Yeah well, this one probably doesn't qualify as a blog. It's just a peek into my brain, and a sort of yellow sticky notes type of analysis. So read it if you want, and skip it if you couldn't give a rip.
Homeschool pros -
-We can do school in our jammies and eat pancakes at 9 AM
-The kids can wake up in the morning when they're rested
-Going to bed late isn't that big of deal
-We can take vacations/road trips whenever we feel like...in fact, we can take school on the road
-Field trips
-Those moments when I'm glad I got to be the one who was there to see my kids "get it".
-Great literature, independent learning, and school taylored to the needs of individual kids.
Homeschool cons -
-The reality of homeschooling is WAY less cool than the ideal. We try to cram as much stuff into the time when the baby is sleeping as possible. No breaks. No fun experiments. Just nose to the grindstone. I am a good teacher but I'm pulled in too many directions to provide the education I wish my kids could have.
-It IS hard to be the mom and the teacher.
-My older kids would benefit from structure, that, right now, I can't provide.
-My younger kids would love to have the Very Hungry Catipillar and Curious George read to them. Instead they get, Usbornes History of the World and Time Travellers.
-My house gets messy...homeschool messy.
-Those moments when I want to beat my head against the wall because of the interupption, or attitude, or the whatever...and yes, they are more common than I wish they were.
Private School Pros-
-Structure.
-Good teachers, who share our worldview, pouring into my children's lives.
-Friends are plentiful and easy to find. This is especially important for my extroverted eldest kiddo.
-Good education.
-Having to navigate social bummers (like being left out, and not getting the best grade in the class) in a safe environment.
-Less holes in their education than with homeschool (oops... I forgot to teach my 8 year old the months of the year.)
-HUGE stress reduction in not being the sole person responsible for my kids education.
-More time to focus on my little ones, and more time to take care of me (maybe)
Private School Cons-
-Structure; yep we'd have to plan our vacations around someone elses schedule, and save pancakes for the weekends.
-I miss out on teaching my kids.
-Money honey. It ain't cheap and I'd have to work to pay for tuition. I don't mind working I just don't want the baby to be in daycare all day.
-Huge change for my family...homeschooling is a lifestyle my kids are used to, and like. Frankly, as a kid, it's a pretty good gig - this being homeschooled.
-There is a risk that my kids could see Christianity as a culture (which it is), but miss out on the faith, relationship, knowing Jesus part of the equation.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Unless it Dies...
JOHN 12
23Jesus replied, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. 25The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me.
The kids and I read a bit of autobiography about the life of Amy Carmichael. Here is my nutshell version of the story: Amy was born in Ireland into a life of relative privledge. But by the time she was 18 she knew she would leave that life behind to serve as a missionary. Eventually, this led her to India where she established the Donvavuer Fellowship and rescued many hundreds of baby girls from a life of temple prostitution. This fellowship still exists today (and is run primarily by Indian Nationals) Many years after Amy Carmichaels death girls are still being rescued.
That sounds sort of glamourous and exotic to me. Amy Carmichael left a great legacy, and lived in a foreign land.
But the reality of living it was different.
In that first year Amy took in 3 babies, and within that same year she watched all 3 babies die. Anyone who's taken care of children (and babies especially) knows that it is not glamourous work. And losing those 3 babies must have felt like defeat; I cannot imagine the pain.
Amy Carmichaels life was a push your sleeves up, dirt under your fingernails affair. She scrubbed floors and washed bottoms. She rocked babies and played children's games. And I wonder if sometimes she doubted whether what she was doing made any difference at all. Because sometimes I wonder. I spend my life on behalf of 4 little people. And frankly, I rarely hear, "Mom, I just wanted to say thank you for making me take a bite of my carrots, and tucking me in. I really appreciate how you ask us to brush our teeth and make sure we have clean underware. "
But that verse from John (at the top of my blog) and the story of Amy Carmichael give me hope. Because sometimes to find our life we must lose it. And sometimes, probably most of the time, what counts the most are little acts of service. It's the things that don't make the headlines, and no one ever sees that matter for eternity.
23Jesus replied, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. 25The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me.
The kids and I read a bit of autobiography about the life of Amy Carmichael. Here is my nutshell version of the story: Amy was born in Ireland into a life of relative privledge. But by the time she was 18 she knew she would leave that life behind to serve as a missionary. Eventually, this led her to India where she established the Donvavuer Fellowship and rescued many hundreds of baby girls from a life of temple prostitution. This fellowship still exists today (and is run primarily by Indian Nationals) Many years after Amy Carmichaels death girls are still being rescued.
That sounds sort of glamourous and exotic to me. Amy Carmichael left a great legacy, and lived in a foreign land.
But the reality of living it was different.
In that first year Amy took in 3 babies, and within that same year she watched all 3 babies die. Anyone who's taken care of children (and babies especially) knows that it is not glamourous work. And losing those 3 babies must have felt like defeat; I cannot imagine the pain.
Amy Carmichaels life was a push your sleeves up, dirt under your fingernails affair. She scrubbed floors and washed bottoms. She rocked babies and played children's games. And I wonder if sometimes she doubted whether what she was doing made any difference at all. Because sometimes I wonder. I spend my life on behalf of 4 little people. And frankly, I rarely hear, "Mom, I just wanted to say thank you for making me take a bite of my carrots, and tucking me in. I really appreciate how you ask us to brush our teeth and make sure we have clean underware. "
But that verse from John (at the top of my blog) and the story of Amy Carmichael give me hope. Because sometimes to find our life we must lose it. And sometimes, probably most of the time, what counts the most are little acts of service. It's the things that don't make the headlines, and no one ever sees that matter for eternity.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tomatoes
This is how I know I'm back: I took a picture of a bowl of tomatoes.
About 2 weeks ago I picked around 10 pounds of green tomatoes off our plants in the garden. They were still green, but the nights were getting too cold to allow them the time they needed on the vine to ripen. Tomatoes will ripen off the vine too. So we've had pounds of tomatoes on our window sills and counters for weeks ripening.
Today, I noticed they were pretty.
I put them in a cobalt blue bowl and snapped a picture.
And that is how I know that the depression is lifting. I feel human. I notice beauty. I think homemade vegetable soup tastes delicious, and it's not even a carbohydrate. Well at least not of the doughnut, muffin, cookie, scone variety.
I'm back. The funny thing is that for a long time I didn't know I was missing. It's strange that I could become so good at pantomime that I convinced even myself that that what I was doing was real life.
The words are back too! I have a half a dozen blogs percolating in my brain. I'll share them as I get the chance.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Jack-o-lantern??
This looks like a jack-o-lantern right? (Hint: the only correct answer to this question is "Yes".) Actually, it's a GF pumpkin cookie posing as an acceptable alternative to birthday cake.
Bub's going to be 5 years old in a few days. He, quite convieniently, bumped up his due date by 3 weeks and decided to be born the day before Halloween. This is just so stinking handy in planning birthday festivities. There is always a hayride or a pumpkin patch or a corn maze available for dual celebration. So tomorrow, we're headed to the Pumkin Patch to meet a couple friends for a "birthday party". We'll feed a goat at the petting zoo, buy a pumpkin or 2, and then decorate a pumpkin cookie/faux birthday cake/jack-o-lantern. Then we'll throw in a round of obligatory Happy Birthday and call it a done deal.
We aren't one of the "good" Christians who find Halloween objectionable. We are pro mini-Snickers Bars, and and goofy costumes. We are against spending lots of cash on cool costumes. But my kids are homeschooled; they don't know their costumes are lame. And, for the record, we are anti -creeepy neighbors who scare the bajeebers out of our small children by jumping out from behind large trees in Gorilla costumes. That little incident will cost us years of therapy. But other than that we are pro Halloween.
Because I'm a nerd I did a little research on the history of Halloween. Orginally, it started as a Celtic Pagan celebration. Then, with the Roman invasion of the British Isles and spreading of Christianity, it took on new meaning. The Church started to celebrate All Saint's Day, and the evening before All Saint's Day was dubed the Old English equivilant of "Holy Evening", eventually it became known as Halloween. The history of Christianity is full of instances where new meaning was given to old traditions. For us, Halloween falls into this catagory. We tell the kids that many years ago the people of England lived in fear becuase they didn't know Jesus. But we know the end of the story. Good defeats evil , and we don't need to live in fear. Jesus is the winner. Halloween is a chance for us to love our neighbors and have fun. What once was a scary day of ritual is now FUN!
Hence, the pumpkin cookie/birthday cake/jack-o-lantern....
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Laughin' through the Tears and Such
My daughters are emotional. They can, and do, cry and laugh at the same time. It is not all that rare of occurance. My poor poor husband, cannot fathom why any one would do this...let alone why anyone would do this frequently, and dramatically. There is no box to put that kind of behavior into. And so Eddie shakes his head in wonder, bewilderment written across his face.
I, on the other hand, get it. A lot.
Yesterday, I was so encouraged to find a school that I felt really good about my kids attending. The class sizes are small, the teachers share our worldview, and the curriculum is challenging. Mostly, it just felt good. And in a school, culture counts. (Thanks Paula, you taught me that!)
Today, I am still happy about this option. But there is another emotion that wars with the peace I feel about this private school. It is sadness, and grief. The thing is I really, really love homeschooling (sometimes). I love my kids. I love teaching them. I love learning with them. I'm just not sure its the best choice for us now. We'll have to make a decision shortly, but today, I'm torn.
I understand tears with joy. It's called bittersweet. And I feel like whatever choice I make, homeschool or private, there will be a sweet sorrow in the living it.
Maybe that's why semi-sweet chocolate chips are the best kind. A little bitter to go with the sweet just makes for a fuller, rounder, more whole experience.
I, on the other hand, get it. A lot.
Yesterday, I was so encouraged to find a school that I felt really good about my kids attending. The class sizes are small, the teachers share our worldview, and the curriculum is challenging. Mostly, it just felt good. And in a school, culture counts. (Thanks Paula, you taught me that!)
Today, I am still happy about this option. But there is another emotion that wars with the peace I feel about this private school. It is sadness, and grief. The thing is I really, really love homeschooling (sometimes). I love my kids. I love teaching them. I love learning with them. I'm just not sure its the best choice for us now. We'll have to make a decision shortly, but today, I'm torn.
I understand tears with joy. It's called bittersweet. And I feel like whatever choice I make, homeschool or private, there will be a sweet sorrow in the living it.
Maybe that's why semi-sweet chocolate chips are the best kind. A little bitter to go with the sweet just makes for a fuller, rounder, more whole experience.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Private School
This morning I went to visit a private Christian school. I really liked it! But there are some logistical hurdles. They look like this: $$$$$$$
The easiest educational option for me is to send my kids to public school. We could do the school bus and the whole she-bang. Unfortunately, our "home" school is not really in our neighborhood at all. The brilliant folks at Adams 12 decided to ship kids from our neighborhood South to a Title 1 elementary school. Think low income, government subsidized lunch programs and CRAPPY test scores. Yes, I'm generalizing, and applying unfair stereo types. But..ah, sorry, I am NOT sending my kids to that school.
My next easiest school option is to try to get my kids transferred to another public elementary school. The school is okay, but it's crowded. My kids would be in classes with close to 30 students. And that, in my humble opinion, is not optimal, even for a great teacher.
Plus, to pull off this transfer I'd have to jump through numerous hoops, blind-folded and with one hand tied behind my back. I can get sorta feisty where my children's well being is concerned - I could jump through hoops. I just don't want to. It reeks of bureaucracy, and stupidity, and wasted tax dollars. Oh yeah, then I get snotty attitudes from school district folks who find out I'm homeschooling. Nice. Someone should tell the superintendent's administrative assistant that she can give me her attitude about homeschooling when the school she proposes my children attend is delivering more than 40 out of 100 students reading proficiently at grade level.
See my dilemma? I have a bad attitude about public schools.
Now, hold the phone. I'm not saying kids in public schools are bad, or their parents are bad for sending them. I'm not even saying the teachers are bad - many are good. I know many parents find that public school is a good option for their families. Many teachers feel a calling on their lives to work in the public schools. That's fine.
I AM saying that the bureaucracy drives me batty.
Here's a little figure to make your head spin: It costs the school district apx. 8K per child per year of education. It's not unheard of to have around 30 kids per class in elementary school. Now the private school I looked at today charges a little over 4K a year for tuition, but it actually costs them 6K (they make-up the difference with fund-raising). The teacher to student ratio is 1:10. The curriculum is rigorous and prepares kids for college.
Hmmm....how could this be?
Now I have public school teacher friends who say that this is because public schools have to be equip to meet the needs of every child - even those with very high levels of special needs. Granted. But still...the system is totally inefficient. It doesn't equip teachers or kids to be successful. It needs to be overhauled. So there. I said it. It's out. And no, I don't particularly want to be part of the solution. Yes, I do just want to gripe about it. In all likelihood I won't be attending any PTO meetings for an Adams 12 Five Star School in the near future. Unless, of course, I end up having to eat humble pie and and my words along with it.
The easiest educational option for me is to send my kids to public school. We could do the school bus and the whole she-bang. Unfortunately, our "home" school is not really in our neighborhood at all. The brilliant folks at Adams 12 decided to ship kids from our neighborhood South to a Title 1 elementary school. Think low income, government subsidized lunch programs and CRAPPY test scores. Yes, I'm generalizing, and applying unfair stereo types. But..ah, sorry, I am NOT sending my kids to that school.
My next easiest school option is to try to get my kids transferred to another public elementary school. The school is okay, but it's crowded. My kids would be in classes with close to 30 students. And that, in my humble opinion, is not optimal, even for a great teacher.
Plus, to pull off this transfer I'd have to jump through numerous hoops, blind-folded and with one hand tied behind my back. I can get sorta feisty where my children's well being is concerned - I could jump through hoops. I just don't want to. It reeks of bureaucracy, and stupidity, and wasted tax dollars. Oh yeah, then I get snotty attitudes from school district folks who find out I'm homeschooling. Nice. Someone should tell the superintendent's administrative assistant that she can give me her attitude about homeschooling when the school she proposes my children attend is delivering more than 40 out of 100 students reading proficiently at grade level.
See my dilemma? I have a bad attitude about public schools.
Now, hold the phone. I'm not saying kids in public schools are bad, or their parents are bad for sending them. I'm not even saying the teachers are bad - many are good. I know many parents find that public school is a good option for their families. Many teachers feel a calling on their lives to work in the public schools. That's fine.
I AM saying that the bureaucracy drives me batty.
Here's a little figure to make your head spin: It costs the school district apx. 8K per child per year of education. It's not unheard of to have around 30 kids per class in elementary school. Now the private school I looked at today charges a little over 4K a year for tuition, but it actually costs them 6K (they make-up the difference with fund-raising). The teacher to student ratio is 1:10. The curriculum is rigorous and prepares kids for college.
Hmmm....how could this be?
Now I have public school teacher friends who say that this is because public schools have to be equip to meet the needs of every child - even those with very high levels of special needs. Granted. But still...the system is totally inefficient. It doesn't equip teachers or kids to be successful. It needs to be overhauled. So there. I said it. It's out. And no, I don't particularly want to be part of the solution. Yes, I do just want to gripe about it. In all likelihood I won't be attending any PTO meetings for an Adams 12 Five Star School in the near future. Unless, of course, I end up having to eat humble pie and and my words along with it.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
randomness..
-Yesterday was Fall Family Fun Day, our family's bizarre made-up holiday. It's an annual tradition that has, in years past, included events such as gourd bowling and pumpkin seed spitting contests. This year was relatively tame - we stuck to pumpkin carving, football and face painting. A good time was had by all.
-I'm still feeling cruddy s0 I convinced hubby to ditch church (we do church Sat. evenings) instead of hurrying home from FFFD to be spiritual. I know what you're thinking - Freakin' Heathen. DEAL!
-Instead of attending church the kids gave me a spa treatment. E massaged my hands. Em brushed my hair, applied make-up, and rubbed my back. Then she sprayed me with perfume and applied deoderant to my underarms. Bub applied lotion to the tops of my feet and to my shins. Heaven knows, your shins can never be too moisturized. And applying deoderant goes above and beyond the call of duty. Sweet kids.
Later, Em gave Bub a spa treatment. It consisted of Karate chopping his back - a sort of sisterly back massage, I think. Then she applied Eddie's deoderant to Bub's armpits. I overheard her saying, "It's so you don't stink and you smell spicey...then you be able to get a cuter girlfriend." Not sure what to make of that one.
My husband rocks! He knows I feel cruddy so he super cleaned the kitchen. It sparkles. He vacuumed too! Nothing says love like a clean sink and those little vacuumy lines on the carpet. MY HERO!
-I'm still feeling cruddy s0 I convinced hubby to ditch church (we do church Sat. evenings) instead of hurrying home from FFFD to be spiritual. I know what you're thinking - Freakin' Heathen. DEAL!
-Instead of attending church the kids gave me a spa treatment. E massaged my hands. Em brushed my hair, applied make-up, and rubbed my back. Then she sprayed me with perfume and applied deoderant to my underarms. Bub applied lotion to the tops of my feet and to my shins. Heaven knows, your shins can never be too moisturized. And applying deoderant goes above and beyond the call of duty. Sweet kids.
Later, Em gave Bub a spa treatment. It consisted of Karate chopping his back - a sort of sisterly back massage, I think. Then she applied Eddie's deoderant to Bub's armpits. I overheard her saying, "It's so you don't stink and you smell spicey...then you be able to get a cuter girlfriend." Not sure what to make of that one.
My husband rocks! He knows I feel cruddy so he super cleaned the kitchen. It sparkles. He vacuumed too! Nothing says love like a clean sink and those little vacuumy lines on the carpet. MY HERO!
Friday, October 17, 2008
flowers
My friend, Paula, dropped off flowers for me today. Just because. God thanks for friends, and for family. I am, indeed, blessed!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Does it count?
The cloud of depression hasn't quite lifted; it's lifting. I have hope. But I probably have 3 weeks left until normal sets in, and the drugs are working at their full potency. And now I have a nasty cold and have almost lost my voice. I feel cruddy. And the kids are at varying stages of recovery from the same nasty cold.
It's trying my patience, this being unwell. I want to do something; a lot of somethings actually. But I simply cannot.
We started school in late July so that we could take the month of December off school. Now I've frittered away several weeks of our fluff with my being sick. I keep thinking, "At some point we are going to have to return to our regularly scheduled programming." I keep thinking that...but so far we are miles away from pulling it off. It's hard to teach when you can't talk.
So what have I been doing? I've rocked a sick baby. I've read stories to my nearly five year old - well whispered them. I've made a pie with my daughter - she read the recipe, cut, stirred, measured and baked. E has read on his own, he's helped his brother play a phonics game. He's done math games on the computer and built a robot of his own design. This has been our school. I think it has value, but usually there is a level of academic rigor that we haven't even approached in the last 2 months.
Does it count? Is this school? Well, for now, it will have to be good enough. In fact, I think if I could let go of my perfectionist tendencies I might see that it's not only "good enough" it's just plain good. It's scary though. I keep thinking that they'll fall behind, and that I'm letting them down.
I've heard veteran homeschool moms say that there are seasons when school goes on the back burner. Sometimes life happens, and there is no choice. Without fail these moms say, "It's okay. Kid's catch up. God redeems the time." So for me, for today, I will walk by faith. I will trust that what little I am doing is enough. God will redeem the time.
It's trying my patience, this being unwell. I want to do something; a lot of somethings actually. But I simply cannot.
We started school in late July so that we could take the month of December off school. Now I've frittered away several weeks of our fluff with my being sick. I keep thinking, "At some point we are going to have to return to our regularly scheduled programming." I keep thinking that...but so far we are miles away from pulling it off. It's hard to teach when you can't talk.
So what have I been doing? I've rocked a sick baby. I've read stories to my nearly five year old - well whispered them. I've made a pie with my daughter - she read the recipe, cut, stirred, measured and baked. E has read on his own, he's helped his brother play a phonics game. He's done math games on the computer and built a robot of his own design. This has been our school. I think it has value, but usually there is a level of academic rigor that we haven't even approached in the last 2 months.
Does it count? Is this school? Well, for now, it will have to be good enough. In fact, I think if I could let go of my perfectionist tendencies I might see that it's not only "good enough" it's just plain good. It's scary though. I keep thinking that they'll fall behind, and that I'm letting them down.
I've heard veteran homeschool moms say that there are seasons when school goes on the back burner. Sometimes life happens, and there is no choice. Without fail these moms say, "It's okay. Kid's catch up. God redeems the time." So for me, for today, I will walk by faith. I will trust that what little I am doing is enough. God will redeem the time.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Hearing from God sans Neon Signs
I went to Santa Fe just as the cloud of Depression was lifting...I went to celebrate. And I went looking for answers.
Now I am home.
Depression, if nothing else, taught me that something has to change. I cannot keep "this" up. I'm not exactly sure what "this" is, but "this" has got to change. In particular, I wanted to hear from God about my kids schooling. Public? Private? Homeschool? "And could you spell out the answer in a big neon sign God, if you please?" I told Eddie I was looking for vision - God's clear direction. He smirked. He said that in his experience God rarely worked that way.
What does Eddie know? I want a neon sign, dang it!
Well as it turns out there were no God ordained neon signs in Santa Fe, just some kick-ass green chili. And that's okay. Mostly okay. Because I do feel like I heard from God, sans neon, of course.
He said, "Come to me all you weary and burdened and I will give you rest." and he reminded me that, "even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, because GOD IS WITH ME."
My first thoughts were...."Ahh that's great God, but what should I do with my kids' school?" He said, "Come to me; you're weary and burdened and I will give you rest."
"Yeah God, you mentioned that...but what about my kids?" And then I shut up for a second, and I listened. And I let it penetrate my thick skull.
Rest. He offered rest. He wants to be WITH ME. And that is a balm to my serotonin deprived brain.
So do I know for sure what we'll do for school? Nope. But I decided to get first things first. I will run to Him. Because that's where I'll find rest and healing. And I will humbly accept what he has offered. He has offered himself.
For the record, public school is off my short list for options. I talked to the administration chic and she filled me in on the district's policy. It would be a serious challenge to get the kids into a school I'm comfortable with at this point.
And I have this issue with policy.
It's my policy to disregard their policy. I think it's dumb. I didn't tell the chic I thought it was dumb. But I really wanted to...because it's dumb.
So that leaves homeschool and private school. And well, actually, we don't exactly have the funds for private. Well if we got very, very, very creative we MIGHT. The short list is getting shorter...
And maybe that's my answer.
Now I am home.
Depression, if nothing else, taught me that something has to change. I cannot keep "this" up. I'm not exactly sure what "this" is, but "this" has got to change. In particular, I wanted to hear from God about my kids schooling. Public? Private? Homeschool? "And could you spell out the answer in a big neon sign God, if you please?" I told Eddie I was looking for vision - God's clear direction. He smirked. He said that in his experience God rarely worked that way.
What does Eddie know? I want a neon sign, dang it!
Well as it turns out there were no God ordained neon signs in Santa Fe, just some kick-ass green chili. And that's okay. Mostly okay. Because I do feel like I heard from God, sans neon, of course.
He said, "Come to me all you weary and burdened and I will give you rest." and he reminded me that, "even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, because GOD IS WITH ME."
My first thoughts were...."Ahh that's great God, but what should I do with my kids' school?" He said, "Come to me; you're weary and burdened and I will give you rest."
"Yeah God, you mentioned that...but what about my kids?" And then I shut up for a second, and I listened. And I let it penetrate my thick skull.
Rest. He offered rest. He wants to be WITH ME. And that is a balm to my serotonin deprived brain.
So do I know for sure what we'll do for school? Nope. But I decided to get first things first. I will run to Him. Because that's where I'll find rest and healing. And I will humbly accept what he has offered. He has offered himself.
For the record, public school is off my short list for options. I talked to the administration chic and she filled me in on the district's policy. It would be a serious challenge to get the kids into a school I'm comfortable with at this point.
And I have this issue with policy.
It's my policy to disregard their policy. I think it's dumb. I didn't tell the chic I thought it was dumb. But I really wanted to...because it's dumb.
So that leaves homeschool and private school. And well, actually, we don't exactly have the funds for private. Well if we got very, very, very creative we MIGHT. The short list is getting shorter...
And maybe that's my answer.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Santa Fe
We've succeeded in finding some of the best green chili around. It's at this little hole in the wall (Tecolote) that specializes in breakfast. Delicious. What's best is the absolutely tacky decor. The have a whole wall dedicated to cross stitched unicorns - for real. I cannot even begin to explain it.
For the record, we've done okay on the margarita front. They weren't prickly pear. But they were fab. So fab that I waited for 10 minutes or so before I trusted myself to stand up to use the rest room. Note to self, do not suck down a delicious margarita on an empty stomach, especially when you are a known light weight. Maria's Santa Fe Kitchen is also a hole in the wall with unique decor. This 50 year old restaurant was lit by neon encrusted wagon wheels hanging from the ceiling. Again, I cannot explain it. Bizarre only begins to describe it - but for the margaritas, bizarre decor is easy to take.
In the fog
Have you ever driven into a patch of fog so thick you could barely see a foot in front of you?
When I was a high schoooler in Evergreen we lived on the top of Bear Mountain. In the mornings it wasn't uncommon for a cloud to settle on the top of the mountain, and make it virtually impossible to see the road. But we drove on, because we knew that the cloud had only settled on the top of the mountain and we'd turn the corner and the fog would vanish. The road would be clear before us. 1 turn, maybe 100 yards, would make all the difference.
The last few weeks for me have been like driving in the fog. They have been disorienting and unnerving. I could not see the metaphorical road before me. Depression surrounded me in a way I don't think I've ever experienced before.
I think that I've struggled with depression for my whole adult life. Probably longer. But it was this nameless cloud that hung over me. Now it has a name, and for the most part, I have learned to manage my tendency in healthy ways. But this time it snuck up on me. The fog seeped in and I just kept going, until it got so thick I couldn't see.
I know Depression can be disabling, in theory. But I have always been a high functioning depressed person, so it never really registered, until now. This time, this time was scary, because I knew in my very bones that I was close to being unable to function at all.
How did it become that? How could I have missed the signs? By the grace of God, Eddie saw what I could not. He put a name to the cinderblock boots I wear. He made me call Susan. Susan, my doctor, has been a gift too! And the fog is lifting. I can see the road. I can sleep now, and breathe. I have stopped hurting, physically aching. I am not forgetting the obvious. The flakiness I exibit is just my normal kind...the everyday dippiness of being a head-in-the-clouds kinda girl.
More on this later, but hubby woke up, and we're headed out for a hike.
When I was a high schoooler in Evergreen we lived on the top of Bear Mountain. In the mornings it wasn't uncommon for a cloud to settle on the top of the mountain, and make it virtually impossible to see the road. But we drove on, because we knew that the cloud had only settled on the top of the mountain and we'd turn the corner and the fog would vanish. The road would be clear before us. 1 turn, maybe 100 yards, would make all the difference.
The last few weeks for me have been like driving in the fog. They have been disorienting and unnerving. I could not see the metaphorical road before me. Depression surrounded me in a way I don't think I've ever experienced before.
I think that I've struggled with depression for my whole adult life. Probably longer. But it was this nameless cloud that hung over me. Now it has a name, and for the most part, I have learned to manage my tendency in healthy ways. But this time it snuck up on me. The fog seeped in and I just kept going, until it got so thick I couldn't see.
I know Depression can be disabling, in theory. But I have always been a high functioning depressed person, so it never really registered, until now. This time, this time was scary, because I knew in my very bones that I was close to being unable to function at all.
How did it become that? How could I have missed the signs? By the grace of God, Eddie saw what I could not. He put a name to the cinderblock boots I wear. He made me call Susan. Susan, my doctor, has been a gift too! And the fog is lifting. I can see the road. I can sleep now, and breathe. I have stopped hurting, physically aching. I am not forgetting the obvious. The flakiness I exibit is just my normal kind...the everyday dippiness of being a head-in-the-clouds kinda girl.
More on this later, but hubby woke up, and we're headed out for a hike.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
10 Years
Guess who's kid free for 3 day and 2 nights?
Yep. We've unloaded the chillens on my in-laws and are officially checked into our hotel off the plaza in Santa Fe.
Happy 10 year anniversary to us!
Santa Fe is the Boulder of the South West. If you are a politically liberal, artistically bent, homosexual this is the city for you. Truthfully, I'm enjoying it quite a lot and I'm a conservatively voting straight person.
It's the art.
And the weather.
And the architecture.
It's the mocha spiked with chili
and the company of a bald guy of whom I am particularly fond.
Here's me showing my gypsy / hippy side:
The beauty of this place speaks to me.
I read a line in a book once that went something like this, "There is a beauty that heals and restores all it comes in contact with, and there is a beauty that kills and destroys." I think its true. The "Photoshopped" girls on the cover of Us Weekly, and Playboy - well they're beautiful, but somehow the beauty is soul-sucking.
The beauty of this place is not like that. It restores. How can an artist create beauty with a bunch of yellow and lavender oil paints and a palate knife? From a foot away the canvas looks like a smear of color, but from six feet away a landscape unfolds. Remarkable. Bold strokes. Vivid color. And somehow, it heals and restores.
Tonight we're on a mission to discover fabulous green chili and cactus margaritas. Wish us luck. Never mind. We don't need it - not here. We've got 2 and a half days left in this beautiful city and ten good years of marriage under our belts.
Monday, October 6, 2008
#300
This is my 300th post. There is just no telling the countless hours I've spent writing to you, my adoring fans (all 10 of you). It feels like I should write something monumentally important, something memorable.
Alas, before I logged in and discovered that this was number 300 I had in mind to tell you about my cinnamon roll discovery. This is distinctly not monumental, but I'm going to have to go with it.
King Soopers has begun to carry a pretty respectable amount of gluten free products. Among them is a tiny little freezer section of GF baked good, and hidden there was a 4 pack of cinnamon rolls. I recognized them as cinnamon rolls immediately, because they, well they looked like cinnamon rolls. Now those of you who aren't GF are saying, "duh" right now. But the GF among us know that this is no small feat. Cinnamon rolls that look like cinnamon rolls are a BIG DEAL.
My sister, Gretchen, is the Rock Star of Junk Food and an amazing GF baker to boot. But even she has had minimal success on the cinnamon roll front. Cinnamon rolls are the final frontier of gluten free baking. I can do pizza crust, and bread and muffins, and foccasia. Cakes and cookies are a breeze. But the cinnamon roll has eluded me...until this morning. I nuked that bad boy for a few seconds, and poured a cup of coffee. Yummy. It was an "all is right with the world" moment.
And on this, my 300th post, I wish you the same. Have a cinnamon roll morning...even if there isn't a cinnamon roll in sight. Make a discovery. Find a simple pleasure. And pour yourself a cup of coffee.
Alas, before I logged in and discovered that this was number 300 I had in mind to tell you about my cinnamon roll discovery. This is distinctly not monumental, but I'm going to have to go with it.
King Soopers has begun to carry a pretty respectable amount of gluten free products. Among them is a tiny little freezer section of GF baked good, and hidden there was a 4 pack of cinnamon rolls. I recognized them as cinnamon rolls immediately, because they, well they looked like cinnamon rolls. Now those of you who aren't GF are saying, "duh" right now. But the GF among us know that this is no small feat. Cinnamon rolls that look like cinnamon rolls are a BIG DEAL.
My sister, Gretchen, is the Rock Star of Junk Food and an amazing GF baker to boot. But even she has had minimal success on the cinnamon roll front. Cinnamon rolls are the final frontier of gluten free baking. I can do pizza crust, and bread and muffins, and foccasia. Cakes and cookies are a breeze. But the cinnamon roll has eluded me...until this morning. I nuked that bad boy for a few seconds, and poured a cup of coffee. Yummy. It was an "all is right with the world" moment.
And on this, my 300th post, I wish you the same. Have a cinnamon roll morning...even if there isn't a cinnamon roll in sight. Make a discovery. Find a simple pleasure. And pour yourself a cup of coffee.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Unschool...school...shmool
I am in the process of adjusting my medication...the weird consequences are migraines, jitters and sleepiness. I'm functioning at about 30% capacity. For awhile I was still trying to "do it all" . Eddie said, "Quit it. Only do the critical. The priority is getting healthy."
This is humbling, and kinda fun. It's like playing hooky from life.
So yesterday I took the kids to the Living History Farms in Littleton. We pet a horse. We talked to a dude dressed in 1860's garb about threshing wheat. The kids gave it a try. Then we watched a blacksmith make a door hinge. E has new career aspirations, by the way. I haven't done the market research, but I'm pretty certain that the demand for Blacksmiths today is minimal. I haven't broken the news to E yet.
We also met Aunt Gretch and Elie and Addie at the park for lunch...and because Aunt Gretch is the Super Hero of Junk Food we also stopped to get root beer floats.
It was good. It was a field trip. We learned that an acre is approximately what 1 man and a horse can plow in a day. That is SCHOOL in my book.
Today, we practiced our music. Went to Wal-mart to order new glasses for Em, after she declared she couldn't see the notes on the page. (Uh, missed that one!) We came home, ate a healthy lunch (including summer sausage and Carmel corn) and invited some friends over for a play date. 9 kids running around in the back yard is what those public schoolers call socialization. I call it SCHOOL!
I'm pretty sure this way of life is not sustainable...but it does have its perks.
This is humbling, and kinda fun. It's like playing hooky from life.
So yesterday I took the kids to the Living History Farms in Littleton. We pet a horse. We talked to a dude dressed in 1860's garb about threshing wheat. The kids gave it a try. Then we watched a blacksmith make a door hinge. E has new career aspirations, by the way. I haven't done the market research, but I'm pretty certain that the demand for Blacksmiths today is minimal. I haven't broken the news to E yet.
We also met Aunt Gretch and Elie and Addie at the park for lunch...and because Aunt Gretch is the Super Hero of Junk Food we also stopped to get root beer floats.
It was good. It was a field trip. We learned that an acre is approximately what 1 man and a horse can plow in a day. That is SCHOOL in my book.
Today, we practiced our music. Went to Wal-mart to order new glasses for Em, after she declared she couldn't see the notes on the page. (Uh, missed that one!) We came home, ate a healthy lunch (including summer sausage and Carmel corn) and invited some friends over for a play date. 9 kids running around in the back yard is what those public schoolers call socialization. I call it SCHOOL!
I'm pretty sure this way of life is not sustainable...but it does have its perks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)