Sacrificial Self-Preservation

I often describe myself as a stay-at-home, on-the-go homeschooling mom to three pretty terrific kids. This is our ninth year homeschooling. When acquaintances profess that they are impressed with this, I always warn them that there is nothing remotely impressive about it. I do it for self-preservation.

We almost joined a co-op at the beginning of this school year. It sounded so promising ... art classes, English classes, plays. Plus I really like the other moms and know many of the kids. Then they wanted me to teach a class. Fine. I could do that. But it didn’t stop there ... suddenly there were mom meetings, family meetings, cookouts, field trips, teacher meetings. Someone signed me up for the annual staff associative co-administrative ambassador coordinator wizard. (Yes, I warned them that I knew nothin' about birthin’ no darn annuals.) And then told me that in addition to this I would have to take part in fund raisers and volunteer as class “helper” for another class. There were even whispers of mandatory things. Mandatory?

Uhhhhhh, no thanks. I grabbed the oars and paddled our homeschool fannies right out of that little lagoon! I would've had to sacrifice my favorite homeschool value of simplicity to take part in that co-op.

Recently I was asked by another homeschool mom if I took part in many of the activities with the groups in this area. I answered honestly, "No. The main reason I homeschool is so I don't have to do stuff like that ... " She was relieved since she rather thought the same thing, and you can imagine that this was a big relief to me.

I have been through years in public schools, and while I am definitely not one of those homeschool nazi moms who thinks everyone should homeschool or that public schools are bad, I have experienced that run-ragged-ness brought on by parent groups and fund raisers and Fall Festivals, Winter Festivals, Spring Flings, dances, standardized tests, Field Days, teacher appreciation luncheons, etc. One year, I cried for a week after school was out because I was worn out ... and just think about my kids! And in the area I live in each of my kids would be in separate schools. So, I’d have to multiply the above list by three!

Nothing is simple in this world. I realize that. But shouldn’t it be? I admit that I homeschool for the simplicity of it. There is nothing heroic about it. It’s just plain old self-preservation.

Is there something wrong with me?

Thanksgiving Magic

The magic of Thanksgiving is an enigma even more mysterious than Santa, the tooth fairy or the Easter bunny. Most will blissfully wander through their entire lives in the dark, never giving thought to the who or the why of it, comfortable in the knowledge that it is dependable and everlasting. If you live to be one hundred, it will appear one hundred times. Oh, but for a privileged few of us, the brave and the strong, the magic is unveiled. If your reading this, you are probably one of the select. And you know, like I know...That at four o'clock on the fourth Thursday of November, after the parades and football games, after your friends and relatives have arrived, after a couple of glasses of wine, when the "others" wander into the dining room and settle in front of their plates... We know, that those seventeen dishes of scrumptious Thanksgiving fare, four desserts and homemade cornucopia didn't just appear out of thin air.

Day Nine...

Delirium has set in. My husband has lost fourteen pounds, my kid's cheeks are looking hollow, but pioneer stock will tell and I was built for harsh winters. On these, the days leading to our celebration of Thanksgiving, I feel certain that, had I been around, I would have been at that first feast. Long, disease filled ocean crossings, unforgiving seasons and lack of food would not have done me in. I'm like those little frogs that can hibernate for years until the rains come again, then spring to life, hardy and robust.


My husband has hid the scale, he says I don't need it that I look like the day he married me. He's lying because he wants toast with his butter for breakfast tomorrow. It won't work.

Day Three...

Day three of my low carb diet

I've lost my will to live. My "all the bacon and eggs you can eat" high is gone. My house is bereft of sugar, flour, pasta, rice, and potatoes. Freezer burned won-ton wrappers are starting to look yummy to me. I've been straining my brain trying to figure out how to make chocolate out of Splenda and pork rinds (please forward your recipes). My kids have taken to eating their PB&J in their rooms out of fear. But I did have a break through today- I was able to get my wedding rings on...

The First Day of the Rest of Our Lives

You never know when it might happen. You just wake up one morning, you have breakfast, you get dressed, you plan to go about your day. But, you know today is special, different somehow, you can feel it in the air. You drive into town, it's better today, the air smells fresh, a south wind has blown in during the night sending all the dust and VB boxes toward Adelaide, the sun is shining, your coffee is a double mocha with no calories. Your hair is perfect, your new Capri's take ten pounds off and your husband has the day off from work so you don't even have any kids tagging along. You put on make-up, today is a big day after all, and meet your friends. Then, at exactly 8:00 am NT time (8:15 for everyone else) it happens...Your very first Target opens.



<--this is the the line to get in.

This is some crazy lady who wouldn't get out of the

picture.-->




We're still waiting on the Cinnabon and the Starbucks, but Target, well Target is a great start. Way to go Alice!

Nancy Drew, Shame On You ...

I decided to read the kids a Nancy Drew book. I grabbed my copy of The Mystery At Lilac Inn off the bookshelf. It is imprinted with a copyright from 1930, so it is one of the originals it would seem. A few pages into it, my son announced that he knew what would happen next - the dinosaurs would go extinct. I think it was the way the characters "alighted" from "roadsters" on their way to "luncheons" that gave him the impression that the book was a bit antiquated. It wasn't long after that I read my way into some alarmingly racist references. I was appalled, stared at the page for a moment, and then slammed the book back on the shelf announcing that we would find something else to read that was less offensive. The kids alternately stared at me, each other, and their own eyebrows even as they sported "Elvis lips". My son said, "Sure." And he scrambled away from the table to grab a basketball and head outside.

Augh! I had saved these books from my childhood to share with my own daughter. The more I thought about it the more bothered I became, so I did a little Nancy Drew Racism Googling. I found this:

http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/1999/10/07/nancydrew/

As the mother of rather colorful children with skin of various shades of browns I guess I might be more sensitive than most, and oddly when I read the books myself as a child I never noticed these offenses. Either I sped-read my way over them or was so caught up in the mystery that I missed them. Maybe in the innocence of childhood I just didn't "get it". My older eyes, my older heart, my mothering mind caught them, and I am saddened.

Sigh.

This isn't the first classic that has gone unfinished in my house. Some I have read and tried to leave out the offensive parts with intolerant references to skin colors and ethnicities. That is a difficult way to read a book aloud. I have heard that Nancy's books have been revised to modernize her haughty ways, but I'm afraid to try them. If any of you have read updated Nancy Drew mysteries please let me know your impressions.

Aloha My Friend!!!

Is Hawaii treating you well, I've been so worried? Your not bored? Not homesick? Not overbaked? Let me catch you up: Wednesday---Nothing; Thursday-Tripoley at Bibian's, I didn't loose every ten cent piece I took and someone made lemon squares; Friday---Nothing; Saturday-Farah's home--yeah! She brought Krispy Kremes; Sunday---Nothing. There you go, all caught up.

If you feel like sending gifts, Farah needs a new thong bikini and I need a Muumuu to wear to the LMNOP Ball next month, something in black, I think, because black is so slimming, maybe with a splash of color so I don't blend into the background. A lovely flamingo pattern might look flash, or maybe some colorful fish, I'll trust your judgement.

We miss you, keep in touch.

L,
E

So Much Shame....

For any of my Australian friends who had the misfortune of witnessing that train wreck on channel 108 last night called America's Next Top Model, please believe me when I say....I AM A CANADIAN. I invoke my rights as a conscientious objector to ALL American reality TV and hereby claim my oak leaf. I denounce all ownership to Jerry, Oprah, Rachael, Judge Judy, the Kardashians, Hugh and the girls, and the entire cast and crew of The Simple Life, gag. For all my American friends, there's plenty of room here on higher ground, I'm saving you all a place. Join me! Don't dither! Run! Run I say!


E

My Mind Warped History & Rethinking things

Yesterday was Independence Day in the ol’USA. Some refer to it as the birthday of America which is misleading as there was a long labor that lasted something like eight years (1775-1783) before the delivery of America. July 4th is really just the date that fifty-six men signed America’s birth certificate ... one of the most monumental work of words ever written: The Declaration of Independence. Except that didn’t really happen as most of the men actually signed the thing in August and had declared the intent to be independent on July 2.

Are you confused yet? Just think of it as the way it usually goes with a pregnancy or meal planning - some folks like to define their participation by being present at the Big Bang conception (“Hey, let’s dine on something light yet fruity” or “There you go, I did my part so proceedeth hasty like and birth me a young’un!”) and the receiving end of the labor and delivery line (“Boy, that was some fine pear tart I just ate!” or “Look, I have a kid!”)... everything else ” (like pregnancy, war, grocery shopping, making crusts) is of minor importance.

Thomas Jefferson drew this beautiful document up, I believed, with great wisdom, ink made of elderberry juice, and a pointy bird feather on a fat piece of unlined parchment in the comfort of his study at Monticello on a sunny afternoon as he smiled upon his children playing Marco Polo upon the green lawn just outside the window near his desk. Sigh. But it doesn’t look like it happened that way. For one reason Jefferson’s children at the time were still in diapers. He also undoubtedly had access to India ink which was really invented by the Chinese, but let's don't get started on that. I read that someone's clerk probably was responsible for the actual handwriting of the Declaration version we are familiar with ... the version that wasn’t even ordered by congress until July 19, 1776. I was more than a little miffed at this revelation.

Which brings me to the real point I was working toward. Come Monday, I was just fixing to use this as a homeschooling force:

“Look, you capable yet somewhat slacker children who would like to take 13 days to write simple essays, this Jefferson fellow whipped this up in one sitting without college-ruled notebook paper or an eraser! And would you look at that fine penmanship?” (Notice I wasn’t bringing up the oddly capitalized words).

And now, realizing that I had absorbed most of my history knowledge during the highly romanticized U.S. Bicentennial Era of my childhood and not during the great opportunity of having a bonafide historian as a high school history instructor, I will have to rethink my uplifting speech to include some actual truths. Hopefully I will come up with something as inspiring that will spare my children from wondering 30 some years later how they had gotten everything so wrong ... like me. Hey, even if Jefferson didn't handwrite that courageous document up so lovely like -someone DID - right? And Jefferson was the mastermind - right? You might want to wish me luck : )

-Ate Words I Hate

I find certain word families offensive, is that allowed? It's probably not politically correct, holding an entire word family responsible for a few bad apples, but, much like the "Cooking Code Words" of my friend, certain word families make me cringe. The -ate words come to mind first.

Aggravate-What one child does to another forcing the parent into time-outs. At one minute per year of age, I'm now up to a pretty refreshing nap now.

Dominate-Let's not.

Assimilate-Okay, this one reminds me of Star Trek-the Next Generation episodes with those people from Hell Raisers in them.

Penetrate-Self explanatory and the real reason I'll never write a romance novel.

Imitate-No good has ever come from this.

Irrigate-In my experience, always involves wounds, iodine and my cat Ginger after a night out.

Elevate-At least it's not broken...

Castigate-Even sounds painful.

Delegate-To keep passing all the yucky work off until it gets to the person at the end of the line, that would be me.

Obligate-Involves a marker that may be called in at anytime, usually procured when someone has your kids for a sleepover. Two sleepovers without a return invite will result in a state of '"obligation" which is to be avoided at all costs.

Irritate-See aggravate.

Mediate-A Skill forced on parents while driving 70 mph down the highway.

Emulate-See imitate.

Estimate-Okay, maybe I'll let this one pass. After all, it does allow you to put your "ideal" weight on your DL without technically committing fraud.

L,
Edwi