Miley Cyrus and Homeschool

So, thank you Rebecca Thompson Dundore for your post of a blogger commenting on what Miley Cyrus' performance at the IMA's (which I thankfully missed).  It brought things together for me in a new way.

One of the common arguments against homeschooling is that children need to be socialized.  I've always thought this was a silly reason, but have been trying to put my finger on why for some time.  The underlying assumption is that children spend a lot of time with their classmates, so that children who don't have classmates are somehow missing out.  Then another home-school Mom threw me a bone when she said, "Sending children to school to learn social skills is like sending them to a candy store to learn about nutrition."  It's the quality of time children need with friends, not the quantity, that matters.

When I was grown, my Mom told me that whenever a teacher would get uppity at a parent-teacher conference, telling my parents what they should do differently (particularly when the child being discussed was my sister Crystal), my Dad has a unique way of responding.  He would say, in his calm-like-the-ocean way,  "Thank you for helping me teach my child."  He wanted to remind them that he was the one in charge of our education, not them.

I think this might just be huge.

School isn't FOR socialization.  Children don't go there to learn from each other.  They go to learn from a teacher.  They do learn from each other, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse, but they go to learn from a teacher.  From teachers - from adults.  As the blogger man said, "Kids need adults," not other kids, to be their role models.  Our problem is, adults are forgetting how to be role models and are trying to be kids instead.

So, some parents send their children to school so teachers can help them teach their children.  Some parents keep them home.  This is BY NO MEANS a judgment call on anyone's education choices.  I am just saying, school isn't for socialization, and parents are children's primary teachers, no matter how many other teachers those children have.

More to ponder for me...

Homeschool Infographic Makes Me Happy!

Source: TopMastersInEducation.com

Living the Dream

I love my hands.  They are turning into Mommy hands.  They aren't girl hands anymore.  They actually are looking more and more like MY Mommy's hands.  They are beautiful.  I want to behave so that my children see them as safe and kind an beautiful too.

Mommy's are some of the most beautiful people in the world.  It's a shame that the world tells us to "get your shape back" after birth, as if it is one of the first orders of business.  You see this gut - the one that makes me look like I'm still 3-4 months pregnant?  I worked HARD for this thing!  See this Baby?  The one for whom I am obliged to change my diet, my sleep schedule, my plans for potty-training her sister, and literally my whole world?  She is awesome beyond words, and worlds more than worth it.

I haven't always felt this way, but I'm growing.  Growing comes with growing pains, but I'll take it.  I'm living the dream I've had for myself since I was a child.  I'm a Mommy.  I stand with my mother, my grandmothers, and dear friends all over this great nation, raising tomorrow's citizens...it's a humbling thought.  I feel honored to be among the ranks of willing, committed mothers.

Summer Ends?

In my world, "Summer" is the name of the period of time it is most likely to be at or above 70 degrees every day for a week at a time. As such, the fact that any store within a four-hour drive from my current home would have an "End of Summer Sale" in August is laughable to me.

My Anthem

Song for a Fifth Child

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).

The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Seventeen

When I was seventeen, I was certain I had arrived.

Everything was better than it had ever been before.  I wanted to freeze time where it was and just love my life for the rest of my life.

A few years ago, Brad Paisley released a song called "Letter to Me," in which he sings the words to a letter he wishes he could send to his seventeen-year-old self to encourage him to hang in there and make good choices so he could enjoy his future fully when he got there.  I've loved that song from the first time I heard it.  Recently, a line from "Letter to Me" has come to my mind as inspiration from the Spirit of God.

I'm about to go to bed for the night.  It's a little after 1AM, and all three of my bedlamites are asleep in their beds.  It was a hard fought fight tonight.  All day really.  Someone dumped water on the floor - two or three separate times - someone spent five minutes spraying the bathroom mirror with stain remover when he should have been washing his hands, someone wouldn't eat anything but applesauce for dinner.  But then there was the sweet little conversation I had with one when I caught her being sweet with her baby sister, and the time I got to spend on the phone while the other played quietly and contentedly with tinker toys in the living room.

Then I got to be there for my daughter, who is mostly teaching herself now how to use the toilet, when she woke up just a few minutes ago crying.  I was able to listen to the Spirit telling me she needed to use the potty.  Then I discovered that the diaper was dry and was able to celebrate with her for going successfully - while trying to keep her from falling asleep and off the toilet before I could re-diaper her and help her back to bed.  I got to be there with her and share in her success, even at a time when we both would rather have been sleeping.

As my thoughts moved at last toward bed time, the song line from the climax of "Letter to Me" came to my mind and made me smile "these are no where near the best years of your life."

That's right, seventeen-year-old Ashley, you have no idea what you're in for.  It's heart-rending, and it's messy, but it's soul-expanding.

And it's awesome.

Pioneer Day

Let's Make A Covered Wagon!

http://www.thecraftyclassroom.com/CraftPioneerWagon.html