I just did something. Something BIG. Something scary. Something I hope won't end up scarring my children for life.

I just informed the online school that we won't be returning next year.

As of this moment, we are an official, 100% independent homeschooling family.

Gah!

Of course, I thought about doing it last year. Ultimately, I stayed with the online school so I would have a paper trail saying that Wyatt started school this year. A couple of months ago, I started thinking about it again. Some of you were extremely encouraging. And that gave me the courage to look a little more seriously. I found curriculum options that wouldn't put us in the poor house (buying the online school's curriculum without actually being part of the school is insanely expensive).

I decided that this was what I wanted to do.

But I still didn't do it.

For about a month now, the school has been sending emails and recorded calls reminding me that I can register. I need to register. Would you please just tell us whether or not you are going to register, already???  And I kept putting it off. Because this is a scary decision. And I'm a weenie.

Today, we had our final conference call with the boys' teacher (she talks to them every couple of months on the phone, per the schools requirement, but SHE'S the teacher--I'm the learning coach). We have worked with her both years that we have been with the online school, and I actually like her a lot. It didn't take long before she asked the question I knew would be coming...were we going to register for next year? I told her my feelings. I told her my reasons. She asked if I had decided on curriculum and I told her what I had found and what I still needed to come up with.

She supported me.

Seriously, that was NOT the response that I expected to get. I expected her to try to talk me out of it. To try and resell me on all of the benefits of the online school. To make me question my ability to do it. Instead, she said that she could totally understand why I would feel stifled by the curriculum since she has had the same experience as a teacher for the online school. She said that she could tell that I had my children's educational interests in mind and that I was obviously taking it all very seriously and that she thought it would probably be a good thing for them.

She even offered to go into the system and mark them as not returning for me. And I told her not to because I wanted to check with Sean ONE MORE TIME to make sure that he was on board with the idea.

He is.

So, tonight, I clicked on the little box that says we aren't returning. It was exhilarating (hey, I don't have a lot of excitement in my life). It was freeing.

It was terrifying.

I have a lot of work ahead of me.

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Every year, as Spring arrives and the weather gets warmer and wetter, we develop a mud pit at the bottom of the steps to our deck. This is especially troublesome since on our deck is a door that leads into my kitchen. And that door includes the doggy door that my dogs (and, at times, my kids) enter and exit my house through. This means that I spend months fighting (and giving up fighting) the constant muddy footprints leading through my kitchen.

This year, Sean got a bright idea. He commandeered one of the bales of straw that was waiting to go in my garden and spread it over the muddy area at the end of the steps. I have the occasional stray piece of straw find its way into my house, but the mud problem is 100% better. 

Of course, now, I have a hard time getting my clothes dry.

What???

It turns out that birds like straw.

It turns out that birds like stuffing straw into my dryer exhaust. 

They also like filling our grill with straw. (Although that doesn't effect how quickly my clothes dry.)

For weeks, I have sent my boys (mostly Noah) out almost every day to pull the hurriedly made nests out of my dryer vent so I could dry my clothes. A few days ago, despite having cleaned everything the day before, when the boys pulled out the latest nest, they also found two eggs.

 

 Today, they found another one in the grill.

 

Yes, I feel guilty that we are taking these eggs away so they can't hatch. Of course, not nearly as guilty as I would feel if we accidentally ignited a bunch of baby birds the next time we wanted to make hamburgers.

 

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Seven years ago today, I sat in my office for the last time. I tried in vain to find meaningful things to do to occupy my mind. Instead, I thought about a young woman three hours away who was being induced with her first child. I wondered how her labor was going. I wondered if the baby had been born yet.

Most of all, I wondered if she would change her mind. I wondered if, on that day, I would become a mother, too.

Tonight, as my family drove an hour to the closest IHOP so Noah could celebrate his birthday at his favorite restaurant, I looked at the redbuds blooming along the highway. And I remembered how, making that trip to meet my son, was the first time I ever really noticed the redbuds. I can't see them without instantly going back to that gray rainy day and the excitement I felt as each mile brought me closer to seeing him.

He made me a mom.

How is it possible that seven years have passed since that day?

Seven-year-olds aren't little kids anymore. They have opinions. They're independent. They like Justin Beiber (I guess someone has to, right?).

They want computers.

A little while ago, Noah started talking about saving his money to buy his own computer. He has saved about forty dollars. He was excited about the idea of getting birthday money to go towards his goal. We talked to various grandparents and figured he would probably end up with over $100 in birthday money. 

In Mormon culture, I think that a large percentage, if not most people, have heard of the parable of the bicycle. This story (which comes from a book called Believing Christ by Stephen E. Robinson) tells about a child who really wanted a new bicycle. So he worked hard and saved all of the money he earned for weeks. Finally, he took his piggy bank and went to the store with his father. But when he saw the price tag on the bike he wanted, his face fell because he had only earned a couple of dollars. After proclaiming in despair that he would never have enough, his father told that if he handed over all of the money he had worked so hard for and gave his father a big hug and kiss, the father would make up the difference.

This story was used to illustrate our relationship with Christ and the power of the atonement.

All of that to say, we decided this was a bicycle moment. 

The only problem was that we had a hard time finding something that went into the budget (we decided to spend more than we normally would on a birthday present, but not ridiculously more). At first, we were just going to go with Craig's List. But we weren't entirely comfortable with something with absolutely no warranty. Finally, yesterday, I found a nice-looking netbook that seemed perfect for him. Only one problem...it isn't carried in the store that sells it. It has to be ordered online.

I decided to have a conversation with Noah to set up the expectation that there wouldn't be a big present on his birthday.

"Noah," I said, "You have two choices. We were planning on helping you get your computer for a birthday present, but we would have to order it, so you wouldn't get it until a few days after your birthday. If you want to be able to open everything ON your birthday, we can get you something else, but it will be a very long time until you can earn enough money to get a computer. What do you think?"

"Well, um..." he thought, "I suppose maybe I'm a bit young for a computer. I guess I'll take toys."

WHAT???

Yeah, no parabolic lessons here. (Is that a word? If it is, is it the right one? Or did I just use a math term, in which case, there were OBVIOUSLY no parabolic lessons because I can't teach something when I don't even know what it is...)

Make no mistake about it, that child WANTS a computer. He has been talking about it for weeks. He just has no patience. And he wanted presents.

After a bit more talking about it, Noah finally looked at me, heaved a huge sigh, and said, "FINE. I'll take a computer."

This kid, obviously, doesn't know how good he's got it. But he's only seven, so I'll forgive him.

Of course, we made sure that he had three gift bags of small presents to open today. And he's having a big family party on Saturday. He got his traditional day at the office with Daddy today. And the coveted dinner at IHOP.

This evening, after he finished talking on the phone with his birthmom and telling her all about his day, he handed the phone back to me.

"He sounds like he really had a great birthday," she told me.

He did. 

And he can't stop talking about getting his computer.

Happy Birthday, son. I love you.

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This weekend, the toilet in the kids' bathroom became clogged. I know, what else is new, right? Except one thing...No amount of plunging could fix it. Nor could vinegar, bleach, or toilet bowl cleaner.

I know a lot of things that can break down toilet clogs. The wisdom of experience.

Yesterday, I finally called Sean at work and told him that the toilet situation needed to be put at the top of the "To Do" list. I mean, I've kept my mouth shut about the fact that he hadn't replaced the wax ring after I bought a new one almost a month ago. I just dealt with the fact that sitting on the toilet was akin to riding a Tilt-o-Whirl. But the constant plunging and having to let the kids use my bathroom? No dice. It was time for action.

He set to work while I went to Cub Scouts. Part-way through Scouts, he called to ask me to pick something up. When I told him that I would have to call him back since I was in the middle of something he said, "OK, but you're going to LOVE this one."

My mind went to candy wrappers and egg shells. And it wasn't a leap. I had seen wrappers in the toilet. The eggshells? In the bathroom trash can. (What? Don't you peel eggs in the bathroom?)

I was wrong.

In case you were ever wondering, we have now determined that a three inch chunk of carrot will stop all kinds of things from flushing.

Most likely, my two-year-old is responsible. Or the five-year-old, who just confessed as much to me. That, or the Easter Bunny flicked the butt of his carrot stogy in my toilet. 

Oh, and speaking of awkward Easter Bunny moments...

What is the worst thing that a child can find during the big Easter egg hunt? A dead rabbit. Or, in this case, a DISMEMBERED dead rabbit.

What can I say? We have hawks.

The rest of the day, I got to listen to my seven-year-old proclaiming, "Someone decapitated the Easter Bunny!" (Which, Go Noah, for the correct use of  "decapitated" in a sentence! I am so proud!)

And honestly? I considered going down, scattering some candy wrappers and egg shells, and taking a few pictures. You can thank my complete wussiness about dead things for the fact that you aren't looking at a gang banged Easter Bunny right now.

But now, Easter is over and life is moving on. The carrot was removed from the toilet. With a serving fork. Which I'm pretty sure is a breech of etiquette since it was a raw carrot and obviously qualified for the use of a salad fork. (Don't worry...that particular eating utensil has been discarded because, eeewwwwww!) And we ended up having to buy a new toilet anyhow. Apparently, with all of the "help" Sean was getting, the toilet tank somehow ended up cracked. So sacrificing my serving fork to the porcelain god was entirely unnecessary.

All that is left to do is work off those extra calories from the obscene amount of Easter candy consumed this weekend.

 

 

 

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As I slog on towards the end of the school year, I am once again faced with the dilemma of whether or not to stick with the (free) online school that we have used for the last two years. I went through this debate last year and truly struggled with the decision...Stick with what I know, or go for what I would love to accomplish?

Honestly, the curriculum through K12 is impressive. My kindergartner knows his continents. My first grader is studying Greek gods. Last week, we learned about Monet. They know the word "solfege."  They are learning a lot.

But I hate dealing with the school. I hate being told I'm not my sons' "teacher," but their "learning coach." I hate feeling like I can never deviate from the plan because I might get a "truancy" letter. I hate feeling like we're missing a lot of the joy of learning because I'm so hung up on getting through the curriculum. 

I had all of the same issues by the time I got to the end of the school year last year. Ultimately, I chose to stick with the online school for two reasons. First, I managed to get Wyatt enrolled for kindergarten this year, despite be THIRTEEN DAYS too young, and I wanted to have that official paper trail that says he did indeed start school this year. And second (complete, total honesty here), I'm lazy. The online school is done for me. I don't have to prepare anything. I just sit in front of the computer, click a button, and follow the instructions.

Baaaa. I am totally a sheep.

Oh, wait. I just remembered a third reason. The online school is free. And doing it on my own? Isn't. 

I'm a cheap sheep.

Honestly? I already have precious little time to myself. I frequently feel like my life is in no way my own anymore. And coming up with curriculum takes time. And effort. And more of my life than I'm sure I'm willing to give up.

Except.

Except, I imagine what school could be like for my children. I imagine working Tiger Scout activities into their school time. I imagine more trips to museums (which would get my younger kids more involved, too). I imagine working scripture study into their school time. I imagine choosing books and topics related to what my kids are interested in (like Noah's desire to read Alice in Wonderland right now), not just what some egghead thought would make up a good, standard curriculum. 

Most of all, I envision creating a curriculum that flows. There are so many ways that concepts can be reinforced across subjects. If you are studying the Civil War in history, you can be reading Uncle Tom's Cabin for language arts, learning about how the slaves pursued freedom by following constellations in science, and sing slave songs in music. I'd love to give my kids THAT kind of education.

For now, I just have to grab even the slightest chance when it presents itself. Today, Noah read The Three Little Pigs:

 

 

 

OK, so it's not exactly "Follow the Drinking Gourd," but the kids sure enjoyed it. Although I forgot about Rambo massacring the Wolf at the end (I'm not worried about the pothead pig...that would have gone straight over their heads).

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