Mama and the Three Bears - Homeschool Blogger

Moving

Sun, 22 Apr 2007 12:44:00 -0500

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!

Walk the Line

Tue, 17 Apr 2007 22:08:00 -0500

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.

Sixth Grade Course of Study

Sat, 14 Apr 2007 12:12:00 -0500

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.).

She works with her hands

Thu, 12 Apr 2007 21:39:00 -0500

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.

Turn the page

Tue, 10 Apr 2007 22:41:00 -0500

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...

White Easter

Sun, 8 Apr 2007 17:36:00 -0500

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!

Let it snow, let it snow, let it STOP snowing!!!

Sat, 7 Apr 2007 08:29:00 -0500

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.

A Typical Day At Our House

Mon, 2 Apr 2007 07:42:00 -0500

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.

Tennis Anyone?

Sun, 1 Apr 2007 20:22:00 -0500

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

Wild Beast

Thu, 29 Mar 2007 12:16:00 -0500

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.