Right now

Homeschooling as a Lifetsyle Moment:

Grades 11, 8, 6, K, & PreK

One step at a time

Jo, the baby whisperer.

Of course, she's been reaching for adulthood since she took her first step. Since she said her first word. Since she took her first breath.

But tomorrow, the footprints get a little bit clearer on the path God marked "Jo" before time began.

Tomorrow, she begins training to become a birth doula, with an eye towards serving as a midwife.

Oh, delicious irony: my least worn child, the one who slept in a crib in another room at 4 weeks, the baby I abruptly weaned at 13 months, my disposable diaper wearing, ramen munching baby ... a doula.

For so many years, it was animals, animals, animals. And then, one day, all of that sweetness and nurturing just clicked over. The dream of being a vet slowly receded, and in its place there was this: the simple desire to be part of the beautiful, amazing process of birth. The desire to comfort and assist. The desire to witness life's first breath.

And so, tomorrow, she begins. One more step ...

Growing up

Sometimes, it just hits me. Jo is growing up. 


I have been here, right alongside her, for everything. Everything. Aside from a few selected events, I've been somewhere in the picture. Maybe standing outside waiting, maybe holding the camera, maybe front and center directing the production ... but I've been there.


And yet, it's still not enough, is it? It's still achingly brief, this childhood. Even the seasons that feel like eternity--parenting the preschooler going through a biting phase, maybe--are so, so short when you step back and drink in the big picture. It sounds cliche. But it is heartbreakingly true: they grow up so fast, and are grown before you know it.


I want another chance to read "Charlotte's Web," to a pig-obsessed Jo with too-big glasses over her grey eyes and too-short bangs bobbing high on her forehead. Another morning of watching my lanky pre-teen mismatch her Chucks. One more go at hearing the sticky-sweet faux English accent she used when playing with her American Girl dolls.


But that Jo is gone. Instead, I have the Jo who reads The Omnivore's Dilemma and pours over every label that goes into the grocery buggy. I get to watch tall, thin Jo as she figures out which skirts go best with which leggings, and which tops look best on her inherited, bustier figure. I get to share a blanket with her on cold winter nights, our feet encased in heavy wool socks and our knees bumping, while we knit by the fire and listen to Mr. Blandings read aloud. 


This is a good place to be. A healthy place. A right now place. Soon enough, I'll be longing even for this as I watch my daughter launch into yet another season of growth and independence. No doubt, I'll feel that these precious moments slipped through my fingers, despite my presence. And that's o.k. I will always have my memories ... and the pictures in my mind.

Not so little

Happy 14th, Jo!

Not quite a Wordless Wednesday

Jo canning peaches.

Fourteen years ago, I was pregnant with my first child. I was so certain that the baby was a boy that really, I didn't entertain any other options. Sure, sure, we came up with a girl's name. Just in case, you know.


Good thing I liked that name, huh?


Although I had no idea at the time what on earth God was thinking sending me a GIRL, I now thank Him for that gift every day. Because while I'm certain that having a boy first would have been an amazing blessing, having a girl--this girl--has been all that and more. God knew what He was doing. Imagine that.

9th

After posting my thoughts on high school the other day, I got loads of email. The number one topic was how I'd probably regret not towing the party line when Jo started applying for colleges, and hopefully I'd learn my lesson in time to get Atticus' high school house in order.


I appreciate all of the feedback, and tried to respond to each person individually. If somehow I missed you, drop me another line and I'll get back to you, o.k.? 


The second burning question that folks had for me regarding that post was:

So, what WILL Jo be using for 9th grade?

The answer to that one's straight forward enough for a Friday morning blog post: her primary curriculum will be Sonlight's Core 200, History of God's Kingdom.


After weighing a couple of options, the curricula selection team (ie, Mr. Blandings, myself, and Jo) settled on Core 200. Why? First and foremost, it addresses the top priority in our choosing to home educate our children: God. Second of all, it uses tons of thought-provoking books to dig deeper into faith matters. And third, the literature selections struck a nice chord between "academic overload" and "pleasure reading."


Also, there was the small matter of a newly revamped IG that has a companion Student Guide. On our quest to lead our children to take charge of their education (we're praying that our children lead satisfying lives of autodidacticism well beyond their years of "formal" education), we've always felt that allowing them to have a voice in their curricular choices and eventually giving them some control in their schedule, etc., would work to that end. A Student Guide that puts assignments, notes, and timeframes in her hands is just what we were looking for. Mr. Blandings and I retain the accountability factor, but some freedom can be issued. Perfect!


There are other components for grade 9 for Jo. But this is the part you all really wanted to know, right? :-)

Special

"Your little brother is retarded."

"Huh? Which one?"

"The really short one."

"Manolin?"

"No, no. The other one. The one that doesn't grow. My mom said he's retarded."

"Oh, Oli. He has special needs."

"He's retarded."

"You keep saying that. Is it supposed to mean something to me?"

"Duh. Your. brother. is. retarded."

"Maybe. But at least he's not rude."

"Well I'm not coming down here to play with any retarded kids."

"That's alright. I think we'd rather play with Oli anyhow. You should probably go and find some really smart kids to play with. Kids who value intelligence over, say, manners, huh?"

Jo, you make this momma proud. And to think ... I worried what having a special needs child might mean to my other, neurotypical kids. Turns out that what it means is compassion, day in, day out. Compassion and love.

13

On Sunday, Jo will cross the line that separates girls from young ladies. She will, officially, be 13.



I keep shaking my head in wonder, awed at the fact that the little girl who once refused to wear anything but Snow White costume to the grocery store is suddenly borrowing my t-shirts, loaning me hair bands, and asking if she can make brownies for dessert since she has nothing else to do.

There's a certain sense of the surreal, too, with a newborn baby girl in the house just as Jo teeters on the  edge of growing up. Seven is a very real reminder of all that we've already walked through with Jo, from the late night feedings to the obsession with horses, from the trimming of tiny fingernails to the countless rounds of "Chutes and Ladders." 

Jo and Atticus at Fair

I can't believe it's all in the past, that that part of parenting my very first little girl has already slipped by me. And how is it that the knowledge that I was there for all of it somehow make it seem all the more bittersweet? I listened as she learned to read. I taught her to knit. I held her hand at the orthodontist's office. I have been a constant in her life. And yet, the balance of time she has left when she will define herself as someone's daughter first and foremost is shifting. Our relationship is changing. 


She doesn't need me any less. I have to keep reminding myself of this as I see her balance so much more than I ever expected at this age. The peculiar thing about many homeschooled children is that they mature in terms of responsibility so much faster that their traditionally schooled peers, even as they lag behind in some of the more worldly aspects of life. Jo is clueless about most popular music and flavor-of-the-moment icons of her generation. It would never occur to her to ask for a cell phone or to "hang out" at a mall. But she runs a small, profitable rabbitry with a clear head and sets personal goals better than most adults I know. She is trustworthy, honest to a fault, and kind. These, I think, are the worthier things for a teen to pursue.


But yes, she needs me. My job is nowhere near done. Now is the time for coaching, encouraging, mentoring, refining. This is the season where I get to engage on a whole new level with the young lady my daughter is becoming. My Jo is turning 13. What a wonderful gift to celebrate!

Investing in daughters

Jo, decorating a cake.

Jo is, quite literally, growing up before my very eyes. Not a day passes that I'm not reminded of how quickly she is leaving behind "the things of childhood" and moving into the days of young womanhood. Part of me is terrified of all this change. I have loved and adored having a little girl to walk alongside me these past few years, and the thought of leaving that behind brings my Momma heart not a small portion of grief.

But then again, the greater part of me is delighted. As the trapping of girlhood slip away--as the dolls have a chance to grow dusty on their shelves, as the toy horses come out for a frolic less and less-- the woman that I'm going to know for the rest of my life emerges, bit by bit. I have the chance to fall in love with my girl all over again.

Truly, motherhood is an amazing thing.

Sensing that this was a year that would bring many changes to all of our lives, Mr. Blandings and I sat down early this summer with a list of priorities--things we absolutely didn't want to let escape us in the hustle and bustle of life. Top among my things to purpose towards was investing in Jo's blossoming womanhood. Mr. Blandings was in full support of this, even though he had very little to contribute in the way of practical ideas. (What with not having the vaguest clue as to what it feels like to be a teenage girl and all ...) I did some research, wrote down some ideas, talked to my daughter, and came up with a plan.

Jo's main goal--aside from just having girls-only access time to me--was to learn more about cooking. She's a crack baker at this point, and adores any and all time that she gets to spend in the kitchen tinkering. She'd keen on expanding her repertoire beyond the basics, but in her own social way, would prefer to do it with a guide. I'm a much more solitary cook myself, so it takes me outside of my comfort zone to share my space and skills with someone else--something I've had to shove aside as I've committed to this journey together. If my daughter wants to learn to cook with me at her side, then you can bet I will be there, discomfort or no.

My main intent on spending time together was to purposefully impart some of the insight I've learned on the road to becoming the kind of woman I think God wants me to be. Much of this is simply taking the time to share Scripture, mentor, and ask deeper questions that will help me to stay in tune with my daughter's heart as she grows. But the ultimate goal is to help her to keep listening to God's will for her life. I know all too well that as the label "teen" is added to a child's age, society's voices can grow far louder than God's. I want to help keep the volume adjusted to the proper level, if you know what I mean.

Using these two desires as a starting point, I ended up buying Doorposts' Polished Cornerstones curriculum as a guide for what I hope will be memorable, productive, fun time together as Mother and Daughter.

It's based on Scriptural definitions of womanhood, but is also open-ended enough to be used even by those of us who don't always fit under the umbrella most often opened for our KJ-only sisters. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this character-building, life-shaping curriculum really does function as a "pick and choose" buffet for crafting meaningful times around many different learning styles and personality types. And all the while, the focus is on sharing and simply being together. How refreshing!

So far, we're off to a good start. Since the book isn't necessarily meant to be used in chronological order, I skipped ahead to the chapter on cooking as that was what Jo had expressed as her biggest interest. It took me just a few hours to go through the section, select some scripture to study together (the book offers several options for each chapter's theme, then allows the parent to choose what fits their daughter the best), and zero in on a handful of activities to pursue based on that lesson. I decided to give this chapter five weeks, with two days of study being pursued each week. I can honestly say that thus far, Jo has lit up each time she realized that it's Tuesday or Thursday--"PC day!"

From the extensive list of options, I selected those activities that seemed to be most likely to help Jo with specific skills or to delight her with a chance to show off her abilities. So far, she's gained a greater understanding of the cook's role in making sure everyone stays healthy by balancing food choices in menus, learned basic cooking terms (grill, baste, saute, fold, etc.), started her own recipe binder (just like Mom's!), and begun collecting recipes that she'd like to try her hand at. All the while, we've made time to cook together. It's been a total blessing ... to both of us.

The time I've invested in spending time with Jo will always be dear to me. Watching her joy as she assembled her own recipe binder was probably one of the highlights of my month. Seriously--to see the care she took in making labels for her dividers, thinking through how she'd like to categorize, watching as she decided what her first recipe to go in to the first page protector would be ... I was proud. I was humbled. And I was struck by what a fine young woman I had on my hands already.

I have no interest in producing a mini-me clone when it comes to raising any of my children, let alone my daughter. I am overjoyed that God created within each of them their own personalities, their own proclivities, and their own desire to walk with Him in their own way. But to be able to pause and pour into a growing, developing heart is a blessing that pays out to us as mothers a hundred fold. My Jo will not be "Mary Grace all over again." That's not the point. But hopefully she will emerge from this season stronger, more prepared, and well-loved, knowing that her father and I felt that her teen years were an important time. Not for the reasons that the world so often trumpets. But for the reasons that God outlines--that she should grow in knowledge and wisdom, so as to be an arrow for the Lord.

A really good reason

Jo at the Fit & Show table at Fair.

I have a really good reason for not posting for an entire week. A really good reason.

No, not that good of a reason. Seven is still securely, happily baking away inside, despite our best efforts to convince him or her that it really, truly is o.k. to come out and play. We had an ultrasound to check for size a week ago, and Seven measured in the neighborhood of 8 pounds. While I've birthed two pounds heavier than that, I'd rather stick in the "normalish" range with this little one, and am praying that showtime is in the next few days rather than the next few weeks. But hey, if I don't meet Seven until the end of September and he or she turns out to be a 12 pound roly poly, I'll happily take that, too. Just with a couple of ibuprofen to take the edge off, thankyouverymuch. ;-)

The reason I haven't posted is Fair. Yes, it's Fair time again here in Western WA. Jo is delighted to be showing off a couple of her rabbits, cleaning barns, and answering the public's questions about all things bunny. Her competitions have all gone quite well, and while it's definitely a huge disruption to our normal schedule of things (how DO people get everyone out of the house by 7 a.m. every morning?!?!) it's worth the effort.

The Blandings will return to their regularly scheduled postings this week.

Unless, of course, Seven decides to make his or her debut.

Blossoming

I am so, so grateful that Jo is the one I walk through most "firsts" with. She is a resilient, confident, no-nonsense girl. Not much given to the drama that her age and gender often implies, my Jo has a huge helping of that special something that God seems to bestow sparingly. Call it chutzpah, call it poise ... whatever name it goes by, it almost always guarantees that Jo will come out shining, on top, and ready to go another round with whatever life dishes out.

Jo knows herself in a way that I didn't quite manage until well after my twenty-third birthday; even then, I'm pretty sure that backpedaled and wrangled with my emotions far more than she does. She is not conceited--but her confidence and ability to remain above the bickerings and posturings of her fellow junior high cronies can easily be misconstrued as such. Who, after all, expects a girl just shy of her 13th birthday to be invited to the pool party of the summer, to weigh the option and quickly decide that it's not for her? How else to take that firm, "No, thanks," if not as some kind of "above it all" attitude?

Not much given towards being defined by her peers, what's popular, or how things appear, Jo has remained pretty much the same practical-yet-sweet girl that she was at 6, 8, 10. Each year, the naysayers give me a wink and a nod and assure me that this, this is the year that my Jo will turn into the stereotypical teenager with a chip on her shoulder and a growing dislike for everything that Mr. Blandings and I stand for. They promise me that being with her friends will become her favorite past time, and that she will most likely threaten a starvation diet unless we cave in and give her a facebook account, a cell phone, her own lap top, more freedom.

It hasn't happened yet.

Yes, yes, we've seen changes. Jo is no longer as big a fan of her daddy's playful banter as she once was. (We gave her a code phrase to let him know when his teasing has gone too far. It seems to have helped.) She no longer feels the compulsion to play the rowdy games her younger brothers engage in. She prefers a good book to watching soccer with the family, although she doesn't mind bringing her book along so that she can be part of the crowd. And, of course, her morning prep time has skyrocketed, much to the annoyance of everyone else who shares that particular bathroom.

But along with these changes have come a firestorm of "firsts" that I never anticipated. A growing sense of purpose and joy in life. A vision for a future that holds so much. An ability to think far, far beyond today. A desire to see beyond one's self. And, for me ... well, a deepening of our mother/daughter relationship that has filled me in a way I never knew I would experience.

I have no idea what the future holds for and with Jo. But hear this, all of you moms of young girls who look ahead to the pre- and teen years with a growing sense of fear and dread: it doesn't need to be all drama and horror and gnashing teeth. Watching the blossoming of a young woman is, perhaps, one of the greatest gifts the Lord has given me to date. Embrace it.

Jo, the barbarian

"It took me a little while, but suddenly I saw it clearly. I was experiencing a barbarian invasion. Mariah's heart was beating to the rhythm of the heart of God. And her dreams were way too raw for me. I didn't see it initially, but I was trying to civilize her instead of unleashing the untamed faith within her. After all, I'm her dad. It's okay if I live a life of irrational faith and breathtaking adventure. I want something different for her. I want her to have security and safety--you know, a predictable, boring, mundane life where I never have to worry about her again. In that moment I realized Mariah would have none of that. For her there is only one path. Even at twelve she has already committed to it. Be still my heart, but my daughter has chosen the barbarian way out of civilization." Erwin Raphael McManus, The Barbarian Way

In just a handful of days, my Jo is heading on her biggest-yet God-led adventure: Nepal. Yes, yes ... she's already logged a few mission-miles under her belt. But this trip, this one ...

Jo will be thousands of miles away from me. For the first time ever.

And yes, Mr. Blandings will be at her side the whole time. And yes, we have friends who will surround her, and guide her, and remind her that while some things are acceptable in the U.S., while in Hindu-oriented countries, nice girls just don't.

She is excited. I imagine that the flush of her cheeks is close to what we'll see on the cusp of other important events. Going off to college. Trying on her wedding dress. Sharing the news of a baby on the way. That kind of rosy-cheeked joy brings me the sweetest pain in my heart when I see it.

This is what it means to give your children wings, and hand them back to God.

Because while she's gone, things will happen. Little things, but things I will not see. Jo will be overwhelmed by the chatter of a language that her ears can't interpret. She will delight in new sights and sounds. She will sleep lightly, unable to release the tensions of the day in a sleeping bag on a foreign floor. She will eat foods that she likes and foods that she wishes she could politely pass on, but will not for propriety's sake.

I will not be there.

I will be here, minding boys large (ish) and small. I will wash clothes and mend socks and cook meals. I will write, and read, and knit. I will live the life that I call my own.

The most awfully beautiful part of homeschooling is that I miss nothing. Day in and day out, I miss nothing. Perhaps that makes it all the more bittersweet to send a beloved child off on an adventure of their own? I don't know. But for me, the closeness begets a sense of comfort and joy that I hold on to, knowing that it's season is all too soon coming to an end.

I have made no mention of any of this to Jo. I think that sometimes the worst sin we can commit as mothers is to clip the wings of joy as they sprout in our children by saddling them with a bit of our own longing. Instead of holding her closer and whispering, "Come back to me safely. Don't be gone long," I smile at her as we stand side by side at the kitchen sink and say, "What an amazing adventure God has planned for you! I can feel it!" Instead of biting my lip and telling her how very empty my days will feel without her smile in the sea of faces around me, I kiss her forehead and let her know how delighted her father is to have her as a traveling companion.

On Monday, I will drive my traveler to the airport, drop them at the curb, and drive away. I will catch sight of Mr. Blandings in my rear view mirror, and as always, my heart will swell with pride and love and longing even as a prayer escapes my soul. To have him far from me is a thing that the Lord has asked of me as his wife, and while it pulls at the edges of my most vulnerable places every time I see him off on another calling, I have learned that God is trustworthy and true. My husband comes back to me when his work is done--no matter how dangerous a place he ventures in Christ's name.

But this time, I will see Jo's tall, thin form beside him. She'll have her oversized pack on her back, her beloved stuffed dog under her arm and her iPod headphones strung around her neck. Her posture will be bursting with the tightness and expectation of one about to embark on something beautiful.

I will cry.

Because this is what I have longed for. This is what I have begged of the Lord since, literally, the day I took Him into my heart and asked Him to rule my life. Make these children yours. Call them. Give them no fear. Use them.

Lives worth living, Lord. That's all I ask.

Jo is answering the call. She is only 12, but she is on fire. She sees no reason that her age should stop her from being a tool in the hands of Yahweh. If she has anything to say about it, it won't. Jo has no use for neat, sweet girls who sit under their mother's skirts and wait for Prince Charming. Jo wants to tell people about Jesus. As she reminds me almost daily, the people we walk past in the library may just be going to hell. It's worth the awkwardness or the discomfort or the danger to introduce people to God.

And I--her mother, the one who held her as her first breath filled the lungs the Lord created in her--will rejoice in that passion, no matter how much I want to hide her away under my skirts and keep her to myself. Because God is going to use this girl. She will make people stop, think, and ponder anew who this man Jesus is. She's already doing it.