Katie Graduates

My dearest Katie, the first time I ever saw you, you were a bright eyed little girl in a photograph.  Your hair was full of baubles and twists, and you sat up very straight and looked directly into the camera.  You were posed with your sisters, and you were not yet nine years old.  I carried that picture with me for months, until I met you in person.  It was the fall of 2006, and you had just turned nine, a little girl with a mouth full of too big teeth and a sweet smile that reached up to your eyes.  I wonder sometimes about that little girl, who you were then, and who you are now.

Several months later you came to live with us, and it was then we discovered that Katie had superpowers.  It's true.  Katie was capable of moving so quickly, she actually became invisible to the naked eye.  One morning as she was doing her usual hygiene and grooming, Katie realized she had forgotten something in the living room.  A hairbrush I think, and she decided she could run fast enough to get it, even though she was only wearing bright orange underwear.  It was like that hairbrush just disappeared into thin air, and if you were watching closely, you might have seen a flash of brown and orange.

Um no.  Not really.  And of course these sorts of things become part of family legend...remember when Katie thought she could run fast enough to be invisible?

When Katie first came to us she hated to read.  She was a smart girl, who had always done well in school, but reading for fun was a new idea, and she did not like it.  Another family memory is of Katie sitting in a living room chair, holding a book, wailing.  I was making her sit and read, and it was torturous...for all of us.  And again, we often will say something like "Remember when Katie hated to read?  Remember when she used to cry if you gave her a book?"...because we all know that Katie loves to read, and can bury herself in a good book for hours on end. 

Katie was always a girl of few words, and yet for a girl of few words, she was always trying out new ones, and not always successfully.  Once, several years ago, Mrs. Frantz required Katie to write a research paper.  She went through steps like gathering notes on cards, and making an outline.  One night she came home and sighed as she dropped her piles of papers and books onto the table.  I asked what she needed to work on, and she fussed about needing to work on her paper, and not understanding exactly what she was supposed to be doing.  I told her to pull out her work and we would chat.

When she pulled out her paper, I stared at it for a long time, and then I began to laugh.  In spite of Katie's injured look and inquiries as to why I was holding my sides, I laughed and laughed.  On the top of her paper were two words.  Ruff.  R-U-F-F.  Giraffe.  G-I-R-A-F-F-E.  In my mind I pictured a giraffe with a ruffled collar, and I understood Katie's confusion.  Mrs. Frantz of course wanted her to write a rough draft, but Katie had no experience with the phrase.  And so Katie was our girl of few words that was brave enough to try on new words and get them wrong...brave enough to deal with the ribbing of a large family and many older sibling, who still remind her of run ins with words like metabolism and pork loin.

Katie, I will stop here, teasing and telling tales.  Instead I will tell you what came to mind as I sorted pictures for the yearbook, and sorted memories for this speech.  Recently we were talking about your plans for the future, and what different people thought of them.  You sighed and said to me, "I guess I'm just a late bloomer."  It was such an old fashioned thing to say, and it made me think.

You were nine years old when first we met, eleven when you were adopted.  In a short while you will turn eighteen, and so nearly half your life you have been running around with the Vietri clan.  I think about who you were then, and who you are now, and it makes me reflect on the fact that none of us are ever quite finished, not in this world.  When you were nine, you ran faster than the speed of light, but now that you are nearly eighteen, you tell me you are a late bloomer.  The girl who wanted to move fast finds that she has learned the value of going slow too.  You were a girl of few words, yet you mastered so many new ones, and now you might just find that you have something to say.  You were quiet little girl, but some of you may have discovered that Katie likes to make a little noise now and then.

We talked about how it's easy to feel pressured to take a certain course of action.  Now you are all grown up and graduated.  What are your plans?  What are you going to do?  It feels like you have to know, and nail it all down.  But you don't.  I was thinking about the old "choose your own adventure" books that Katie and all of my children read.  I read them too.  I always approached each choice with anxiety.  Do I search for hidden treasure or climb the mountain?  Do I run from the bear or stand and fight?  But the thing is this, it wasn't like a video game where if I chose wrong I would die and the game would be over.  You got to a choosing place, and you picked.  Then you turned to page 63 to find out what came next.  And so you wound your way through the story, having adventures and setbacks and victories.  The funniest thing of all was that sometimes even after making a whole series of different choices, you still ended up with the exact same ending.  I think life is like that.  We come to the end of one chapter and we get to choose.  It isn't the end of the story if you choose wrongly.  It's just a different page number to turn to.  And if you decided not to search for buried treasure this chapter, you could probably do it some other time.

None of us are who we are, The End.  The story twists and turns, and we get to be faster than the speed of light and late blooming too.  We get to be quiet people who are full of words and noise.  We get to be scared and brave all at the same time.  We get to say "no", and then "I changed my mind", and then "yes". 

One of my favorite hymns says "Great is thy faithfulness oh God my Father, there is no shadow of turning with Thee.  Thou changest not, They compassions they fail not.  As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be."

God is faithful and compassionate without fail.  There isn't even a hint or shadow of change in that.  That's the only part of the story that stays constant really.  We are not God.  We are not eternally perfect, and so we change.  We are all light and shadow, and turning.  We move fast, and we sit very still.  Often we do both things at the same time.  It's a hard complicated thing to be happy and sad at the same time.  To want to strike out, but to also want to stay safe at home.  We are tempted to look here and there, for someone who will tell us what to do.  But you are the one that must answer for yourself, and live with the choices you make, and live inside your own skin.  So look here and there for the people who prove they love you, and listen to what they say.  Take the help they offer and be thankful for it.  But choose your own adventure.

 

.

This speech was delivered this past June, at Katie's graduation from Faith Mountain Christian Academy.  We celebrated in typical fashion, with a big mess and a whole lot of noise, in September, after a busy season of camp concluded

Baby Boy Graduates

Dearest Justice, today is your graduation day, and honestly, at times, I wondered if we were ever going to get here.  I wondered when you were nearly three years old, and you had not yet said one word.  I wondered when you were nearly eight years old, and you had not yet learned to read.  You came to me one day, and you said, "Mommy, don't worry about this learning to read stuff.  I'm pretty sure I will never use it anyhow."  I asked you what you were good at, and what you planned to do then.  You informed me cheerfully that you were really good at catching frogs and things.  Well, in spite of this solid career plan, eventually you learned, not only to talk and to read, but much more than that, to love the words in stories and songs.

 

*****

About ten years ago, during our early years at Rock Mountain Bible Camp, Justice could be seen prowling the wet places on camp, in search of all sorts of critters he would then beg to make his pets.  I remember one day, he was wearing his traditional uniform of brightly colored swim trunks, a grimy tee shirt, and oversized rubber boots.  I watched as he perched quietly on the edge of the frog pond, making the occasional lightning quick snatch toward the water.

Eventually I wandered over to see how frog hunting was going that day, and as I approached, I saw that Justice was holding something in both hands.  I asked him, "Whatcha got buddy?" and he answered, "Frogs."

In each hand he was holding several slippery frogs, of varying sizes.  And I realized, that in some mysterious way, Justice was not only catching the elusive little creatures, but that he was also managing to hold onto each one as he then caught another, all without damaging any of them.  To this day, it seems a nearly magical thing to me.

 

At about that same time, Justice decided he wanted to become a dancer.  Each week he would trade his rubber boots for tap shoes, and head out to the Windwood Hill Dance Studio.  When Justice was ten years old, Miss Bobbie placed him in an intermediate tap class.  Which was fantastic for a boy that had only been dancing for about a year and a half.  Except that his older brother had been placed in an advanced class, and so he was driven to escape that intermediate class, and become an advanced dancer. 

That year he worked so very hard, never losing sight of his goal, and the following fall he was promoted to the advanced class.  I will never forget preparing for the recital that year.  How hard he struggled to learn that advanced dance.  I would sit on the floor in the empty dining hall, resetting the music again and again.  He would be lost inside his own head, trying to hear the music, and transmit that message to his body.  But something was wrong, always it was wrong.  At one point I saw it.  His hands.  He was pushing off the air with his hands, and it was wrong.  I remember jumping up to stand next to him, counting out the notes, and pushing off with our arms in the right places.  I returned to the floor, and reset the music, and he danced perfectly.  It was like a door opened, and he stepped through it, and I could never help him again.  Because like the fists full of frogs, it was almost magical.

*****

When Justice was a teen, his older brother Aaron was working through the process of deciding what to pursue after graduation.  He knew he loved comic books and art, and he was researching the possibility of learning the craft of becoming a comic book artist.  He bought books and supplies, and began working at it in earnest.  Alongside of him, Justice would grab a piece of paper and pencil, and sketch, using the suggested guidelines and techniques.  Within a month or two Aaron came to us and told us he had made his choice.  He said, "Mom and Dad, I love comic book art, and I know I am an okay artist.  But I am not good enough.  I want to sell comics, not make them."  We asked him how he had arrived at this conclusion, and he went on to say, "I would sit down to draw, and Justice would sit down too, and in no time at all, I realized he was the artist, not me."  And again, it was the fist full of frogs, an almost magical thing quietly happening while no one was watching. 

 

*****

Most recently, Justice and I have been having a tussle.  We have had many a tussle throughout the years, about schoolwork and chores undone.  About dirty laundry on the floor, and dirty dishes under the bed.  We have tussled about friendships and girls, gently, and usually in the car as we drove back and forth to rehearsals at the dance studio.  As Justice learned to drive, he began driving himself to those rehearsals, and then we tussled about cars, and insurance, and gas.  These are the tussles you remember as one long struggle, but also as the normal blur of teenaged life.  One tussle stands out as different.

 

Before the boys were born, Joe bought me a beautiful guitar.  It's beautiful to look at, and beautiful to hear, and Justice wants that guitar.  I told him he could play it whenever he wanted to, but that it was still my guitar.  We would talk about music, and what sorts of things I would play on that guitar, back in the years before Justice was born.  One day, shortly after he took out my guitar for the first time, he came into my bedroom and told me he wanted to play something for me.  He began to haltingly strum out the chords and sing "Leavin' On a Jet Plane"...for his momma, because he remembered that was "my" music.  He didn't quite know it though, and he struggled with a few parts that are a little bit irregular.  I stopped him and sang through the sections, and then we started again, together.  We sang together, our music now, and it was a little bit magical.  And it always is, because if Justice ever wants anything at all, he knows that mom can be swayed with a little boy smile and a few bars of "Leavin' On a Jet Plane".

 

*****

 

This has been a year of hard things for Justice.  He has been forced into corners he did not much enjoy.  He has drawn up close to adulthood, with all its choices and responsibilities.  He has suffered great loss.  A few days ago, he danced in his final recital at Windwood Hill.  He entered the stage in stark black, and placed a rose in remembrance of a good friend lost.  As the music quietly began, he crossed the stage in a series of spins and leaps.  Although his body was massive in comparison to the little boy who had danced in his first recital ten years before, he propelled himself into the air with grace and landed silently on the ball of one bare foot.  And once again, it was magical.  The kind that was happy and sad, and filled with memories of little boys with frogs and rubber boots, and tap shoes and guitars.

 

*****

 

Justice, my dear baby boy, graduation speeches are often about going out and making your way in the world.  About working hard and reaching your full potential.  I could also choose to preach you a sermon on any number of worthy topics.  It is my hope that the other speakers today, have those things covered, because I am choosing to take a different route. All I really want to say to you, is that you are our son and we love you.  You are the brother of many.  The student of few.  A good and true friend. 

 

You may yet do many wonderful things.  You may work hard and achieve success.  You may learn and grow and improve yourself.  You may love someone deeply, and raise up a family of your own.  We will be proud of you for those things, as every parent would be.  But no matter what you do, or what you do not do, we will always love you for being yourself.  You didn't make magic because you were the fastest frog catcher, or the most skilled artist or dancer, or because you make music with your fingers and your voice.  You make life good because of who you are.  A lover of nature and of all creatures, even small slimy ones.  A boy, and now a man, filled with creative energy that is a gift from God to you, and through you, a gift to us all.  A strong man with a tender heart.  Justice, don't worry about impressing us, because we are already impressed.    

 

 

This is the speech I was privileged to deliver at Justice's graduation ceremony today.  I cried a little.

Letter to a Friend

Dear One,

I confess, I am a poor friend.  I have not been honest with you.  I am not who you think you see.  I have worked very hard through the years, to create an impressive facade.  For this I am sorry.  By creating this facade, I have unintentionally placed undue pressure on you to focus on performance and measurable results.  For this I am also sorry.  But more than anything else, I am sorry for looking down on you, because my facade was better than yours.

I have spent years building up the image of a woman who can do anything, and who does all things well.  I sewed and crafted, cooked and baked.  I read books, and gardened, and renovated, and decorated.  I homeschooled my children and raised small livestock.  I volunteered my time and efforts in the church and in my community.  I was well spoken, and I always tried to look the part.

And then one day my house of cards came crashing down, and I realized that none of the things I could do with my hands mattered, if I was not able to hold love in my heart.  And my heart was a sieve.  I was so full of holes, that I was bleeding out.  

This realization immobilized me.  Even if I had wanted to somehow reconstruct the shattered facade, I could not have done so.  I laid in the rubble, and thought I would never sew another quilt, or frost another cupcake, or lead another Bible study for as long as I lived.  I did not care if I did.  

I cried at the strangest times.  I withheld myself from my loved ones for months, even years at a time.  Yet I would find huge tracts of sadness and bitterness flowing out of me unchecked, brought forth by the glance or word of a person that did not mean to unloose the deluge.  It was a horrible feeling to not be able to trust myself to open or close at appropriate times.

And thank God, by the grace of God, I have not come through.  Instead I have learned to live in this shattered place.  The house of cards still lays scattered about me, and that is where is belongs.  

The work of my hands, is just the work of my hands.  I love to work, and I love to love on people by working for them.  But my work is not the measure of my worth.  Neither is the reputation I gain by the quality and quantity of my work.  And that reputation was very important to me, if I was to be totally honest with myself.

In truth, I recognize that my reputation isn't worth much of anything at all, unless I am known for loving people.  Me, the broken down house-of-cards girl, loving other broken down house-of-cards people.  The only kind of people there are.

But I realized this horrible thing about myself today...this little section of stacked cards still standing.  I realized that I am looking down my nose at you, because once upon a time my card house was bigger than yours.  I still take pride that my cooking was tastier and my baking prettier.  That my quilts were more intricate and my stitches tinier.  That my home was tidier, and my children could all write an excellent persuasive essay.  That at my most proud and my most broken, I still did it better than you do.

I admit to you dear one, that I am astounded and ashamed of myself, to discover this mean little tower of cards still standing.  So that when you approach me with your cards slipping through your fingers, your heart like a sieve, feeling like you're bleeding out...we are separated.  Kept apart by that delicate little structure that makes me feel more and you feel less.

I can knock it down, and I can tell you so.  But I am so sorry I let it be there in the first place.  Please do not mistake me for anything but what I am.  A broken down house-of-cards girl, living in a shattered place.  Feel free to join me.  Don't mind the mess.

Out With the Old...

As the year draws to a close, I would like to continue with a few thoughts on simplifying and ordering our lives and spaces. This post is devoted to the idea that you cannot have it all... or more accurately perhaps, you cannot KEEP it all. Unless you live in a huge house, with tons of closets, an attic and basement, and maybe a barn or two, you cannot hang onto everything that makes it way through your doors. Even if you do have that place, it is remarkable how quickly you can fill up even the giant house. If you are like me, you may live in smallish homes, with less than adequate storage space, and awkward configurations of rooms. Many of you have expressed your frustration with the overflow of stuff that seems to have taken over every nook and cranny of your homes. To this I say, you must be ruthless. There is no other way but to get rid of a good deal of it.

For me, there were several issues in play. The first issue was my lack of maturity. I hadn't had the chance to try a million things and discover what I was truly passionate about. I was young, and full of energy. I wanted to be passionate about gourmet cooking, and heirloom sewing and quilting. I wanted to grow my own herbs, and raise chickens and goats, and make my own cheese. I wanted to scrapbook all my photos, and play the guitar, and learn to cane chairs. I wanted to homeschool my children, and use cloth diapers, and...and....and.....you get the idea. Now I am old and mature, and I realize that I cannot be passionate about everything. I certainly can't use my aptitude as a measuring stick for what I should be passionate about, because I can do many things well. Far too many things to have passion for all of them. Over time I have winnowed down the list to a few things I really love or need to do. All the rest have gone away, and with them, all the gear and geegaws needed to perform them. The few things I really DO, I let myself have the good stuff, like a really nice sewing machine, which has earned its bit of real estate inside my teeny bedroom closet. Or the bins of excellent quality fabric stored under my bed. Like the chocolate molds that eat up the whole cabinet over my refrigerator. Like the books that line soooo many of my walls. But so many other things have disappeared. Some things I have sold, some given away to a friend who would use it, some donated. I don't miss the things that are gone.

Maturity and experience have also taught me that I do not need many of the things I once thought I did. Neither do my children. We live with far less clothing and linens. I do laundry every single day. We do not need one of everything for every child. They can learn to share. I do not need to own things I can borrow or rent. The list goes on and on, and applies to nearly every area. But in the beginning I thought I had to have it all.

I have a system for ongoing purging. Usually I purge the house deeply, twice a year. One of the best times is right before the holidays, but after the New Year will work too. Pre-holiday is ideal, because I clear space for incoming gifts, and mentally tally who has what, and make mental notes of what they may want or need. The whole rest of the year, I do constant maintenance purging. I cycle through the whole house, room by room, cupboard and drawer, closet and bureau. I always have a donation bag or box set up, and am constantly adding to it. Anything beyond repair goes into the trash immediately. Outgrown clothing, unwanted books, unused toys get dropped into the donation box. Another bag or box is set up for "things that don't live here". This is for items that belong to other people...things that got left behind, or borrowed items, or things we plan to pass on to a specific person. When I plan to pass the thrift store, I drop off the donation box. When I plan to see a person who owns something in the other box, I try to remember to give it to them.

I have other boxes too. I have a "wait and see" box. This is where I store things I am unsure about. Things I think I want to get rid of, but still have doubts. If I don't go back for it in a few weeks, it's probably safe to let it go. At times I have had "yard sale" boxes. Right now I live in the sticks, so it is not practical to have yard sales. If you really will carry through and have the yard sale, and you have the space to store the stuff until you do it, by all means, have a yard sale. We have made lots of vacation spending money this way. Currently I have E.bay boxes, because I have had success selling certain items using that forum. Another tip I would offer, is that I put my boxes out in a visible, and mildly annoying location. This inspires me to keep the stuff moving out the door, rather than sitting buried and forgotten somewhere. (Kind of like the laundry baskets in the middle of the living room floor inspiring me to fold it and put it away.)

Another sticking point to paring things down, is the children. Children and their stuff take up a lot of space. Especially if you homeschool them. In some ways you have to relax a bit about this, because everything about them is always in a state of flux...a messy state of flux. They are always growing, and so their closets and drawers need constant supervision, rotating out that which is outgrown or worn out. If you are passing clothes along to younger siblings, you must decide how much you can reasonably store. In the past, I found myself storing everything, in fear that I would "need" it. I stored ugly clothes that I did not like. I stored very specific clothing that had nothing to match it, or would hardly ever be worn. I stored clothes that suited one child's body type, but would never suit their younger sibling. In other words, I wasted a lot of precious time and space, because I was afraid I would be found lacking later on. Now I only save that which is in top condition, that I know for a fact will be used. I am also constantly sorting through their toys and books, weeding out the ones they have outgrown. I only save that which is classic and beloved. Things that they have passed over for newer pursuits go into the donation box. I used to save every homeschool book and teaching aid. Those things are crazy expensive, and what if I find myself teaching at that level again? But as that has happened again and again, I have found myself not returning to the materials I had previously used because I found something that worked better for me, or for a different learner. Now I use the materials, and if I don't have specific plans to use them again soon, I pass them on to other homeschool moms.

I have only touched on a few areas, and made a few suggestions. You must figure out what works for you. The most important thing I have learned along the way, is that it is an ongoing process. You will purge, and it will feel good. Then you will purge again, more deeply, and it will feel even better. Spaces will open up, and you will feel freer. Eventually it will become routine, and you will feel as though you are just skimming bits off the top. But you will never arrive at some place of perfect order. There will always be things you are toying with getting rid of, things you are aware will need replacement soon, things you wish you had. For me, it has been getting to a place of calm and contentment about this ebb and flow. I feel like I am controlling it to some extent, rather than being washed away by it.

A Place of Your Own

It's hard to decide where to begin, when you feel as though everything needs to be done, but a beginning must be made. I can't really remember where I began, but I am certain it is not where I am sending you first. That is because I can learn from my mistakes. I strongly suggest you begin in your own bedroom. This may seem crazy when the rest of the house feels like it's in shambles, but trust me. You need a quiet place, away from the clutter and noise. You cannot easily gather your strength each day, if your own space makes you cringe. I am sending you to your own bedroom (and bath and closet) because this is where I should have begun my journey.

I would suggest a day just for stripping the room down and deep cleaning. Consider paint, curtains, and bedding later. A clean room is instantly more lovely, and you will have time and peace to ponder making changes or purchases over time. Take separate days for the closet and bath. But keep forging on. As you strip the room down, area by area, pluck out everything that does not belong in your room, and put it outside the door. Set up bins or boxes if need be. Let me suggest a few items that do not belong in your room. Outgrown children's clothing does not belong in your room. The ironing or mending pile does not belong in your room. Children's school work has got to go. Piles of miscellaneous junk definitely do not belong. Last year's taxes and Christmas ornaments from a year and a half ago? Come on! Be ruthless, and don't worry about the growing pile outside the door. As Scarlett O'Hara says, you can worry about that another day. I have rules for my room, and perhaps some of them may work for you. Here's a listie!

1. Every morning I make my bed. I do it for me, and no one else. It instantly makes my room look neater.
2. I always fold/hang my laundry neatly in the closet. I never leave laundry piled or laying about my room. Ever. Actually, I pile all my clean laundry in the middle of the living room, because it inspires me to fold it and put it away. When I carry the piles into the bedroom, I place them on the (made) bed, because I cannot go to bed without putting them away.
3. I do not allow anything related to the children to migrate into my bedroom. In fact, I don't allow the children to migrate into my bedroom. They may knock at the door, and only step inside if invited.
4. We don't generally eat in the bedroom, though we do occasionally snack. All garbage and dishes are cleaned up promptly in the morning when I make the bed.
5. All clutter is picked up and put away each morning, the shade is pulled up to let in the sun (or not), and the rug is gone over with the sweeper.
6. Nothing distracting is allowed in my room. Nothing stress inducing is allowed in my room. Nothing messy is allowed in my room. Nothing stinky is allowed in my room. No half done projects or "To Do" piles are allowed in my room.

I think you get the idea. And yes, I do allow my husband in the room, though he has been known to be messy, and even stinky on occasion. But not in our room. You see, back in the old days, I used to allow my bedroom to be a dumping ground from elsewhere in the house. If I didn't know where to put it, it went in my room. If I couldn't get around to it, it went in my room. If I hated it, but felt too guilty to pitch it...into my room. When I cleaned up the house, my room was the last room on the list, and I hardly ever got there. I had pregnant dust bunnies. I never got around to making my bed. I hated my room.

Then I read something somewhere, about how your bedroom should be a restful oasis. The author even advocated that there should be no photographs or book shelves to intrude. Just clean, comfortable, spaces. I tried the no photo/book thing for awhile, and decided a few small photos and piles of books did not detract from my restful state...so I put them back. But I learned my lesson about the distracting, stress and guilt inducing clutter. And about putting my room first. Amazingly enough, when I made time to clean up my own space, I was more inclined to keep after the other spaces. But above all else, if the other spaces (or people) got overwhelming, I always had a refuge to retreat into.

To be honest, I could cheerfully make my room with nothing more than a mattress on the floor, and piles of books, but over time I have collected bits and pieces that make me happy. We sleep on my great-grand's antique bed, and I lay there and wonder who may have been born or died in it. There's an antique shelf that came from a barn we once owned. Most of the furnishings have been collected over the years, from consignment shops and yard sales. The accessories are gifts. I made curtains, and covers, and pillow cases. The books just find me. I say all of this because you need not break the bank "decorating". Cleanliness and order add grace and beauty to any space. Take time to actually live in it, and decide what you would really like to have, and then wait for it to come to you. When you know what will be just right, you will come across it and know. Don't worry if you have to wait some time. It will be worth it.

One final note. Always look on your closet and bathroom as extensions of your bedroom. Keep them with the same care and attention as your sleeping space. My closet has a place for everything, and so I always put it back in its place, and I never lose anything in there, though it is a cramped, wretched little space. I rarely leave my bathroom without picking up any misplaced item and putting it away. Consequently, it never takes more than a moment to make it perfect. I scrub the whole thing down only weekly, with little touch ups as needed, and it never gets too horrible. But the cupboard is always tidy, the trash emptied each day, and everything is in its place. Lest you are picturing a luxurious master bath, let me say no. Picture a postage stamp, that I share with Beloved Husband, Hippie Boy, and Baby Boy. Make no mistake, I am not whining about my small bedroom, smaller bathroom, or teeny closet. I have come to love them, as I have worked hard to make them work for me. It takes time, thought, and work...and it is so worth it.

The Holiday Mess

'Tis the season for many things, and from what I gather, one of those things is despairing over the chaos and mess inside one's home. I am not picking on any of my dear friends. This is a theme I hear, read, and even see commented upon in Facebook photos of Christmas carnage. I think there are several issues in play. Let me enumerate, in list form, because I loooove lists.

1. The holidays are a busy time, thus we have less time to devote to cleaning and organizing.
2. The children are everywhere, all the time.
3. We tend to have company, which also adds to the chaos.
4. There are piles of presents to and from loved ones, plus wrappings galore.
5. We also engage in other messy projects like baking, cooking, writing cards, etc. This equals projects spread about our spaces.
6. It's wintertime, which means coats and snow pants, boots and hats, mittens and scarves.
   
7. It's wintertime which means being cooped up inside four walls a lot.
8. Did I mention the kids are on vacation and are underfoot all.the.time?

This can lead to ugliness, I am here to tell you. It may mean you find yourself laying on your bed having a good cry instead of a long winter nap. It may mean you see this transformation from "carefully and lovingly chosen gifts" to "all this crap overrunning my house". It may mean you end up yelling at those children that are in the house, under your feet...did I already say this? ALL THE TIME.

Now I don't mean to gloat, because I have had my share of trials this past week (not limited to a poodle who tried to kill herself with fudge, and the resulting mess and vet bills), but I think after twenty-four years of marriage, I am finally getting the hang of this thing. My house is fairly orderly, even in the midst of the holiday hustle and bustle, and I don't feel superior. I feel relieved. The hard work and discipline is all worth it.

If you are a person who makes New Year resolutions, and sincerely means to follow through... if you are a person who chafes against the structure needed to whip your house into order, yet hates the chaos too... let me encourage you to stop rebelling against your own best interests. Button yourself down to the task of setting things in order, and discipline yourself to make new habits. Force structure upon your reluctant self. Your weary self will thank you all through the New Year.

By all means, if you are completely happy and relaxed in relative disorder, don't let me boss you around. I actually have secret envy for people who don't feel the need to alphabetize their DVDs or organize their sock drawer by style and color. I've had friends gently tell me, "They have medication for that." But when all is said and done, my sock drawer makes ME happy. I have no desire to mandate sock drawer protocol, or judge you for tossing them all in a basket, unmatched no less. It's about comfort level. And I'm hearing a lot of people saying their houses are making them very uncomfortable right now.

A lot of people look at me, and they think, "Oh well of course. You are THAT SORT of person." You know, the person who is super organized, always thinking and planning ahead, scheduling and making lists. But I wasn't always like this. It has taken years of practice, and mostly self discipline, to transform myself and my thinking. In the past I thought of myself as a creative person, thus excusing my creative "stuff" being scattered all over our living spaces. I also used this excuse to "create" during times that I should have been caring for my children, cooking meals, and generally keeping up my home. I would always, always choose a good book over my domestic duties. This was before the days of computers, with email and Facebook and blogs. Thank goodness, I might never have come up for air.

We also had young children. I homeschooled, and had school "stuff" everywhere. I crafted and sewed, and cooked and baked. We had small spaces and a small income. All of this is to say, I hear you. I hear every excuse you are spitting at the screen right now. They are all the reasons I fought getting organized myself. But in the end, it was the most gentle, kind, loving thing I have done for myself. Yes, for me. It isn't drudgery and the death of my creativity. It has been freeing, the lifting of a huge weight. I have slowly found ways to pour my creativity into the process, and I do it with my own sense of style. The careful keeping of my home and family employs all my imagination and personality. I enjoy it, and I'm not ashamed to say so... though I do get some funny looks at times.

Check back in the next few days, and I'll share a few ideas that have been extremely helpful to me. It's too big a subject to address in one post. There are great books and websites devoted to the subject. I'll be sharing the ideas that really made huge changes for me. The important thing is finding the ideas that resonate with you, and implementing them to improve the quality of your life.

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.

Dog Tired

OK. I hear you all...all three of you loyal readers...heckling me for a new installment. I know I am horribly remiss in my blogging duties, but I am just so darned busy, and tired too. Actually, busy all day, and too tired to blog at night. Here's the short list:

• We are back in the swing of our full homeschool course load for five children. Three have been delightful, one was unsure what side of the fence she wanted to be on (but I learned her), and one resists me every step of the way...every minute of the day. Pretty predictable, and tipped in the direction of success if it doesn't kill me.
• We are still swimming in therapists, pretty much every day. They come and marvel at my dining table school room, and make remarks like "Wow! I never learned that in school!" and "I don't know how you do it, I think I'm getting overstimulated." They are sweet, and supportive, and oh so accommodating...but I'm not sure that they make any difference at all. Boo wants them all to go away so she can feel normal.
• We have a new baby in the house. She's a nearly grown miniature poodle named Lucy. I think I'm in love. The kiddos definitely are, and Baby Boy is in heaven with his new charge. We found her after a long week of searching the shelters, and she was well worth all the driving and searching. Petting her lowers my blood pressure.
• We are back in the swing of dance classes, three nights a week. It's way too much driving, way too much money, way too much fun...but heck, this is how you get to be parents of the year, right?
• Libby-Longstocking is like to kill me with her moving/house renovation project. What a considerate girl to find her dear old Mama things to do with all her spare time. If it weren't for her I might be hanging out in bars.

So that's the brief overview...but it doesn't begin to cover it really. I'm tired, and worn down. My eyes hurt, and my scalp feels tired. I crave peace and quiet, and time to myself. I long for days where I don't have to go anywhere, and no one comes here...but they don't exist. Really, I can't find one on the calendar in days past or to come. I don't know how to say no to anybody, because I really do want to give everyone everything. Saying no has never been my strong suit...holding my head in my hands and threatening to check myself into a mental hospital? Well that I do quite well. Screaming like a shrew and quitting my job? I'm pretty decent at that too.

But it's OK, lest any of you, my three loyal readers should worry. I am convinced I am on the edge of something. Maybe a breakthrough, or maybe a breakdown, but I feel as though I am balancing gracefully on the edge of a precipice. Sometimes I feel as though life is so precarious, that I don't know what to do. Then a short while later, the driving need to "hammer things down" comes over me, and I begin to hammer like crazy. I feel as though the knowledge of what is to come, or what we must do...will come to me soon, and I need to be ready. That whatever is to come, will only become harder and harder as time goes on.

I realize it sounds as though I am mostly groaning and holding my head, dreading the future. Admittedly, sometimes I do, but that's not really what it's all about. It's about having a vision, and realizing at a point, that you have two choices. You can abandon the vision and make things easier, or you can continue and make things harder. I find myself looking at others, seeing how as we age, we often slow down, take things easier, have more for ourselves. At a time in life, where I see my contemporaries following this track, I find myself bracing to pick up the pace, put my shoulder to the wheel, knowing there will be less left over for me than there ever was before.

Isn't it a bit perverse to get excited about such things?

Thank You

Thanks to all who contributed toward our settling our dilemma of how to educate the various children in the upcoming school year. Many of you participated in the poll, which indicated that the majority of you believe we should homeschool all of the children, tailoring our program to each child's needs and capabilities. The emails and comments also bore this out. At this moment we are moving through the sluggish process of testing and assessments, to determine what special needs the children may have, and if there is a practical way to meet them. I admit that I am guardedly optimistic about finding any useful help, since we have come up empty time and again. Still, I am waiting a while longer, holding off on making firm plans, until I have a little more information.

That being said, several of you had some interesting suggestions which we are taking under consideration. We are looking at a variety of curriculum and supplementary activities. It is our intention to leave nothing to chance, and have a very well planned, structured program in place at the get go. In addition, my two little reluctant scholars are, not coincidentally, both quite behind in their studies. So much so, that we feel it is necessary to keep them on a lighter school schedule all summer long. The other three do the occasional math drill, and read every day. Sometimes if I'm feeling especially mean, I may give them a short writing assignment. Or maybe I'll just give them all a summer journal and expect them to write in it for a few minutes each day. But my two who lag behind, who drag their academic feet, will do a regular program of math and language arts each morning. I am hoping this will allow me to get them into their groove, so to speak, before taking on the other three and their intensive unit study. A couple of months getting into good habits will go a long way come fall, when I try and add more layers.

Another huge positive of having all of the children at home, is the ability to "do school" on unconventional days. During the school year camp is in session on the weekends, and Dad is largely absent, as he is cooking for the hungry hoards. His days off tend to be on the weekdays, which is hard with children in school. We can never go too far afield on days off, because children need to be sent off to school, and collected at the end of the day. If all are home, we can work on the days Daddy works, and take off for projects or play on the days he is free. This whole last year it felt as though we were in a constant tug-of-war with the school, simply over issues like making schedules work, and digging up the time and resources to keep the girls in their place there, while tending to the completely different needs of those at home. It wasn't necessarily bad, but it did get challenging.

So today I find myself with a stack of books and papers, making some headway with planning. The children are sprawled all over the playroom floor making elaborate creations with Lego. I am of the persuasion that Lego is one of the only toys needed to amuse children who have reached the age of not choking on small objects. Even the teens and adults in this family get down on the floor and create. But that's a whole different post...therapeutic Lego?

Cool Poll

Wow. I found this fun poll function. So read my last post, and if you don't feel like writing a lengthy answer you can just vote. As for Ann-tastic, and Brenda, and Quilted Family, and QueenB...I can kinda figure out your votes based on your emails and comments, but I can't vote for you. You have to do that for yourself. So let me know if you do, so I won't count your opinion twice. I'm being very democratic about all of this, but you know I'll just do what I want to do anyhow. But I really do listen and consider all of your advice first.

"Without counsel, plans go awry,
But in the multitude of counselors they are established." Proverbs 15:22

Please Advise

Now, I know there are plenty of you reading and not commenting, so I'm asking you all to put on your thinking caps and help me out here. I also know that plenty of you are homeschoolers, or adoptive parents...but I'm not limiting this to anyone in particular. If you have a thought...share it. Here is my dilemma.

I have five children of school age living in this house, and when the girls came home we did homeschool for nine months. I should amend that and say, I did school at home with the four girls, and the boys sat on the back burner. Nothing that looked like homeschooling was going on. At the end of nine months, Soapy went into residential treatment, LaLa and Tater went to the local Christian school, and I began the new school year with high hopes of actually homeschooling my older three...Boo and the boys. Alas, Boo made it evident that although she LOVED the perks of being homeschooled and although she had no desire to be anywhere else, she WOULD NOT receive my instruction. She would in fact, make it her daily mission to distract and disrupt, so that I could not teach her brothers. So she got to be "work schooled". Lucky, lucky girl. This means she gets up early and goes to work with Dad. The fact that she has no one to distract or disturb, the fact that Dad tolerates no shenanigans, means that Boo has learned to work hard, independently, and get the job done. It also means I get a few hours each day to make sure the boys are actually making some progress, plus frees up some of my energy for helping the two who are in private school.

Now the school year is running toward a close, and I have to say it has not been bad. I do believe the girls were making better progress, both emotionally and academically, when they were at home. But the boys were getting very little of what they needed. And I was terribly burnt out trying to manage their behaviors. It is all but impossible to homeschool a child who digs in and refuses to take instruction. To recap how the year has gone:

• The boys made good progress in their studies, but are requesting a change of curriculum. They want to move away from self guided schedules and studies, and return to a hands on curriculum that we do together. This involves much more time and involvement from Mom, but is much more in line with "how we roll"...or I should say, "how we used to roll before the girls came".
• Boo spent most of the year under Dad's tutelage. She hates it, rebels against it, pleads to come home, and blows it every time we let her. On the academic end of things, she has never been more solid. On the emotional end of things, she in incapable of being part of a group effort.
• LaLa has done OK in private school. Her grades and behavior are not stellar, but in comparison to how they were in the past, she has shown huge improvement. As the school year winds down, so has she. She has ceased to care. Her grades are in the toilet, and her behavior both in school and at home are deteriorating. The frustrating part is that I KNOW she is capable. When she was at home, we made her school work HER PROBLEM. At school, it is everyone else's problem, but never hers. Like Boo, she is incapable of being part of a group effort, simply because she does not care about any of it.
• Sweet Tater has excelled in private school. She does well, both on her school work, and socially. She is loved by her teacher and friends. You would think this is a no brainer, but in fact, her efforts are largely spurred on by her desire to prove she can come home and not be a pill. I believe she will struggle with laziness, but her over arching desire is to be on board with the program here.

So what I find myself with is two separate schools, needing totally different styles of management. My desire is to homeschool the boys and Tater. My desire is to keep the other two home because I KNOW they are/will:

• Use any involvement in a school setting to practice their emotionally unhealthy behaviors, and maintain a disconnect from the family.
• Fail intentionally in a school setting, as a way to maintain control and thumb their noses at Mom and Dad.
• Wear us to the bone trying to manage their behaviors in school, educate their teachers about their needs, advocate to get their needs met, etc.

So my question is this. Is there a way to do this? Can I set two children up to do school at home, making their school work largely their problem? At the same time, can I pour out my creativity and energy on the other three, knowing they will soak this up and flourish? I would love to think the other two would see this and say to themselves, "Self, I really want a piece of this action. What can I do to get from here to there?" But they don't. Their internal dialogue goes like this. "I never get to do anything fun. I hate this. What can I do today, to make sure their plans get derailed?" Then they will sit in smug satisfaction when Mom is so tired and frazzled she has nothing to give anyone.

I really do want them all at home. I believe with all my heart that it is what is best for them. What I want is for all of them to be on board together, able to enjoy the awesome parts of homeschool. But I know that just isn't possible at this stage of the game for two out of five. I am looking for ideas for how to make it work. Curriculum? Logistics? Disciplinary methods? Rewards? Sanity preservation? Because this is what I know:

• I WILL HAVE two separate schools next fall. Either I will send two out to school, and reap the benefits and consequences of that choice, or I will structure two totally different homeschools. I WILL NOT subject my three willing scholars to the grind for yet another year.
• I want what is best for all of the children, no matter what they may want or be working toward.
• I will have to think outside the box in a major way to make this work, or to even come through and still be standing this time next year.
  

Teaching Textbooks

I was reorganizing my labels for older posts recently, and realized that I didn't have any posts dealing directly with homeschooling. So here is my first one. Today I am going to do a plug for Teaching Textbooks which is some of the pricier yet best curriculum we buy. It is a Math curriculum specifically designed for homeschoolers, and it began with the high school Maths, but now includes junior high levels as well. The first text we bought was Algebra 1, because another curriculum we had purchased just wasn't cutting it. With this other curriculum, our daughter took a whole year of Algebra, passed, but learned little. She frequently found herself lost and confused...looking at an answer key, knowing her answer was incorrect, but unsure why. I read a review of Teaching Textbooks and although it was more than I would normally spend for a single subject, I decided to take the risk.

The package includes a textbook with each day's lesson written out, with practice problems and homework problems. There is also a test book and answer key. But the best part is a set of CD's for your computer, that "teach" the lesson each day. It is put together by the Sabouri brothers, Greg and Shawn, and although I'm not sure who does the teaching, I feel like I know him after hearing his voice almost daily for the last two years. The guy teaches this stuff in a way that makes me wish I could have learned Math from him. I might have actually learned something! His manner is engaging and even entertaining at times...but always clear as a bell when it comes to the concept. At the same time he lectures, the lesson is written out on your computer screen, step by step, like a teacher at the board. In addition, the CD's also have a full breakdown and explanation of every practice problem, homework problem, and even test problem, done in the same manner. So there will never be a time your student can say, "I know I got this wrong, but I don't know why."

I am convinced it is a nearly no-fail curriculum if it is done faithfully, the way it was designed to be used. Best of all, it does not require Mom or Dad to relearn the higher Maths just to limp through with their scholar, though you my find yourself relearning them alongside your student! Our son, who would be an eighth grader this year, has completed Algebra 1 and 2, and is currently doing the Geometry curriculum. He has found all three to be excellent, and plans to continue to use this program. And although the material is not cheap, this quality program is well worth the cost, plus the material is nonconsumable and may be reused with any number of students.

Finally, I would mention that the approach the Sabouri brothers take is holistic, in that they teach the history and philosophy attached to Math, plus they teach much about real life application of the principles being learned. This may engage a student who would not otherwise be enamored with Math. The materials are user friendly, even for the computer challenged. The lessons run directly from the CD's, thus you can work from virtually any computer, and you are not required to load huge "space eating" programs on your computer. This offers flexibility and portability that homeschoolers just love. In every way, it is an excellent program, well worth the money, and I can't even think of a way to improve it!