Mom, You Suck! (a.k.a.: I'd Rather be Reading Twilight!)

Okay, here’s the thing about homeschooling (and the reason I think people react so knee-jerk defensively about it): we aren’t concerned about whether or not it’s the best thing for our kids (we know damn well they’ll be fine and probably thrive). What we’re really concerned about is this: if we homeschool, will WE be fine?

In just the last week alone, I’ve ended up in a conversation with three different people about homeschooling. Each time, within 30 seconds of the conversation starting, each person said emphatically “I could NEVER do that” and then confessed to how hard it is to be around their own kid for too long.

I’m not really caught off guard by them finding it hard to be around their kids for too long (nor am I judging them), because, if we’re honest, we all feel that way to some degree. We are a seriously emotionally disconnected generation. And the only things that get our attention for more than a few minutes are the things that numb us out entirely: food, TV, video games, cocktail hour, email. Or, in my case: Twilight! (which is a recent replacement for the laptop addiction I battle daily and got a lecture from my husband about the week prior…delivered, ironically, as he sat in front of his laptop).

So, please! Ask me the question that I’m asking myself: “What’s the deal, girl?!”

Why is it that I’m willing to read myself delirious into the wee hours rather than go to bed and put that energy into being “present” with my kid the next morning? And, in turn, why are so many of my parenting peers willing to so quickly pass their children off to a school system (or private school, or babysitter, or whatever) rather than spend that quality time with the children they chose to bring into this world? We want these children. We love these children. But, have you noticed?...we sure do put an enormous effort into avoiding the little darlings (even the well-behaved ones).

Okay, yes, I do a lot of cool stuff with Emerson. Most weeks I’m “game on” and we do great stuff that makes my grown-up friend Dawn frequently want to quit her job and run away to homeschool. But, just as often, there are weeks (like this one) where I put a great curriculum together but then just don’t feel like doing the more labor intensive activities (“Mama’s drinking her tea now, baby.”)…so we head to the Science Center instead (bluffing like that’s a “space” lesson), only crap…the Science Center is closed. So we end up at Target to spend Em’s holiday gift card that I minimally turn into a math lesson. Then we end up at home where, you guessed it, I am instantly on the laptop. It’s only after an hour of badgering from Emerson (and my husband catching me on said laptop) that I sit down and play Battleship with her (the game she picked out with her gift card).

Yes, granted, I did stick with it for an entire hour. And yes, I really did enjoy it. So much so that ten seconds after the game was done, I was back on my laptop updating my Facebook page with a nod to our quality time (“Emerson sank my battleship!”).

Ugh!!

I really don’t know why it’s so hard to stay plugged into our kids. I SO want to be that mom that keeps her shit together and fully engages in every moment with her child and still has time (and energy) to relax…and to eat healthy…and to exercise…and to work…and to hang with friends…and to put quality time in with the husband…and to solve the global hunger crisis…and to enjoy nature…and to contemplate the meaning of life.

Only, I don’t have the time (or energy) to do all of those things. Partly because it isn’t humanly possible, whether you are a homeschooling parent or any other kind…but also partly because the little time I did have I squandered staying up too late last night reading Twilight!

I don’t know why I or anyone else derails our time with our kids. I just know that my kid isn’t stupid. She knows when mom is plugged in and when I’m blowing her off. So, if Em starts calling me “Edward” tomorrow, I really can’t blame her.

After all, I am the love of her life (and she’s mine, truly). And yes, she counts on me to protect her and to be there for her forever.

But mostly (on weeks like this), she could call me "Edward" because, let’s face it: I kind of “suck”.

Happy Noon Year!!! (say what?)

Happy Noon Year, Everyone!

What's Noon Year? You ask? Noon Year is a very clever idea my friend Sarah, a fellow "homie" (e.g. friendly homeschooling parent) shared with me. Our neighborhood homeschool group wanted to celebrate New Year's with the kids and Sarah proposed having a Noon Year Party where the kids counted down to noon, rather than midnight. LOVE IT!!! My friend Laurie, another "homie", agreed to host the event at her house. It was a blast!! Here's how the party went:

1. Party Hats: Laurie had the kids decorate paper crowns with glitter glue, feather, sequins, etc. to make fancy party hats.

2. Noise Makers: The kids put 5 scoops of beans in between 2 cups which were then taped together. Instant noise maker. (Not that kids ever have a hard time finding something to make noise with.)

3. Bubbly: It was sparkling cider for the little ones and mimosas for the mamas (my oh my, I love a good mimosa. Hey, top mine off, would ya? A little more...a little more. Perrrfect!).

4. Count Down & Ball Drop: Laurie had a toy clock on the table which let us know when noon arrived. Her husband then lowered a "ball" made of pine cones and garland from their balcony as the kids counted down from 10 to ring in the Noon Year.

5. Toasts: We explained to the kids what it means to make "a toast" and for what occasions you might make them. Each child and parent then took a turn offering a toast for the New Year.

6. Storytime: Gotta rock that global knowledge, so next the kids listened to a story about Chinese New Year. (Chinese New Year start Jan 26 by the way. Can't wait!!!)

7. Turning Over a New Leaf: I love me some clever and this activity was certainly that. Laurie handed each child a new leaf and had them put it on the floor. She explained what a "resolution" is and how it means to do something different, or turn over a new leaf. Each child then made a resolution and literally turned over their leaf. So simple it's genius! My daughter is still talking about that one.

8. Full Circle: Laurie then explained about a year coming "full circle" and illustrated the point with cookies that had the middle cut out (so they were a ring). The kids didn't really grasp the concept. They were too busy "grasping" the cookies. But cute idea nonetheless.

9. Reminisce: The children learned that at the New Year we "reminisce" about (or, "remember fondly") the good things from the year before. Her daughter Hannah presented a poster board adorned with photos depicting fun and important moments from her year (from riding in a real horse-drawn carriage at her Aunt Kristi's wedding to the birth of her baby brother, Lochlan). Another cute idea.

10. Take Home: The kids had a couple papers to take home on which to write their New Year resolution and to predict the things they might do in the coming year.

The lesson was awesome (and that's not just my mimosas talking) A big party-hat off to Laurie and to Sarah for such a great kick off to 2009.

Keep It Simple, Stupid!

As much as I purport myself to be the "teacher" in my daughter's life, so often it seems that she is the one "schooling" me. Case in point: Emerson asked for a fish tank for Christmas. Santa didn't disappoint but decided to bring just the empty tank and supplies so that Em could pick the actual fish out herself.

Flash forward to us in the fish aisle at Petsmart. An array of glorious goldfish before us. I gravitate to every "flashy" fish in the tank...ones with spots, ones with extra shiny scales...and then finally on one fancy-finned lovely that I swear to God looked like it was wearing a fluffy black hat and black lipstick. I had it named in an instant: "La-di-da", because the fish looked like it would say that to you: Well, la-di-da! The fish actually looked smug. And I was in love with it. And I WANTED it.

The sales clerk came to assist Em with her selection. Poised atop her father's shoulders (for better view), she picks out the two plainest, most nondescript fish in the mix. I baulk. Then I ask, "Honey, don't you want this fancy fish? Look, she's wearing a hat!! How silly. How special!" (yeah, I was working my agenda pretty hard. I'm not proud of it, but there it is).

"No, Mama" Emerson replies resolutely. The clerk had already plucked her plain-jane "pescado" from the tank and plopped them into their travel bag. "Are you sure?!!" I ask urgently. "Yes, I'm sure". She doesn't even look my way. She's in her happy place, envisioning grand adventures ahead with her new fish pals.

I turn my attention to my husband. "Hey...is that tank big enough for THREE fish? It's big enough, right? It's totally big enough, yes?!!" (I repeat this about ten times as we walk toward the check-out counter). My husband finally turns to me and says in a I'm-going-to-act-like-I'm -joking-but-I-am-SO-NOT-joking tone of voice, "It's HER present."

And then I shut up.

I still want that fish. I really, really, really, really want that fish. But I shut up. Because it is Em's present. Her present. Her moment. Her choice.

Later that day Emerson and I take a walk around the neighborhood. She stops, as she always does, to pick up every rock along the way. Not fancy rocks...just plain, boring rocks. Hunks of gravel. Nothing special. Only to her they are. She leaves a few of her rock discoveries in select mailboxes along the way, wanting to share their simple beauty with her friends. I doubt any of them will give the rock a second glance, tossing it over their shoulder as they ferret the more interesting mail out of the box...having no idea that they just tossed a little girl's sincere gesture of love to the ground.

And then my heart catches in my throat because I realize this is one of the things I love most about my daughter: her ability to see something extraordinary in something the world finds plain ... and her overwhelming compulsion to share that simple beauty with others. She marvels at rocks. She adores a good stick. And she loves her plain, very un-fancy fish.

I give her hand a squeeze and feel a swell of appreciation both for her and the new fish swimming blissfully in the tank next to her bed. "What's up, Mama?" Emerson asks in response to my hand squeeze.

"Nothing" I respond. "I just really love you."

I say it just like that. Plain and simple.

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UPDATE: Are you freakin' kidding me?!!! Fate, you are a cruel, cruel mistress. Not three hours after I was done typing this post, I went upstairs to put my daughter to bed and wouldn't you know it: the freakin' goldfish is dead! Dead!!! The simple bastard is dead! I bet my fancy fish wouldn't have keeled over that quickly.

Em cried a river while extolling lots of Shakespearean laments ("Oh, the world is dead! Dead! The world is dead inside me."...and "I was in love to have that fish, now my heart is broken"....and "Oh, my poor fish, my poor goldfish. I hope you swim great in heaven!"). We held an impromptu funeral by the lakeside...made a grave for the fish in the sand and Emerson made a most dramatic eulogy. Now we're back to the pet store tomorrow for a replacement fish.

I am so feeling like the dad from "A Christmas Story" who lost his glorious Christmas turkey to the neighbors smelly hounds. I just want to shake my fist at the heavens and shout: "Bumpuses!!!"

Ah, well.

Homeschool Party in da HOUSE!

I love it when a plan comes together. I had big visions for Em's 5th birthday party. Five is a milestone year, afterall. And as part of the month of mirth and merriment (yep, we celebrated her birthday five times leading up to the big day), I planned a humdinger of a homeschool birthday party. The theme: Winter Solstice. (Em's b-day is 12/21, same exact day as Winter Solstice).

"Wait...you threw a homeschool birthday party?" you ask (meaning to imply: Uh, that sounds totally NOT fun). Well, I sure did. And the party kicked ass!

Here's what we did:

First: The kids made glitter scented pine cones (purpose: solstice celebrators bring elements of nature indoors during the bleak winter months to remind them of spring's beauty). The pine cone craft was quick and easy (paint pine cones with glue, toss them in a bag with glitter and spices, tie a ribbon on top: Wah-la!!) making it perfect activity for the 5+ year olds and their 2-yr old siblings.

Second: The kids learned about wassailing (which is pretty much a merge of Christmas caroling and Halloween. Basically kids would sing songs door-to-door but if you didn't invite them in for wassail, they'd play pranks on you). I sang the wassailing song for the group (you know: "Here we come a wassailing upon the leaves so green") and then I served warm cups of homemade wassail...which HELLO, turned out AWESOME, if I do say so myself. So so yummy.

Third: We crowned Emerson the "Lord of Misrule" (history: As part of the ancient pagan Saturnalia celebration, from which many solistice traditions derive, a Feast of Fools celebration was held. A subdeacon or peasant [person of low-power] was crowned the Lord of Misrule for the festival and was in charge of leading the revelers in merry mischief and much partying). I made a Lord of Misrule hat (a garishly decorated New Year's Eve hat) and crowned Em. She then led her guests in a rousing game of "Emerson says", which included lots of hopping on one foot and running in circles "faster, faster, FASTER!". Each of the other children then took a turn as the Lord of Misrule. Needless to say...5 years olds getting to be "the boss"...yea, this was a huge hit.

Fourth: We made Yule Logs...and OMG...these turned out so beautiful (see pic above, which doesn't do them justice). All the moms kind of stood around oohhing and ahhing at them. We're all a bit reluctant to actually burn them. (history: a yule log is a regular log decorated with elements from nature: leaves, branches, flowers, etc. and then burned on Winter Solstice, which is the longest night of the year, to help bring light and warmth to the dark winter.) We wrapped our logs in hanging moss and wrapped that in red raffia. Then the kids tucked all sorts of snippets in between: clover, fern leaves, flowers, berries, etc. Each child then wrote three wishes for the new year on white paper and we tied the wishes to the logs and curled the paper strips up. Seriously...these turned out bea-u-ti-ful!

Fifth: After lunch (everyone brought their own) we went out on the dock over the lake and talked about why solstice celebrators might miss the sun during the winter. The kids took turns thanking the sun for its many gifts: warmth, light, energy, helping plants grow and then took turns making a wish for the earth and the people that live on it. Lastly, each person went around the cirlce and voiced a birthday wish for Emerson....everything from lots of playdates together to much inner happiness. This was a very sweet part of the party.

Sixth: We had cake! Of course we had cake. Can't have a party without birthday cake. But, in keeping with the theme, I made a traditional solstice sun cake. Okay true, my friends are still doing situps trying to burn this thing off (It had FOUR sticks of butter in it.) but I was being "authentic", right? Anyway, the cake was a hit (although, to save my waistline, all leftovers were deposited in the trash can as soon as the party concluded. I bet my wasitline wished I'd done the same with the four batches of cookies I baked during the holidays as well).

And that's all she wrote.

It was a lovely, lovely party. The kids had a blast and learned a few things about Winter Solstice along the way. The parents had a blast (mostly because we didn't have a bunch of kids running around like maniacs. Other than a little free-for-all after lunch, the kids were engaged the entire time).

Most importantly though, what did Emerson think? When the party-goers departed. We collapsed on the sofa together for a cuddle. "So Lovebug, how did you like your party?" I asked. "Oh Mama," she replied "It was so nice. That was the best party ever."

(sniff, sniff)

All worth it!

"Good Yule", Everybody!