Conversation overheard as we sat at a red light in front of a line of teachers picketing an elementary school:
Logan: "What are they doing? Are they ... striking? Like miners? Teachers have a union?" Jo: "Yeah. (voice drops to a whisper) They're picketing." Atticus: "Oh, joy! (he actually says this, y'all. i kid you not.) I've always wanted to see strikers!" Jo: "Really?" Atticus: "Yeah. Because you never know when the Pinkertons will come rushing in." Logan:(to Atticus) "Are you joking? You're joking me again." (to me) "Mom, pull over NOW!" Me: "Sorry, but when the light turns green, I'm going."
Collective groans.Light turns green and we roll forward.
Jo: "They might have to call in the feds." Atticus: "Yeah, better that we're not here. It could get ugly." Logan: "I hope their broken legs heal before they start teaching again. ((sigh)) Poor public school teachers."
We're still working on establishing an actual routine for school this fall. So far, it's been a loose collection of educational odds and ends that pick up sometime after the morning chores are under control. I can't start school with a messy house. I just can't. Call me a freak.
Logan has continued to plug his way through Headsprout with good results. His reading fluency has improved, and I'm noticing that his vowels are becoming far more consistent. For a while there, it was a grab bag: "Long 'i.' No ... short! Silent 'e.' No! I'm going to use a long 'e' at the end of that word!" Insert exasperated Momma smilie, here, folks ... because that's about where I found myself. Logan is also continuing to explore his MUS Alpha skills. I'm still not challenging him in that area, as he seems to pick up plenty on his own. I sat down and selected a month's worth of Family Math games with him primarily in mind, and am looking forward to seeing how he responds to that. I also found a handful of sites that I plan on pulling from as the year goes on; Figure This!, Illuminations and one of our old faves, AIMS Puzzle Corner, will all be useful, I think.
Atticus is again the human computer when it comes to work. With barely any effort, he hurtles himself through Greek, Math, Science ... whatever you throw at him. I am planning on ramping up on a) what I require of him and b) the level of Language Arts instruction this year. I get the feeling that Atticus does exactly what's required of him ... and not a whole lot more. He saves his creativity and actual brainpower for his own personal rabbit trails. Not that I mind his rabbit trails! On the contrary, I find them fascinating ... but often, far too obtuse for me to do anything more than place holds through our library system and find him some safe websites to explore. I need to find a way to tap into that curiosity and fan it.
Jo is feeling the weight of her new-found junior high status. She's spent the past few days filling in bubbles on a standardized test--I'll post more about that at a later time. This was a whole new experience for her, and one that she didn't relish as much as endure. She was delighted to find, however, that she not only could identify the math skills needed for the test, she could do the computations as well. This was a boon to her math confidence, and one I hope she can ride throughout the year.
Our Sonlight schedule has been relatively light thanks in large part to the fact that we had to order a new computer to utilize the World Book program that is an integral part of Core 5. People have posted on the forums that you can do Core 5 without the Eastern Hemisphere Explorer notebook or the World Book, but frankly, I don't see the point in that. The activities and research component are too big for me to gloss over. Besides, my kids are chomping at the bit to get into that program. A new computer is well worth it.
Oh--and what is Oliver doing while we dig into our homeschooling? Well, he naps. That's a big help, as you can imagine. And other than that, he's a pretty good independent play kid. From time to time, I assign a child to play with him, or read to him. I take my spare moments and make sure he gets Mommy time. I have pulled out a rotation of fun activities that he can only get into at school time. And, of course, there's always the Wiggles. If all else fails, Oliver is happy to dance with Captain Feathersword long enough for someone to finish up what they're doing and play trucks with him.
Do you know any writers IRL? If you do, then it will hardly surprise you when I tell you that I have far more acquaintances than friends. Writers seem to be cut from a particular bolt of cloth that precludes a large number of deeply intimate relationships. We can manage one, two or possibly three, but by that point, our confidant cup runneth over. Don't ask me why this is the case. It just is. You can go ahead and regale me with as many stories of gregarious, überfriendly writers as you'd like ... I'll simply chalk it up to God sometimes deciding that His universe needs an anomaly--like a platypus--to keep us on our toes, and I'll move on. Despite the fact that I am, indeed, one of these socially challenged writers, I do not live my life in a vacuum. Hardly. I am surrounded by people. All day. Every day. To the point of distraction, from time to time. As a matter of fact, I spend weeks every winter in hermit mode, filtering out the world and reorganizing my brain lest I melt from the sheer intrusiveness of it all. During this time, I write like mad. I read to my children from the books that make our mouths water with their all-encompassing plots. I encourage them to invent their own tales, and to share them with us. I read insatiably.
And I do not, as a rule, return phone calls within my usual 48 hours timeframe. Or emails either. As a matter of fact, I sort of ... disappear.
As you can imagine, this is more than a little off-putting to casual acquaintances. Those who do not know or understand me generally come to the conclusion that, while I seem like a with-it enough gal on the outside, I must be a bit touched in the head. After all, what kind of person maintains the general status quo of getting kids to AWANA every week and shows up for appointments, yet turns down any and all requests for playdates for three weeks running? And what's this her son is talking about? A live-action reenactment of Redwall during school time? Who allows such nonsense? A crazy woman, that's who.
While Hermit Season is a happy time for me and my family, I know it's crazy-making time for the people in my life who just plain wish I'd get over it, dump this whole writing notion and be a normal person. A couple of friends over the years have hinted at this. A select few have given voice to their frustrations with me and my distracted flights of fancy.
I really don't know what God was thinking when he stitched our friendship together. On the outside, Benny and I have only a few marginal things in common. First of all, we do not pass the suburban "we should be best friends!" test. You know that test, right? The one where all of your kids line up perfectly, thereby giving everyone a playmate. Benny and I fail this one miserably; her eldest is a few months older than Logan, which leaves Jo and Atticus dangling in the wind. As a matter of fact, when we met in March of 2003, Benny was momma to just one little boy and I had three--two of whom were ji-normous at five and almost three, respectively. Everyone knows that moms of babies don't hook up with moms of school-age kids. It's just not done.
I'm almost 34. Benny is closing out her 20s.
Benny loves to host. I loathe it.
I love to cook, and I love to eat. Benny enjoys neither.
Benny is a new house person. I am an old house person.
The list goes on and on. Like I said, it's just not done.
But we did it. Not sure how or why, but we did.
I could tell you fabulous stories of all of the history we have shared in the years our families have been growing alongside each other. But frankly, there are too many stories to tell, and no time to tell them well. I think the pictures of our children-- 6 little boys like like stair steps and 2 girls like bookends-- are actually the stories of our lives. Crafts at kitchen tables. Babies in arms, carriers, strollers. Making cookies. Riding scooters. Playing in the pool. Birthday cakes. Couch time. Christmas Eve on the steps. If you share enough history with someone that you have a photographic tapestry together then, well, suffice it to say you are invested.
We're invested enough to ride out the hard times, too: the ones you purposefully don't record for posterity's sake. While I'd love to say that our friendship has been nothing but sunny afternoons at the zoo and fun times digging in the sand, you and I both know that God's gifts are made so much richer with the love and understanding that comes through seeing one another--and a relationship--through the times that make you want to throw your hands in the air in walk away. Some of those moments are so deeply shaming to me that I shudder to even remember them. Have you ever told your best friend, as she announces a pregnancy to you, that you just aren't in a place to be happy for her? Well, I have. Really--through hot tears and a lump in my throat. Thankfully, not only did the Lord value my transparent honesty, but Benny did, too. She absorbed the hurt and still managed to love me enough to let me witness the miracle of that baby being born.
Benny will freely admit that she misses me during my Hermit Season, but she takes it as part and parcel of who I am and waits it out. No judgement. No hurt feelings. No pressure. Just like I ride through her more emotional conundrums, Benny accepts that this, too shall pass. In the end, we both know, we'll be the better for having weathered the storms of life together ... just our little families clinging to the rock of the Lord.
I truly hope that you have a Benny in your life: someone who will take your kids at a moment's notice, who you could call at 3 a.m. and cry with, someone who loves you enough to tell you when you're being nuts and still lets you lick the batter from the spoon. If you don't have one then no, you cannot have mine. But because I think she has loads to share and because I know that you all will love her, too, I am happy to introduce her blog, Psalm 118:24. Please pop by and tell her hello. Maybe even tell her about your own best friend. And, hey, if you have an extra second ... tell her that MG says she's glad she has someone who speaks truth over her life.
We're awaiting word on a potential foster placement. Our agency was shocked to learn on Thursday evening that one of their adoptive placements had suddenly blown up in a nasty, dramatic way. This was in no way the child's fault; I've heard probably more about the situation than I should have, but trust me ... this little girl had nothing to do with her adoptive family self-destructing. She's simply an 8 year-old living through yet another mess that she can't control.
No child left behind. I think that oft-abused phrase fairly well sums up what Jesus means when He said He wanted the little ones to come to Him. Too bad we "Christians" are just as bad as the rest of the world in leaving children by the wayside.
ETA: The little girl will be staying with the family who provided her emergency respite care this past weekend, at least for now. Part of me is very, very glad for this tiny shred of continuity in her little life. The other part is, I admit, sad for us. For some reason, the idea of an 8 year old girl was joyful to all of us.
Yes, it's true. We are submitting an application to AAI with the intent of bringing home a child from Ghana. This is an absolute, total step in faith for us on many levels, but I know in my heart that God isn't just going to meet us in this place ... he's already gone ahead of us, and is just waiting for us to catch up.
For anyone who is asking themselves why a family of six living on one income in a 3 bedroom townhouse would pursue such a crazy, expensive thing, let me explain:
You Know You're An Adoptive Parent When . . .
1. The fact that there are 143 million children without a parent to kiss them goodnight has made you lose sleep.
2. You realize DNA has nothing to do with love and family.
3. You can't watch Adoption Stories on TLC without sobbing.
4. The fact that, if 7% of Christians adopted 1 child there would be no orphans in the world, is convicting to you.
5. You spend free time surfing blogs about families who have experienced the blessing of adoption.
6. It drives you crazy when people ask you about adopted child's 'real' parents.
7. You had no idea how you would afford to adopt but stepped out in faith anyway, knowing where God calls you He will provide.
8. You have ever taken an airplane ride half-way around the world with a child you just met.
9. You believe God's heart is for adoption.
10. You realize that welcoming a child into your heart and family is one of the most important legacies you could ever leave on this earth.
11. You know what the word 'Dossier' means, and you can actually pronounce it!
12. You have welcomed a social worker into the most private parts of your life.
13. You have ever been 'pregnant' with your adoptive child longer than it takes an elephant to give birth. (2 years!)
14. You shudder when people say your child is so lucky that you adopted them, knowing full well you are the blessed one to have him or her in your life.
... as I have neither the time nor the brainpower to process such a project at this point. But thanks to everyone who seems to think I have it in me. You gave a tired Momma a chuckle!
