Apr. 22, 2007 - Moving

     As much as I hate to do it, I'm moving my blog.  Please come visit me at my new home:  http://mamabear3.wordpress.com .  See you there!

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Apr. 17, 2007 - Walk the Line

     I went to cardiac rehab for the first time today.  I wasn't going to go initially.  There's no way I could juggle childcare three days a week to actually go to the hospital to workout, so we've been making plans for me to workout at home.  Our shiny new treadmill has taken its place in the bedroom, complete with a firm determination to never, ever let it become just another clothes rack or dust-collecting eyesore.  The hospital told me they could design an exercise program for me to do at home, though, and I thought that sounded like a wise thing.  So, I went for what I thought would be little more than a glorified planning session.

     The visit started out with a stress test.  I was glad they were going to do the metabolic stress test that measures lung function as well as cardiac performance.  I actually thought I did pretty good.  I stayed upright and everything, which hasn't always been the case in my history.  So, I was surprised to hear the doctor's report.

     My exercise capacity has not improved at all since the last test I had before the surgery.  No, compared to other people my age, my body's ability to handle exercise is only 45% of normal.    I'm a bit disappointed by that.  Even the doctors were confused why my lung capacity in particular was so bad.  I thought for sure there would be a teensy weensy amount of progress.  Just when I thought the storm was clearing, it looks like it's still raining...

     I'm very glad I went to the appointment.  It was an education.  All the symptoms I feel when doing anything physical, the way my body responds to the demands I put on it, and the rollercoaster pattern of the last year all make a lot more sense now.  I haven't "exercised" in a couple years.  Not on purpose, at least.  My body's exertion is the daily housework and toddler wrangling that feel like a mini-marathon.  It's actually comforting to see in numbers why I feel so daggone worn out at the end of most days. 

     So, I'm going to start going to the group rehab class once a week where they can watch me.  Then, I'll fill in with workouts at home---nice and slow.  I asked the doctor if there was anyone in this class even remotely near my age.  He said, "Well, I was just getting ready to warn you about that."  Great.  Time for Mama to feel like a Grandmama again.  Or maybe a Great Grandmama from the looks of my classmates, who I saw as I was leaving the office.  There they were, grooving to the music. 

     Oh, well.  It wouldn't be my life if it didn't have hiccups.  Besides, it never hurt anybody to shake their groove thing. 

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Apr. 14, 2007 - Sixth Grade Course of Study

     Since it's never too early to start thinking about next year, I've been working on my plan for 6th grade.  I don't think I'm going to add or drop any subject areas, which kind of surprises me.  Even though I often change my idea of how I want the cubs to learn, I think I'm finally comfortable with my plan for what I want them to learn.  This is how we've been doing things for the last two years, and I'm pretty sure this is how it's going to stay through middle school.  I don't even want to start worrying about high school now.  I just want to make sure we have a solid base for the upper levels. 

     Still have work to do on some areas, but I kind of need to see for sure where we end up at the end of this year to make those decisions.  Here's the general plan for 6th grade:

History:  United States: Reconstruction to Present; Eastern Hemisphere Cultures (Sonlight Curriculum)

Geography: Areas studied in History; continued review of geographic terms, maps, and graphs

State History: Local history club exploring city/state history through monthly meetings.  Also, read three biographies of famous people from our state and study three major events in our state's history.

Math: Sister Bear--Saxon 7/6; Brother Bear--Finish Saxon 6/5 and begin 7/6

Science: Earth Science--focus on astronomy and geology (Christian Kids Explore Earth and Space & Apologia's Exploring Creation with Astronomy) .  Continue attending monthly homeschool classes at local nature centers.

Nature Study: Weekly nature walks (except for in the dead of winter)

Grammar: Rod & Staff English 6

Writing: Continued requirement of 2-4 non-fiction writing assignments per week covering topics in history, literature, and science.  Creative writing focus on short stories and plays.

Literature: Study of books in addition to our many historical fiction and non-fiction selections (too many of those to list here).  Analysis of theme, character development, and reader enjoyment.  Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead, Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson, A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle, Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbit, The Giver by Lois Lowry, The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne, Hitty: Her First Hundred Years by Rachel Field and Dorothy P. Lathrop, The Borrowers by Mary Norton, Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh, The Prince and the Pauper by Mark Twain, and The Whipping Boy by Sid Fleischman 

Myths/Folktales: One Roman/Greek myth and one folktale from around the world monthly.

Poetry/Memorization: "The Snow Man" by Wallace Stevens, "Sonnet XXII" by William Shakespeare, "I'm Nobody!  Who Are You?" by Emily Dickinson, "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost, "Petals" by Amy Lowell, "The Rainy Day" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  Additional reading of selected poets.  Also, poetry writing practice monthly.

Spelling: Mainly emphasized through real life writing.  Possible supplement.

Shakespeare: One play per year.  Whichever is being performed in our city's Shakespeare festival.

Art Appreciation: Minimum of six artists per year.  Artists chosen based on time period being studied in history, local museum exhibits, and a desire to provide a mix of time periods and mediums.  (List to be determined)

Art Instruction: Create a piece of art in the style of each artist studied in art appreciation.  Lessons from God and the History of Art.  Additional outside art instruction for Brother Bear.

Music Appreciation: Minimum of six composers per year.  Composers chosen based on time period being studied in history, local orchestra/concert schedule, and a desire to provide a mix of styles.  Attend one live production each month including music of all types, dance, and opera.  (List to be determined)

Music Instruction: Keyboard and additional music theory.

Foreign Language: Continue with Latin.

Bible: Detailed study of three Old Testament and three New Testament books.  Weekly verse memorization.

Physical Education: Swim team and homeschool hiking club.

Field Trips: At least one field trip just for fun per month (factory tour, etc.) with homeschool field trip group.  At least one "educational"/historical field trip per month (museums, historic sites, etc.). 

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Apr. 12, 2007 - She works with her hands

     I finally finished Sister Bear's Christmas present.  Yes, I said Christmas present.  Don't look at me like that.  I already feel guilty enough.

     I started this afghan on Thanksgiving Day.  Then my  roller coaster health and my large amount of charity work sucked up all my time and energy.  To top it off, I haven't been able to crochet for almost two months!  I went through major withdrawal.  The surgery caused me to completely lose my strength in my left arm, and the pain from the pacemaker site was significantly worse than it ever has been from previous procedures.  That's the only real complication I had this time around.  The doctors said my body was just taking extra time getting over the trauma.  I only started crocheting again last week.  I'm glad to be back at it.  I have so many projects yet to complete.

     I adore the feeling of making something by hand for my home or family.  It makes me feel all Proverbs 31 inside.    Back in my social work days, I had a job where I helped the elderly obtain medication.  Since many of my clients lacked transportation, I would frequently visit them in their own homes.  This was when I lived on the edge of the middle of nowhere Kentucky, so I spent my days exploring a variety of nooks, crannies, and hollers.  One of my clients was this incredibily sweet 80 year old woman.  I wanted her life; or at least her house.  She lived in a log cabin at the end of a dirt lane surrounded by forest.  Her house had a dozen different scents mingled at one time, and all of them made you either nostalgic or hungry.  The heat from the fireplace provided a toasty atmosphere and musical background of pops and cracks.  And the quilts!  Oh, the quilts!  They hung from the walls and draped on the furniture.  Everything that decorated the entire place looked like she'd made it herself between babies, laundry, and loving her husband.  She had decades of history on those walls.  I want a house like that.  

     Whenever I see what people pay for the latest decorating trend, I'm always more than a little confused.  Are they really going to pass that overpriced Pottery Barn trinket down for generations?  Is that a legacy?  Sure, I agree all that "stuff" looks nice in the magazines, but it is, after all, just stuff.  Give me a home dripping with handmade reminders of my life.  A scrapbook of hours spent in fabric, yarn, and thread.  Not a showplace, but a home.  That's beauty.  

     I want my kids to have homes with pieces of me in them, too.  I made a pledge to myself that they would each have a baker's dozen of afghans and/or quilts by the time they marry.  So much crocheting left to be done!  Of course, they're not allowed to get married till they're 30 anyway, so I have plenty of time.

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Apr. 10, 2007 - Turn the page

     I've been meaning to journal more about my experience with open heart surgery.  I was going to do a bit of play-by-play for posterity.  It's never happened.  I guess it's just my way.  Forward motion.

     I think I'll just stick with the bits and pieces.  Those moments that jump out.  Like any memories; a jumble of images.

     I only met the surgeon once.  During my pre-op appointment, I sat in a small chair in his office.  Not an exam room, but his private office.  I noticed that he was very neat.  The papers and charts were organized on his desk.  His wife looked happy in the photo on the bookshelf.  He was attentive and open to hearing my questions.  I had an incredibly difficult time maintaining eye contact, though.  I could not stop looking at his hands.  His fingers were very long and thin.  His skin was remarkably white.  All I could think was that he would hold my heart in those hands. 

     I tried to be tough on surgery day like I always am.  I didn't want to scare the cubs.  But I still cried like a baby when I smelled Sister Bear's hair as I hugged her goodbye.  I bit my lip when I thanked Papa Bear for the life he's given me, as they came to wheel me to surgery.  I knew God's will would be done and it would be perfect.  He just hadn't let me in on what that will was.

     Whenever you're an inpatient at Cleveland Clinic and have to go for a test, they always use the elevator that's outside the entrance to the operating rooms.  On the wall is a sign that reads: "Through these portals pass the world's greatest cardiothoracic surgical TEAM."  Obviously a pep talk for the doctors and nurses about teamwork.  Whenever I see that sign it always reminds me that this is their job.  They wake up everyday and drag to work just like everybody else.  Just another normal day.  This life changing experience for me was so second nature to them that someone in corporate management felt the need to order a cheesy motivational sign erected to pump them up.  That comforts me.

     I forget my nurse's name that first night in ICU, but I'll never forget his voice.  It was calm and even.  I'd wake up and wave my hand across the room to get his attention.  He'd come over and say, "Pain?"  I'd say, "10" (you always have to rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10).  Then he'd inject the medicine into my I.V., and I was back to sleep.  I'd wake up, and we'd repeat the process all night long.  It seemed like weeks had gone by.  I woke up and waved my hand, but this time, he said, "I'm sorry, it's only been 45 minutes.  You have to wait an hour."  I had been waking up every hour?  How long.  How very, very long this whole thing was going to take. 

     The rest of my hospital stay was basic unpleasantness.  Removing the chest tubes was excruciating.  My roommate was even more so.  Delighting in the small victories like finally being able to go to the bathroom by myself.  Wanting little more out of life than a real, honest-to-goodness shower.  Usually when I'm in the hospital, there's at least one other person close to my age.  Not this time.  Everyone at least doubled my age of 31.  Could they make me feel any older as I shuffled down the hall on my laps around the floor?

     I will never find the words to describe the way my body felt.  It's more than the pain.  The instability in my chest felt like one wrong move would literally break my body in half.  Not like it might---like it would.  I've never felt so fragile.  But how quickly we adjust.  It still hurts every time I move certain ways, and I move those ways countless times a day.  I'm used to it, though.  I don't know how it will be when the pain is finally gone.  It will be strange not to have it.

     I didn't have any profound changes in my outlook on life or God.  This experience was more of a reinforcement, I guess, of what the Holy Spirit has already taught me in the last few years.  It's a peace and a gratitude.  Don't sweat the small stuff.  Keep your eyes on the prize.  All those good lines they put on T-shirts.

     The biggest moment of them all was this one.  I had been wondering about what it would be like if I died.  Would there be the last moment and then BAM!, I'm in heaven?  Would I remember Baby Bear's laugh, the smell of rain, and the feel of Papa Bear's kiss?  What would eternity feel like?  I remember the operating room.  All fuzzy, thanks to the fact I didn't have my contacts in.  I remember them telling me it was time to go to sleep.  I usually dream under anesthesia, but I didn't this time.  It was a dark and deep sleep.  Then, I realized I was awake and in the recovery room.  No bright light.  No Jesus at the end of the tunnel.  I was alive.  So, I went back to sleep.  It was that simple.  It was over.  Thank you Lord.  Now, let's move on... 

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Apr. 8, 2007 - White Easter

     The snow count is up to 16 inches here.  It was a cold and blustery Easter.  On the way to church we sang, "I'm dreaming, of a white EASTER.  Just like no one we've ever known.  Where the treetops glisten, and children listen, to hear eggs sinking in the snow..."

     No, the egg hunt was indoors.  This was Baby Bear's first experience at hunting, but she caught on quickly.  Then, she discovered there was stuff inside the eggs!  It got even better after that.

     Even though the older kids' hunt went up to age 10, Sister Bear decided she was way too cool for Easter eggs (Shhh.  Don't tell anyone I saw her sneak an egg when no one was looking!)  Brother Bear, though, was taking this egg hunting stuff seriously.  He was a boy with a mission.  I should have switched the camera to sports mode, because every single picture I took of him turned out like this:

     The blur that is also known as Brother Bear.  Too cute.

     The service was beautiful.  The light reflected from the snow outside made the stained glass in the sanctuary glow.  The music was excellent.  The message was soul nourishing.  Then, came the food.  It was just us, but I still cooked a big spread of ham, potato casserole, asparagus, corn, deviled eggs, and carrot cake.  Yummy!

     This Easter will be one for the record books because of the snow, but I pray that it was also a time of renewal and growth for my fellow sisters and brothers in Christ.

     For the sins of the world, God sent his son as a perfect sacrifice.  Because of his ultimate gift, we all can claim everlasting life.  Even more, we can live here on Earth lives of joy, spreading the Good News.  Christ suffered and died, but he is in the tomb no more.  Christ is risen!  Praise the Lord, he is risen indeed!

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Apr. 7, 2007 - Let it snow, let it snow, let it STOP snowing!!!

     You know, I didn't complain when we had a record high temperature one day, and then a 50 degree DROP in temperature for the high the next day.  I didn't grumble when I had to push aside the breezy, lightweight jackets in the closet to get to our winter coats again.  I barely batted an eyelash when it started snowing.  Great Lakes weather.  Only the tough survive.  But...c'mon.  It's getting ridiculous.

     The ruler says there's at least 8 inches of snow in my yard.  I tried to measure in several different places to avoid drifts, so this is the conservative estimate.  It's been snowing for days, and it's not letting up anytime soon, so we'll end up with at least a foot out of all this.  I tried to take a picture of my road, but you couldn't even tell it was a road in any of the pictures.  Guess the road crews give up after April 1.

     So, Baby Bear is going to wear her cute, pink WINTER dress to church tomorrow instead of the fancy, schmancy sleeveless number we had planned.  Guess we'll save that till  May, or June, or at this rate August. 

     We've had another good week exploring the traditions of our new church.  On Maundy Thursday we attended a traditional Seder meal for Passover.  One of our ministers has a Jewish background, so we read and sang all the Haggadah in Hebrew and English.  The bitter salt water and horseradish to remember the tears of slavery in Egypt.  The matzah bread.  The cups of wine (grape juice).  Interlaced with the story of Passover and the unmistakable connections to the Messiah, this meal was a special Last Supper.  On Good Friday, we attended a quiet and thoughtful service.  We didn't have a white Christmas this year, but our white Easter is setting a silent and soft time of remembrance.  Tomorrow, we'll have our indoor egg hunt, and what I'm sure will be another lovely service.  This church seems to have everything I've been looking for.  The traditions so lacking in the contemporary movement, the choice between the new and the old worship styles, a group of loving people seeking God, a strong local and international missions focus, and the cubs just absolutely love it.  I don't know what's holding me back from falling in love with this church.  I can't quite put my finger on it.  I think it's the size.  I've been so used to the crowds that it's strange to adjust to the small congregation.

     The older I get, the more Easter means to me.  So much focus is put on Christmas that this Resurrection Sunday seems to be pushed aside in many ways.  I embrace the opportunity to draw closer to God and to give thanks with all my soul.  After a long year of darkness, it's a welcome change to focus on rebirth and life---even if I have to wear my snow boots while I'm doing it.

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Apr. 2, 2007 - A Typical Day At Our House

     A monthly glimpse into our homeschool world.  It's been six weeks today since my surgery.  My mother left yesterday, so we're back to our own devices.  

7:45 a.m.  The alarm goes off.

8:15  a.m.  I'm up.  I'm not happy about it, but I'm up.

8:45 a.m.  Papa Bear's car up and died.  It's not the battery, because it wouldn't dare be something simple like that!  (insert sarcasm here)  The pitiful sound of the engine trying desperately to turn over yet failing miserably sounds---expensive!  That car is slowly sucking the life out of me and our bank account.  I have to steer it while Papa Bear pushes it into the street to get to my car in the front of the driveway.  I started driving again the other day.  Six weeks without driving is a long time.  I feel like a big girl again able to drive myself around.  It still hurts my chest to make sharp turns, though.  Like when you pull out of a parking space, etc.  That quick motion with the wheel.  Hurts, but it's doable.  Well, that's all cake compared to steering a dead car in neutral with no power steering.  Ouch!  I hate mornings.  Where's my Diet Coke?

9:45 a.m.  Cubs are fed, dressed, and clean.  My arch nemesis the laundry has had a break from me the past couple months.  It's time for us to do battle again.  My goal is one load a day.  We have some catching up to do, though.  Score: Laundry-1; Me-0.

10:20 a.m.  Sister and Brother Bear have zipped through a few things in history so far.  They read silently.  I perform surgery on the electric pencil sharpener, successfully I might add, and Baby Bear sneaks off with her prize booty---Chapstick.  She smells like menthol, but her lips are silky smooth.

11:30 a.m.  Brother Bear has updated me on the storyline of the book he's reading about the California gold rush.  Sister Bear does math.  I call the various places I need to sign the cubs up for our monthly nature classes and Brother Bear's art class.   We end the morning by coming back together for spelling.

12:00 p.m.  Lunch

12:45 p.m.  Baby Bear is napping.  Brother Bear writes a biography of one of the people we've been studying.  Sister Bear takes her turn with the gold rush book (By the Great Horn Spoon! by Sid Fleischman).  I mess around on the computer.

1:30 p.m.  I take a shower.  Sister Bear reads Island of the Blue Dolphins aloud to Brother Bear.  He returns to his biography writing while Sister Bear does a lesson out of the grammar book.  Then they switch.

2:00 p.m.  I read Moccasin Trail aloud to them both.  We finish the day with a glider experiment from Apologia's Exploring Creation with Zoology: Flying Creatures of the Fifth Day.  We build two gliders, one with a long, skinny wing and one with a short, wide wing.  In the backyard, we fly the gliders and measure the distance each traveled.  After repeating this many times, we average the distances and discover there's a reason the eagle flies with its long, lovely wings and the chicken stays on the ground with its short, fat wings.  We also discover that glider experiments on a spring day with the Great Lakes winds are not only an education but an adventure!

3:15 p.m.  Sister Bear disappears into her room and Brother Bear plays on the computer.  I work on laundry again.  We're all lazy for the next couple of hours.

5:00 p.m.  Make dinner.  Eat dinner.

6:00 p.m.  I've tried many housecleaning strategies, but cleaning one room a day always seems to work the best for me.  Today is living room/dining room day.  I dust and organize clutter.  The cubs wade through Baby Bear's toys and vacuum.  She is not a fan of this process, since she does not like anyone who dares to touch her stuff.  I definitely assigned the easy job to myself. 

7:00 p.m.  Papa Bear is home, and we try once more to beg his car to start.  No luck.  Our city laws say you can't leave a car on the street overnight, so we push it back in the driveway to await being towed in the morning.  Sigh.  The cubs play outside for a bit.

8:00 p.m.  It's Dancing With the Stars!  Sister Bear and I love this show.  We saw the live tour in January when it was in town, so this season we feel more attached to the professionals that we saw in person.  Papa Bear gives the babe a bath during this time, and she's off to bed.  Brother Bear draws and reads.

9:45 p.m.  The television switches to the NCAA basketball tournament, so I'm outta there!!  The older cubs trail to bed.

11:00ish  Bedtime for me---maybe.  That's what I'm shooting for at least. 

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Apr. 1, 2007 - Tennis Anyone?

     I promise to write an actual entry with words tomorrow, but I got such great pictures today, I just had to post the cuteness.

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Mar. 29, 2007 - Wild Beast

     So much changes in a year.  Last year was the year of the hands on projects in our homeschool.  When we studied the Middle Ages, we built an entire medieval village.  The serf had a house made out of twigs and mud.  The doctor had a nicer house made out of bark with a garden out back for his herbs.  The knight had a castle to work out of.  Etc.  Etc.  Then we moved onto the Revolutionary War and brought our imaginations with us.  We designed invitations to our own Boston Tea Party.  Paul Revere inspired us to cast silver (both a plaster and a chocolate version).  And so on.  That was a fun year.

     This year is so different.  Not that we can't do hands on, but we seem to have crossed some invisible line in the sand.  Sister Bear prefers to write reports, and she makes it known with her turned up nose at "kiddish" activities.  Brother Bear does so much artistically in his own time, that he doesn't notice if we don't always have a really cool and exciting project everyday.  The academic load is increasing, and the smell of hormones is in the air.  Everyone is growing up.  So we read, and we write, and we read, and we write.  Baby Bear is the one who colors and makes messes with me now.  She alone appreciates the attraction of paint and glue.  Everyone else has their nose in a book.  How quickly things change. 

     Except for "artist of the month day", that is.  Sometimes we read a biography of the artist.  Sometimes we see the works in person at a museum.  We always make our own reproduction of their style, though.  No matter how much Sister Bear groans, we get out the craft supplies and create.  I feel myself instantly getting excited during this time.  It's the old days come back again for one afternoon.  It's scissors, gunk, and beauty. 

     This month we studied Henri Matisse and fauvism.  Literally meaning "wild beast" in French, Matisse's style was given this name, because it was so wild and shocking.

"The Knife Thrower" by Henri Matisse    

     You gotta hand it to Matisse.  In the Post Impressionist world of soft watercolors and reserved oil on canvas, the guy had the guts to cut out paper and glue it.  Picasso and the rest of modern art soon followed him, so he wasn't shocking for long, but I admire a man who sees the value in scissors and paste.

     Sister Bear created a cat on a table, and Brother Bear created a nameless face.  More treasures for my gallery.  So now we have our own Matisse-inspired masterpieces, and I got my project fix for another month.  Guess it's back to the books.

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Mar. 27, 2007 - Skipping Rocks

     No other words needed.

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Mar. 25, 2007 - Slam Dunk

     Had to take advantage of the nice weather today.  Spring here is a rapidly changing mix of every season.  Tomorrow is supposed to be nice as well, but then it's back to coat weather.  Hmmm.  Mental note to make a plan for tomorrow.  Today, we played basketball.  Well, I soaked in some honest-to-goodness sunshine from my chair while the rest of the crew stretched their legs.  Sister Bear even learned an easy way to dunk with Papa's help.

     Gotta love Sunday afternoon in Spring.  The only way to truly top off this bliss is a nice, long nap.

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Mar. 23, 2007 - Synopsis

     Anyone looking to read a deep or profound blog entry today has come to the wrong place.  I'm all about the random it seems.

     Baby Bear officially grew up yesterday.  Yes, it's very sad.  Please join with me as I mourn.  Storytime started at the library.  She's graduated from the baby and me storytime to the toddler storytime.  She was instantly fascinated by all the 2 and 3 year olds running around.  She'd follow them anywhere.  Mama?  Who cares!  I'm going to wear my adorable nametag hanging on a string around my neck and down to my little knees.  I'm going to walk in a line behind the big kids like this wasn't the first time I ever stood in line.  I'm going to follow directions from that strange librarian like I don't have an allergy to strangers.  I'm going to read my book, dance with the songs, and do my craft.  I'm 21 months and 25 days old, and I'm ready to take on the world.  Sigh.

     Did I ever tell ya I love homeschooling?  Probably once or twice, huh?  This week is no different.  The older cubs got to go to a play version of Anne of Green Gables.  Precisely why I wanted to move to the city.  Read the book, see the live version, Netflix the movie...love it!  We also went to our monthly meeting of the history club we joined this year.  Designed just for homeschoolers and run by the city park system, we visit a different local landmark each month, learning about our city and state history.  This month, the historical interpreter spent some time weaving stories and singing songs.  As l listened to him describe the area, I was able to nod in recognition with the other moms as he named familiar streets and people.  Hey!  I think this city and state are starting to feel not just like the place we've moved to, but the place we call home.

     Why does Spring bring out the worst in our human psyche?  You would think that everyone would be so stinking filled with joy that the temperature is above freezing and the sun is almost sorta shining (sorry, guess that's just me), that spirits would be high and smiles would be everywhere.  Not the case.  I'm overwhelmed by all the discontent I'm seeing in people right now.  Mothers who are 100% positively fed up; wives who have 100% positively given up.  They're in great supply right now.  I pray for these women continually.  I guess the whole near-death experience thing changes my perspective slightly, but I wish I could help these women see the joy again.  It's right there pushing up through the dirt and waiting to burst into bloom. 

     I walked up a hill this week!  O.K.  I call it a hill.  Anyone else would probably refer to it as a rise in the road or not even notice it at all, but believe me, I notice these things.  I went down it, and I made it back up again without any major physical symptoms.  I felt like I should have planted a flag or something.

     Well, the morning is progressing.  I'm off to learn something.  No point in letting those kids have all the fun!

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Mar. 17, 2007 - Blogger Friend School Assignment #21

     This week's assignment is to take a picture of my hand and to discuss how all the little parts of our bodies are used by God, even the ones we take for granted.  To join Blogger Friend School, visit Training Hearts.

     Here's my hand in all its glory.  O.K.  First off, I think that's a part of my body that I'm glad I don't notice too often.   Guess I won't be doing any hand modeling anytime soon. 

     The first thing I notice is my fingernails.  Hey, I have some!  I can tell my mother has been here doing the dishes for a month.  Way to go, Mom!  Second, I see the scars from the giant I.V. I had during surgery on my inner wrist.  Those will fade eventually.  Last, there was no way I could take a picture of my hand by itself, for it is rarely alone.  I almost always have Baby Bear's hand there, too.  Beneath her fingers, you can just barely see a large bruise.  Believe me, if you saw the whole gnarly thing, you would thank me for the cover-up.  That bruise is partly from blood I had drawn the other day (bloodthinners just make lovely bruises!) and partly from those little fingers.  See how the camera caught her in mid-action?  Yep, she's a pincher.  She used to pinch necks.  Those were bad days.  Now, she pinches knuckles.  Actually, if you're lucky she just pinches.  If you're not lucky or she's especially sleepy, she rolls the skin and cartilage underneath over top of the bone.  Yikes!  Yes, I know I can make her stop.  Yes, I know I'm usually much more hard-nosed in my parenting and this doesn't go with my personality at all, but I let her have this one thing.  Look at that little hand.  I'll do anything to keep it close to mine for just a bit longer.  It hurts more to let it go than to keep it.

     I don't have to do much soul searching for this assignment.  I've been made quite aware lately of how all my body parts work together and what happens if one starts to fail.  Life is one moment after the other of taking things for granted.  Even when we're grateful, we're unaware.  If your heart beats about 70 beats per minute, that's over 100,000 times a day!  I never noticed that until the multiple times I've been faced with the thought of it stopping as each racing beat pounded in my chest and throat.  I never noticed how everyone takes breathing for granted, until I learned what it feels like to struggle to breathe.  God designed these organs to function in the background, and there's good reason for that.  These silent systems that sustain life without our thought or control.  Being made aware of their presence is eye-opening.  I've been on both sides, and I'd rather be blissfully unaware.  I must have faith that my heart will beat the next second and the second after that.  Just like my faith that God will be there in the moments to come.  Thinking about it is not necessary.

     I have perfect use of my arms, hands, feet, and legs.  For that, I am truly thankful.  I look forward to using them again for God's work.  I walk slowly, but I'm getting faster.  There's nowhere I wouldn't go if God led me.  My hands are open and waiting to be filled with God's purpose and whatever task he sets me to. 

     My silent motto is often the old Shaker words: "Hands to work.  Hearts to God."  I have it on a magnet on my refrigerator as a reminder.  My hands and body have done many different things over the years---not all for good.  Right now, they change diapers, grade papers, stroke heads, clean toilets, and fold in prayer.  I like that combination.  I don't know what God will use them for in the future, but I strive to never let them be idle.  Bruised, battered, or pinched, my hands are open in love and praise.      

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Mar. 15, 2007 - Do you hear what I hear?

     As I've been sitting on my backside a lot lately, I've been much more observant of our days.  I guess when you're in the middle of something, you never see the details, so my perspective is sharpening as I draw back. 

     The main thing I've noticed is how our day SOUNDS.  Looks---well, I know how it looks, but I haven't really listened in a long time.  Here's my top 3 favorite sounds in no particular order:

*****Baby Bear, sweet, sweet, Baby Bear.  She doesn't talk, she sings.  Every syllable has a rhythm and a melody.  I decided it's because she has no ulterior motive.  Her words aren't said to cut or sting.  They're not complaints or negative attitudes.  She's all joy.  Such a sweet sing-song of words and things that kinda sorta almost sound like words.

*****Silence.  Usually I miss the silence, because my head is full of to do lists and junk and just a bunch of noise.  Silence is sweet.

*****Reading aloud.  The fluid in my lungs has severely limited my participation in the read alouds, so Sister Bear has taken over an even larger share.  As I sit in the other room, I can't make out the words, but the soft drone of her voice is like a calming buzz.  I'm so glad they'll have these memories of their learning days.  Together. 

     Most days, even when I look, I don't really see.  Even when I hear, I don't really listen.  Not today...

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Mar. 12, 2007 - Sleepy, Dopey, and a Few Other Dwarfs

   And if tonight my soul may find her peace
in sleep, and sink in good oblivion,
and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower
then I have been dipped again in God, and new-created.
~D.H. Lawrence

     I had my first night without painkillers.  It didn't go well.  I've been trying to slowly wean myself off the Percocet.  I had stopped taking it during the day, because it was making me incredibly nauseous.  I couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep without it, though.  Oh, but the dreams!  Always vivid and strange.  Sometimes disturbing or horrific.  I reached my limit.  No more drugs!

     I barely slept.  I'd say I tossed and turned, but  I wish it had been that simple.  More like wriggling and squirming.  Any change of position in the bed requires at least five minutes, one saying of the Lord's Prayer, and a considerable amount of moaning.  Mostly I just laid there and listened to Baby Bear's cute little noises from the crib across the room.  She's sleeping through the night more and more now.  She gave up on me when I was in the hospital.  Guess that's one way to get her to sleep in her bed.

     Field trips are back in swing, even though I'm not actively participating.  Papa Bear went with the older cubs to an Underground Railroad program last week.  Surrounded by historical actors, they figuritively ran for their lives through the grounds of an 1800's farm.  They experienced being sold at auction, belittled by white slave owners, hiding in a Northern abolitionist's house, and feeling the rush of freedom at long last.  Well done trip.  I'm looking forward to our Spring schedule of events.

     The temperature is slowly creeping upward, and the snow is melting at a rapid speed.  Guess Baby Bear won't have much use for her brother's hat and gloves much longer.  Sure is cute, though, no matter the season.

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Mar. 9, 2007 - Belated

     I seem to have missed my blogaversary!  On March 6th it was officially one year since I started this blog.  Time well spent I hope...  Looking forward to the time to come.

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Mar. 7, 2007 - What Did He Just Say?

     Brother Bear is the King of the One Liners.  He's famous for his spot-on commentary about any life situation.  He always has something to say, and his huge bank of trivia never fails him.  He's a non-fiction book nut.  He'll read any book about any history topic at any time.  I've tried repeatedly to interest him in fiction to no avail.  It's all about the real thing to him. 

     His particular gift is Presidential trivia.  It's not unusual to hear him place an obscure Chester A. Arthur comment into a conversation about the weather.  He's got a neverending supply of facts.  Usually when he does this, I admit that my chest swells just a little.  Especially if it happens to be in public.  Daggone it---I'm proud of the boy!  I always attribute his knowledge to homeschooling.  Look what homeschooling will do for your child!  Here's the poster boy to prove it!

     Guess my pride goeth before the fall, though.  The other night Brother Bear was helping my mother with a crossword.  The clue was a famous woman's name.  Brother Bear's response?  "Wasn't that the woman that President Clinton had sexual relations with?"

     What can I say?  What can I blame that on?  Homeschooling?  Sigh.  What are they letting that boy read anyway?

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Mar. 5, 2007 - Blogger Friend School #20

     I'm way behind on my Blogger Friend School Assignments for obvious reasons.  Time to catch up, though.  To join Blogger Friend School visit Training Hearts.

     This week's assignment is to write my educational/homeschool philosophy.  Hmmm.  I could write about how we're basically eclectic though we lean toward classical, but I'd rather explore a different angle.  What interests me about this assignment is not the details of everyone's daily grind, but rather the underlying attitude that determines whether or not homeschooling is successful.  Not how we homeschool but why.

     On any given day, I run across someone on a blog, forum, or e-mail list who is struggling.  They've had it with homeschooling.  The kids won't listen, the mother feels smothered, other life circumstances are looming, etc.  There's a ton of different reasons, but they all lead to the same statement: "Maybe homeschooling just isn't for us."

     I always feel such sadness when I read the despair and frustration.  You can sense when someone is truly at the end of her rope, and some of these mothers are even beyond that.  If I dare to say it though, there's a reason they end up in that place.  It all comes back to the homeschool philosophy.  In my opinion, there's two approaches to homeschooling: homeschooling the head and homeschooling the heart.  If you say your number one reason to homeschool is to give your child a better education, you're more likely to fail.  Ouch!  Why do I say that?  Just ask the burned out mothers.  If the book work is your focus, then when the schedule gets behind or the kids just don't get the new concept or life throws a big hiccup in your path, your foundation is gonna shake.  A homeschooling day is full of missteps and mistakes, so it doesn't take long to rock this homeschool philosophy to the core.  If we're homeschooling to give the kids a better education, then a lot can go wrong.  Brick and mortar schools start looking very attractive when things go wrong---which they do, all the time.

     I homeschool to reach the hearts of my kids.  Sure, I give them a great education.  I'm confident enough to believe with every ounce of my being that I give them a better education than any public or private school ever could.  There are a lot of great schools out there, but mine's still better.  That's just the bonus of our homeschool journey, though, not the focus.  My purpose in life is to serve my God and my family.  Homeschooling IS my job.  I don't whine if it takes a lot of my free time.  I spend hours each day researching, planning, reading, discussing, and facilitating the learning of my children.  Just like if I still went to the office each day, homeschooling gets my 9:00 to 5:00 focus.  I don't feel the smothered feeling a lot of women do because of that.  It's all about the mindset.  

     In every task and opportunity of our day, my goal is to show the cubs something about God.  Pushing through and finishing an assignment.  Helping a sibling.  Hearing about the past.  Planning for the future.  Even scrubbing the toilet and letting your baby sister win.  Those are God lessons.  We learn them through academics and family life, but they are truths about the power of God in our lives. 

     I like to keep on schedule, but if something comes up, it doesn't make my world come to an end.  We learned about God's timing through that experience.  If one of the cubs makes my blood boil with a careless attitude, we get over it.  We learned about God's patience through that experience.  If I feel like I may never talk to another adult face to face again, and I've been banished to the land of the little people, I suck it up and get over it.  I learned about serving God and following his plan for my life through that experience. 

     I've never heard one frustration about homeschooling that you can't turn around into a God lesson.  It makes perfect sense if you think about it.  There's not one single frustration with life in general that there's not a God lesson in.  Why should homeschooling be any different?

     Is homeschooling for everyone?  Definitely not.  It's a calling from God, and God has very different callings for each individual.  Homeschooling is our calling, though.  It's how we educate our kids, but it's also how we win their hearts.  I can honestly say that I have never considered giving up homeschooling.  Sure, I've been frustrated, but I've never seen sending them back to public school as an option for fixing my problems.  When we started homeschooling four years ago, all I saw was two kids who hated school and were emotionally drowning.  The future didn't exist.  I only knew what we were facing at that moment.  I didn't see how we would move twice in a year and how homeschooling would keep the cubs' world stable.  There was no way I also could have known how vital it would be for them to be home this past year when I was desperately ill.  I didn't see how much our family would need the togetherness.  I'm so glad God did see what would happen and used homeschooling to change our lives! 

     I have no idea what else will come up in my life over the remainder of our homeschooling journey.  I like to plan ahead what we'll learn academically, but I don't have a clue what else will happen.  All I know is that God blesses us as we homeschool and his lessons are new each morning.  I don't want to miss a single one.  I'm a student in this homeschool, too.  Thanks, God, for being the teacher.  All I'm doing is following directions.

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Mar. 2, 2007 - The Thaw is Coming

     I know that in real time, it actually hasn't been that long, and I should be very pleased with my recovery.  I don't live in real time, though.  I live in some kind of alternate universe of insomnia mixed with the need to sleep right now, immediately!  I live where my head is too fuzzy to read very long, or concentrate, or where was I again???  I live where the effort to take a shower and dress is my main goal of the day.  I live where time is measured only in the hours before I can take the next pain pill.  I'm a couch potato without the joy of laziness.  I'm not allowing myself to get frustrated, but I can see that place from here.  I don't need to feel completely wonderful.  I just want a day where I feel o.k.

     It is funny to watch what happens when I am so sedentary, though.  Baby Bear has been in the best mood I've seen her in for a long time.  She's not tugging at my legs while I'm flying around trying to keep everything running.  She's pleased as punch to always know where to find me in my little spot under the blanket.  I like being able to give her the attention she needs.  I can answer Sister and Brother Bear's questions immediately without having them wait, and I can watch them work in long stretches rather than in between chores.  A slower pace definitely has its advantages.

     Anyway, enough with the blah, blah, blah.  I can actually see real honest-to-goodness grass under the snow in my yard.  Could Spring actually be on its way??  I want to enjoy this Spring.  Can't wait to show Baby Bear the world that she forgot existed.  I just love all those "first time" moments.  We're just waiting to bust out in bloom around here.  Just a little bit longer...

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