Excuses, excuses.

I owe you an apology. I promised a post on Fashion for Less last week, but it never materialized. Partly because I still have some sewing to do {spoiler!} and partly because we decided to hold a yard sale/lemonade stand at the last minute...




... which, by the way, was a grand success. The kids squeezed all the lemons for the lemonade and Little Miss C proved to be the ray of sunshine that persuaded even the toughest construction worker to stop and buy a drink or brownie. They made $97.00 {!!!} which we then had them deduct overhead costs from and divide the profits between them {80/20 since Little Miss did most of the work}. Best math class ever.

I spent the rest of the weekend {finally!} getting organized. I made brand new chore charts, gave the house a good cleaning, and took all our unsold yard-sale stuff to Goodwill. 

And now I can start sewing {while watching Project Runway, naturally}. Hopefully I'll have a fashion post up for you this week, m'kay?

{image, image}

Mama Killdeer

While out running, I stumbled across this plucky little bird called a killdeer. She had created a nest by the side of the road amid gravel and dried horse droppings. The nearer I came, the more she ruffled her feathers and squawked at me warily.

Then, feigning a hurt wing, she darted off, attempting to draw me away from her hidden treasure:

Seeing the speckled, camouflaged eggs up close was so fascinating, I came back later with kids and camera in tow. We oohed and aaaahed, careful not to touch and making an effort to hurry as the mama bird circled, doing her best to interrupt our scrutiny.

The minute we turned our backs to leave, she settled herself protectively over her nest and watched us retreat. What a good little mama.

I recently read a book on unschooling with a chapter entitled, "Animals are better than books about animals". After our little encounter with the killdeer, I whole-heartedly agree. :)

Wheat as Sensory Tub

One of the things that I absolutely love about being a mother is moments like these:

I ground wheat and made bread this morning with the help of the boys. The huge bucket of wheat is irresistible to them. They pile the grain into mountains, run it through their fingers, plunge their arms in up to their elbows and invariably get it all over the kitchen floor.

 I suppose I could pay a lot of money to send my kids to a montessori school where they would have a designated time to play with sensory tubs. I could research school districts and class sizes to make sure they were getting individual attention and their minds were being engaged. But instead, I get to be with them and watch their faces as they discover things like this. I get to say, "You think wheat is cool? Come put your hands in fresh-ground flour! See how warm it is?"

There is so much teaching/learning that goes on in everyday life. Seizing these opportunities, encouraging their curiosity and rediscovering for myself the wonder of the world around me is one of the greatest joys of motherhood. It's one I honestly didn't expect when I started having kids, but is a most welcome surprise.

Endeavor and Beyond

This morning, the kids and I woke up early to watch a live broadcast of space shuttle Endeavor's final launch into space. It seems rather serendipitous that the launch should coincide with our recent study of the moon, planets, and Apollo missions. It was beautiful. Watching the flames and clouds billowing from the launch pad gave me chills, while E liked the spent fuel rockets disengaging from the shuttle.

On a related note, J sent me this link to an amazing interactive 360 degree view of the night sky. It includes an overlay displaying constellations, bright stars and planets. I've said it before, but I can't help reiterating that the sheer majesty of the stars in the heavens always manage to take my breath away and make me feel so very small and humble.

*sigh*

I love homeschooling.

Homeschool

When it comes to homeschooling, I tend to be very relaxed and unstructured. The kids have to do some reading, writing and math every day, but otherwise we study whatever strikes our fancy. From the outside, it can look like we're not doing anything at all. But E writing a book about superheroes? That's homeschool. Building a city out of cardboard boxes for his cars? Homeschool. Little Miss C's obsession with colonial days? That totally counts as homeschool.


However, a few weeks ago, I saw one of those 'build your own solar system' kits at the craft store, and having always wanted to make one, bought it on a whim. A trip to the library followed and I checked out a whole pile of books on the sun, planets, comets, gravity, et cetera. This led to some of the most structured schooling we've ever had.


I decided to cover one celestial body per day. We started with the Sun-- reading books, looking up facts online, drawing pictures, writing down our favorite discoveries and building a sun dial. 


With Mercury, we learned all about iron, gravity {you would weigh less on Mercury!} and the Greek and Roman mythology surrounding the naming of the planets. 


Venus, which we studied on Friday, proved to be the most exciting thus far. Its days are longer than its years! The sun rises in the West instead of the East! Its hot, noxious atmosphere melts all our probes! Discussing the atmosphere on Venus necessitated an introduction to the Greenhouse Effect, which we illustrated with an experiment.

We let the two bowls of water sit out all day and night. The next morning, the Earth bowl contained cool water, whereas the glass cloche on Venus was foggy with condensation, and the water was hot!


Today we study Earth, which E has been itching to do since we started our little foray into the solar system. :) Homeschool is awesome. 

Thank Heaven for Little Boys

I homeschool my children. I use the term 'homeschool' loosely. After all, they are at home. And I do sit them down every few days for some formal schooling. But mostly, they're just at home. 

I believe in the value of boredom. Of having to fill long, empty chunks of time with whatever your mind can dream up. Often, when I'm asked what curriculum I use, or am pushed to explain my teaching style, I say, "You know those times when you get really into a project? You are scrapbooking or organizing a closet or editing a movie or something. You hit a groove, and stopping to eat or sleep seems a nuisance. That's what learning is like when you homeschool." 

It's easy to be confident about all this when my son is building train tracks that loop around the entire house; or my daughter sits down to write and illustrate a book all about the lives of her stuffed animals; or the two of them become obsessed with insects and butterflies, check out every book they can find on the subject, and go on 'caterpillar hunts' in the backyard in the hopes that they can watch it form a chrysalis. 

But I'm human. There are days when I worry that I'm not doing the right thing.

I was in the grips of self-doubt a few weeks ago as I went to have lunch with Little Miss C {at the cafeteria of the school she attends one day a week with other homeschooled children}. She was vibrant and social, laughing as she introduced her baby brother to her friends. She ate quickly, then ran off to hula hoop. 

E. had his eye on the basketball court, where a group of older boys were playing. They appeared to range in ages from 10 to 13, in that awkward pre-teen stage of large feet and loud voices. They ran back and forth on the pavement, yelling boisterously as they passed the ball back and forth. 

E finished his food, then made a beeline for the basketballs. He carefully chose one, then promptly dribbled it on his foot, sending it rolling across the court. He ran after it, picked it up, then walked with it to stand directly under the basket. With a burst of effort, he threw his basketball straight up, then ducked as it came right back down, far short of the basket and narrowly missing his head. 

At this point, he was starting to get in the way of the actual basketball game being played. Embarrassed, I was just about to step in and lead him off of the court when the tallest boy crouched down next to E. and asked him for his name. E told him. "Nice to meet you! Give me five!" the older boy replied. Then he stood and announced, "Hey everybody, this is E and he's going to play with us!" 

They spent the rest of the lunch period running at a crouch so they could be eye level with him. They passed him the ball. They ran after it when he failed to catch it. They lifted him up so he could 'dunk'. They listened and participated when he tried to change the rules to more closely resemble hockey. When the bell rang, they all said goodbye and gave him a high five as they filed back into the building. The tallest one saw me standing in the corner and asked, "Is he your child?" when I nodded, he said "He's awesome!" and gave me a high five as well. 

I couldn't help it. I looked at those gangly pre-teen boys with sweaty hair falling in their eyes and felt a surge of gratitude and love for them. Not only had they made E's day, but they had eased my mind concerning my choice to homeschool.

After all, if teaching them at home makes my children a bit different, it appears that they are in excellent company.