl, add milk), sit down with proper utensils, chew and swallow. I was so used to that style of eating. I know, I'm asking a lot right? I just kept pushing eating aside until I could follow these common steps in preparing my food. I never really noticed I was hungry because I was so busy- you know, being a new mom and all. Then after a few months or years of that style of eating, I found out I was losing weight because people said to me, "You're REALLY skinny. Are you eating?" Oh, I guess I'm not.
So now I have a new style of eating. I am, what I call, The Clean Up Crew or just The Garbage Collector. Now, I eat what I can, when I can- even if it means I'm not actually hungry at that point. And because I don't like to waste food, I eat all the left overs from two boys.
I eat whatever is in front of me because who knows when I'll get to prepare anything myself. I eat when I can because who knows when I'll see food again. And it kills me to see food go to waste, especially if I'm the one who prepared it.
Four and a half years later, I have to say with the utmost confidence that I am totally sick and tired of making entire meals out of:
sandwich crusts
very soggy cereal
toast
any crusty/crispy parts of a fried egg
half eaten egg yolks
the heels of bread loaves
half eaten containers of yogurt
grapes bitten in half
the skins of fruits (peaches, nectarines, plums)
half finished smoothies
Why not save it for later, you may ask? Why eat it when you're not hungry, you want to know? Just wrap it up and put it in the fridge. Well... how disgusting would it be to try to reheat a piece of toast? How about saving fried eggs for later? Drinking a green smoothie which has formed a thick crust around the edges? Has anyone ever saved sandwich crusts for future enjoyment? I think not.
No matter what it is, I am eating cold food. All the time. OR.... I actually have the opportunity to eat something hot because I was lucky enough to prepare something, but then I burn my tongue repeatedly because I'm so excited to eat something hot. And it's usually standing up by the stove, where I just dished it onto my plate or heck... right out of the pan using the spatula or large slotted spoon with which I used to cook the food. Who has time to dish it, find utensils, carry it to the table three feet away and eat???? Those three feet can really mean the difference between eating RIGHT NOW and eating two hours later. You probably haven't seen my house to know the vast array of clutter that covers the floor in those three feet.
And really, c'mon... waiting until it cools down defeats the purpose of eating something hot. There's countless amounts of things that can happen between really hot food and "hot yet not burn your tongue" food. In my house, ALL of those countless amounts of things DO happen, which brings me back to my plate when the food is cold. In the olden days, I would have heated it up again and it would have been no big deal. But I have learned that heating it up again just puts me back into that same situation- hot food, wait, crisis in the bathroom, come back, cold food. Besides, eating food that's been re-heated, really??? RE-heated??? That's almost as much trouble as preparing the food in the first place, with the addition of it not tasting quite as fresh.
Like this morning... my son wanted pancakes. Great! I can do that. I scrambled around the kitchen gathering whatever ingredients I figured would taste somewhat what a pancake is supposed to taste like, furiously mixed them in a bowl, since I only have 3.2 nanoseconds to complete my task. Started dropping them in the pan. Baby is screaming and pulling at my leg indicating that he wants one NOW! My older son is lying half awake on the floor asking repeatedly, "When are the pancakes going to be done." And sounding as if he has been waiting for 47 years for his one pancake. I take out the first four pancakes - one to child, one to baby, two to Daddy. Next batch - four more sizzling away. I watch and wait. The recipe says three minutes on each side. What???? That's six minutes.
Okay fine, I guess I have no choice but to wait. Because turning up the heat in the pan so they cook faster, when the recipe specifically says "MEDIUM HEAT" means that you'll burn the pancake. And there's all kinds of things that come out of my children's mouths when they eat burned pancakes- like um... the pancake. So I wait not four minutes, but at 5.25 minutes I hear, "I would like another pancake please."
Have I mentioned yet that at this point, I am hungry too? It's morning, my eyes are sleepy, and I am operating on minimal energy and no clarity in the brain. I WOKE UP hungry, so you can bet that 90 minutes later I have reached the level of starvation that comes close to the really poor people on the streets in India. Close, not quite. But really close.
So... my reply to the request for another pancake is, "Who said that?" Well, one of the three boys has no ability to form sentences. So, it could be Daddy who needs to eat because he has to go to work soon. Or my older son who needs to eat because.... because... because? Well, because he's four and without food there might be another upheaval or mutiny which would prevent me from eating any sooner anyway.
I succumb to my fate. Even closer to the streets of India, I give one pancake to child, one pancake to hubby. But what's this??? Alas! There's a pancake. FOR ME! It's just sitting there, steaming hot from the pan. But I have to watch the next new batch in the pan- six minutes and remember to flip at three so do not set the spatula down. However, all three boys are happy, pancakes are looking happy, and I get to grab a steaming hot pancake and shove it in my mouth. Utensils? Syrup? Butter? Plate? Chair? Who needs any of that! It's hot, a wee bit on the "Burn Your Tongue" hot but who really cares. I got to eat a pancake. I feel triumphant. Really. Triumphant is the accurate description.
And guess what? I am bold enough to think I can conquer the last pancake sitting there, because Baby wasn't quite ready to eat his second one yet. I hold it to my mouth about ready to shovel it in, and then I hear, "Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma." My precious baby is doing that cute little sign language sign for "more" (also repeatedly) and grins at me. Full of sheer joy and excitement for my yummy pancakes. He can almost fall out of his chair when he gets that excited.
I look at the pancakes in the skillet. Since I ate the first pancake in 13 seconds, I still had roughly five minutes and 47 seconds to go until that next batch would be ready to eat. Then there's the insanely long cooling down period so the baby can actually eat it. And it all sums up to me just giving him that pancake.
And just to round off what usually happens after every meal, both children quickly finish eating just as I'm about to take my next bite standing up near the stove. But I become paralyzed as I get my first glimpse of the crumbs that are stuck to their hands with the syrup, the clothes which are horrific, and often stuff in hair that needs to be cleared. They start climbing down from their chairs and threatening to touch every single wall in the house. They're done eating so they automatically assume it's play time, so I have to act fast. I herd them to the bathroom and try to wash hands as fast as possible so that I can still eat a warm pancake and flip the ones that are in the pan slowly turning black.
Some turned black- which will have my name on them for tomorrow's breakfast. I ate one hot and three cold pancakes. All standing up and over the course of about two hours. Yes, it sounds like four pancakes is a lot but to fully understand my definition of "Clean Up Crew" here's what it looked like: one nice and hot, one at room temp about 30 minutes later, and then while I cleared the table I ate the left over half of an eaten one drowned in syrup by my older child, and then I ate another left over half of my Baby's pancake that was squished so tightly in his hand that it resembled more like a brown sponge or loofah.
But I ate... and my stomach really can't tell the difference anyway. I have a pretty big clue as to what I'll have for lunch. Just pick something from my list above.
Monday, July 29, 2013
a new era
For those that know my personal breastfeeding story... I think my son
is done. I know, I know... I said it before but then we had a few
moments of him needing some reassurance, family travels which I think made him feel disconnected, life, etc. And
now it's been about two weeks.
It's very strange for me. Wow. I experienced my first "baby" weaning from breastfeeding in the most uneventful, anti-climactic, non-stressful, easy, and completely child-led way. Exactly how I read about it happening. I feel great about it but.... I feel sad in a reminiscent way. Thinking about those early days (about 90 really hard ones) of pain, crying, and yet never giving up hope really seem like yesterday. Even though the weaning process had been soooooo gradual and sooooo smooth, why do I feel like it caught me off guard? Remembering all those extra tired nights when I secretly wished he would be done I want to take back. Perhaps he was ready for it a lot earlier than I was. Just as he was ready to show me his first tooth before I was ready to give up that cute toothless smile. Just as he is ready to jump down from the tree before I am ready. Just as he is ready to be away from me for an entire day before I am from him.
Someone asked me if I knew that the last time was "the last time". No, because it was happening so infrequently at the end and I started to lose track of when he breastfed last. But that question made me realize how I'm so lucky it happened that way. If I had known that the very last time was going to be it, I would have been a big, soggy mess. I would have wanted to take pictures. I would have eaten a whole tub of ice cream. I can't imagine it going any smoother and I'm so glad that it followed his timing. For kids, there are so many emotionally eventful things in their lives that happen based on someone else's timing or rules. A child starting kindergarten at five, whether they're ready or not. A child having to give up playing with a toy whether they're ready or not, so they can learn a lesson about being polite. Their mommy or daddy leaving them to go to work, whether they're ready or not. A child getting a new sibling, whether they're ready or not. Being forced to grow up quickly, whether they're ready or not.
Not this journey. No Ma'am. This journey ended for him when he was ready, no sooner and no later. He was able to decide when and how, and he owned that process. He is a more confident boy because of it. And I am the mother that I am today because of that journey that we went on together.
My tandem nursing days are over. Luckily for me, I still get to breastfeed my other "baby" at 22 months. And luckily for me, my older son still loves to snuggle and hold my hand tightly as he falls asleep every night. I am lucky and grateful for what lessons breastfeeding has taught me.
It's very strange for me. Wow. I experienced my first "baby" weaning from breastfeeding in the most uneventful, anti-climactic, non-stressful, easy, and completely child-led way. Exactly how I read about it happening. I feel great about it but.... I feel sad in a reminiscent way. Thinking about those early days (about 90 really hard ones) of pain, crying, and yet never giving up hope really seem like yesterday. Even though the weaning process had been soooooo gradual and sooooo smooth, why do I feel like it caught me off guard? Remembering all those extra tired nights when I secretly wished he would be done I want to take back. Perhaps he was ready for it a lot earlier than I was. Just as he was ready to show me his first tooth before I was ready to give up that cute toothless smile. Just as he is ready to jump down from the tree before I am ready. Just as he is ready to be away from me for an entire day before I am from him.
Someone asked me if I knew that the last time was "the last time". No, because it was happening so infrequently at the end and I started to lose track of when he breastfed last. But that question made me realize how I'm so lucky it happened that way. If I had known that the very last time was going to be it, I would have been a big, soggy mess. I would have wanted to take pictures. I would have eaten a whole tub of ice cream. I can't imagine it going any smoother and I'm so glad that it followed his timing. For kids, there are so many emotionally eventful things in their lives that happen based on someone else's timing or rules. A child starting kindergarten at five, whether they're ready or not. A child having to give up playing with a toy whether they're ready or not, so they can learn a lesson about being polite. Their mommy or daddy leaving them to go to work, whether they're ready or not. A child getting a new sibling, whether they're ready or not. Being forced to grow up quickly, whether they're ready or not.
Not this journey. No Ma'am. This journey ended for him when he was ready, no sooner and no later. He was able to decide when and how, and he owned that process. He is a more confident boy because of it. And I am the mother that I am today because of that journey that we went on together.
My tandem nursing days are over. Luckily for me, I still get to breastfeed my other "baby" at 22 months. And luckily for me, my older son still loves to snuggle and hold my hand tightly as he falls asleep every night. I am lucky and grateful for what lessons breastfeeding has taught me.
strange to be back
Some time has passed since I last visited here. Just about four years or so. No biggie, stuff happened. You didn't miss much. Oh, except that now my son is 4.5 years old and he found a baby brother along the way, who is now 22 months old.
I started posting my blog on my own handy dandy Mac which teaches tech challenged people like me how to have their own website but then they took that away from me. So I'm back to this place which welcomed me back with open arms.
Quick update:
Sleep is STILL for wussy mamas. Really. That's just what you tell yourself so you can get through the day without overdosing on coffee or seeing your brain fall out of your head as you listen to yet another rendition of Old MacDonald. Instead of asking for a song to repeat, because I think my son doesn't know how to ask for it that way, he says, "Mom, I want that song to play over and over and over and over again. Make it play over and over and over and over again."
Then I give him a look which he misinterprets as needing to add a word at the end which will let me know that he is appreciative. "Make it play over and over and over and over again please."
I don't care about the please. I care about seeing my brain fall out of my head. I hit "repeat" on the music thingy and just pray that my dirty hair which hasn't been washed in a week will hide the mess of my brain falling out of my head. Or maybe the tangles will catch it so that I can put it back in at night.
The part that salvages the whole experience is getting to watch two really cute, half dressed, peanut butter crusted boys dance around the room.
We homeschool (unschool, life school, home educate or whatever it's called nowadays), we garden, we "do" shows, we have amazing adventures, we study butterflies going through their metamorphosis, and we ourselves grow. But we don't sleep. Well... rarely.
I started posting my blog on my own handy dandy Mac which teaches tech challenged people like me how to have their own website but then they took that away from me. So I'm back to this place which welcomed me back with open arms.
Quick update:
Sleep is STILL for wussy mamas. Really. That's just what you tell yourself so you can get through the day without overdosing on coffee or seeing your brain fall out of your head as you listen to yet another rendition of Old MacDonald. Instead of asking for a song to repeat, because I think my son doesn't know how to ask for it that way, he says, "Mom, I want that song to play over and over and over and over again. Make it play over and over and over and over again."
Then I give him a look which he misinterprets as needing to add a word at the end which will let me know that he is appreciative. "Make it play over and over and over and over again please."
I don't care about the please. I care about seeing my brain fall out of my head. I hit "repeat" on the music thingy and just pray that my dirty hair which hasn't been washed in a week will hide the mess of my brain falling out of my head. Or maybe the tangles will catch it so that I can put it back in at night.
The part that salvages the whole experience is getting to watch two really cute, half dressed, peanut butter crusted boys dance around the room.
We homeschool (unschool, life school, home educate or whatever it's called nowadays), we garden, we "do" shows, we have amazing adventures, we study butterflies going through their metamorphosis, and we ourselves grow. But we don't sleep. Well... rarely.
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