wild (but not uncultivated) musings of a Canadian unschool mom
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9:36 PM - Aug. 6, 2006 -
Yesterday morning, I dropped off the kids with my in-laws. Thus began a wild and woolly experience.
Breakneck was sleeping off the night shift back at home. I was tired,
frustrated and demoralized in general, but I figured if I went home,
I'd just wake him up and he'd be totally fried for the next shift --
not to mention the hour's drive home at the end of it.
I decided to stick to my original plan, which was to go into the city
and do some shopping for our homeschool. I arrived without mishap at
the local Mall-Wart, as it's known around our house. I had a small list
in mind....
But there were so many things those annoying, frustrating, incorrigible, ill-mannered, disobedient children that I'd finally gotten rid of would really love.
Washable markers.
Gel pens. Sparkly ones. In a 30-pack.
Glue sticks. Also washable. What will they think of next???
Duotang folders for making one's own books.
Coloured paper.
Coloured file folders for lapbooking.
Erasers.
Compass sets for the older two.
Special notebooks for basic spelling for the younger two (Winnie the
Pooh for Brat Boy, Disney Princesses for Squirrelly Girlie -- all
self-control was rendered molten dross by the dazzling displays).
Lovely hardbound, not-too-horribly-expensive composition books for Banana Brain and the Hickasaurus.
Scrapbooks -- one for each kid -- for me. To store all the love notes
and pictures that make mysterious appearances on my dresser from time
to time.
I realize my burnout-causing, headache-filled,
financially unrewarding, maddening, mess-filled, noisy lifestyle has
crept into my bloodstream and altered my very genetic code. This is the
way it is. Now and forever. Till death do us part. Sickness, health and moments of murderous intent not excepted.
Okay, so.... Off to the till. A near-heart-attack later, I forcibly kick myself out of the store. This will keep us busy for the next three years,
I rationalize. And it probably will. I don't think I've ever done a
real school shop like this before, not with this much intent and
planning. In spite of the high percentage of impulsiveness.
I head to the Millenium Botanical Garden (smaller than it sounds, but
still quite gorgeous.) I pick a spot inside the flower-wreathed,
stone-pillared gazebo in view of the fountain. I sit down on the
cobblestone with my bag of Things To Be Labelled. This feels like
high school, or maybe university. Each child gets an eraser with their
initial on it. Each child gets a sketch pad (except I forgot to grab
one for Brat Boy, but that's okay. They're for the fall road trip.
There's still time). I write a note in the front for each one and add a
little sketch at the bottom. Each scrapbook gets a name written on it,
and I think wistfully of the sketches, valentines and Father's Day
cards that just shouldn't ever be thrown out.
I finish and pack things up. Then I head to the grocery store for a
muffin, a juice and a thank-you gift for my mom-in-law. We'll all make
cards with our new stuff and send them in the mail. I take off to the
mall and wander around a beautiful store called Lady of the Lake. It's
one of those places you never go in with children, full of antiques and
breakables. I see a harp there and get the luthier's name and contact
info from the gal behind the desk. We'll be in touch.
In the mall, I wander slowly through clothing stores I never go in and
wouldn't buy from -- it's not in my budget. Especially after what I
just did in the school supplies section back at my first stop. So, this
is what it feels like to be an autonomous, unremarkable part of the
crowd. No one sees me as I walk down the corridors. No one's eye is
caught by the string of blonde, energetic children following me. No one
is wondering if they're all mine or why they're not in school.
I'm normal.
For a few moments. But I eventually, inevitably, make my way to the
bookstore. They have a whole display right at the front full of
classic, unabridged reprints of great 19th-century books. Jane Eyre,
Oliver Twist, Treasure Island, Jane Austen's novels. They're three for
$10. You can guess what happens next. It really doesn't matter how much
I try to float along in a state of denial. One little trigger like
this, and all that floats before my eyes is the vision of how excited,
fascinated and educated my kids'll be. It doesn't matter if it's a few
months or a few years from now.
Finally, I go meet Dave and my parents for
supper at a restaurant we couldn't afford to take the kids to. It's on
Mom and Dad. I leave the car with Dave and head off with them to the
second-hand store.
There's a book section in the second-hand store. And it's full of
children's classics, educational non-fiction ("Photography for Dummies"
-- the Hickasaurus will love it), and things I can use to educate
myself as well.
I also end up with two dictionaries -- Canadian English and an older
Webster's -- a French-English dictionary, and a French thesaurus. Yes.
A thesaurus all in French. I'm truly hopeless.
My mom meets me and Dad at the checkout and
does a double take at the shopping basket piled to the brim with books.
"Oh, my," she says.
"I know. Look at all the great stuff I found."
"That's why I had to leave the book section," she says.
Aha! So it really is genetically encoded.
I have to say, though, the highlight of my respite weekend was finding Paul Washer's youth sermon.
The spiritual refreshment of hearing preaching that actually waters the
soul.... was amazing. I downloaded it, and Dave and I had hot chocolate
in bed and listened to it together this morning.
By the time the kids got home tonight, God had made a real dent in the
burnout I've been fighting. I listened to four hyperspeed adventure
stories at once and greeted a very, very weary Grandma who readily
acquiesed to the idea of going home and sleeping for the next two days
straight.
After Grandma and Grandpa left, the kids had their good night phone
call with Daddy and we looked at the new supplies (the ones that aren't
marked Top Secret -- Do Not Open Till Road Trip). Everyone was, as I'd
envisioned, fascinated and excited. The educated part is on their to-do list for first thing tomorrow.
Banana Brain exclaimed, "Sometimes moms are almost as good as
Grandmas!" Then she found out there was even more stuff. "Sometimes
moms are even better than Grandmas!" she amended. "This is even better
than at Grandma's house!"
I'm sure tomorrow is going to involve a lot of things getting glued
together that were never designed to be glued together. Reading will
abound. In the forecast, we're looking for increasing smiliness with a
chance of scattered territorial outbursts. But that'll be fine. God
makes the path for the lightning, and He makes the path for the
homeschooling family.
Drip down, O heavens. Rejoice, O earth. We were made for this adventure.
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I applaud your priorities!!
Oh, me. You and I should *never* go on a shopping trip together. Those rare times when I go unaccompanied to the store, always my thoughts turn to the kids--ooh, Dragon would love this...the Toon needs this...this would be great for the Anonymous One...I need at least three of these, one for each boy.... And don't even get me started on books. There is some seriously messed-up, genetic encoding that bushwacks all financial common sense when a book sale is spotted. We have it in spades around here, and the evidence overflows from more than a dozen jam-packed bookcases. Who needs walls? Every wall should, instead, be a built in bookcase--double-sided.
Stephanie10 - 11:42 AM - Aug. 7, 2006
ohhhhhh
What a great post.....you've let me know that my head-throbbing, mommy has got NO patience left, moments are normal.
Blessings to a great new school year,
Linda
Hey, sketchpads. I love sketchpads. And books. And pens. And....
Whenever I go into a store that has books in it, I don't want to come out until I've either spent all of my money, read all the books, or bought everything. :-) Good thing I don't really have that much money to blow.... I don't think I could exert even as much self-control as you did.... ;-)
~Dragontongue (who somehow found the time to buy two books and a new sketchpad during strategic intelligence camp in Purcellville VA)
Dragontongue - 7:17 PM - Aug. 8, 2006
Sounds blissful
Don't worry- do you really want to be "normal"? I doubt it or you wouldn't have had kids and been led to homeschool right?
I am usually at a loss when I am suddenly alone and I have been known to race through my errands so that I can get home early- I crave being away from them but then I miss them too much when I am away. Ahh... the irony...
Terrill
tbrowne - 9:50 PM - Aug. 11, 2006
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