Running Stitch

I have run before. I am a runner.

I have stood at the finish line. Many times. I have stood along the course, with my small children.

On more than one occasion.

I have driven up and down roads in a car full of babies looking for my marathon in training mate to make sure he is hydrated, and alive. I have given up date nights and get togethers in order to be able to get up early for a long run.

I have worn the race bib. I have rung the cowbell. I have watched online as bib numbers pass through check points.

I have gotten up early to drive runners to the course. I have gotten up early after being up all night with a baby to be at the starting line on time.

I have been there.

Like so many others, runners and spectators, family members, and friends yesterday I felt like I was there. Like so many others I waited for friends far flung to check in. Friends I knew were there, friends I suspected could be there, friends who knew friends there.

And then, like the rest of the world I waited for the bad news. The news we knew was coming. How could it not.

I have run before. I am a runner.

I have stood at the finish line. Many times.

I have been striving these last few days to be more present. Present in the moment, present in the school day and present in my time. I think we all struggle for balance each day. Some of us step back and take the time more often then others.

From afar I often see folks making choice I wish I had thought of. Conscious choices to live a certain way. Conscious choices to add or delete something from their lives. These observations make me want to do the same. They make me take pause. And for that I’m am thankful.

It is important to reflect, I remind myself, on what has led me to this point, to these choices. And if I’m not comfortable with them, to decide what am I willing to change?

After a particularly unsatisfactory day last week, I took a step back to look at our school day. I am particularly partial to list and schedules. I am, dare I say, too rigid. Homeschooling is hard for me in this way, which is ironic.

I choose to homeschool so that I be, present with my children. So that we can move as we please through the day, not held to the school systems schedule. And yet, I have a tendancy (cough) to come unglued when my schedule is not followed.

Or, worse, I allow the time to slip by trying to be cool about the fact that it is 10:!5!! We should have accomplished more by now, but silently freaking out which ends in a big karfuffle. To put it nicely.

Often the kerfuffles happen as we struggle to come back to group work, they are at different places mathematically and with reading, but there are still many parts of our Unit Studies that we do together. This transition time is a problem for me as I wait, and wait for one of them to finish up, so we can begin group work.

So last week I decided, I wouldn’t freak out. I would accomplish the things on my schedule, get up, exercise, work, start the day. Because those were important for my day. But I would not play drill sargeant all day. Instead I would be calmer, work at their pace, be more focused on them, but be firm about personal breaks through the day. And I found with our firmer breaks, natural transitions were easier. Coming back from a break is a great time to do group work, and you can finish up your math when we are done.

Amazingly, we got all our work done, I was calmer, stayed on task. Not as focused on the clock and what we hadn’t done. I didn’t throw my schedule out but I reminded myself that while schedules work for me, they may not work for us, here at Dragon Valley Schoolhouse.

And it was of course? Fine. Everything was fine, work was done on time, minus my yelling at them to sit still, get your work done. The last few days have gone smoother, instead of hounding them to get back to work, I put my energy into keeping breaks rigid. Making sure we take them and then reminding them of the time left to accomplish work.

We were more relaxed, I think learned more, took time for questions, and of course made some silly hand puppets. That may not have been in my lesson plan, but it fit in nicely with our week, and was able to remind myself that, this is the reason I homeschool, so that I can look at the schedule, and then walk away, and get the hot glue gun out, and maybe some yarn.

*Jumpin’ Jack Flash-Rolling Stones

In the spaces in between, those moments when I’m not actively doing something but rather driving to something, waiting for someone or waiting for sleep, I wonder when it is I’m going to do all this moving business. Will I give up school or housework (housework), my job or exercise (always exercise sadly).

I’m all for organization, but sometimes that looks like a relentless march towards Grumpytown. Telling little boys that not only do they have to pack up their toys but get rid of a large portion of them, is not something I’m looking forward to. Getting rid of my own toys and belongings is awfully daunting as well.

And the quilting, let us not forget the stack of UFO’s. Oy. I think I’ll go back to doing the dishes and making list in my head. It’s less productive but there is hardly every crying.

*Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk-Rufus Wainwright

The Mama Gig. It’s a hard one. Knowing the line between between letting them learn on their own, make their own mistakes, face their own dissappointments, and remembering that no matter how well you prepare them they still have to make their way alone. Maybe not today. But someday. Performances (Violin, theater, Herdsmanship) are those moments when I have to breathe deeply and let them be.

I have to learn to take a deep breath and on or two steps back. To keep my face neutral or encouraging, so that when they steal a glance at me they don’t read the inner terror (Introvert alert) of the act for me. They both have the inner self confidence of their dad. They radiate assurance that I have never possessed. And they know it.

I walk the balance beam between encouraging them to their best and reminding them to focus and learn. To respect their elders, and the judges/teachers/masters that are taking part in their journey. I am both amazed and proud of their relentless search for knowledge, friends, conversation. And at the same time mortified (Introvert) when they stop strangers to chat. Rarely do stranger mind…

8 year old to random stranger on hiking trail: BONjour!
Random Stranger: Bonjour (then speaks rapidly in french, because of course)
8 year old: Oh I left my spanish dictionary at home
RS: I’m speaking French, I’m a French immersion teacher

The conversation continues and RS and her Male Companion compliment me on my children and encourage them to study languages.

I would never have stopped. I would have said hello and kept going. People pause to talk to my boys. I have begun to realize this is normal human interaction. I always assumed that my husband just talked a lot, that he was just friendly and gosh darn it people like him. But the boys, they teach me every day, in my struggle to impart some of my knowledge to them, that people are interesting and interested. That to hide from those interaction closes doors to all kinds of adventures and journeys.

Most importantly they teach me that they are going to do just fine. They have their moments, they are young and immature but they can hold their own. I will not send them out into the world tomorrow, I will not stop hounding them to clean their rooms, to get back to their schoolwork, to walk on the right, to wait their turn, to focus, to listen, to not correct their violin teacher during a lesson. But I will remember that when on the spot, or in the moment those boys do just fine.

And maybe they will one day teach their Mama the secret of their success, or at least remember her on the way.

*The Show -Lenka

Well things seem to be fixed around here, I’m not sure how or why, but I’m glad.

We brought in the Chief Inspector and he gave us the all clear. And also a heart attack because “you’re going to break something! probably your head!” It’s a trial being my child. The rules, the hand wringing, they can wear on a poor guy.

Exhausting it is.

And one more for the road, I do not believe I have subjected you to nearly enough kitty pictures.

This weekend I had had it with wading through the knee deep paraphernalia in the boy’s rooms. A possible exaggeration, but either way it felt knee deep. If you can’t walk across the floor with out stepping on something it’s too messy. I try. I trrrrrryyyyy to organize their spaces as to make clean up easier. A drawer for ‘things that go’ and a drawer for ‘guys’ a draw for ‘legos’ and the obligatory clothing storage.

‘battle moves’

But the organization doesn’t happen and the last minute scramble for handkerchiefs and underwear and the ever important sport cup is always harried and unpleasant, particularly when wallets or cups are found in random spots that are not the drawer designated for them, or when you don’t have underwear because instead they are in your sock drawer.

Choosing an Egg

And the reality is that the boys are in training, leaving them to wallow in the sea of papers. Sea. Of. Papers. that my 8 year old has collected this year, from actual comics from the newspaper, to drawings, and letters, is not an option. They won’t learn to organize their space if someone doesn’t teach them. Again. And again. And so as the day of cleaning. (day of cleaning ) their rooms. wound down, with very few things in the goodwill bag, more in the garbage and most of it filed away. Except the two drawers of paper, and the desk (which was removed from the room) of paper. What to do.

Proclick

I pulled out my trusty Proclick, a birthday gift from The Man. It is basically a big hole puncher that helps you create notebooks (used for organizing our school days) and giving me the freedom to create my own planner/chorechart/calender thingy. An ongoing process of course. The spiral bindings are available on amazon in bulk or a an local office supply store. The best part is you can unclick or reclick to add things to the books you create. I only have purchased the 85 page bindings but definitely for this project and some of their other school books could use bigger ones.

The next day we sat down and created a scrapbook of sorts, full of things he had copied on his grandparents copier, things he has printed off the computer about different topics, cards, drawings, postcards, letters. You name it I think we punched hole in it. It was like making a super easy scrapbook without the glue and tape (maybe a little glue and tape). In the end we had a book of memories.

Or Me Mores…whichever.

*Memories-Cats

Today I took my eldest child, my first born as it were, to the city. A terrifying outing for me as always, The City, where they keep all the stuff! And there are so. many. people. honking. Closing my eyes never helps because I’m driving the car and that is bad.

But phew we survived and I introduced my voracious reader to the wonder that is Powell’s bookstore.

As a teenager I enjoyed nothing better than to wonder the stacks of the (at that time only one building) bookstore, winding my way from Frank Herbert, to Margaret Mead and ending somewhere near Emily French. There was a cafe there then too, I can tell you we didn’t get anywhere near that today. It was a rush job, this first trip of ours to Powell’s bookstore, a quick pick up and drop off. We were on a specific mission.

We’ve reached a time in his life when he is anxious to read more of the Harry Potter journey, something I’ve been putting off or a while. The fourth book deals with death, and jealousy and general evil plans. And he is a guy who doesn’t deal well with the nasty side of people. We have worked our way through the first three books (re reading them for the manyeth time) using a curriculumn I found on curriclick that mostly focuses on vocabulary and comprehension. But I could put it off no longer and this week we cracked open the fourth book. We are starting slow, studying Ireland and Bulgaria, I’m not anxious to move past the first nine chapters, but he is. After we have milked the leprechauns for all they are worth, we’ll move on to the death eaters.

I love the Harry Potter series, I think there is so much to learn from the writings of JK Rowlings, she teaches about love and loss, honesty, bravery, loyalty and friendship. All qualities I hope to instill in my boys. And these books are tempered with sadness and loss, especially from this book forward and I’m a smart enough mama to know that those are things I can not protect my boys from. And I’m trepidatiously looking toward this journey with Harry, Ron and Hermione holding my hands and Hedwig gently nipping my ear. I loved these books the first, second and fiftieth time I read them, but I find that sharing them with my children is always a little bit harder. Just like life. I want them to go out and live and experience, and I have to be smart enough to know that those experiences will not always be the ones I would choose.

For now I will venture forth into the familiar and comfortable landscape of The Burrow and Hogwarts, and explore the life of young wizards and the dreams that they share with my wizard in training.

*Another Girl-The Beatles

March has come roaring in bring a birthday blitz and cold weather. Trees are down on the road, power and phone outtages abound, and a dusting of snow kept my kindergartner home on Tuesday. Personally I enjoy a good snowday but this one didn’t have much snow. There was some mudding in the yard and then the boys came into warm up and clean off. I took the opportunity to knit myself this headband I originally found in Martha Stewart’s magazine. And now that it’s done and my ears are all toasty I can focus on the final week of the quarter or as it is know at the Burrow. Time to re arrange the furniture in every room! Ready, set, Go!

*1,2,3,4-Coolio

Inspired by Soulemama

Things seems to change sometimes at a pace that we can barely comprehend, let alone keep up with. I’ve taken a step back from my blog over the last few months as other things ( I call it life) go on around me. I know we are all searching for more hours in the day. More time to ourselves, more times with others, more time to sleep. And also a house-elf that would be good too.

I have struggled with letting the blog go, wondering if it was the right move for now. I still don’t know the answer to this. I do know that reading my archives still brings me great pleasure. A cup of tea and I can get lost in the memories. Was it only last year that I was morning the loss of my boys on that great big school bus? Hard to imagine that it is less than a year since we began the Homeschooling journey.

The blog is a letter to myself, one where I keep track of my knitting and quilting progress, where I keep all those pictures of the boys that I can’t put up on the walls (we’re running out of walls as it is) and a place where I kep the memories and moments, that slip so silently by. Even when we are focused on slowing down and watching, listening and feeling, they still rush by as the creek outside my door does.

Eight years of moments culminated this week in the celebration of this boy. Who apparently is Eight. He reads Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and The chronicles of Narnia, while nestled next to his dog, or his bearded dragon or even his new Venus Fly trap (which is really a pet mom because it eats bugs…maybe we should open the windows so some flys can come in?). He asked for (and received) a chemistry set for his birthday, he wants to build a plane or maybe a rocket ship next week. He tries out words like youvenilly (juvenile) and antinomy (anatomy) while studying Leonardo da Vinci. He talks like an adult but dreams like a little boy. And I’m pretty there is only one other boy I could love as much as I do him.

The one in this picture, patiently waiting for his own turn (13 days mom! what’s leap year mom?!) at the donut shop breakfast table.

*Rocket Man-Elton John