New Year, New Life

Seeing as we’re coming up on the end of January, I decided it’s high time I make a New Year’s post. (Better late than never, right?)

Some of you may have wondered why I went from blogging almost every day to being virtually silent these past couple of months. Frankly, I’ve gone through a bit of a mid-life crisis, and something happened recently that forced me to take stock of what’s important, and thus reevaluate my priorities.

Toward the end of last year, I started feeling overwhelmed. What with aging/declining/dying parents who depend on me for their emotional strength (and their ER visits - even though they live three hours away), menopause, puberty (times two), homeschooling (times three), and all my volunteer work, I was feeling a tad stretched. And mentally I felt like I was going to break.

I’d finally come to the conclusion that something was going to have to give. I’d been sacrificing sleep, exercise, patience, health, and time (and love) with my children and husband, and that wasn’t something I could continue over the long haul.

Then I got a phone call that created something of an epiphany for me.

One Thursday morning my mom called. You see, my dad’s sister has the same sort of undetermined dementia that my dad has. She’s younger than he by a few years, and although she started into the dementia at an earlier age, her disease has progressed more slowly, and today she’s still able to dress herself and manage (to a certain extent) her day-to-day activities with help.

But that’s not why my mom called. She called to tell me that my aunt’s son - my cousin - was just put on Alzheimer’s medication.

He’s 52.

The same age as my oldest sister and a year younger than my husband.

I’m 47.

Wow.

This shit is inherited.

To say that that was like a kick in the stomach was putting it mildly. I felt like I’d been given a death sentence.

Would I suffer the same fate, at perhaps an even earlier age?

How many good years did I have left?

How long before I began forgetting conversations with my husband? Milestones with my children? Graduations? Weddings? Births???

I sobbed in H’s arms, cried on the phone with my sisters, and spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself.

Then, a few nights later as I lay sleepless, realizations flashed into my mind. This was the epiphany. Suddenly, I could categorize these realizations under the “what I know for sure” label.

WHAT I KNOW FOR SURE ...

1. Only a few things in life really matter. My children. My husband. My family. Love. Life. Creativity. Joy. The right now.

None of us knows how much time we have left. Does it matter that I might mentally begin to decline in five, ten, or even three years? Of course it does. But not nearly as much as how I spend those years. I could die in a car accident tomorrow. Do I want my children’s last memories of me to be ones in which I’m feeling sorry for myself, lamenting what might be ... rather than seizing the moment and living what is right now?

2. I know what my priorities are. I decided to dump everything that wasn’t a priority, everything that didn’t feed my love for life and make me feel energized. If I was doing something “selfless” (i.e., volunteering) but it wasn’t filling me with life energy and love, then I was doing it for the wrong reasons and, ultimately, I wasn’t helping anyone.

I came to realize, after some soul searching, that the reasons I volunteered weren’t the right ones. Like the celebrity who does some charity work simply for the PR (and thus ends up with the public looking at him with distaste), I found that I was needing the “strokes,” filling my need for recognition - I was still looking outside myself for validation. Not good for anyone. Who needs a “helpful hand” when that hand is simply grasping for praise?

But still, I was torn. Everyone is supposed to volunteer, give ‘til it hurts, smile while doing it, and be fulfilled from it.

But giving to others to the extent that I was somehow didn’t fit in with my priority list. It sounds extraordinarily self-centered, I’m fully aware. Nevertheless, I decided to give up my volunteering because I couldn’t devote myself to my family and also give to those outside my family ... and I experienced some guilt for choosing not to help out those who need it. (If I had removed myself a little from the emotion, I would have realized that the guilt in and of itself was an obvious sign that I wasn’t on the right track. Ask and It Is Given mentions guilt as a sure signal that you’re not on the path to happiness.)

Want to hear something interesting? This one thing solidified my what-I-know-for-sure decision to focus on my priorities and drop my volunteering. A few days after I mailed my letters to drop some of my volunteering efforts, I was on my once-a-week walk with one of my dearest friends, and as usual, we got to talking about spiritual matters and personal development. I filled her in on my reprioritization of my life and the fact that I was scaling back in order to devote my time to my family - and how torn I was about it. She looked at me wide eyed and said something like, “You won’t believe how many volunteer opportunities have landed in my lap this week!” She explained that she had lately been feeling the urge to get more involved (she once was a member of the Peace Corps but hadn’t volunteered in ages) but hadn’t found anything that seemed doable.

What are the odds of me deciding to quit volunteering the very same week that she suddenly found herself in the midst of half a dozen golden opportunities after years of dearth? Well, if you look at the world as a place of connected consciousness, I guess the odds are pretty high after all.

If I had any lingering doubts about refocusing on my priorities, that one conversation put them to rest. I have since completely embraced this decision, and I feel stronger, clearer, healthier, and happier than I have in a span of time that’s too long for me to remember. To change a phrase, the universe works in mysterious ways.

3. I’m lucky. I had only the potential of a life-threatening issue to bring me to awareness. I want to heed this and not wait for a true crisis to figure things out. All around me I hear of people who have cancer, diabetes, heart disease, or other immediate and possibly fatal issues. All I have is a threat. I’ve got it pretty good.

One more interesting thing ... Since my epiphany, I haven’t lost my temper. Not once. I walk through my day smiling and singing. If I have only three good years left and if I can spend them all without losing my temper, it’ll be worth it.

Odd, isn't it ... this threat of looming dementia causing joy and light-heartedness?

Thanks for reading through this long explanation. As far as this blog is concerned, the fallout is that I’ll continue to post occasionally, but it won’t be nearly as often as I had once planned. If the spirit moves me and I want to share something, I will. If I don’t, I won’t feel guilty.

I won’t be venting, chastising others for their parenting practices, or lamenting about how inconvenient/horrible/tedious anything is. This will be a place for my celebration of life in all its forms: good books, happy parenting snippets, interesting homeschooling stories, creative outlets, and all other enriching facets of life.

Come back and read about my new life. Or not. It doesn’t matter.

What does matter?

Your family. Love. Joy. Creativity. Life. Your connection to the world. This moment.

Experience them all to the fullest. And if in doing so you never visit my blog again, I’ll be ecstatic.

Decisions and Changes

All these years of pretending I'm SuperMom ... well, those years are over. I just can't pretend anymore. And with my approaching-fiftyish age (yikes!), I guess I need to admit that I just can't handle it. It. "It" being all those things that I can't handle. How's that for circular reasoning?

A couple of days ago I sent an innocent email to another homeschooling mom who asked me to tell her a little about myself, presumably to get to know me somewhat virtually and maybe make a bit of a connection. Well (cough), I think I scared the poor woman off when I started listing all the things I'm into, and frankly, I kind of scared myself. (Okay, it's not what you're thinking ... I'm not "into" anything kinky or illegal - at least not anymore. Hey, I'm a mom now.)

I was trying to give her a picture of who I was, since I have my fingers in so many pies (and that's not completely a figure of speech - just look at my butt lately). After the long list of things I volunteer for and take on, I was exhausted. What I mean is, I was exhausted just reading about them, never mind having to actually do them. I realized just how stretched I am. How I'm not doing any favors for myself, my kids, my husband, or my family.

I know there are plenty of other moms who accomplish a whole lot more than I ever will, and there are those who'll do so with a smile and a bounce in their step. But, like I said, I'm not SuperMom (be sure to say that with a booming, echoing voice). I just can't handle it like lots of other folks.

So now I'm trying to figure out the balance that works for me. I'm not quite sure what that looks like yet, but I know that I have to say "no" a lot more often. I need to figure out how to balance the needs of my kids, my husband, and my parents, along my own interests and needs. After that comes the needs of the world around me (and gosh, aren't there just a butt load of those?) and I get to pick those that I feel a connection to.

The bottom line is, I have to make some changes and some decisions. I need to volunteer to do less, and make the time that I devote to volunteering really count. I need to devote much of my energy to facilitating the education of my children, making sure they get raised up to be reasonably independent and responsible adults. I need to be committed to making my home a place where my husband and family feel nurtured and loved.

I need to do the things that make me feel whole and valuable. That's the one that's my sticking point. What do I give up? I enjoy everything I do, but I'm terribly inefficient and can't seem to manage everything I want to do. So that means I must give up something, or maybe several somethings.

You'll see some changes here on this blog. Heck, you've already seen them ... I've been virtually silent for the last several weeks. I've spent that time caring for aging parents, sitting on the couch with my husband occasionally (well, at least once, I'm sure), getting at least twenty minutes extra sleep a night, and starting my Christmas presents (that deserves a whole 'nother blog post, the whole Christmas tradition in my family). I haven't been posting.

Actually, writing is one of those things that I do all the time. Problem is, it's all in my head. Once they come up with the Mind-O-Matic - that mind transfer thing where my thoughts magically appear on the screen - I'll be all set. Until then, I'm screwed. One of my problems is that, with menopause crashing unceremoniously into my life full force - unlike all those pleasant stories I heard about women slowly sliding into a new hormonal balance - I can't remember a damned thing. I have this absolutely fabulous blog post or article written entirely in my head, and then when I sit down at the computer to write it out, this is what I remember: "Uh, kids are good, um, sleepy tired, respect, read a good book lately, uh ..."

See? I can't make heads or tails out of it either, so I'd suggest you don't even try.

In the next few weeks (hopefully), you'll see me hammer out a new plan. One that includes posting here (although not daily), lovin' on my husband (well, you won't actually see that), writing articles, homeschooling my kids, teaching a co-op class or two, taking field trips with my kids and friends, sewing, reading, and other things that fulfill me. I'm a work in progress.

Shit, I thought by this age I'd have it all figured out.

Crap.

Cooperative Games

Last night, while I was making dinner, my children coerced H into playing a game with them. That’s not an easy task, and I was impressed by their guile. The game of the evening was Cranium, which is a long-time favorite in our house, although for whatever reason it doesn’t get pulled out too often.

That got me to thinking about other games that my kids have enjoyed and even (don't tell!) learned something from.

We tend to play games in a cooperative manner when possible, not because I insist, but because the kids like to collaborate on solutions. The games I list here easily translate into cooperative games, by playing with cards showing or by having everyone contribute to a solution. I have lots more, but I think I’ll start with these.

Labyrinth

This is a fantastic game and one that my kids played to death. I still think it’s a great game, even after hours of playing it (and that’s saying something!). One of my favorite stories regarding this game happened a number of years ago. The game involves a set of tiles with pathways on them, and the tiles get shifted each turn. On each turn, a player’s goal is to make his/her way to an object following a pathway on the tiles. But since the tiles shift, you have to reevaluate the board every turn. I remember staring at the board for minutes on end, ploddingly following tile after tile to find a viable path, when G walked over, looked at the board for approximately 6.5 seconds, and said, "Oh, all you have to do is go here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here, and then you can get to the bag of gold." Gee, it was so obvious. Why didn’t I see it?

Take Off!

This creative game is a fun and painless way to learn world geography. Because of G’s interest in geography, we ended up with a lot of geography games, and this one was one of the most ingenious. The goal is to get your fleet of jets to circle the globe (actually a long map) before anyone else’s fleet. Each country has a selection of paths that your jet can fly, and the roll of the dice determines what paths you can take. This game is great because it allows everyone to give input into the best route, but the winner is largely determined by chance (a must if you have children of different ages and abilities playing). Just about any age can play this game with the help of an adult, because so much of it is spacial. It was one of the games that showed my kids that they were way better than me in the knowledge-of-geography department. (Well, that’s not that hard, actually.)

Secret Door

This is a simple little game targeted to young children. It’s a cooperative game by nature, and it’s surprisingly engaging. I figured my kids would lose interest in it after a few plays, but they played it on and off for years. It’s basically Concentration, but with a twist. The kids’ goal is to figure out what’s behind the Secret Door without running out of time first. One of the nice things about it is that it’s frequently winnable, but the kids lose often enough to keep it challenging. That balance is a hard line to walk, which most games for young children aren’t able to manage and thus end up boring.

Games play a big role in our homeschooling, so I'll try to do better at posting some of our favorites over time. Stay tuned.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might like The Joys of Older Kids.

The Great Machine Uprising

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

The machines are rebelling.

And they're communicating.

First, it was H's car. At the beginning of the year it suffered yet another leak. Granted, it was over ten years old, but it had been a much-loved member of our family ever since we'd bought it from H's parents many years before. We sighed, having known for some time that our love affair was coming to an end. We opted to use the government's financial incentives to bite the bullet and get a new car.

Next - seemingly unrelated - it was our cherished Vita-Mix, our workhorse, practically a member of the family. VM was there for us every morning, smoothie after smoothie, breakfast after breakfast. He'd even been outfitted with the latest in ice-blade apparel.

But he started voicing his rebellion some months ago. We ignored him. We blithely mixed on, pretending not to hear his cries and pretending not to smell his acrid belches.

Then, one day a couple of months ago, he gave up with a shriek, spewing black dust all over the counter and wheezing in defiance. We tried to resuscitate him, plying him with a new blade, but to no avail. He mocked us.

Oh, the betrayal. After all these mornings with him, having him share in our daily morning repast.

Little did we know that he was a conspirator.

Next on the list, three weeks ago ... the washer. Our trusty, die-hard washer. We didn't connect it with the other two. We were naive.

We assumed the washer was simply a matter of geriatrics. Much like our dogs, she had aged gracefully and was enjoying her golden years. Sometimes she would forget, perhaps suffering from a touch of senility, and wash forever, not realizing that at some point she needed to drain, spin, and rinse. On one occasion I woke in the morning to clothes - now all the same shade of dingy gray - that had been agitating all night and that had reached almost the boiling point.

When one day she simply refused to awake, we realized that she had gone to that great recycling center in the sky. Again we sighed, at first not realizing what I now have come to suspect ... that we are in the midst of a conspiracy. Yes, a conspiracy!

The refrigerator was next, just last week. I feared the worst when I walked in from outside and found water dripping from the freezer.

Our highly rated Kenmore, barely six years old and containing a compressor that on average lasts twenty years, bit the dust. In retrospect, I remember hearing something that sounded remarkably like "Hahahahahah!" coming from underneath the front. Was the fridge laughing, knowing that we'd have to cough up $800 to replace the compressor? Was it snickering, knowing that we'd have to eat Freezer Stew for a week, much to the delight of my children? Or was it tittering, simply knowing that it had pulled a fast one on the more highly evolved species who is utterly at the whim of our lowly appliances? I'll never know. Perhaps it was all three.

As my dear husband, clutched in the grip of grief and panic (well, not really, but it sounds good), said, "Why do our appliances hate us?"

We were just beginning to grasp that our once-trusted and much-loved appliances had actually turned into scheming, conniving accomplices in a diabolical plan instigated by our 1996 Voyager.

Now, much to my horror, I learn that it is not confined to only our home! My friend Raji has suffered at the hands of the Great Machine Uprising as well! How unsuspecting and accepting she is. Her microwave gave up the ghost - and did it when she had company visiting! Oh, the humanity!

Beware, all you appliance owners! You may at first be lulled into a state of exuberance at the idea of justifying the purchase of a shiny, new appliance. But be not fooled. Those dastardly machines are engineering a wicked method of shirking their duties!

Mark my words ... this is not the end.

But we may be able to be stave off further destruction. Keep doors between appliances closed to mitigate the gossiping and planning. Whisper little sweet nothings into their vents. Caress them lovingly. And give them some time off.

Most of all, watch ... listen ... and be very afraid.

More from The Bitter Homeschooler

Another great article from the editor of Secular Homeschooling magazine, this one from Issue #7, the first to be published in the new bimonthly format.

The Pros and Cons of Homeschooling

by The Bitter Homeschooler, from Secular Homeschooling, Issue #7, July 2009

There are plenty of people who will tell you the cons of homeschooling. People who have never homeschooled, never plan to, and are terrified of the very idea of that kind of autonomy will be more than happy to tell you everything that could possibly go wrong with homeschooling: your kids won’t learn what they need to; your kids won’t learn anything at all; your kids will learn plenty but they won’t get into college; your kids will learn and will be accepted by a wonderful university, but won’t be able to afford to go because you won’t have any money because you spent all that time homeschooling them instead of selling your soul to the corporate devil; your kids will learn and will go to college, but will be bizarre asocial freaks who are only good at things like retaining information and writing original papers because they have no idea how to relate to their fellow human beings.

People who actually homeschool will be very happy to tell you the pros of homeschooling. No getting up at an ungodly hour to get the kids dressed, fed, and on the bus by another ungodly hour! Hanging out in your pajamas all morning if you feel like it! Plenty of time for life-skill lessons and baking homemade bread together (mmmm)! Going to museums, parks, and public pools whenever you feel like it, instead of on loud, crowded weekends and holidays! Taking a week off when you need to or want to or just because!

But have you noticed how hard it is to find someone who will give you the pros and the cons? You know, together? The anti-homeschooling brigade doesn’t know the good stuff; homeschoolers don’t want to scare you off with any hint of difficulty, and anyway we’re so sick of all the criticism we have to field from civilians that many of us are in Persistent Cheerleading Mode when it comes to the subject of homeschooling.

Well, sigh no more, ladies and gents. Your very own Bitter Homeschooler is here to help. And so, without further ado, here are:

The Pros and Cons of Homeschooling

Pro: Your kids won’t be bringing home lovely new words they learned from that adorable little sailor every classroom has at least one of.

Con: You will either have to make an appointment to go out and get some good swearing done, or resign yourself to never being able to ask your children with a straight face, “Where did you learn that word?” You know and they know that they learned it last week, when you accidentally slammed your hand in that drawer and didn’t get your lips shut quite fast enough and you got to enjoy the kind of “teachable moment” your homeschooling books never mentioned.

Pro: Unlike kids who are either at school or doing homework all day, your kids have the time and opportunity to learn the work that goes into running a household. If your local educational authority requires you to keep records, you can record time spent teaching them how to do laundry and other important household tasks under the heading of Social Studies, Health, or Life Skills.

Con: Your kids are not idiots, and don’t want to clean any more than you do. If you get tired of arguing and decide to just do the chores yourself one day, you’ll learn the joy of attempting to clean a house when it’s full of people being creative all over it.

Pro: You and your family have lots of time to just be together. You get to learn who your children really are: their interests, passions, hopes, and dreams. You’re all about family togetherness.

Con #1: It’s really easy for that other kind of togetherness to fly out the window, if you get our drift. And that’s if you already have a partner. If you’re single and think it might be nice to have a date once in a while — well, best of luck with that one.
Con #2: Shutting the door when you enter the bathroom will become a distant, wistful memory.

Pro: Your child’s social life will be just fine — better than ever, if you have the schoolyard jungle to compare it to. You’re right there to keep a sharp eye out for bullying and other problems. You can guide your little ones through successful conflict resolution by teaching them skills they’ll actually be able to use as adults.

Con: Wait — didn’t you used to have a social life?

Pro: Being a homeschooler can be a proud thing. More and more, the mainstream population is learning what homeschooling really is. You practically can’t open your car door without smacking some newspaper or magazine article about homeschooled kids being admitted to (or graduating from) top-notch universities, routinely out-scoring their schooled peers on standardized tests, winning spelling and geography bees, going into business for themselves in their teens, and just generally overachieving all over the place. And people are getting increasingly dissatisfied with schools — the bullying, the hours of homework every night, the low test scores, the teaching to the test. These days, you’re pretty likely to get a positive response from strangers who learn that you homeschool. And if you don’t, you have plenty of ammo to lob back.

Con: Exactly because homeschoolers are still in the minority and do often make the news with all their fabulousness, you’re going to be seen as A Homeschooler. It’s so much fun to be representative, especially on those days when the kids are feeling sulky about being out on an errand instead of home with their beloved computer games (and aren’t keeping their feelings to themselves), your eleven-year-old genuinely and audibly has no idea what the change will be if you give the cashier a dollar for that 89-cent purchase, and your nine-year-old asks with bright-eyed curiosity who those weird-looking guys are on the Presidents’ Day Sale flyer. Sometimes it’s best to just call it a snow day and call it a day.

Pro: No gloppy cafeteria food for your kids. No vending machine junk, no peer pressure to eat nothing but caffeine, sugar, and grease. You can feed your children wholesome food — and you know exactly what they’re eating.

Con: They know exactly what you’re eating. Keeping the good chocolate to yourself is next to impossible. (Our advice: hide it behind all that stuff you bought with such good intentions at the last homeschooling convention.)

Pro: Your principles, morality, ethics, and ideas about appropriate behavior have a really good chance of becoming your children’s, too. Your kids aren’t being fed the idea that their peer group is the arbiter of standards. You have the chance to model the kind of behavior and philosophy you want them to learn, and you’ve got plenty of time in which to do that.

Con: They don’t just pick up the good stuff. Even when they don’t look like they’re watching and listening, they are. Hard as you try to hold it together, one of these homeschooling days you’ll look down and realize that that’s exactly what you look (and sound) like when you’re in a snit. And you won’t be looking in a mirror. Except of course metaphorically.

Pro: You’re in the driver’s seat when it comes to your children’s education. They can go at a pace appropriate to their wishes and needs rather than to a state-imposed idea of what should be learned when. You can enjoy child-led learning, if that’s what suits you. You can hunker down with some good old-fashioned basics, if that’s what your family likes and needs.

Con: There’s no school system, classroom, or teacher to fall back on or blame. You know exactly what your kids do and don’t know — especially what they don’t. And not only do you get to worry about it — you’d do that even if they were in school — you get to feel guilty with a side of panic.

Pro: No one’s telling you what to do. It’s all you.

Con: No one’s telling you what to do. It’s all you.

Good luck!

___________________

If you liked this post, you might enjoy "The Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List"

Does attachment parenting really work?

Does attachment parenting work, especially in the long run?

I hear this question and similar ones constantly.

"What happens when my kids get older?"

"I understand attachment parenting when my kids are young. But how will I know that my child won't be a mama's boy? Or so held fast by my apron strings that he won't leave home? Won't want to get married?"

"I understand about breast-feeding and co-sleeping and holding my kids close to me when they're young. But what happens when they go to kindergarten and elementary school? And what happens when they begin to play at other kids' homes, or hang out with friends, or go on dates and I'm not around?"

"How will I know that all this energy that I've put into attachment parenting will pay off in the long run?" That's the question, isn't it?

Let me tell you a little story. Once there was a impossibly small boy who screamed. He entered life at just over two pounds and fought from the first day. At two, he didn't talk. He didn't say "Mama." He toddled through life from day to day scared. He was terrified of the word no. He fought change desperately. Anything new, he hated.

He thrived on routine and consistency, and every day he had meltdowns. Not tantrums. Not 15-minute venting sessions. He had full-blown meltdowns, several times a day, sometimes as long as an hour and a half. He fought the world, because it was out of his control. His parents thought that there was a good chance that he would never leave home. Never go to college. Never get married.

They held him close, nurtured him, loved him, and did all the normal attachment parenting things: breast-feeding, cosleeping, responding to cries ... walking through the wee hours of the morning because he hated to be rocked and holding him while he screamed. Not knowing what the future would hold, but hoping for the best. Was it possible that his parents were causing him to be even more dependent on them than he already was? Was it possible that by not pushing him out of the nest and forcing independence he would never become independent? They didn't know. All they knew was that their little boy, their beautiful child, needed love and respect for who he was.

Fast forward almost thirteen years. That boy, once so tiny and clingy and desperate, today boarded a plane to Tennessee on his own with only his best friend by his side. In three days he'll return home again on his own - this time without even a best friend for company. This same boy - indeed, the beginnings of a man - is planning on hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail in two months and has been invited by an ambassador program to spend three weeks next summer in Europe, and he's planning on attending, with total strangers and with his parents across an ocean.

Does attachment parenting work? I can't say for sure that this child blossomed because of attachment parenting, because of being held and respected and loved unconditionally for who he was, for not being put down when he cried, and for not being ignored when he called out to his parents.

What I can say is that this child has exceeded by far every expectation of his parents, his doctors, and therapists. Today he is confident and self-assured and brilliant and just plain fun to be around. He loves to live, has great plans for the future, and has dreams he plans to fulfill. He talks about college, his future wife and family, and his plans for his life.

One thing I know for sure is that having his personality respected and his needs fulfilled when he was young certainly couldn't have hurt him. Having parents who responded to his needs has helped shape him into the person he is today, vibrant and full of life.

Were we, his parents, responsible for who he is? Certainly not. The credit goes fully to him. I simply like to believe that we gave him the best possible opportunity to develop and thrive. Had he been raised by parents who spank and humiliate and punish, he might well have turned out a very different person with a broken spirit. I'm glad we'll never know.

Does attachment parenting work? We're living proof.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Great Expectations.

First Stop ... The Sultry Big Easy

Ahh, New Orleans in August. I've always loved New Orleans, even in the dead heat of summer.

There's something magical about the old part of the city, whether it's the history, the easy-going nature of the locals, or the food. Yes, the food; that has to be a big part of it.

Lunch on Jackson Square, right before the skies opened up.

We ate with rain pouring down around our table, where we were nice and dry.

We enjoyed rain every day, even if it just added to the humidity. I pretended that it must be raining in Austin if it was raining where we were. (Don't correct my mistake, please.)

We did lots of the tourist stuff, which I've never done before, including taking one of the carriage rides around the French Quarter. My excuse was that the tour guide would give us historical snippets of that section of the city, so I could write it off as a homeschooling expense. Instead, the tour guide just pointed out the best places to shop! I guess he just caters to what tourists want, even if they say they don't. (And I figure he got a kick-back, or at least a few free beers from the shopkeepers. haha) He did throw in a couple of interesting anecdotes, but it just left me wanting more.

The kids in the carriage, at the tail end of the rain. That's Sugar Daddy in the lead.

One thing that made a big impression on the kids was the size of the Mississippi. It's one of those things that you have to experience to grasp. G mentioned how easy it was to picture Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn on a raft floating down the great river. I, for one, wouldn't want to find myself in the middle of all that water on a pile of sticks.

Of course, G the geography whiz had to point out the this was nowhere near Missouri. And he also offered great tidbits, like we were standing near the deepest point of the river.

They were amazed at the size of the barges on the river, a few of which you can see in the distant distance.

One thing that we did that made an impression on me, and I hope the kids, was visit the Ninth Ward. I wanted them to see why we spent time volunteering to help strangers after Katrina; to experience first-hand a house once filled with a family, now boarded up or wiped down to the slab; to see the rebirth of a community that had been brought to its knees. We were impressed by the care and love put into the houses that were being rebuilt, how they exhibited a freshness that surprised me. I also was saddened to see the lasting marks on the houses - all these years later - made by the searchers. Most with "0" under the X, but some with "1" or "2." We talked about what those numbers meant, and what the rescue must have been like and the sheer number of buildings that had to be searched. Those images will stick with me. I hope that just a bit more compassion found its way into my kids' hearts during that drive.

Photo of house by infrogmation from here

Sunday's Gratitude Post

I simply can't express how grateful I am to have married into such a wonderful family. I am beyond fortunate to have not only chosen the perfect husband for me but also a husband with an amazing family.

We just got back from our annual reunion with his family, this year in New Orleans, and as usual, I was delighted to spend time with them. I just wish I could see them more often.

This is my elegant mother-in-law and my not-so-elegant-at-the-moment niece at our girls' breakfast at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans.

I'm using this picture of my niece because I know she reads my blog. Haha! Gotcha!

I'm going to get a bit of that wish filled, because one of them is moving to Austin - her boyfriend is getting his doctorate - and I'll get to see her often. (I hope!)

Not the best picture of one of my other beautiful nieces, but it was the only one I had of her, also at Cafe du Monde.

I'm SO excited that she's going to be living in Austin! Yay!

All of my nieces and my nephew have grown into remarkable, brilliant, compassionate human beings, and what's even more extraordinary is that they've all paired up with equally terrific people. I'm proud and honored to call them my family.

I'm truly grateful.

Gone to the Big Easy

We're off to New Orleans to spend a long weekend with H's family.

See ya in a few days!

Calling the Cat

Here in the Eclectic House, we have our own special way of calling our cat. "Call a cat?" you ask. "Can't be done."

Oh, but I beg to differ. 

"Here, kitty kitty," you suggest?

Snap our fingers, you ask?

Make smooching sounds, kissing sounds, or clicking sounds?

All those things might work on some cats, but not ours. When we try that, she just looks at us like my kids look at a plate of brussels sprouts. Mildly amusing, but not too interesting, and with the hope that we'll magically disappear.

Instead, here's what we do.... We screeeeeech!!! We've developed an entire litany of shrieks, howls, screams, yowls, and caterwauls that have the effect of enticing her to us. (Um, sometimes.) The kids see her from across a room and commence a cacophony that makes innocent bystanders temporarily deaf.

If the kids are lucky, she'll slowly start meandering their way, trying to look as if she has an errand to run, which has nothing to do with the humans staring at her screeching at the tops of their discordant voices. When she gets in the same room, she sits down, acting for all the world that she'd forgotten that she'd already returned that overdue library book, so she didn't need to run that errand after all.

If they're really lucky, she'll walk all the way in the room, stand for a while swishing long arcs with her tail, acting as if she'd made it to the library but realized that the overdue book was left sitting on her kitchen table. At which point she'll promptly trot out of the room, belly fat flopping from side to side, presumably to check that the book wasn't left sitting in a pool of spilled milk.

If they're really really lucky, supremely lucky, stupendously lucky, she'll deign to come up to the kids, actually acknowledging their presence, and hunt for the sound, overdue book be damned. She might even permit us to pet her. For a moment.

Over the years, we've had to modify our squalls, as she quickly tires of our shenanigans and forces us to create new sounds previously unknown to mankind (or at least to our little cul de sac). What used to be little squawks and whines have morphed into this huge production of anti-melody. 

Tonight she glances, slowly blinking, front paws primly together as she observes her minions. Her look says, simultaneously, "Yes, I know you feed me, human. No, you do not amuse me. Hmm, I wonder if you're worth my time. If I ignore you now, will you feed me later? If I pay attention to you now, have I demeaned myself? Oh, I think I'll lick this paw."

Ah, cats. Gotta love 'em.

________________

If you liked this post, you might enjoy A Sure-Fire Way to Stop the Bickering

Lazy Dazy Summer

Today my kids learned to do the "bridge" when shuffling cards. I can now rest easy, knowing that my children accomplished something over the summer. Whew! At least the learning portion of the summer is behind us!

My kids have immersed themselves in cards recently, and we frequently have four decks going at once. The kids think it's so nice to be able to do something with each other, without actually having to do what the other one wants (at least for solitaire).

Does anyone have any good suggestions for books on card games, primarily on solitaire or two-person games? We have Hoyle's Rules of Games and it's good. But I'm looking for a book that focuses on card games, specifically ones that kids can play by themselves.

Cards are an amazing invention. After rediscovering them with my kids this summer, I marvel again at how brilliant those people were centuries ago to create this little stack of paper (then wood, I think) and that it can be used in so many myriad ways. I need to read up on the history of cards. It must be a fascinating one.

Ooh ... unit study!

Oh wait ... after that bridge thing, we'll need to hold off until fall to learn something else.

Photo of cards by ralphunden from here

What We Give Our Kids

So what's our biggest goal as parents?

Tough question. Obviously, the answer will be different for every parent, but one answer that sticks out for me is to raise my kids so that they don't need me anymore. That's what we're all striving for, isn't it? To raise our kids so that they'll be capable, happy adults?

To that end, here are some of the things I want to give my kids:

--the strength to do the right thing, even when it's hard

--the ability to know what the right thing is

--the stamina to be respectful, contributing members of society

--the courage to pursue that which fulfills them

--enough experience in life to learn what their passions are

--enough knowledge to be able to pursue those passions

--the respect to figure these things out for themselves

--and lastly, (and most importantly?) the ability to think for themselves

There are surely others, which I'm sure I'll think of five minutes after I post this.

You'll notice that there are some glaring omissions from this list, that many of you will be surprised to see, especially since we homeschool.

Here are some things that I'm not overly concerned with (but if they happen, that'll be okay too):

--my kids' being the "best" at something, whether it's winning first place in a national competition or beating their friends in a neighborhood game of soccer (having them be pleased with their performance is good enough for me)

--my kids' entering a career that's financially lucrative (I'd love them to be financially prosperous throughout their lives, but not at the expense of their happiness - I'd rather them be poor and fulfilled than rich and miserable)

--my kids' getting into the "best college" (yes, they'll all go to college and hopefully graduate school, but the more research I do the more I realize that the particular undergrad school has little to do with success throughout life)

--my kids' being formally recognized as academically "gifted," whether through such a program as Duke's Talent Identification Program or as a National Merit Scholar (sure, those would be great, but they're not necessary - who will recognize my youngest child's giftedness in humor, my daughter's giftedness in connecting with young children and elderly adults, or my oldest son's giftedness at memorizing vast amounts of trivia? Do those gifts merit any less admiration?)

--my kids' following the normal path (whatever path is the one that will take them where they want to go ... that's the one they should follow)

--my kids' "fitting in" (I'd rather they be comfortable in their own skin, value their unique characteristics, and laugh every day)

More than anything, I want my children to approach every day with joy, live a life of fulfillment, and have a packed house at their funerals.

image of purple passion by PinkMookse from here, image of "think go live be" by southerntabitha from here

Sunday's Gratitude Post

A true father ...

A man who

  places his family before all else - his friends, his work, his hobbies

  is always around, and always approachable

  is dependable, who can be counted on no matter what

  considers his children's feelings before his own

  cares about his family, to the extent of sacrifice if need be

  does the right thing not only because it's the right thing but also because he 

      knows he's an example for his kids

  means what he says

  expresses his love in small ways, through the day-to-day routines of life

  is much, much more than words can express. 

To have such a father, a person is lucky. To have two such fathers in her life ... well, that person is extraordinarily blessed. 

My father, a man who has never let me down. My rock, my security through my childhood and well into my adult years.

My father with my sister

My husband, who assumed that weighty job when we married. A father to my children that I wished for in my dreams. For me, my dreams became reality. 

My husband with T

How lucky that I would find a man equal to my father? Was it a good choice based on a good role model? Maybe. Was it some fundamental wisdom on my part? Doubtful. Was it chance, fate, destiny? Who knows? I'm just glad I was so fortunate.

Happy Father's Day to you both.

And thank you.

Saturday Quote for the Day

"Ourselves ... that was the very best birthday gift. Family harmony, loyalty, love ... that was the best of the best."

--T, on being asked what was his favorite thing about his birthday yesterday

Here's T on his new (used) birthday guitar

Curbing Creative Catastrophes

A friend of mine and I talk regularly about parenting strategies, and recently she became perplexed by what to do with her inquisitive 8-year-old boy's creative tendencies. He had recently devised a number of innocent experiments, which had resulted in a few things being damaged or ruined. The straw that broke the camel's back was when he used an entire gallon of milk to see if he could turn it into yogurt.

We had a long email discussion about this, and she thought it might be useful to someone else in cyberland if the bulk of that discussion were posted here. 

Below is the main idea of her email (her exasperated "cry for help"), with my reply following.

From the mom:

"My son is genuinely trying to see what happens when he conducts experiments; he's not trying to test his limits. I'm struggling with not extinguishing his curiosity versus not having money wasted like this. He says that if he asked me I'd say no to taking the chance of losing a gallon of milk, and I said well of course, darn it, and he started crying, saying I was using a firm voice. I said I'd have given him about a cup to experiment with - not a gallon - and he says the experiment needed a gallon. I said why? Please explain why you could not do this with one cup milk, and he says, 'I can see from your eyes that you're mad, so we'll talk later.'

"Some new found sense of extreme independence is telling him he's got as much sense as the adults now and he can make these decisions. He put the cordless phone in the water today. He was using the intercom and really needed to see if worked under water. He actually said about three times today, 'I couldn't resist it.' I think maybe we've spoiled him totally. After my parents' visit I am pretty confused about what's spoiling him versus what's just necessary for him.

"Camille, your thoughts? What're the consequences for all this? Remember, he recently told his friends it was perfectly okay to write with a pen on the back of the leather couch. The ink marks won't go away. When I mentioned this to our old neighbors, they said they'd have spanked their kids for that. I was like, god no, I wouldn't spank him for anything, but I am wondering if I just have no idea what I am doing." 

Me now:

I have a number of thoughts, which I'll just throw out there:

--He could be testing his limits, seeing how far he can go with "experimenting."

--He could be truly experimenting, albeit without any thought to how his experiments affect others.

--He could be trying to get your attention, which could be seen as "acting out" or "misbehaving."

--He could be doing all of these things. (This is my bet! LOL)

Let me see if I can sum up the situation, and be sure to correct me if I have it wrong. 

1. You have no problem with his experimenting, and you encourage him to use his mind creatively.

2. You have a big problem with his destroying family property, even if it's unintentional.

3. You don't like the fact that he experiments impulsively, without regard to how it will affect property and the people who use that property (e.g., the cordless phone).

4. You would like to have some input into what he uses for experiments.

5. He wants to have free use of everything in the house.

6. He wants to be treated like an adult when it comes to his experiments and choices.

7. He doesn't ask permission to do something because he believes that you'd say "no."

Sounds like he has a very rational mind, so why don't you approach him with rationality?

My first approach would be to have a sit-down conversation with him to discuss the situation. I'll give you an example of how my conversation with one of my kids might go, and I'll just use the milk as an example ...

Me: "I'm sorry I got angry about the ruined milk earlier today. I'd like to talk about how we can work this out in the future so it doesn't happen again."

Him (hesitantly): "Okay ... " 

Me: "I greatly value your inquisitiveness and your curiosity, and I want to encourage you to continue to experiment with things. One of your greatest gifts is your curiosity of the world, and it will serve you well as an adult. But I get angry when I unexpectedly find things that are ruined or damaged. If I were to go in your room and take your [insert favorite toy here] and use it in an experiment that damaged it, I'd bet you'd be pretty mad at me. Well, I feel the same way when I find something of our family's that has been ruined."

Him (voice raised): "But I just wanted to see if I could turn the milk into yogurt!"

Me: "I understand that, and I'm not angry that you wanted to try an experiment on the milk. But I was planning on using the milk later for a recipe/breakfast, and now I don't have it, and I'll have to go to the store to replace it. Do you have any suggestions for how we can avoid this in the future?"

Him: "NO!"

Me: "Well, I can think of a few things. Would you like to hear them, or do you want to come up with a few ideas together?"

Him: "I don't have any ideas! All I know is that you get mad when I try to do anything!"

Me: "I bet it seems that way, but what I'm mad about is that I keep finding things that have been damaged, and it seems like you're not respecting the things that we use together as a family."

Him: "But I NEED those things!"

Me: "I realize that, and I want to encourage your experiments. But I also have a responsibility to our family to have milk to drink, and you have responsibilities to the family as well. If you use all the milk without telling me so that I can plan for it, then we as a family won't have what we need."

The conversation might continue like this for quite some time, but eventually, he would start talking, and I'd try my best to get him to give some ideas for a solution. If I'm the one to propose every solution, he won't buy into any of them, believe me.

That said, here are some ideas I'd have for solutions:

1. Give him an allowance, and everything he damages or destroys through experimenting gets paid for with that. If the cost of the item is more than his stash of money, then he has to work off the debt.

2. Give him a budget for experiments (this would be hard if he can't contain his impulses). If he wants to submerge a cordless phone, he can buy one to use, or he can experiment on yours and replace it if it ruins it.

3. Make a list together of the types of things that are always eligible for experimental use (disposable things, renewable things [like grocery bags], things that you're finished with [old cell phones], etc.).

4. Make a list together of all the things that are strictly off limits. In our house that would be anything that I consider my personal property - my jewelry, certain items in my sewing room, etc. The list would probably also include anything valuable or irreplaceable (e.g., the couch, an heirloom, etc.).

5. Make a list of all the types of experiments that are okay and aren't okay (e.g., experiments using fire or the microwave, at least without supervision, anything that permanently alters the look of something that is family property).

6. Make a note that all of his items that are his are his to use as he pleases, and you won't say a thing about it, and he doesn't have to ask you. (Make a list of what those things are, if you need to.)

As to the lists, it would be infinitely better for him to make each list (that is, he would write it out and come up with most of the ideas with as little obvious help from you as possible). That way, he can't complain to you that you made all the rules and he couldn't abide by them.

If you go to all this work to come up with a solution, and then he doesn't abide by the agreement, then all bets are off. He *has* to live up to his side of the agreement or you don't have to live up to yours (and you might end up restricting his behavior). Make sure he knows that going in. This is not a punishment. It's a simple fact that, if he can't respect you and your household, then he loses the benefits. It's back to the logical consequences thing - he wants to be treated as an adult, so fine. If he's old enough to be treated like an adult, then he's old enough to handle the consequences of adult behaviors (e.g., paying for something that gets broken or having the use of something taken away because he's misusing it - just like they do in court decisions).

Once he knows what's free use and what's off limits, then he has complete freedom, and make sure he knows exactly that.

As to the milk issue specifically, I have him pay to replace the milk (after all, someone has to replace it). That means the money would come out of his pocket, he would go with you to the store, and he would take it to the counter and pay for it himself. Not mixed in with the week's groceries. I would stand next to him in case he needed help, but he'd have to do it himself.

Me again: I have no idea if there's anything here that might be of use to someone else, but there it is.

If you liked this post, you might enjoy these posts: Natural and Logical Consequences, More on Natural and Logical Consequences, and Natural and Logical Consequences: The Dreaded Four-Year-Old

Photo of Milk Sculptures by Tambako the Jaguar from here