A Very Nearly Tea

A casual conversation in the car, meandering through the day. Mention of a babysitting class at the hospital starting for ten year olds. Brief mention that I thought this class might also help Mouse in her relationship with her siblings because it might help her see them in a different light. Gentle words and patience go a long way in earning someone's respect, I tell her.

"Pleasant words are an overflowing of honey, sweetness to the soul and healing to the bones." ~Proverbs 16:24

We've had this conversation so many times before, but this time is different. She seems to actually be listening and thinking.

"So it is like treating others the way you want to be treated?"

"Yes. Just like that."

She turns contemplative. I leave her with a single thought.

"You know, L.E. adores you because you always treat her with such gentleness."

We pull into the drive and I begin getting everyone in. Pajamas and teeth brushing. Straightening and gathering cleaning supplies to bring to the house. The children are strangely quiet as I hear them chatting in the kitchen and I go to check.

Spread out on the floor are the instruction brochures for her K'nex, the K'nex Bear has been asking her to play with five times a day for weeks. The little ones are looking through the brochures and picking things for Mouse to build while Bear makes a helicopter.

"A little honey goes a long way," I say and Mouse smiles.

I have three daughters, one husband: He has a lot of work to do.



I'll get a black pair. Come to think about it maybe a black shirt too. Yes, yes....all black!

Bear lays on the floor, feet over his head and complains there's nothing to do. I stop cooing over the baby long enough to ask if he'd like me to find something. He takes that as his cue to leave, knowing chores will follow. They never have liked my cure for afternoon boredom.

Within two minutes, a fight has broken out in the playroom. There is much shouting and screaming about what I do not know. To be honest, I don't really care. Bear is bored and he has decided to pursue one of his favorite pastimes: annoying his sister.

It occurs to me to get out a game. That we really should do that sort of thing more often. Sitting around the table, enjoying each other's company, building memories. Sounds like such a pleasant family type thing to do. In fact, I begin to wonder why I don't do that more often. Why it isn't a regular part of our day or at least our week.

So I go to the game closet, which is a shelf at the top of the clothes closet. The children aren't allowed in there because they stand on top of the rods and bring down a whole closet of clothing. I can't reach up there, and need the stepladder.

PROBLEM NUMBER ONE: Games are not easily accessible.

Then I take a look at the games.

Candy Land

Its only redeeming feature is the giggle of the pre-reading toddler you are playing with. Which is well worth the time playing when you don't have a toddler swiping the pieces. And the fight breaking out in the playroom over who knows what amongst children who aren't the least bit interested in navigating their way through the gum drop forest.

Her knock-knock jokes are just as enjoyable and don't require as much attention.

Chutes and Ladders

You have got to be kidding me. This game has to have been invented by some evil genius desiring to zap the life out of parents everywhere. About half way through, I am cheering every ladder, sobbing over every chute, no matter who it is who is climbing or sliding. Victory means "game over" and that is my reward, regardless of whose little plastic man makes it first. I have been known to cheat at this game, helping young children who cannot count somehow miss every chute on their ascent.

Hilarious Headlines

This is actually a pretty good game. But Mouse is really just getting old enough to play it (never mind the age range on the box). Still, we have a problem with games involving mom and one child. Not much of a family game, and leaves the others with too little supervision and too much jealousy. And it takes too long. Long is ok when it brings us all together, but this game does not do that.

Most of the game would be spent trying to chase down whoever swiped the cards last. Not fun.

Ripley's Believe it Or Not

Eeeeh...same issue. "Family" games cannot entail much reading when only two of the five people playing can read.

Connect Four

A classic in game closets everywhere. Even ones you can't reach. A good Connect Four tournament can bring almost any family through a rainy day. It's just that, well, there is a limit to how much I can play. And my kids aren't good enough at it yet for me to have to actually try to win in order to win. A nice game among other nice games. Not so much when it is the only game you really sort of enjoy.

PROBLEM NUMBER TWO: I don't really like any of our games.

So a couple of weeks ago we were at Goodwill and I was pleasantly surprised to find a game of Pictionary, Junior in pretty good condition. It seemed to have all the pieces so I bought it, brought it home, stuck it in our game closet and forgot all about it.

That goes back to PROBLEM NUMBER ONE.

So while it is sitting, forgotten in a game closet, we go to Goodwill again. This time I find Cadoo and am pleasantly surprised to find it in pretty good condition. It seemed to have all the pieces, so I bought it, brought it home and left it on the table.

After dinner, we played it. We giggled and drew and laughed and ran about the house and acted things out and generally enjoyed ourselves. All of us. Together.

I was right, way back when, when I thought we should do this more often.

I think next we'll try Pictionary, Junior. Maybe I should get it out and leave it on the table before I forget.

My daughter is sitting behind me as I type reading a book. A book I recommended to her. This is huge, people. Huge enough to share with the world. Huge enough to postpone dishes . . . bedtime, even, though it is already 10:42 PM.

(Oops. Maybe I shouldn't admit that, especially since I didn't really notice until I checked just now so I could share the time.)

See, this sweet child is a little too much like her mother and that independent spirit is a bit too strong at times. Not that independence is a bad thing all on its own. It is the one reason I don't worry about her as much as I do my younger children. I know that no one will ever make her do anything she doesn't want to.

It's just that if mom recommends something, the recommendation is met with a shoulder shrug and suddenly she'd sooner read Bug's Dora the Explorer books than any book mom said she might like.

When I recommended Nancy Drew, I may as well have handed her The Federalist Papers. OK, so I like The Federalist Papers. I'm weird like that and hope she will be someday, too, but it is probably a bit much for a ten year old.

Who am I kidding? This child drags out Annals of the War and reads it when she doesn't have a good book about horses. Of course, that is because I told her last year that she wasn't old enough to understand it and she has set out to prove me wrong.

See how these recommendations work?

At any rate, a friend of hers mentioned something about Nancy Drew and suddenly we are looking at the online catalogs of the local library system to try to read every single one of them in order. Oh why did they have to come out with that silly movie? It has revitalized Lincoln's interest in the young sleuth and they are all checked out almost all the time.

It was just checked in! It was just checked in! We have to go to the library now, mom!

Now maybe she actually does remember that mom recommended Nancy Drew first and thus has let down her guard a little. Maybe it is because there is a dog on the cover and she needs some book about dogs to review for her e-zine. I don't know . . . and confess I don't really care.

She's reading Cracker! because her mom said she might like it.

A bad day. A very bad day. It started off bad, but it only got worse from there. We'll just note that it ended (the day ended at about 2PM...that's when I cut my losses and let the day be over. Everything after that occurred in some sort of time warp which was not claimed by any day) with me fishing my son out of a supply closet in the Y where he had climbed to the very back and perched on some huge piece of gymnastics equipment.

What prompted all this drama? The girls won. Can you believe it? The girls won! And I'm supposed to be completely sympathetic to the ensuing tantrum, pushing and running off to hide in a supply closet. Because that's how we all act when the girls win, right?

So my son has issues. I already knew that. It's why we approach this whole social interaction thing a little cautiously. But in the car as I'm finding out that he was told he couldn't participate next session, he informs that is OK.

I took it as a bit of defiance. A bit of "I don't care, I don't want to participate anyway" type of thing, but no....not my son.

"They'll forget about it by then so I'll be able to participate anyway."

He was rather dismayed when I informed him that I would make sure that wouldn't happen. I had just marked myself as the enemy and his six year old fury came out in a huff and a grunt and crossed arms because he couldn't really think of anything to say. And there is no place to go when you are buckled in your seat belt.

For some reason, I find what boundaries a child will not cross rather amusing. Like the kid in the cartoon walking around the block with his suitcase. Running away, but not allowed to cross the street.

Anyway, I had to run into the grocery store after this, and was seriously weighing the annoyance of late fines against the impending doom that bringing this tempest into the store seemed to guarantee.

"What are we doing here?" He asked in a most unpleasant and accusatory voice.

"What are you thinking about getting?" My Mouse asked.

"I'm thinking about putting Bear in the blood pressure cuff and leaving him stuck there while we go shopping."

Now where on Earth did that come from? It barely popped into my mind before it popped out of my mouth and then I started thinking about how to take it back.

Except that when I looked into the rear view mirror, Bear was rolling in his seat with laughter. Apparently the image of him floundering in the chair caught by his arm in the blood pressure cuff was more than he could take.

I just lay my head against the steering wheel and in the midst of my frustration was thankful for one rare free pass to a bad parent moment.

On my other blog, I asked whether blogging can get in the way of living by allowing you to distance yourself too much from what is going on around you. The resulting discussion was interesting but then SisterLisa of Apples of Gold Ministries had to go and throw this in:

They say a woman speaks over 35,000 words a day or something crazy like that?

And I started thinking. And listening to myself.

Breakfast is ready. Go get dressed. Get your underwear off your head. Take the dog out. Close the door. Get off the bookshelf. When I just told your brother no, why would you think it is a good idea for you to do it? Who let the dog out? Get your notebook. What do you mean you can't find your pencil? You just had it! OK, we can play 20 questions...who's first? Why are there chips in the cassette player? Aye aye aye...

I think...and I'm just guessing here...I may have my 35,000 words used up by noon.

This has been around awhile and though I don't use too many of the more famous parenting lines, our house has enough of its own to ring true.



What do you say with your 35,000 words?

School is well underway for most of us, and we are far enough into the year to begin feeling behind. Stressed, we begin looking over the fence at the Jones', where the grass is always greener and the children never whine. Meeting with other homeschoolers brings a mixture of encouragement and feelings of inadequacy as we begin to second guess those plans which looked so good on paper. If this describes you, you are off to a great start. After all, there is nothing mankind desires more or works harder for than misery. A brief survey of world literature reveals our fascination with sin, danger and tragedy. If we cannot experience it personally, we do so vicariously through what have become the classics. Even the quest for happiness robs our happiness in the end as Paul Watzlawick so aptly noted in his book, Anleitung zum Unglücklichsein (Guide to Unhappiness). To help you along the way to maximizing your unhappiness, I have written the following guide. Some of these steps may come naturally to you; others may require practice. With diligence, however, anyone can achieve the unhappiness they so earnestly desire.

1. Copy the public schools.

Buy desks, set them up in neat rows facing the front of the room and invest in a pointer. Even if you have only one child, make him raise his hand to answer questions. Schedule restroom breaks. Let the clock dictate your every move. Giving a toddler a megaphone is a good stand in for a disruptive PA system.

2. Choose your curriculum based on what everyone in your homeschool group is using.

Better yet, find a stranger online and ask her. Don't consider your temperament or your child's interests. After all, these other people have way more experience than you. Remind yourself of that continually when things are not going well.


3. Contact every curriculum publisher.

Make sure they have your correct address and get on as many mailing lists as possible. When you first get those glossy catalogs, you will think that this is having the opposite effect than what is intended here. The texture, the smell and all the neat stuff! But then you realize just how much stuff is out there. And how much stuff you do not have. There is always one more book and one more manipulative set to squeeze out of any budget. After all, you only have one chance to educate your children properly. Never let yourself become content with what you already have.

4. Make a clear distinction between school and life.

Do not consider the educational value of trips to the zoo, visits with grandparents and vacations. The more narrowly you define education, the more likely you are to avoid spontaneous "experiences" in favor of "the book." This also helps maximize the stress of wondering if you are doing enough.

5. Take everything personally.

Everyone has a bad day now and again. Even children. Use this to its fullest potential by taking these opportunities to question your parenting. When your child says, "This is boring," consider it a direct reflection on your character and personality. Think what it will be like when they talk to their bosses that way. Wonder what your homeschooling friends would say. Most importantly, try to isolate where you have gone wrong as a parent and fret over the permanent damage you must have caused.

This is intended only as a cursory introduction to maintaining general unhappiness in your homeschool. There are many other proven techniques for making yourself miserable and they all progress rather naturally to making those around you unhappy as well. For those of you who are more seasoned, or have just caught on quickly to the art of creating unhappiness, please feel free to add your own suggestions. I will add links to anyone who shares a proven technique for increasing the level of unhappiness in our homes. Even if it is not specific to homeschooling.

Misery loves company.

Two bloggers are so on top of things, they wrote their posts before me:

Yvonne of Grow Your Writing Business shares insight into how to kill your blog. (I'll be adding my own thoughts to the meme this weekend.)

Denise of Freelancing Journey lets you in on the secrets of failing at business.

homeschooling, humor

While I was living in Germany, one thing really stood out to me that I have never really experienced in the United States: the sense of community. There, when someone says "drop by anytime," they mean it and will be insulted if you never show up. Here, we make superficial invitations, accept them casually, but never would dream of actually following through. In the area where I lived, tea was served at 10, 4 and 8 and dropping in at these times was never an imposition.

I've been reflecting on this a lot recently, because I have been feeling painfully isolated. My husband works for the railroad, so is gone a lot. We live several hours from my family. And we really have never made any real friends since moving here. Acquaintances, yes, but no one I feel comfortable just calling out of the blue to chat with.

I've tried, but it really seems like I'm just in a different place than those with whom I should naturally connect. The homeschoolers in our church meet now and again, but they are looking for an evening out. That would be wonderful...but I am not going to hire a sitter just to go have a cup of coffee with the ladies from church. All of the social functions the women put together in our church presume a father who is home in the evenings. So I feel a little shut out.

And I would so desperately like for my children to really know what community means.

We have given her plenty of social opportunities. She is involved with Sparks at church and loves her karate class, where she even gets to teach the beginners once in awhile. She is a natural leader with a strong personality and this has given her a good means to develop her God-given talents. This year, she will be starting 4-H which will allow her to meet some children a little closer to home. And, of course, there are always the children in the neighborhood.

I would like to set up some volunteer work for her. There is a lot for her to learn serving others, but something seems strange about driving her into Lincoln in order to teach her some sort of lesson about Christian love. It seems so disconnected from how things are supposed to work. What I would really like is to know our neighbors well enough to teach my children about community service in our own community. I would like my daughter to learn to act when she hears that the lady down the street broke her hip rather than just say, "How awful!"

I would love for her to grow up knowing our neighbors, pulling weeds for them, walking their dogs and helping with simple chores here and there when they are out or need help for some reason. But no one is ever home. There are few things as still as a neighborhood in America during normal business hours, while "after hours" is an endless stream of rushing about to squeeze everything in.

How do you teach community when there appears to be so little community left?


This post is part of Back to Homeschool Week being hosted by I have to say...Check out some more posts on the topic by following the links she is collecting over there.

homeschooling, homeschool, community, socialization

Updated to add: I am printing off a copy of this brochure as I type, so will give an update after reading it. Here it is.

Governments all over the world put out tons of these kinds of brochures. I used to peruse the offerings from our very own Department of Education and found some pretty interesting things. (I mean that in a good way.) Never anything like this, from the German Ministry of Family Affairs:

"Fathers do not devote enough attention to the clitoris and vagina of their daughters. Their caresses too seldom pertain to these regions, while this is the only way the girls can develop a sense of pride in their sex," reads the booklet regarding 1-3 year olds. The authors rationalize, "The child touches all parts of their father's body, sometimes arousing him. The father should do the same." Lifesite News

When I was pregnant in Germany, I became interested in the topic of infant massage. So I went to the library to find out more. The first book I came across paid particular attention to the massaging of the genitalia in order to stimulate proper sexual development. So I lost interest in infant massage very quickly. That was nine years ago, so it is not really surprising that this would have gained acceptance in the mean time.

But maybe, just maybe, something was lost in translation? I went searching for a little more information. The press release announcing their availability, free of charge, is dated 2001 and lets us no that the Federal Center for healthy sexual education would like to support parents with difficult topics, including how the parent can accompany the child through the sexual development of their children.

The pamphlets are listed on the BZgA website, with the notice that the publications have been pulled and are temporarily unavailable. This was in reaction to protest from a parent. I am hoping that the reason this took six years is because it took it that long for anyone to read it. Who could read this and not question what is being promoted:

The vagina and especially the clitoris, rarely receive any attention during tender caressing (either from the father or the mother) and make it more difficult for the young girl to develop pride in her sexuality. Spiegel

I'm sorry, but parental fondling of the genitalia does not promote healthy sexual development. To their credit, when the complaint was lodged, the brochure was pulled. But did they actually read it before they made it available?

Irene Johns of the Child Defense League says

Although the brochures are meant differently, pedophiles could use them as justification. Ibid.

No kidding. It appears that they are training good parents concerned about the development of their children in the art.

Minister of Family Affairs Ursula von der Leyen (CDU) characterized certain statements as "on the border."

A few of the formulations are misleading and have a double meaning. Ibid.

Since the brochure is unavailable and I am only looking at some pulled quotes, perhaps this is accurate. But it seems like a lame defense from a governmental entity that knows most people will never actually read the document in question. Forgive the mistrust. The German educational system has already developed a reputation for its sexual education. And therein lies the problem.

The co-author of the Hessian Sexual Education Guidelines stated several years ago, "We need the sexual stimulation of the students in order to bring about the socialist restructuring of society and the do away with the obedience to authority, including the love of a child to its parent. Gruende fuer Homeschooling

At any rate, the brochures are not presently available...in Germany. But the Swiss Child Defense League has already expressed interest in adopting the suggestions.

There has been an ongoing discussion for years, reports Spiegel. But the original focus group received the brochures positively and praised them for their content and presentation. The government is merely following suit as the morality of the people declines.

Hat tip: Judy Aron and No Apology

Now it is abuse to not kiss a guy before marriage?

Michelle looks happy enough, but it can't possibly be real. Not when:

her parents so brainwashed her from the time she was not capable of making an informed decision, and then insulated her from society to maintain that indoctrination so severely, that this girl has reached college age having never been kissed by a boy (or a girl, presumably) and is happy about that. (emphasis in original).

And how dare she be happy about it. Unfathomable. This is why we need public education and sex education starting in kindergarten. Not so that children can be protected from venereal diseases and unplanned pregnancies, but to make sure they don't live a life of regret.

These, dear Michelle are the things we regret in life. We regret the things we didn’t do. We regret not kissing our English teachers. I hope you come to that realization sooner rather than later, before the regrets pile up so high they eat you alive when you finally notice them. Ibid.

I'm not quite sure what to say, actually. But as the apparently fictional author says in response to an administrative correction to the use of "dismissive or insulting name calling,"

This may have been one of those times [I have been slightly obnoxious], but I do find it utterly shameful that this girl has been so... sorry, I just can't fully articulate how I feel about the damage that has been done to Miss Vitt. It is beyond the pale. source

It is so much better to have them forced from their families and taught the pleasures of free love from kindergarten.

Why this reminds me of this old quote, I am not sure:

Let me seduce the boys of England and the oldsters may totter unconverted to their graves. Then these boys, become men, may bring about the new Heaven and the new Earth...but without an army I am useless...give me my army, young men; and we will sweep these dogs into the sea."
--The World's Tragedy, p. XXV

Or this one (my translation):

The co-author of the Hessian Sexual Education Guidelines stated several years ago, "We need the sexual stimulation of the students in order to bring about the socialist restructuring of socety and the do away with the obedience to authority, including the love of a child to its parent.

from: Gruende fuer Homeschooling (Reasons for homeschooling)

Poor, damaged, girl. Never abused by a man and happy about it.

I don't know what else to say.

homeschooling, Christianity, sexuality, abstinence

Feeling a bit "homesick" I spent entirely too much time watching old German rock songs on YouTube last night. I came across an old one by Die Ärzte that I hadn't heard before, Rebell (Rebel). It is an interesting cry of a generation, with the first line perfectly expressing the rebellion we see in many youth today. German punk is interesting, much different than the English punk I used to listen to. (Am I revealing too much about my taste in music?) See what you think, but it has always come across as rather tame to me.

My translation, while you are listening:

I am against it, because you are for it.
I am against it, I am not like you.
I am against it, it doesn't matter what it's about.
I am against it, because you understand nothing of it.
I am against it, I'll say it once again.
I am against it, why doesn't even matter.
I am against it, even if it doesn't suit your tastes.

I call it freedom; you call it lack of respect.
Please understand my behavior as a sign of the rejection with which I oppose you.
Please understand my behavior as a sign of the rejection with which I oppose you.

I am not an idiot, even if you like to act as such.
I am not lazy, I simply am not interested.
I am not ugly, I just look different than you.
You have lost, you just refuse to accept it.
I am not deaf, you don't need to scream so.
I am not blind, I just don't agree.
I am not mute, I am just holding my tongue.

What should I say? I have no reason.
Please understand my behavior as a sign of the rejection with which I oppose you.
Please understand my behavior as a sign of the rejection with which I oppose you.
And while you are at it,
Then view my appearance as a symbol of the non-identification with your values.

No one (no one), No one (no one), No one (no one) has the right to tell me what to do, to do.
Really no one (no one) simply no one (no one) that is solely my free decision.

I am not poor, I have what I want.
I am not envious of you or your money.
Welcome to my world.
I am quite calm, why are y0u so upset?
When you flip and beat me yet again
You prove your own shortcomings.

I pity you, the rage, it makes you blind.
You have lost, I am no longer your child.

No one (no one), No one (no one), No one (no one) has the right to tell me what to do, to do.
Really no one (no one) simply no one (no one) that is solely my free decision (separation) as well as opinion (opinion), or clothing (clothing) and the internal and external appearance.

We have here the perfect expression of rebellion. It is the open resistance to authority, but is more reactionary than anything. When those in authority abuse their power, those subject to the authority become likely to rebel.

Such rebellion is not based on any values or principles of its own, but is wholly reactionary. I am against it because you are for it, it cries.

As the song progresses, it reveals the source of the rejection not only of parental values but of any relationship whatsoever: an over-controlling parent. It is not surprising. While working on the article Declaring His Power to the Next Generation (linked in sidebar), I found it interesting that homeschoolers who had "lost" their children to the world frequently blamed not expressing enough love in the home as the cause (24%). What a humbling admission of parental weakness. And what a powerful reminder of Colossians 3:21:

Fathers, do not exasperate your children, that they may not lose heart.

homeschooling, parenting, teen rebellion

This morning during worship, we began singing "Shout to the Lord." Somewhere in the refrain, I felt tears welling up in my eyes and I started to get choked. I don't usually cry. Not even during those "chick flicks" my husband teases me about. And it had nothing to do with the song really. I like that one, but it is not usually one that evokes much emotion for me. But I had just changed Baby Bear's messy diaper and returned him to the two year old room. The teacher mentioned what a sweet boy he was and commended him on his manners. I smiled, praised him and went to service.

And that's where this past year kind of hit me. One year ago, he was kicked out of the nursery for biting. I don't fault them. He did bite. Anyone littler than him. And completely without warning. In fact, he seemed so friendly, like he was going to give a hug and then he'd leave a nasty mark. I grew tired of all the advice. "Biting is unacceptable. You have to stop that kind of behavior." OK, in principle, I agree with that. But how does that work out practically in someone who is one? There wasn't much point in punishing someone that young twenty minutes after the behavior occurred. And it never happened around me. Some told me that was because he really did know better. I needed to stop "babying" him. I figured it was because I never gave him the opportunity. On the rare occasion we were around younger children, I always stayed between him and that child. But what does mom know? So I walked the halls with him so that my daughter could attend Sunday School and we sat, isolated, in the crying room because there was no way I would dream of trying to sit through service with him.

Then I started hearing all this stuff about family worship and how he should be with me in service anyway. I know this isn't how it was meant, but all I heard was, "what kind of parent are you?" My son bit. My son would prefer to run than sit still. I obviously had no ability to control him. I kept thinking, "But he's one!" Just beginning to learn proper behavior. Those toddlers who sit through service are aliens.

Then the YMCA staff called me down to remove him from Childwatch (I was upstairs watching my daughter's karate class). They warned that if the behavior was repeated, he would be suspended.

I almost broke down in tears right then. My husband is gone a lot. It is just me and the kids most of the week. The only adult interaction I get is Sunday School, it seems. My husband works for the railroad so his schedule is not very predictable. And the one hour per week I had to sit and do something special with my daughter was about to be taken. I felt painfully isolated and all anyone had to say sounded to me like I was a horrible parent to have a one year old who bit. And wouldn't sit still for service. (That did not come from the church. In fact, when I finally asked for prayer on the matter, I got offers from people to help with him so that I could atttend a Sunday School class or enjoy an uninterrupted service.)

And now, one year later, his Sunday School teacher is saying what a pleasure he is. He listens. He shares (kind of...as well as anyone his age). He says please. He loves to help clean up and pass out snack. What did I do? Nothing really. I prayed. I cried. And I loved him and let him grow out of it.

The other day, he stuck the baby's hand in his mouth and I jumped. He looked at me confused and said, in his cute little toddler-speak, "Mommy, I no bit no mo'."

(This was originally written two years ago on my old blog, and at least in theory was published in Jane Bullivant's book, Juggling With Hamsters.)

parenting, faith, motherhood, toddlers

We have been listening to "On the Banks of Plum Creek" by Laura Ingalls Wilder. It is amazing to listen to her account of her childhood. Her family had so little...a rag doll and some paper dolls Ma had cut out of old papers were prized treasures. And yet they were so joyful. Laura's description of evenings of laughter and dance while Pa played his fiddle evoke a sense of longing for a simpler life in a simpler time. Her tales of running along the creek, chasing fish and pestering crabs cause the reader to pause and reflect on one's own childhood. Despite living in conditions most of us today would consider "hardship," Laura provides such a vivid and loving account of her childhood that over 100 years later we can laugh at the antics of this little brown-haired girl of the frontier. Hours in front of the television watching the latest movie and playing the latest video game will hardly make such a lasting impression on this and future generations.

What memories will our children have? I'm hoping mine will remember my husband taking time to read to them from "The Bible Story" by Maxwell before going to bed when he returns from a trip. And the post cards he sends them, and the letters they write to include in his lunch box. I hope they remember breaking open the honeysuckles to get to the sweet nectar inside, and gathering wild plums by the creek north of town. I hope they remember hiking down the creek at the dog run, balancing across the tree that fell over it, and the time that we all fell in and had to get in the car wet and muddy. I hope they remember praying and talking and reading about God. I hope my daughter remembers her excitement at her first "real" Bible. I hope the remember popping popcorn and mixing it with M&Ms for an occasional family movie.

I hope they will someday sit in front of the fireplace with their grandchildren and have one or two tales from their childhood to share. Maybe even a few that their grandchildren request to hear again and again at every family gathering. Storytelling seems to be a lost art in our current generation, but maybe that is because children have so little time to build memories worthy of repeating. Perhaps our children need more time when the most interesting thing to do is aggravate an old crab on the banks of Plum Creek.

This is a reprint of an entry from my old blog and was published in The Gift Of Family Writing by Jill Novak.

Clipart

homeschooling, parenting, education, play

We weren't planning anything in particular for Father's Day since my husband wasn't even going to be home. He left in the wee hours of the morning and shall return sometime tomorrow evening. That's what life is like when you are married to a railroader. He comes and goes with the trains. No schedule. Little secured home time. And plans are futile since they most likely will be interrupted. Does that make him a bad father? According to an article appearing in Time Magazine, it just might.

The folks at Hallmark are going to have a very good day on June 17. That's when more than 100 million of the company's ubiquitous cards will be given to the 66 million dads across the U.S. in observation of Father's Day. Such a blizzard of paper may be short of the more than 150 million cards sold for Mother's Day, but it's still quite a tribute. What's less clear is whether dads--at least as a group--have done a good enough job to deserve the honor.

I thought it a little telling that the programs I stumbled across on the radio this past week were dominated with the message that Americans are bad fathers.

I certainly do not defend the fathers who have divorced and walked out of their children's lives, defaulting on child support and failing to make contact. But at the same time, it seems that we have spent at least one generation telling men that we don't need them. We have stripped the family down to the "nuclear family," thereby removing many of the positive contributions that the extended family makes to the survival of the family. Divorce has been made easier and more socially acceptable. Its effect on children is pretty universally accepted, but that rarely seems to be offered as a motivation to stay together. After all, isn't it better for the children to live with the effects of divorce than the effects of living in a home where the parents do not get along?

And then there is that group of fathers to which my husband appears to belong.

Even fathers in intact families spend a lot less time focused on their kids than they think: in the U.S. fathers average less than an hour a day (up from 20 minutes a few decades ago), usually squeezed in after the workday.

I'm not sure when else our fathers are to be spending time with their children. Since the advent of the industrial revolution, most work outside the home. Since the sexual revolution, a good many mothers do as well. The bonds of family are being broken, and we are being told it is good for children. After all, they need that socialization offered in a quality preschool program to be successful in school, right? A lot of mothers these days are not spending much more time with their off spring.

I do think involved fathers are very important. And that involvement through provision alone is not quite enough. But my husband's decision to take a position which could support his family because he wanted someone home with the children hardly makes him a bad father. For seven days, he comes and goes. For three days, he makes the most of the time he has with his family. But he has made sure that his children are raised by someone who loves them more than life itself. Despite the insanity of his schedule, he has given them consistency, permanency and love.

Everyone is forced to make sacrifices in this world. But are those sacrifices for our own interests or those of others? I think that might be a better measure of whether fathers are worthy of the honor bestowed upon them this one day out of the year.

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Father's Day, parenting, fathers

And stop crying wolf. I see so many forwarded emails about kidnapped children that inevitably turn out false, I hardly bother to look at them. Not that I am likely to ever see little Madeleine McCann seeing as she was abducted in Portugal. Still, what thrill can there possibly be in sending out false kidnapping reports to e-lists?

This little three year old really was abducted, right from her bedroom, while she was sleeping. Her parents were in a bar across the street, apparently within view of the apartment of the resort where they were staying, and reportedly checked on her and her two siblings every half hour or hour. (The reports appear conflicting).

I can't imagine what they are feeling. I don't know exactly why they chose not to use the resort's child care service. The last thing I want to do is condemn the family for something I am sure they are regretting terribly at the moment, but it is important to consider for anyone traveling. What you feel comfortable with at home is not always safe in other areas, even if you are staying in a well-respected resort. Blond hair, blue eyes, beautiful girl. Perfect profile for child trafficking. The fact that the two year old twins who were sleeping next to her were left indicates that she was possibly targeted for the abduction. Scary...but hopefully that means there is a greater chance of her being recovered.

Here is a map of the resort. The Tapas bar is where the parents were dining:

I have a hard time imagining feeling safe leaving three children aged three and younger that long. It was only 100 meters, but in a different building. But I don't live in a high class resort, either. I'm sure a measure of feeling safe goes along with it.

This little Q&A from Guardian left me with a question. They report:

The Portuguese police claim their judicial system makes it impossible to release information for fear of prejudicing any future case. However, Madeleine's family are known to be frustrated at the way the investigation is being handled. It was their decision to make the direct appeal to any kidnapper and to release details of what Madeleine was wearing - the police had not done so.

I know I have at least one former police officer who reads this blog, so maybe he has an answer. How on earth does releasing this kind of information prejudice a future case? What does that even mean? And if the kidnapper is found, does that not limit the possibility of a future case? Am I completely missing something?

And how can police spend 24 hours believing she had simply wandered off, and not at least go forth from the premise she had been abducted from the beginning?

Maybe I should just be glad I don't live in Portugal.

If you are interested in more information, CrimeBlog US is covering the story nicely and is providing regular updates. Also, a website has been set up for her here.

Related Tags: Madeleine McCann, kidnapping

The last month has been a bit of a challenge as I have been trying to keep up with my eight year old's full homeschooling schedule, continuing my four year old's early literacy program, caring for our new baby, and most recently dealing with the fact that daddy is gone. Not out of the picture gone, but for the next three weeks, he has training in Kansas City and then will in all likelihood be moving there or to Hastings. Without us, until the house sells.

The thought of trying to keep this house ready for show...well, that is another post for another time.

I feel like I'm treading water, but my daughter has learned to add and subtract double digit numbers, with carrying and has almost finished Little House in the Big Woods. For someone who was struggling with Green Eggs and Ham at the beginning of the school year, that is quite an accomplishment! I wish I could take some credit in that, but I didn't do anything, really. One day, she decided she really wanted to read. She is a determined girl, one of her greatest and most challenging personality traits.

I watch her in Karate and am amazed. She took a year off and just started back in December. By the end of February, she had re-learned all of her old katas (basic exercises with combinations of moves in order) and was ready to test for her next rank. In June, she gets to test for brown belt, something she is "hungry for" as her sensei says. No better way to summarize it. She practices daily, on her own. She is upset if we are running late and can't get to class on time. She begged me to let her go to the adult's class on Saturday mornings when sensei invited her and has gone every week since except when we went to grandma's. She even chose that over a sleep over with her best friend. Every class, every exercise, she puts forth her best effort and looks as if her brown belt depended on that drill and that drill alone. She may make mistakes, but it isn't for lack of trying.

So when she decided she wanted to read, I knew my job in that area was over. I don't plan our literature any more. She picks what she wants to read and we talk about it. The next phase of our reading program is going to be "book talks." She will select a book to read, and both of us will get a copy. Every day, we will sit down to tea and just talk about the book. When her writing improves, I'd like to help her start a journal, but that may be a long ways off.

Unless she decides she wants to write. And the seed is there. She likes to pretend to write. But spelling still hinders her free expression, so we need to work on that more.

As frustrating as the first year of homeschooling was for me, I am glad I stuck with it. Now, I know most of the problems I was having stemmed from the fact that I was working against my daughter's God-given personality. It is such a delight to be able to begin to work with her, instead.

Related Tags: homeschooling, home school, home education

A new blog by the Alliance for the Separation of School and State asks:

I don’t want my children fed or clothed by the state, but if I had to choose, I would prefer that to their being educated by the state. – Max Victor Belz

Agree or disagree?

The quote draws an interesting comparison. I think things are beginning to change, but at least at one time, I think most people would have agreed with the first half of this quote without having to think about it. Who wants a handout from the state? My parents qualified for food stamps when I was a kid, but they chose not to apply, more out of pride than anything, I think. There is a stigma attached to receiving government services, and allowing the state to take over in the most basic aspects of child rearing implies that the parent is not fully capable of caring for that child.

Why is it any different with education? Why is it assumed that the state provided education is the standard which all other forms must live up to?

It reminds me of another, much older, quote.

And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.--Mat 10:28

Food and clothing from the state cannot on its own do harm to the recipient. Yes, there is a culture of dependency which often accompanies these services, but I would argue even that has more to do with the education of children raised in these environments as well as the messages we are continually being given. Education touches at the soul of the child. As Webster's 1828 defines it, education is:

The bringing up, as of a child, instruction; formation of manners. Education comprehends all that series of instruction and discipline which is intended to enlighten the understanding, correct the temper, and form the manners and habits of youth, and fit them for usefulness in their future stations. To give children a good education in manners, arts and science, is important; to give them a religious education is indispensable; and an immense responsibility rests on parents and guardians who neglect these duties.

It is an immense responsibility, and it should not be turned over lightly.

I'll tackle question #2 tomorrow.

via Grizzly Mama

Related Tags: homeschooling, education, parenting

Every so often, someone (half) jokingly wishes that children came with instruction manuals.

My little Peanut didn't, but she did come with a warning label in the form of her older brother. Every time someone comes up to take a peek at her, he puts up his hand and says very authoritatively,

At the Y this evening, I could not but help noticing the clothing of a young man (about 9 or 10) playing pool in the foyer. On his dark blue T-shirt was printed in white letters, complete with the Lincoln Police Department uniform insignia,

While this is the first time I have seen this particular T-shirt, it seems to be part of a rather popular trend in youth clothing which I honestly find more disturbing than the general trend toward tighter and more revealing clothing. The attitude behind it is more than merely attention-seeking. It glorifies disrespect for property and identifies the wearer with inmates.

In 1963, Columbia Pictures released the musical Bye Bye Birdie about a Rock 'n' Roll superstar who had gotten drafted into the military. I actually have never seen it, but like many other people, I know at least one song from the soundtrack: Kids, in which a very pressing question is raised: