This picture has nothing to do with anything I might say here… but this is just one of the ways we dress for school at my house.

It was a harder week.  We survived, but at moments it was questionable. 

It astonishes me some nights as I fall into bed at just what I accomplish in one day with the LORD’S help.  I had no idea at 20 what my life would like at 40.  I like the components… I just could never have imagined them. 

My alarm goes off at five, and Bible time and morning prep. eat up the first 90-plus minutes.  Then the kids start to rise and the activity bursts forth.  Bickering has been a real problem lately, and it has even escalated into some fisticuffs which I would never have dreamt would take place under my roof.  Refining, refining, refining.  I bet the Duggars have never dealt with this.  😉  School goes steadily from 8 AM – 2:30 or 3:00.  Chores either fit in the cracks, or get done at this time.  There are plenty.  Of course messes get made along the way and they take time to clean up, too.  Between 3 and 5:30 PM I try to get either a chunk of housework or an errand accomplished, depending on how much time our dinner prep. will take.  Many afternoons I will use this chunk of time to cook a meal for someone, or perhaps bake for a funeral or party. Thankfully, 5 of 7 nights or so John tackles dinner clean up and I retreat to some quiet corner to email a friend or send messages via the iPod, or perhaps I jump in the car to do some shopping or run an errand that takes a while.  This all depends on what might absolutely NEED to be done vs. how exhausted I am.   Prayers and bedtime usually are completed by 8:30 P.M. and once again my head hits the pillow and I reflect on the day in the waning moments of consciousness, praying that He will undo any mistakes I have done in shaping their character.  Praying that they will grow and prosper in spite of me.

Not really the “American Dream” so many of us are convinced to pursue in our college years.  No time for Netflix or classes at the gym.  In some ways the work from dawn to dusk reminds me a bit more of the pioneers than prime time T.V.  Finding the predicate nominatives as the subjective complement is not the same as grinding corn for two hours to yield one cup of meal, of course.   But I bet the exhaustion I feel at the end of the day would be better understood by my pioneer counterparts than by the Snooki or Condoleeza.  It’s a world they don’t discuss in college.  Mothering.  Homeschooling.  Putting kids first all day every day.  It lacks prestige.  The pay is paltry.  It is exhausting. 

Of course, those who do not understand would say that what I do and live is a choice.  I contend strongly that homeschooling is NOT a choice for us.  The only choice is: Will we obey what God has called us to do?  He has laid it heavily upon our hearts to raise up our children and accept responsibility for them 24 hours a day, delegating out only what we are not capable of doing, like piano and swim lessons.  All other training will come from us.  It provides for very little in the way of breaks, and in a world which screams, “You deserve it!” it can be difficult to resist the temptation to feel sorry for myself some days. 

I love my world.  But it is not for the faint of heart. 

I must say that I rarely, if ever, look at my kids and wonder, “Where has the time gone?”  Nor do I wistfully think, “Please slow down your growing!”  I don’t believe for a second that is because I can’t wait to whoosh them out of the house (that is another whole line of thought I hear out there, as well, but will not address today!)  I think I am not surprised by their growing up because I haven’t spent any real time away from them.  I have enjoyed (or not-so-much enjoyed) them every single day ALL DAY.  Very few new things or experiences have occurred in their lives that I haven’t been a part of.  When the lights go on in their heads I have had a front row seat!  We can finish each others sentences and very, very rarely do they describe a situation that I can not see in my mind’s eye before they have finished talking.  I am genuinely savoring their lives.

But, I am tired.  Bone tired.

And God-willing, I will still be doing this in 2030 when I am 58 years old.  Seriously. 

I had not been to the NYS Fair since before we had children.  As it is relatively inexpensive to go, I proposed we visit as a family to round out our summer activities.  Up front, we made the rule, “No rides,” as I am not all the confident in the safety of those things, and I didn’t want to drop $25 per kid for a bunch of so-so carnival rides when for $27 pp we could have gone to Seabreeze!  This didn’t pose a problem for anyone, however.  The rides just didn’t look that appealing.

What was fun?

EVERYTHING ELSE!

John paid a dollar for a raffle for a cow.  Nutmeg was cute.  “Really soft, Mom,” but I am glad we didn’t win.

Johanna hid her eyes in the poultry barn.  Those animals are NOISY!

Hot dog pig races.  We loved these.  We were in the “cheer for the purple animal” section and our representative won four out of five races!

Actually, I say that a lot.  I am regularly amazed at the things that happen in a house filled with kids… both my own, and my friends’ stories. 

Tonight the girls turned their nose up at our dinner.  Which – amazingly I had taken a photo of on the iPod to show a friend.  So I can now share it with you to PROVE it was a perfectly fine meal.

But, they were not interested, and the deal is they have to find some sort of leftover in the fridge and serve themselves.

Marie found some blueberry yogurt I had made on Tuesday.  It was in a small Rubbermaid container.  (You know this story isn’t going to end well, right…)

Oh well – I’ll just show the pictures.

She was going to give half of it to Tabitha and it slipped, hit the floor, and, well, this all happened behind my back, but you should have seen John’s eyes when he looked over to see what the noise was and then he looked UP.  He said later he thought I was going to flip out.  Nah.  At least it was purple and matches the walls.  And I’d already taken my stockings off. 

Taking a page from Katie, I am posting the before and after from my recent hair cut.  I actually ran back in the house to have it taken. 

Ignore the pony-tail marks.  Actually, I rarely wore it down.  Too much, too hot.  And just a week back I tried to put steam rollers in my hair.  As I pulled the crown section up over my head to start rolling the roller I couldn’t reach the end without kinking my neck out and down.  It was time.

As you can see, it is considerably darker, too.  Closer to my “natural.”  Not that I have seen that much over the last 24 years…
It should lighten a bit over the first few washings. 

But I really like it.
I think darker hair makes me look younger.  That is… until the greys start to show up.  😉

Oh – and here is the “before” picture Nigel took for me…

Good thing I checked before I left!  LOL.

I don’t know who is praying for us… but whomever you are, please do not stop!  We’ve had three fantastic days of school.  While enthusiasm waned just a bit on Wednesday, productivity did not, and I am just in awe. 

I do feel like a junior high-schooler at times, as I pick up my folders, pencil case, and schedule and shift from one part of the house to another for the next time block.  I have to refer to the schedule frequently still, as I am working my way through the day.  Oddly enough, that same long-buried, anxious feeling that I experienced daily as an early teen has snuck in once or twice as I “switch classes,” before I remind myself this is NOT Webster Junior High School!  Talk about latent emotions!  Then I am overcome with warmth as I realize we are at home and that the worst thing I am going to encounter in the next room is a sippy cup on the floor.

Tabitha joined the ranks of piano students on Tuesday.  Her joy was evident and she has been eager to practice her new pieces.  Starting first grade has been a huge blessing for her.  It hasn’t tamed her tongue any, sadly.  But she is more eager to do her chores and work than the others as she has now obtained Big Girl Status.

Stewart turned 12 yesterday.  There wasn’t much fanfare.  There was no extravagant outing.  It wasn’t proclaimed, “The best birthday ever.”  But he was okay with that. 

On the whole, birthdays were lower keyed this summer.  It wasn’t an intentional effort to bring things down a notch, but just how it turned out. 

We did the traditional “wake-up”-the birthday-kid. 

And he asked for his gifts before breakfast.  Sure.  Why not.
He was really looking forward to the Adventures in Odyssey CD he was hoping for.  He spent all day listening to it.

I’d made some yummy pastries for breakfast and they all wanted thirds.  I said they had to eat a piece of fruit before they could have more pastry!  So they did. 

Around 4PM we met Nan, Nene, Ba & Poppy at the park.  Sadly, the bees were menacing and we stayed only a short time, eating as we walked around…

He opened a few gifts there, as well. 

And rode the swings with …. Poppy???

We ditched the bees and headed home for cake.  Lemon cake per his request.

The little boy who made us parents 12 years ago is growing up.  He loves Odyssey, Narnia, and still dabbles in lots of little boy activities.  He is a good reader, but a media hound – a desire he will undoubtedly work hard to keep in balance as he matures and is left to discipline himself.  He’s a good egg with a lot of Bible knowledge who is easy to talk to.  I’m eager to see what the next few years hold for him.  He’s sharp and has a good sense of humor, but he’s not really ready to be kind to his siblings.  He doesn’t complain too much about school or chores and does a lot of his work independently these days.  I miss the one-on-one time… but I love that he is trustworthy.

He’s been great kid to practice parenting skills on… and is a person whom I genuinely enjoy talking with.

I KNOW I am not the only homeschooler who hears the mostly-genuine, sometimes-judgment-laced, “I don’t know how you do it.”  Frankly, most days, months and years I do not know how we do it, either.  God.  Just God.  ALL God.  HE is the author of our days and when we remember to surrender them to him, they tend to go better.

But a lot of days are still rough.  Really, really, rough.  They humble, stretch, and grow me… and the kids.

I don’t know how we will do school for grades 7, 5, 3, 1, and keep a busy toddler engaged and stimulated.  I don’t know how we will do this while all the while mom gets bigger and bigger and more and more tired and more and more grouchy.  I don’t know how we will do it when, God-willing, Ducky arrives in February. 

I don’t know.

But God does.  He knows.  He will help.

And we are starting out with this plan of attack.  It will undoubtedly change, morph, evolve, self-destruct, or otherwise disappear.  But it gives us somewhere to start. 

And even if we blow it ENTIRELY I get to spend every day with my kids.  All day.  Every day.  Together.  I don’t know how I was selected for such an awesome opportunity.  But I am glad I was called to it.  Grammar and all.