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I think you’ll be able to tell the type of day it’s been by the the following list:

Things I Wish I Never Had to Say Again (but will probably say again tomorrow)

1 Do that in the bathroom
2 Don’t pick your nose
3 Can you talk to your brother in a different way please?
4 Get a towel and clean it up
5 Don’t poke your baby sister in the face
6 I’m in the bathroom, can this question wait?
7 If we have any more towels left, get one and clean it up
8 Eat your lunch
9 Do you see spit up down the back of my shirt? Here wipe it up.
10 I said don’t pick your nose(or atleast see #1)

I remember being the child and having the same things repeated to me over and over. ‘Don’t crack your knuckles.”  I try to think about what words I’m using and whether they really need to be said.  But in the end, I buckle and say the words on my tongue and see my children shrug my words off.  Maybe I should try singing them like opera? Atleast it would get their attention.

As look back over this list, it seems wrong to leave this as a summary of my day.People ask me how things are going and there just isn’t one word that fits an entire hour, much less a day, or a week.  We’re going moment by moment, taking the good with the bad, the smooth and the messy, the frustrating and the miracles.

Top Moments of the Day that Make the Above List Worth It

1 Watching 3 kiddos sit out the 95 degree weather waiting for the ice cream truck
2 The Boy runs up to me with a picture he’s drawn and says “can I bring it and show it to my teacher(swim teacher that is)”
3 Mookie doing the butterfly stroke down the lane after 5 weeks of swim lessons, which began with a refusal to go to the deep end.  She’s grown in skill and character.
4 Laying next to Sparkles and we gaze at each other, both smiling, both thinking the other is terrific
5 Hearing “Yes Ma’m” more often than not
6 Eating good fresh dinner outside
7 Summer baby clothes which makes rubbing sweet baby skin with rolls, easy
8 This quiet moment
9 Listening to Sparkles “talk” back to her 3 big siblings as they talk to her
10 Finished a good book

Update: We emailed professor Steve Murphree at Belmost University and this is what he said “The insect in question is a species of leaf-footed bug (Hemiptera: Coreidae) and maybe in the genus Acanthocephala.  http://bugguide.net/node/view/164566 .  These bugs are predators of other insects so good ones to have around.  They would only bite a person if forced to do so.  The only species in this family that is a pest is the squash bug.”

Some friends and I were comparing creepy critter stories the other night.  

We each had a different tolerance level for spiders, snakes, and skinks(in our house, that is).

But what about this handsome creature?  The girls and I came home to find this fascinating bug on our door.  It was the size of my thumb! We haven’t figured out what it is yet, but I’ll post back again if we do.

Until then, what’s your most memorable creature to close for comfort?

note: We’ve decided from here on out to give the kids “stage names” for the blog. Friends and family should be able to figure out who is who, but you can go to the ‘about’ page to know more about each of the kids.

It was a straight forward assignment.

“I have to write the whole poem?!” Mookie exclaimed.

“Yes.”

“And I have to memorize it?” she looked at me with eyes that said “Mommy, are you nuts?”

“And,” I added, “You get to perform it for Daddy when you’re ready,” trying to  appeal to her theatrical side.

She slumped.  She sighed.  She looked at me again waiting for sympathy to spread over my face.

“Okay, get to it.”

She did find, when she sat snuggled up with me as I nursed Sparkles, that she could tolerate the copywork.  Even though she came to  enjoy the cozy moments on the couch each day, I still had to remind her to get her work done.

On the day of the performance, the sun rose upon a frazzled mom.  Chores were a chore, baby girl wasn’t napping, and we were on a long detour to get to the day’s school work.

“Mommy, I have to work on my poem!” Mookie announced over the sound of the baby and my voice shouting out chores that still weren’t done.

‘What poem?” 

“Mommy! I have to do it for Daddy tonight”

“Oh right, go work on it and let me know when you’re ready to show me.”

Twenty minutes later, in a calmer moment, she called me back for a preview. Afterward, I gave her some tips on diction and how to calm her nervous body.

“Also, tell us the poem the way you like to hear stories.  Let us know something exciting is happening.  Picture yourself as a fairy in your head, awed by each new season.”

She looked at me.  Then asked me to leave.

Thirty minutes later I was called back again. She’d added a British accent and a lot more expression.

A few hours passed as my mind turned to other tasks of the day.

As Daddy’s arrival drew near, I pulled her sister aside and gave her a little pep talk about being supportive and focusing on Mookie during her recitation(since she had heard the practicing all week, I worried she might be lacking in enthusisasm when the real time came).  Then she surprised me.

With a playful smile she said, “I’m not a part of audience, I’ll be doing something else, just wait and see.”

I was stumped.  Then I started noticing some things. The Boy was missing. Sounds from the rehearsal room told me he was with the actress.  

“Do you know where my flashlight is?  And do I have some dark clothes, like that might blend into darkness?” Jelly Bean asked.

The Boy came out holding pink gloves, “Help.”

Mookie, in the hours I had gotten busy, had recruited stagehands!  For the next hour, the actress, the director, and the spotlight technician busied themselves with preparation.  There was a stage to be set, lighting to be adjusted, proper backstage attire to found.  Hair to be fixed, costumes to be approved, and of course a few more run throughs.

Finally, when the black cloth was positioned for a stage, and the lightning was just so, the performance began.

With a 4 year old announcer and director, a 6 year old operating the spotlight, and an 8 year old giving the performance of a lifetime, you can imagine it was quite a show.

Later that night, thinking back on the “simple assignment”, I loved how it had turned into to something that so suited the individual talents of each of the kids. And how it had turned in to a family affair.

Afterward, Mookie and I sat on the couch together.  ”At first when you told me I had to memorize a poem I thought ‘Boring’ but then this whole thing turned into real theater!”

And so it was.

A simple assignment.  With a lot of heart.

Norman Rockwell, Edgar Degas, Grandma Moses.  These are a few of the artists we’ve met this year since adding Picture Study to our learning time.  Picture Study is a Charlotte Mason inspired idea.  

At our house, picture study looks like this.  

• I pick an artist and find a nice large book containing his/her paintings from the library.
• Each week, for six weeks, we look at one piece of art from the book.  I keep it displayed prominently in our family room, so that as we pass by it seeps into our memory.  
• Sometime during the week, I take the book down and we look at the painting together.  We spend five minutes trying to remember as many things as we can about the painting and then I close the book.  Everyone takes turn sharing what they remember.  We open the book and see how we did and add elements we might have forgotten.  
• Like the click of camera, now we have added the painting to the gallery in our mind.
• If I find interesting books or videos about the artist, we add those as well.
• Every 6 weeks, we start a new artist.

This takes us up about 10 to 15 minutes in our whole week, and already we have begun building a gallery of great works.

This week, I felt inspired by another element of picture study added by this family.

I confess, I was nervous about M and J’s reactions.  ”I can’t draw that, ” seemed the least of the worries.  Falling to the floor and giving up completely because they couldn’t BE the artist was more of my concern.

So last night I showed the girls samples from the blog above and we talked about how we weren’t trying for perfect and all of our sketches would look different.

Today we tried it and it went great!  I know that having this positive experience is going to make the next time that much more fun and enthusiastic.  Here are the girl’s work side by side with our artist’s painting of the week, A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Marc Chagall.

In my secret heart of hearts, I’m an “unschooler”.  For those of you who may not know that term, it’s describes a philosophy behind homeschooling that means learning by what the day brings and where your children’s interests take you rather than with a stack of school books and a lesson plan.

We move in and out of various philosophies.  This year, as I saw pregnancy and baby ahead, I leaned much more toward lists and plans and official curriculum to make sure school was happening even on the low days.  Last year, we had many fancy free days of learning through trips to the zoo and hands on projects.  The unschooling approach I usually save for the days when all plans escape us due to sickness, exhaustion, or undeniably great weather, it’s when I look back at the day and see their make-believe games and the cooking we did together,wipe my brow and say, “See, the were still learning”.

There are major influences that build up my fear of unschooling more of our days.  Expectations from family and non-homeschooling friends, the comparative standards of our school system, the neighbors who might report me for neglecting my children’s “proper” education, and then my own etched memories of conventional school all group together to form a strong voice.  Despite that, a deeper voice tells me there is a better way to learn than at a table.

This past week we came to a day that I lacked good judgement and scheduled dentist appointments(for 3 children), swim lessons(for 3 children) and an night excursion for myself.  School, as the mainstream think of it, just couldn’t happen for this mom to stay sane.  So between getting teeth cleaned and putting on bathing suits the children went outside in a perfectly breezy spring day for four and half hours.  

Then spent most of those hours drawing.  

With an enthusiasm far beyond their regular art lessons(even though we all like those too)  they drew still life, self-portraits, and one another.  Later, as we traveled in the car we listened to the story of Hudson Taylor, the missionary to china.  We didn’t have to call it history or Bible Time to be just that.

That day was a day their minds were wide open.  Joyful.  Learning without calling it “school” and all the better for it.

I’m grabbing my moment.  

If I keep my eyes on the screen, my only goal to compose thoughts into words,  I can pretend that this is all I should be doing.  

Outside of this screen there are the other things calling.  The right things.  The responsible things.  The things that, even if I were to devote my day to them will still be waiting for me in a few minutes, tomorrow, and next week.  

Beyond the screen bits of our life lay ground into the carpet, waiting to be vacuumed. No, I won’t look.  

Around the corner awaits the school room where our learning has spread across the surfaces.  Steady now.

See how easy it is to wander back to those other things?  Shouldn’t I be doing them instead of stealing this moment away to sit with my new macbook and write?  

Maybe not.  The Lord had called me to be a wife.  A mother.  A teacher.  A good steward of our finances.  It ’s my job to keep a warm hand on our home to provide a (relatively)clean and pleasant place to live.  That’s enough to fill up 48 hours in a day, so how could I possibly believe that He’s also called me to give into these creative longings and write?  After years of worrying about balance and how to look like every other mom, I’m giving myself a hearty yes.  

Will I ever be the writer with luxury to stumble out of bed, grab coffee, and spend hours lingering over words?  Or the late night writer determined to get ideas to page?  Right now I value sleep too much.  I really don’t know the answer past today. Today, in this moment, my moment, I’ve got my blank page(well, not so blank now) and my thoughts and until the time that baby girl wakes up, or the boys get back or the girls arrive home, I’ll have my moment.

Maybe it’s not a stolen moment.  Maybe, it’s a gift.

The black and white number 4 (kids, that is) doesn’t seem like something to get jumpy about.  Yet we still seem to invite commentary. Even before the latest arrival, we drew the random , “Wow, that’s a lot of kids,” as we headed into the library. Usually, I just smile cheerfully and say “Yep, and they’re a blessing.”  

The number 4 doesn’t seem like something to faint at, in my opinion.

Until Trader Joe’s.  When two weary parents who had been up during the night with their 3 month old and already attended church (making it to sunday school and a service for the first time in months), decided it would be a good idea to take the 4 kids (3 of whom had colds of varying stages) to Trader Joes.  

Because it sounded like fun.

On this outing though, we felt like that family.  You know that family.  The one you watch with waryness, keeping a distance of several cart lengths.  You try to stay on a different aisle, and you have no problem doing that because you can hear what aisle that family is on.  On this day when we were that family, we even armed our 4 year old (the sickest one who hadn’t had a nap) with his own child-size shopping cart.  As we made our way through the store (note: nothing about TJ’s is large) we moved like a wave crashing against the shore, taking out all of the shells and sweet little crabs in it’s path.  

The aforementioned cart had a large pole attached to it (for what purpose other than people bowling, I don’t know) and on the other side a boy who didn’t want any help steering.  Next to him was his 6 year old sister with arms crossed and lips out because she wanted to be the one with cart. And then there was the normally content baby discontent in her sling.  What about the 4th you ask?  Luckily she knows how to spy out these situations (when mommy and daddy’s color is changing to pink) and walk the straight and narrow while her parents flounder about behind her.  

After 10 minutes of this, I couldn’t think of single snack that would make this trip worth it.

My husband has more stamina (which means he can block out noise and activity longer than I can) so his curiosity led us around the store for about 20 minutes past the time we should have left the store.

Later, as we sat there emotionally drained from the venture, I leaned back on the couch and said to Matt, “I feel like a family of 6.”

He started laughing, “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Still photo updates, I do compose a lot of blog entries in my head-now if only they could go from my head to the keyboard-

Hopefully, when the girls look back on their homeschooling years, they’ll remember sweet hours of reading a good book with a spoon of cookie dough on the side…