Sunday's Gratitude Post

Six Flags Fiesta Texas. Need I say more?

Boomerang, an extreme coaster that all the kids chose to ride, much to my astonishment

Well, I guess I do, so here goes. A few highlights of the day:

No people - the day before the first day of school, tax-free shopping weekend, and 158 degree temperature

No waits - the longest wait we had was about ten minutes to one of the water rides; we walked right up to the turnstiles for the big-ticket coasters

Maturing kids - my previously cautious kids (fear of new things, fear of heights, etc.) tried some of the biggest and scariest rides in the park, including an almost vertical drop of about 15 or 20 stories in a water chute (see a photo here, which I have to provide a link for instead of a photo, since it's copyrighted)

S riding all the extreme roller coasters with her uncle, including one (Goliath) all by her lonesome

G riding one extreme roller coaster and considering another

T exhibiting that he's completely over his fear of heights (see photo link above, for the twisty chute, and this link for the giant water slide)

Time with the kids' aunt and uncle, who gave this outing to them for their birthdays

Goliath, which S rode twice, once by herself

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Last Stop ... Terra Cotta Warriors

Photo of Boomerang by racer108 from here

Photo of Goliath by Kaleenxian from here

Saturday Quote for the Day

"If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck ..."

Last week we received our long-awaited Lego Smart education kit, which consisted of twenty Lego pieces (one of which, of course, is already lost among the detritus around here), along with "challenges" for kids in classrooms to do. I was thrilled to see that the challenges ended up being interesting, entertaining, and creative.

The first challenge: "Build a Duck"

"Instruct students to remove the yellow and red LEGO bricks.... Using only these six bricks, ask students to build a LEGO duck.... have students compare their ducks to other ducks in the room."

The six red and yellow duck bricks.

Well, obviously, we have only one set of "LEGO Smart" bricks (this school is woefully understocked with educational supplies), so we had to get creative right off the bat. We decided to take turns building the duck, then I would take a picture (keeping it secret), and then we'd compare after everyone had had a go at it.

Here are the results:

T's version

S's version (walking)

My version

G's version (curled up)

H's version

T's best friend's duck

When we first started the challenge, I thought, "Good grief, how many possible combinations can there be? Obviously, everyone will have just about the same idea." I couldn't have been more wrong.

I loved all the imagination and creativity! The kids have made more and more ducks. We've been quacking like crazy around here.

Thank you, LEGO company! I'm grateful to you for allowing homeschoolers to participate (especially since the kit was free!), knowing that we actually do think about educational stuff from time to time.

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

Tax Free Shopping ... or Taxing Shopping?

I'm not a shopper. I'm too cheap, nothing ever fits, I'm too picky, malls give me headaches, shopping makes my feet hurt, I hate having our country's over-the-top consumerism repeatedly blasting me in the fact all day, and the prices are way over my budget (did I mention that I'm cheap?). I find tax-free shopping to be anything but ... it taxes my patience and my sanity mightily.

But once every year I drag myself out with the other eager shoppers to tackle the stores during tax-free weekend. This is the weekend that the state drops its excessively high sales tax (which we have in place of a state income tax, and I'm not complaining!) for back-to-school shoppers. (Don't tell, but those of us who aren't going back to school take advantage of it too!)

Granted, the sales tax alone isn't high enough to warrant fighting the crowds, since I'd only be saving less than 9%. But lots of stores have large sales to entice people into their lairs, so that's worth it to me once a year to brave the shopping hoards.

So I just now got back home, at almost midnight, because many of the stores have extended hours.

I saw lots of moms with their kids, mostly older kids since that's the areas of the stores that I'm shopping in now. I guess I live in my own little bubble, because I'm constantly amazed at how much parents dislike being around their kids, and vice-versa. The moms were eagerly shopping, looking forward with glee to getting the kids out of their houses all day long starting Monday, and the kids were barely disguising their disgust for having to actually appear in public with their parents, much less to go shopping, because in their parents' presence the kids can no longer pretend that they were hatched or dropped from an alien spacecraft.

S and I spent several hours together this morning, walking from store to store with virtually no success at crossing things off our list, but we joked and kidded around and generally had a great time. The great time had to do with being together in spite of our mission.

I feel so sorry for those kids don't enjoy spending time with their parents, and I feel sorry for those parents who don't enjoy - or even know - their kids. Both sides are really missing out.

Who knows? I may be eating my words in a couple of years when one of my kids goes through that stage, but I certainly hope not. I'm doing everything in my power to make what most people think is inevitable be evitable (yes, it's a word ... I looked it up). Only time will tell.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Beyond Babies.

Photo by lu_lu from here.

Getting My Fall "Fix"

"Hi. My name is Camille, and I'm a curriculaholic."

Every fall, I succumb to the siren song of my supplier, Rainbow Resource. I sit for hours, thumbing through 1,358 pages of 8-point type, picking out all the wondrous supplies, curricula, and resources that will spur my children's enthusiasm and "natural love of learning" (I hear they're supposed to have that).

I tag, dog-ear, circle, and list all the items that are essential to our upcoming homeschooling year. Then I tally up the total, and promptly eliminate 90% of it - you know, all the non-essential essential stuff.

I frequently find myself pining over resources that my kids aren't old enough for yet and lamenting the ones that my kids are too old for now. By the time I've skimmed through the entire tome, I have dozens of little plastic stickies poking out from the pages.

Even if I could afford to buy all the goodies that I desire, I wouldn't have enough time in the day to use them all. Ah, if I could buy a bunch of stuff, leave it lying around for the kids to "discover," and let that innate love of learning take over, my life would be easy. I could sit back and watch them expand their minds and explore their desires without my once having to crack the whip or snipe at them to "do something!"

But I can't afford it all, and it's probably a good thing, because then I'd just have to store it.

What does it say about the excitement in my life when I get all jazzed up about poring over pages and pages of teeny type explaining oodles of great stuff - whether it's Japan(Make It Work series ... fabulous, fabulous fabulous!), Milestones in Science(supercool history/science curriculum), or Backyard Ballistics(what kid doesn't love building things that fire projectiles?). I guess it says that I love being a homeschool mom, even when it means that my house is always a wreck, I never get enough sleep, we put 20,000 miles on our car every year, and all our "entertainment funds" go to Rainbow Resource.

Do they have a 12-step program for homeschooling addicts?

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy What We Give Our Kids.

The Last Post on the Washer/Dryer Fiasco

(I think I just heard a hearty cheer from all the way over here after you read my post title!)

For those of you who have slogged with me through post after post of my washer/dryer saga, you'll be happy to know that the journey has finally come to an end. We are now the proud parents of two shiny, large overpriced appliances, snugly squeezed into our cozy laundry room.

Notice the lack of wall space on either side - just enough room for a trash can.

Of course, there's ample room behind them for single socks, hangars, coins, Jimmy Hoffa, and Iraq's WMDs.

It was four weeks ago today that my old dear machine spun its last song, and I found this washer with a gorgeous gouge on the top that allowed me to purchase it for half off. If you read the Saturday Quote for the Day from July 25th and Sunday's Gratitude Post from about 3 weeks later, you'll realize that we've been waiting for four whole dadgum weeks to get this thing installed.

Well, yesterday they finally showed up. Granted, they were two hours late, but I'm not complaining. They were here! I had the blasted shipping bolts in my hands! It was actually going to happen!

You know the first thing they said? "We don't need the shipping bolts."

Aw, dang.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy The Great Machine Uprising.

Gearing up for "School"

Today's attempt at hands-on learning.

A sort-of shinai and a bamboo, duct-taped, "sword"

(and I use the term loosely).

Our weekly co-op starts in a few weeks, so I'm starting to plan my class. This semester I'm teaching "Arms and Armor," a look at weapons through history. I got, shall we say, stuck with this class, because my classes didn't make.

I offered Full-Contact Grammar (an active grammar class using props, charades, and other games) and Milestones in Science (a science-through-history class where kids learn about innovations by re-creating the original experiments). They didn't get enough votes to be offered, and I was seriously bummed - so bummed that I might have to offer a little science class outside the co-op to do Milestones.

I shouldn't say that I was "stuck" with "Arms and Armor," because I actually was going to offer that very class ... just for a much older age. It wasn't the class I got stuck with, it was the age. The kids are, um, young and, ahem, energetic, and ack!, mostly boys between the ages of four and seven. So how do I plan to keep seven young boys enthralled for an hour?

Weapons.

Weapons that they get to make.

Weapons that they get to make to beat each other up with.

S and T trying out their new weapons of mashed instruction.

My plan for the first week is to let them make a shinai, a practice bamboo kendo sword. I'll send home instructions for making a samurai sword, helmet, and armor - or maybe I'll have enough energy to do the shinai and the armor or helmet! Who knows? Stranger things have happened.

Here's our shinai prototype.

What would homeschoolers do without duct tape?

(Shhh! Don't tell, but I plan to work in a little geography along with the history and the weapons making.)

This is what a real shinai looks like.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy The Mock Day.

Photo of shinai by Diego Martin from here.

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.

Sunday's Gratitude Post

Shipping bolts! Woohoo! Shipping bolts!

I never knew I could be so thrilled about the existence of shipping bolts. But here I am, with four shiny, new, long, gorgeous bolts, each sheathed in lustrous white plastic, crowned with a sleek black plastic collar, and topped with a dazzling crimson jewel ... all biding their time on the top of my new washer. Waiting. Waiting for the knights in the delivery truck to come install our washer.

Yes, our washer that was new three weeks ago. Our washer that was supposed to be installed three weeks ago. Our washer that generated a different kind of gratitude post about patience.

So tomorrow is The Big Day! The installation guys are supposed to come and install this brand spankin' new washer that (fortunately, thanks to my godlike husband) has been working but is not installed on its pedestal.

I'm also grateful that I'll get that danged pedestal out of the garage, where I've been convinced it was going to get slammed into by one of our cars. And I'm grateful that the washer and dryer will be up so I don't have to sit on a chair and climb in to get the clothes, and that they'll be in their rightful positions ... not in the aisle where we have to squeeze past them to get from the garage to the rest of the house.

Yippee!

If this post makes no sense to you, please see the Saturday Quote of the Day from, oh, about three weeks ago. Not that I'm impatient or anything.

Saturday Quote for the Day

"Don't let your washing machine talk to your other appliances."

--my mother, who is strangely prophetic

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!

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

Difficulties of Attachment Parenting

Being an AP parent to one child is hard.

Being an AP parent to two children is even harder, and sometimes seems damned near impossible, because what worked with the first doesn't work with the second.

Being an AP parent to three children is easy, because by then you've given up trying to be the perfect parent, or even some distant resemblance to that parent you were sure you'd be, and you're just happy if your kid isn't crusty, smelly, or hungry. (Just kidding. It's still hard.)

Seriously, one of the hardest things for me about being attached is finding time to myself to recharge. I'm an introvert, and my alone-time is a necessity for my sanity (or at least what's left of it). But having one, two, or three children hanging on you every minute of every day and night is truly exhausting.

I honestly believe that the only AP parent who finds parenting a breeze has a doormat for a child. And if you're truly a parent who is conscious of the needs and desires of her child, then he/she can't possibly grow up to be a doormat!

Another terribly difficult thing about being AP to more than one child is that each child is different, and you have to relearn parenting with each one. What works with the first child probably won't work with the next, and what works with the third will be something completely different from either of the two previous things.

My children couldn't be more different. It's taken me years to learn how each of their brains works, and thus how to parent each of them effectively. And believe you me, it's tough sometimes trying to come up with something in one situation that works for all of them.

My "rule follower" is lost and distressed unless he has clear boundaries and guidelines to follow. My "free spirit" digs in her heels if I try to lay down the law with her. And my "life of the party" gets totally bent out of shape if I don't let him be completely independent - at least, that is, until he wants to be velcroed to my side.

If all this is discouraging, don't let it be. Attachment parenting - which basically means being respectful of your children and staying close to them - is worth it. If you're still not sure that it's worth all the effort over the long haul, read yesterday's post.

This post was actually a post that I wrote over four years ago, when G was 8 and T was 4. Funny, it's all still true. Fortunately, I now have the extra years to look back on it and say, "Whew! That was hard! But it was worth it." So many parents think that being an attached to young children is easy, while being attached to older kids is hard. But oh, man, these days life is so much easier.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might like What I've Learned As a Parent.

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.

Saturday Quote for the Day

"Hurray!"

--a term possibly taken from the Mongols during the time of Genghis Khan and a term frequently heard here on Saturday night when we say "Anyone want to watch movies?"

Last Stop ... Genghis Khan

Still at the Houston Museum of Natural Science ...

While there, we also saw the exhibit on Genghis Khan, which was fascinating as well.

This guy was truly larger than life. In a mere 25 years, his Mongol army conquered more lands and people than the Romans had in 400 years - twice as much as any other man in history, all with an army of no more than 100,000 warriors. This page has a fascinating short history of his life.

He was not only a fighter, but a lover as well. Get this ... 0.5% of the male population in the world (and 8% of the men living in the region of the former Mongol empire) - about 16,000,000 men - are his direct descendants. The guy sure got around!

Barbarian? Not necessarily. His code had an innocent-until-proven-guilty legal principle, as well as laws allowing religious freedom and freedom of speech. Of course, he was brutal. He was a conqueror, after all.

And he was illiterate.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might enjoy Last Stop ... Terra Cotta Warriors

Photo of Genghis Khan from the Denver Museum of Natural Science

Last Stop ... Terra Cotta Warriors

Our last stop on our vacation (no, you didn't miss a post ... I'm going in reverse order just to confuse you) was the Houston Museum of Natural Science.

We saw the exhibits on the Terra Cotta Warriors from China and Genghis Khan. They were astounding. I'll talk about Genghis Khan tomorrow.

The museum had 13 life-sized warriors on display, in addition to horses, chariots, and many other artifacts. I was truly amazed by the sheer number of soldiers that this emperor had crafted.

The Houston Museum has a page, "Make Me a Terra Cotta Warrior!," where a kid (and adults too!) can upload their photo and create a warrior.

The photo on the right is taken outside the exhibit. This "warrior" was featured on the 2009 National Geography Bee, and gave everyone a surprise. They wheeled him out on a dolly, and at the end of the question regarding the location of the site in China, he leaned forward and waved to the audience. I asked him if he was the same person at the Bee, and he nodded slowly, staying perfectly in character. Because of all our dealings with the Bee, we (especially G!) were thrilled to see him in person. He was absolutely astounding with his ability to look exactly like clay. At the exhibit, he stood in a corner, looking for all the world like a replica that you could get close to. He made unsuspecting museum-goers practically pee in their pants as they approached close to him and he moved unexpectedly. He had the whole crowd laughing.

Click here to see photos of these remarkable figures.

I hope this is one of those events that the kids will remember for a long, long time.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy "Where the Hell Is Matt?"

Image of terra cotta warrior from the Houston museum site

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!

More on Consistency

This post was generated by the comments on yesterday's post.

Yes, consistency can be hard. It helps if you've established a track record, so that your kids know that there's nothing to be gained from whining and wheedling. If, in the past, you've caved after an extended period of whining, they know that they simply have to whine two seconds longer and you'll give in. That's not a judgment, mind you; it's a simple reality.

As Deepa said, no one can be a perfect parent or be consistent 100% of the time. Heck, I don't even strive to be perfect. I strive to be "good enough, most of the time."

However, I don't want to let it go. I want to work toward being as close to 100% consistent with my words as possible.

Maybe it's not as important to some children, but my kids' personalities demand that I mean what I say and say what I mean - there are different reasons why that's important for each kid.

There is so much in life that's out of our control: the economy, the environment, heck, the weather ... There seem to be precious few things that I can control absolutely. One of those things is my word. My ability to be someone that they can count on. My choice to be someone whom they can talk to and know - know - that what I say is true. They don't have to wonder or worry. That's one area of worry that I can completely eliminate from my children's lives.

Most people don't think that being consistent is that important. But I disagree, at least for my kids. Maybe it's not that important for some children. But for others, like mine, it's essential.

Some parents think that by giving in to their children's demands that they're doing something nice for them and their children should be grateful. They can't understand why their kids don't then appreciate them for their "gift." The thing they don't realize is that, in the kids' minds, they're not distinguishing good vacillation from bad. The parents think they're doing their kids a favor, while the kid just thinks that the parent is spineless. Even when a child is too young to realize it, they don't think, "Oh, how nice that Mommy let me gorge on candy before dinner even though she said I couldn't have any." Instead, they think, probably subconsciously, "All I had to do was scream a little louder this time and Mommy gave in. I can't really count on what she says, even when she says she really means it this time."

I think that most people see consistency as a nice goal to work toward, but not that important. Yes, it would be great not to have to argue with their children, but if the argument gets too heated, they just give in and the argument is over. After all, it's easier, right? In my mind, no, it's not easier.

Once a kid knows that you don't necessarily mean what you say ("I really mean it this time!" Sure, Mom.), the groundwork is laid for endless argument, negotiation, manipulation, and dare I say, disrespect.

Think of your friends. Have you ever had a friend who you couldn't trust to follow through? Maybe she was always thirty minutes late. Or maybe she'd show up most of the time when she agreed to meet you somewhere. Or maybe she promised to keep a secret but then let it slip ... but it's no big deal, it was just one mutual friend she told.

How do you think of that friend? Is she someone you'd go to in a crisis? What if you really needed someone to be there emotionally for you? Could you count on her when the times got really rough?

I don't want my kids to be asking themselves those questions about me, even if those questions are subconscious.

This may all sound harsh and judgmental. It's not. Not at all. It's just my take on this whole consistency thing. All I know is, I don't fight the battles with my kids that I see other parents face when they don't follow through on their word.

We fight other battles, neither harder or easier, just different.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy More on Natural and Logical Consequences.

Consistency Is Key

In my post last Wednesday, I proposed a scenario. You're standing in front of a vending machine and your child is throwing a tantrum. What to do? You vacillate between giving in and holding your ground. I gave you some options for responses - I was curious to see what most of you would do.

So, what was the correct option to choose? The right answer is ... drumroll ...

... it depends.

What did you think? That I'd actually know the right answer? Ha ha.

The truth is, the correct option depends on lots of things: the age of your child, the personality of your child, what your day has been like, what you've done in the past, what your child's current mental state is, and what kinds of things make your child feel secure.

Today I just want to focus on Option A. When you give in to your child's demands in the middle of the tantrum, why is it that you always feel so defeated and disrespected? Does your kid appreciate getting his way? Probably not. But why not? After all, you're giving him what he wants. Isn't that what all kids want ... their way?

As it turns out, most likely not.

Think about the life of a young child. What is their world like? A place of newness and mystery. Every day they encounter things that they've never before seen: new technology, new people, new social expectations. For some kids, this is a delight. They wake each day ready to tackle every new situation they come across, and do it with an enthusiastic smile.

But there's another entirely different type of child, one that some of us can't recognize immediately, especially if we're more the adventurous type. This child is one that sees life's newness as frightening and threatening. This child wakes each morning, wondering what new situation he'll encounter and fearful that he won't know how to respond. Yesterday, it was Mom expecting him to have a conversation with the cashier at the grocery store - a total stranger! - and the day before that it was Dad expecting him to go on a field trip with his class to someplace he'd never been before - and get there in a stranger's car (the parent of a classmate he doesn't even like all that much!) - and do it without Mom or Dad with him.

What'll it be today? Will he be expected to go someplace with lots of overwhelming noise and bright lights with tons of people? Will he be expected to play with other kids he's never met before? He may wake each morning on edge, waiting for that "thing" that will happen that'll throw him off track.

What this type of kid thrives on is consistency. That's all those things that so many adults think is limiting a child's creativity: schedule, routine, order. For this kid - and I know, because my oldest is just this sort - he flounders with spontaneity and thrives on routine.

So how does this relate to the vending machine incident? Look at what the parent is giving this child. She's saying one thing ("I'll buy you a snack, but it needs to be healthy.") and doing another ("Here. Have the damned Oreos."). The child simply can't know what to expect. Will my mom stick to what she said, or will she waffle? I can't count on her.

One of the main things I want from my kids is to trust me. I want them to know that what I say is what I mean - without a doubt. I want them to know that if I tell them something, they can count on me following through - whether it's something they enjoy or something they don't.

Of course, I'm not rigid or unreasonable. I always encourage them to give me good reasons to change my mind if I've said something they don't like ("no pizza for movie night this week" ... "but Mom, we haven't had pizza in a month, and here's a coupon!"). And I sometimes change my mind ("I know I said that we weren't going to get pizza for movie night this week, but I didn't go to the grocery store and I have a coupon"). And of course, if I'm forced by circumstances to not be consistent - say, if guests dropped by unexpectedly and we weren't able to have movie night - I always apologize and talk with them to work out an alternative solution.

My point is, I want my kids to trust my word and to find our home a safe, secure place that they know they can count on. Does that mean that they sometimes don't get what they want? Sure. Does that mean that sometimes I don't get what I want? Sure. But at least my kids know where I stand.

How would I have handled the vending machine incident? These days, it would be Option D. If they didn't have their own money, they'd have to live with what I'm willing to buy or go hungry. When they were younger, it would most likely have been Option C or E (depending on how far the tantrum had progressed and my patience lasted).

Was our house tantrum free when the kids were young? Good grief, no. (And some of those tantrums were thrown by my kids, not me.) We were Tantrum Central for years. It took me years to figure out, though, that many of those tantrums were caused by my child feeling out of control. By being consistent and providing a stable environment, I'm able to counter some of that anxiety.

One of my goals as a parent is to respect the personality of each of my children and to provide a home where they have stability and trust.

I can tell after reading this post that my thoughts are all jumbled up. I have a lot of ideas about consistency, high-needs children, and respect for individual personalities. I'll have to think about this and try to put my thoughts together better in another post.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might like Natural and Logical Consequences

Photo of cookie by Torben H from here