Pray For Us

If you are the praying sort, and you think of us in the next few weeks, here is the itinerary, so you can pray for us along the way.

• Saturday, November 15: We roll at the crack of dawn.

• Sunday, November 16: We arrive at our destination.

• Monday, November 17: Baby LaLa goes for extensive testing at a FASD testing and treatment facility.

• Tuesday, November 18: We finalize the adoptions of Boo and 'Tater.

• Wednesday, November 19 through Sunday, November 23: Family Camping Vacation

• Monday, November 24: We roll for our home state.

• Tuesday, November 25: We arrive at the home of Queen B and her growing clan, where we stay for a visit and the celebration of Thanksgiving.

• Friday, November 28: We roll for home.

It's a long trip, with many exciting stops along the way. The girls will have the chance to reconnect with some folks in their home state, and hopefully we will have a productive time of testing, and experience much closure as well. So far, we have managed to keep the whole thing under wraps, so the children will find out in the morning, when we wake them up to get ready to go. Please pray for traveling mercies and good health...both physical and mental. Pray for these old folks, sleeping on the ground for nearly two weeks. Pray that this will be an opportunity to grow and work together as a family. Also pray for Libby Lou and Tink, as they will be taking on the huge responsiblity of caring for our home and many animals while we are away. We'll be back with plenty of stories and a few pictures too. Blessings!

Homeschool

As several of you have asked for progress on our homeschool endeavor, here goes. If today were any indication, I might just go find a bridge to fling myself off. The children are fractious and argumentative. But in all, they have been working hard, and I actually think they are due for a break. Plus there's the time change. I generally find that about a week after the time change, everyone (including myself) falls apart. Mentally and physically. It comes from waking that hour earlier, because our internal time clock tells us to, but staying up an hour later, because the clock on the wall tells us to. Another week will remedy that, and we will feel normal again...as normal as any of us get anyhow.

Homeschool goes very well actually. It's Teaching Textbooks for Math, for everyone, and they are all moving along at a good clip and scoring well. They have a routine of switching off books and computer time, so that while one is doing Math, another is reading and doing their handwriting. I am focusing on smaller bites of work, but with the expectation of perfect execution. It is amazing how well they have responded. For the rest, we are using a literature based unit study, based in the Narnia series. The children LOVE this, and cheerfully do their history and science projects. Except today. Today there has been much wailing and gnashing of teeth, because they just CAN'T (whine here) figure out how to do it. So I gently reminded them of their competence, and told them this was about what they wanted to do, as opposed to what they could do...and I will accept none of it. The whining I mean.

So here is the progress report. All are reading in every spare moment. All have beautiful cursive handwriting. All are scoring well in Math. All are capable of organizing a thought, and commiting it to paper, though not necessarily spelling it well. All are generally obedient, and respond with, "Yes Mom." All do their chores with a minimum of complaining. All are in good physical health, enjoying lots of outdoor time and dancing. Four of five are becoming very good shots.

I should be counting my blessings, and not whining about the occasional off day.

Voting

Yesterday I went to vote, and although I am constantly aware that I live on dirt road in the sticks, there are few experiences that cement it more than voting. First we loaded up the children, and drove down the mountain to the municipal building. I remember the first time we went to vote there, I truly did not believe my husband. I thought it was a joke. It's a metal building with garage doors, and piles of gravel along the edges of the muddy parking lot. When you enter, the atmosphere is that of a church supper. Cheerful middle aged women sit at a folding table. They don't have to ask most voters their name. There is only one book to look in. In the corner is another table, laden with casseroles and jello mold. In case you get hungry while you wait...though you never have to wait because it's always pretty quiet. Another cheerful lady handed me my ballot. It was a piece of paper tucked into a privacy folder. I walked into the voting booth, an ancient structure of stained plywood. I pulled the ruffled curtain closed. The pen rolled off the rickety shelf onto the floor, and I grinned at the ladies as I popped out of my allotted space to retrieve it. When I was finished, I put my ballot into the slot on a locked metal box, waved goodbye, and headed back up the mountain.

I am concerned today, that our new President does not value the voters that rolled down muddy country roads to vote. I worry that he does not understand things like the importance of casseroles and jello mold.