So here we are...all eight of us plus a short term nanny sleeping in THREE bedrooms.  I've refused to complain regarding our coziness so far.   At least I think I have...maybe I've tried to avoid complaining.  Or just thought about not complaining.  I mean, it really hasn't been bad...up till now.  But can I just say, I think I blocked out the whole baby-crying-at-night thing?  No, I take that back.  Actually by the time all our other kids were Charis' age, they were out of our bedroom and were sleeping soundly through the night, because we quit getting them up to nurse at a certain point at least by 16 weeks or so.  Connor slept 12 hours straight at six weeks old and never wavered from that.   But Charis has been waking up MAD as all get out several nights in a row. 

 She KNOWS we're there, and isn't pleased. 

Out comes the orajel, out comes the Tylenol, a little nursing (for the sake of my poor husband who has to fly or something)...she usually goes right back to sleep.  I'm sure it's teething.  She's relatively happy all day long.  But last night and the night before she cried a loooong time.  It's not  a sad whimpering kind of cry either.  It's a yelling, angry cry. 

And it's LOUD. 

And it's at the foot of our bed. 

 And the closets are not the walk-in variety.  Josh finally got up and moved her porta crib...yes she's still in a travel sized pack and play because there's no ROOM for a bigger crib!!  Anyway, he moved it into the bathroom.  Everybody in Hawaii sleeps with their windows open, and even though ours are closed, I know the neighbors can hear her because they comment when she's had a rough night!  I ought to pass out complimentary ear plugs with an apology note attached. 

So here's an SOS for prayer.   I know sleepless nights come with the territory of babies.  But I refuse to be a human pacifier.  At least I generally reject that sort of pacification.  I have up till now anyway.  If I introduce the whole family bed thing, I know I won't sleep well.  But maybe it would be quiet.  Just thought you might like to know how I'm dreading bedtime tonight!  Here we go...

With mmm!-lovin'-that-baby aloha,

Christa

Once we headed up the elevator, we walked down a hallway and entered her door.  I was immediately drawn to the main wall of her living area.  There, hung unframed and casually,  were dozens of large 11 x 13 sized pictures of scenes from her life including her with her children, her grown children, grandbabies now grown.  It was like looking at the Bayeaux Tapestry, for me.  I was transfixed!   As I asked about the people on her wall, I discovered she’d outlived 2 husbands and had lost her daughter-in-law to cancer.  Her only son is a widower in his forties.  In the corner of her room sat a high back chinz armchair with a book open on the stand next to it.  Albums of genealogy lined her bookshelves.  A tall rubber plant commanded the center of attention in her little den.  While out on her patio, evidence of an avid "green thumb" was visible.  She wore swingy pale pink linen pants and a crisp cool white blouse. She is tall with sparkly blue eyes and a lovely face.  Her silver hair was pulled up in an elegant low inverted bun, reminding me of how I imagine Jane Eyre had hers. 

 On her small kitchen table were a teapot, cookies and Piroulines.  As we sipped tea she shared bits of her life’s story as I asked questions and tried to simultaneously keep Charis from eating the dirt in her potted plants. 

 So what’s the point of all my sharing this?  I don’t really know for sure except that, I think I (perhaps “we”) naturally tend to seek friendships with people that are similar to ourselves.  We like to find someone with the same age kids, same beliefs, same ideals, same standards, and tastes; someone who affirms our point of view.   And those people are of course so encouraging and precious to us.  But to discover someone so completely out of my sphere of normal friends who just inspires me is, in a nutshell, surprisingly refreshing!  I realize I’m typically pretty self-centered when I’m making friends.  And in trying to be a friend to someone who may be somewhat alone or lonely made me reach beyond myself.  It felt wonderful to know I had brightened her day immensely by simply sitting with her and having her share about her life and revisit her memories.  A simple visit can mean so much to someone living far from their own family.   

But our time together just did amazing things for me too.  For one thing, it helped me see beyond my days as a wrung-out mother.  Someday there will be no more droolly chins to wipe or sibling quarrels to referee.  I’ll get to have an apartment all to myself, a whole thought to myself!!  Ha-ha!  No, really… It made me feel glad that I’m choosing to stay home and invest in the lives of my children rather than a career for myself right now.  Lord willing, there are more seasons to life down the road!  "Lina" is in her golden years, looking back on all the memories she made…days at her beach-house on the North shore, years spent in England, time spent teaching grade school in Hawaii, traveling in Tunisia.  She’s lived a rich, lovely and totally different kind of life than I.  She loves the Lord too.  Someday I’ll be in her shoes…and be looking up at the memories of my home and life all condensed on a wall, joy mixed with sadness. She made me want to live with no regrets.  And she made me want to visit her again and hear more fascinating stories from the novel of her life.  Reach out to an "unlikely" friend...and be stretched, deepened and surprised. 

Aloha...wanna see inside a volcano crater?

  We piled our gang up for an excursion up Diamondhead one weekend recently.  It's the large, extinct or dormant volcano at the end of Waikiki.  We'd heard that during summer it's not only crowded but also quite a hot hike.  So the "winter season's" cooler temps and blowing tradewinds made the day just right for going up the crater and checking out the view of Honolulu and the ocean below. 

Here's a great view inside the crater with suburbs of Honolulu beyond.

These stairs and passages lead to a military "pillbox" which was a lookout during WWII.

Up a winding staircase...

Still climbing...here's my beautiful friend Michelle...

Hannah, our visiting nanny, and I.

Right behind us there were two whales out in the ocean that we observed surfacing for quite a while.  Notice the curvature of the earth...isn't that cool?

On the way down I enjoyed checking out some more of Hawaii's unusual flora...I didn't research so I could share the name of this tree with you.  But, any experts can comment and let me know.  I call it Seussian.  I am convinced that Dr. Seuss must have spent time in Hawaii gleaning inspiration for his illustrations.  Don't these ball thingies look like they belong in Who-ville?

Baby C...with improvised head-dress for sun protection.  A little sahib? 

Suza...obviously B.S. (before scissors)

Topping off our picnic lunch with a good old-fashioned tree climb.

First of all, I haven't gotten my edition of The Old Schoolhouse Magazine, but I'm excited to supposedly have gotten a little "day in the life" type article published in this spring edition, which hasn't yet made it to my Hawaiian mailbox.   So to those who've stumbled across me through the article and are visiting for the first time, I want to wish a warm "Aloha!" and welcome to Painting the Memories of Home. 

My original purpose of the blog was to record our days for friends and family, and hopefully encourage other mothers and home schoolers on the often arduous path of mother-teacher-hood.  Anyone who knows our family, knows that each day is not without a myriad of challenges and elements of chaos.   So if I painted an overly idyllic portrait of our home school day, know that we have to correct and train and "bear with one another" just like everyone else amidst mistakes, messes and well...just LIFE! 

I started this blog in February of 2006 with a debut entry on creating memories in the home...at that time we were enjoying life rural Ohio and had five children.  Now the military has us in Hawaii and a sixth has joined the mix. 

In regards to home schooling, I have come through waves of doubt and found so much encouragement here at HSB.  I chronicled my story of discovering home schooling here, here, and here.  

So that brings you up to speed on on us...but the latest is the hair saga, triggered by my three year old's shearing of her own  head.  (see previous posts)  And I confessed to somehow jumping on the hair cutting band-wagon and having an impulsive week of hair changes myself.   I regret most of everything I've done to my hair this week, but what's done is done, and I can't whine about it.  It felt therapeutic to change.  But I don't love the result right now.  Oh well.  Hair's hair.  The tricky thing about hair styling here in Hawaii is that there is so much humidity in the air that no matter how much I flat iron or style it in the bathroom, my hair just absorbes the moisture in the air and poofs out. 

With much aloha,

  Christa

 I took her to Fantastic Sams yesterday to see if they could create some sort of camouflaging pixie cut.  She sat very soberly and penitently.  I told her I loved her no matter what.

Modeling the Donald Trump Combover with 2 strands of hair that escaped the shears.

Still sweet...I guess the silver lining on all this is that it's given us occasion to have some good discussions about  "Man looks at the outward appearance but the Lord looks at the heart."  Most important is having a happy heart for Jesus. 

 The News bulletin: 

Superstar nanny arrives to Dittmar household for a six week internship in domestic and home school management. 

 Family hikes Diamondhead State Park trail to impressive overlook.  Sites whales…very cool.  Picnics in the now grassy crater.

 Boys get haircuts.  Suza feels left out.  Releases her pent up jealousy on her own head, sneaking mom’s hair cutting scissors from bathroom.  Shocks mom in the kitchen.  Mom’s five second long inhaling gasp calls forth entire family.  She looks like a Tibetan monk or a little Jewish boy.  All the hair behind ears remains; top of head shorn like a sheep.  Yep, it’s bad. Suza remorsefully tells mom, “I forgive you, mom” about twenty times. 

 Mom secretly envies Suza’s freeing statement of self-expression in lopping off locks, and follows suit.  Three inches shorn off mom’s hair (starting from the bottom however) accomplished by her own hand 2 hours before Bible study arrived in home.  The risk was significant, but irresistible. 

Pictures to follow...

Here’s a little peek into Hawaiian living for you.  We drive down a main road through town at night--a busy road, mind you--and have begun to notice that Hawaiians seem to like to hang out in their carports.  Sometimes its just a couple people vegging out.  Sometimes it seems to be the whole Ohana (family).  People party there. The carport is like a sort of extended living space.  You’ll see card tables and chairs set up under fluorescent lights and people gathering around them.  And we’ve seen tons of TV’s, even nice large flat screen TV’s mounted up in the corners of the carports.  Why do you suppose this is? I mean, when I want to relax I want to be in the back of the house, away from the noise of the street, revving car engines and dog-walkers. Since we live on a busy street right now, the front of my house is not a relaxing place to me.

The other day we took a drive out into a more rural road to check out some homes we could see from a distance.  And when we got up close we discovered they were mega-mansions, elegant villas on lots of land with commanding views of the valley, the Ko’olau Mountains and the ocean.  As we drove past one , what do we see but two people sitting in chairs—at this point you can guess…in their carport.  Well, actually they had a six-car garage, but the fact remained in that gorgeous place with patios and balconies and sprawling golf-course style lawn, they were still sitting out in the garage.  !???!  What is it with the carport?  We just chuckled.  Tonight I found our two kitchen barstools had migrated into the carport, where husband and son were having their chimichangas and Frescas.  …We must be assimilating.  

   Now if I can just be sly enough to get a photo-journalistic type picture to add meaning to this post....hmmm.

So where do you like to relax the most?  And tell me, why do you suppose the folks here like to hang out in their carports?  The breeze?  To people watch?  To ward off burglars?  Is this cultural?  Why don't mainlanders do it?  Or do they in your town? 

I’m sitting up swatting mosquitoes and reflecting upon the topic of our Bible study tonight that my husband and I attended.  The group leader asked us if anyone is experiencing any suffering (in the context of looking at the new church in Rome during Emperor Nero’s reign) and all I could answer in my mind was “Yes, I’m teaching long division to an artistic minded third grader.  Does that count?”  If I make it through this little era I’ll definitely get to add some sort of patch to my home school mom vest.  Aren’t those invented yet?  We should get to earn them like scout badges…like “I survived teaching diagramming sentences.”  “I made it through long division with my daughter and she’s still living.”  Yes, she’s making me work, this one.    I guess I was a little spoiled with my first son.  Everything came so easily to him, I knew I was skating through without really having to teach or explain much.  He just “got it.”   But I suppose in the end, this will be rewarding, like the feeling you get climbing Mt. Everest or one of Colorado’s 14-ers or giving birth without an epidural.

Am I alone here?  Granted we’ve only been doing this a few days and the process will come with repetition, I know.  Have you been on the verge of tears (or past that verge) of frustration wanting your child to "get it?"  I remember standing nervously at a chalk board in 3^rd grade hoping desperately I’d know the next step in long division.  So as my inner anxt built up over trying to help her "get it" days ago, and my volume was getting louder, my tone more urgent,  I realized she was shrinking down in her chair looking sheepish and self conscious.  Great, I know kids can't focus on the concept at hand if they're cowering and sensing mom's about to lose it!  I gave my mind a flashback of standing in my own little shoes in my old classroom with my fearsome teacher to give me patience, understanding and gentleness!  I said earnestly, "I do remember how hard this was at first!  I know you'll get it!  I'll try to be more patient with you."  When we left the table, she hugged me and said, "I love  you, Mom." 

 I decided she and her next older brother need way more drill, so at the beginning of our math time the last few days I bark out “four times nine!” and see which child can answer it first.  As I work through the facts, I keep a tally on the white board and award m n m’s at the end.  Do you have any other good tips for me? 

In reading news, we’ve just finished Treasures of the Snow, which is just simply a jewel of a story for children with its themes of forgiveness and redemption.  It’s by Patricia St. John, and my mother read it to me when I was a girl.  Isn’t it funny how we want to repeat the things that were significant to us from our childhood?  If you haven’t read it, you must.  It makes a lovely winter read as well, since it’s set in the snowy Swiss Alps and just begs to be read sitting by a wood-stove and accompanied by steaming mugs of hot chocolate.  Granted the wood-stove is out of the question for us, but with a cool evening in the upper sixties we did manage a night with the hot chocolate!  All three of my older children (ages 11, 9, and 8) were captivated and all three caught trying to read ahead, which is absolutely TABOO.  But inwardly I am secretly thrilled that they are so hooked on the story that the “labor” of reading is worth the effort to them to quench their curiosity for what will happen next.  This, in my humble opinion, is one of the most important steps for kids in the journey of reading that many never hit on their own and it’s what helps kids become good readers and spellers and also learn reading comprehension effortlessly.   So many workbooks and texts are trying to get kids to be good at reading comprehension, when the comprehension will come as kids gain fluency in reading and being read to aloud… from compelling books! 

Time to sign off and head to bed friends! 

With warm alohas,

Christa