Thanks, Mr. Phlebotomist!

Earlier this week I had to give blood. This is never fun for me because I have the mortifying tendency to pass out. So, so embarrassing. I had to fast, of course. The overwhelming ramification of this is that I could not have my cup of coffee. No. Coffee. I had to get dressed, motivate JT and MO to get dressed, get us in the car and drive to the doctor's office with no coffee. I was not the least bit pleasant. Just ask my kids. No, wait, don't mention this day to them.





So there I was, stomping my way into the doctor's office with a scowl across my face at the crack of dawn. Or maybe it was 8:00 AM, which is the crack of dawn to most homeschoolers. Of course there is a guy hacking and coughing H1N1 germs all over the waiting room. I ordered the kids to not breathe as I glared at the sicko. I would've had all the compassion in the world for his plight IF I'D HAD A CUP OF COFFEE!!!! Thankfully, we only had to wait a few moments before I was called back for the torture.





The phlebotomist glanced at the kids and said, "No school today?" Snarl. I get this question all the time. All. The. Time. I hate this question. I find it rude and annoying. What business is it of the masses whether or not my kids are skipping school? Is everyone an undercover truancy officer? So when Mr. Phlebotomist asks me this question on a morning with no caffeine, I give him a surly, "We homeschool." Then I proceed to tell him all about my ridiculously Victorian tendency to pass out at the sight of my own blood. He quickly and graciously moves me to a private room where I can recline while giving blood. He proceeds to tell me that he and his sister were homeschooled and loved it. He distracted me throughout the bloodletting with wonderful stories of growing up homeschooled. He gave me his positive opinions on the socialization of homeschoolers. I was so wrapped up in the conversation that I hardly noticed the unpleasantness going on with the needle in my arm.





Thanks, Mr. Phlebotomist, for turning my day around!

Ganging Up

If you read yesterday's post, you can tell we're having a bit of a rocky week around here.


On Monday, Jacob was the "good cop." He did his schoolwork in a timely manner, with a happy heart. Morgan, on the other hand, dug into her role of "bad cop." She SMACKED the beads across the abacus with a scowl on her face during math. She whined and mumbled her way through reading.


On Tuesday, they switched roles. Morgan was cheerful and eager to tackle her schoolwork. She claimed that math was fun! She happily read from her reader. Jacob, oh Jacob. He snorted and snarled his way through math. He banged his head on the table while whining, "I can't doooooooo this!" He rolled his eyes through his language lesson.


This makes me want to whine, "Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy????" Why can't we all just be happy AT THE SAME TIME?


I know, I know, I know, this is the way it goes. Kids have been ganging up against their mothers since they lived in caves. If only I could catch them planning their roles for the day. A little heads up would be so beneficial to my lesson-planning.

Do They Draw Straws?

Do they do it on purpose? This "good cop/bad cop" thing JT and MO do? Do they get up in the morning and secretly decide who gets to be the angelic, model citizen and who gets to be the terror-child? I wonder how they decide? Rock, Paper, Scissors? Is there a point system?

Why can't they both be "bad cop" on the same day? We could just hunker down and have one, big, nasty, miserable day full of griping and misery and be done. Then we could have a "good cop" day where everyone is happy and there is a rosy glow to our day filled with butterflies and singing.

I cannot remember the rules from my childhood. Surely, my brother and I knew them and strategically worked out the good cop/bad cop plan for each day. Right? I wonder if he remembers.

Now I'm curious about how families with more than two children work this out each day. Do the kids split the good cop/bad cop duties down the middle? What if there is an odd number of children? More good some days, more bad others? What about an only child?

Smarter Than The Average Bear

Last night, I went upstairs to turn out lights and give goodnight kisses. When I got there I found my darling children playing a math card game from our math curriculum. I heard the sounds of the game as I approached and thought that I must be hearing things. But, no, there they were sweetly playing "Ten as the Minuend." I was so overjoyed that I let them stay up for an extra half hour.

Those homeschooled kids sure are smart, aren't they?

Homeschooling on the Road...Or Not

When planning a road trip I always have such high aspirations of what kind of schooling we can do while stuck in the van for hours on end. I compile loads of books, games, activities and actual schoolwork to pass the time. For this trip, I intended to further our study of George Washington and the American Revolution. I also intended to expand MO’s knowledge of geography since we were driving across four of the states she has been studying in her geography class. Yeah, well. *Sigh* This is what our trip was actually like.

The books on George Washington and the American Revolution were never cracked open. The audio tapes of George Washington’s life never made it into the player. We stopped in Alabama and purchased postcards at the Tourist Info Center. That was the extent of our geographical studies. Actually, that was the extent of our schooling. Unless you count life lessons in human body noises, the perils of an unhealthy diet (no relation to the human body noises) or the effects of poorly maintained (biggest pothole I’ve ever seen) roads on the tires of a loaded minivan (blow-out). We survived the trip. Isn’t that what really matters? We were in the van for over 13 hours. My #1 recommendation for road trips with children: CANDY. Lots and lots and lots of candy. The kids watched DVDs and ate candy all day long. They were happy campers. Spastically hyper campers, but very happy. This meant that Chet and I could actually converse and enjoy each other’s company. So nice. Never mind thoughts of rotting brains and teeth – a small price to pay for the sanity of the two adults in the van.

Speaking of rotting, I had the worst road trip meal of my life last night. We stopped somewhere in Mississippi and ordered burgers at a place where we could dine in our van. It was beyond disgusting. Hot, wilted, gooey lettuce, slimy meat, melting bun. BARF! The worse part of all is that one of the cooks came outside and stood right in front of our van. This guy had the biggest stomach I have ever seen on a man. It was like a droopy, uniboob stomach. It actually hung down to his crotch. Never seen anything like it. It was like a train wreck - I couldn't look away. Somehow this guy's stomach made my burger that much more disgusting. The kids were in awe of this man’s stomach. Thoughts of grasping that teachable moment to discuss proper food choices went out the window when I looked down at the giganto-burger goo in my own hands and the piles of candy wrappers littering the floor.

JT is the best little traveler. He hunkers down into his seat with his legos and action figures and pretty much refuses to budge until we arrive at our destination. We have to force him out of the van for potty breaks - I swear the kid is a camel. Both kids were completely entertained by the special features on one of their DVD’s where they could supplement the dialogue with "human noises." I'm sure you can imagine the crude, low-brow humor that ensued. Lots of burping, farting and toilet flushing sounds. Normally I'd be irritated that we'd purchased such a vacuous DVD, but yesterday I was thanking my lucky stars because those kids listened to cartoon characters open their mouths and have fart sounds come out for HOURS. They laughed so much - truly the best sound in the world.

The last two hours of the trip are always the hardest and last night MO was miserable. She'd be sleeping then suddenly sit upright and screech, "I can't sleeeeeep!" Then she'd mutter and toss and turn and go back to sleep only to sit up a few minutes later and screech, "When are we going to beeeeeee there?" If we weren't all so miserably tired and snarky it would've been quite funny. Actually, it's kinda funny now that I'm no longer trapped in the van.

We arrived in Louisiana to an empty house. My parents heard we were coming and took off lickety-split all the way to Arizona to get away from us. (Kidding, Mom.) My mother warned me that her cupboards would be bare since she and my dad have been traveling the country for the last week. My brood is up and muttering about empty bellies. Think I can sneak out to the grocery store pre-shower with my hair shoved into one of my dad's old hunting caps? Yeeaahhh, not gonna happen. Starve, people! Mama must shower.

To be continued….

Gravitational Pull

This weather today is killing me! Overcast with clouds and rain - all I want to do is take a nap! My eyes keep closing and my body is being pulled towards the couch and my snuggly blanket. How am I to homeschool with this kind of gravitational pull exerted by the couch? The barometric pressure is forcing my eyes to close! I'm racking my cloud-covered brain in an effort to come up with a homeschooling spin for midday napping. Here are the possibilities so far:

1. Healthy Bodies (pe/health)

2. Nap now to conserve energy for tasks later today. (Practical Living)

3. Dream Study (psychology)

4. Sleep Stages Study/ REM (science)

A Tale

MO was reading aloud a fanciful story about a group of animals. The main character, Pig, is homesick and begins telling a tale about his hometown. The other animals were awed at Pig's outrageous tale of a land filled with colors. Comprehension questions went something like this:

Me: Are the other animals surprised by Pig's tale?

MO: Yes.

Me: Why were the other animals surprised?

MO: Because a pig was talking to his tail. Duh.

Ms. No Depth Perception Strikes Again

How am I supposed to educate my children on a day like this? It started around 4:00 this morning when some random alarm went off. Apparently, it was an alarm clock alarm on a clock that we don’t use for alarms. Go figure. I thought it was the smoke alarm and FREAKED OUT in a big way. I never did fully go back to sleep. I did spend some time in that murky, semi-sleep state dreaming of fire, smoke, death and dying. Later this morning, as I’m dragging myself out of the shower I get a phone call that the dog was late for her grooming appointment. Now that seems insignificant, I’m sure. Around here it takes about a week to get an appointment with the dog groomer and my dog can no longer see because her sweet little eyes are covered by fur. I feel immensely guilty about this since the dog cannot arrange her own grooming appointments; so I throw on clothes and race off, with wet hair and unbrushed teeth, with the dog under my arm for the groomer. As I back the van out of the driveway, while rolling down the window to adjust the side mirror, I hear a nasty crunch. I look out the window to see what toy I crunched and smacked my lip on the window which had not rolled down all the way. I hit the damn window so hard that I thought I knocked my tooth out. I’m still worried that my front tooth is going to turn black and fall out. I’m also slightly concerned that I have a concussion from the impact. Can those radiate from lip to brain? Either way, my head, lip and tooth are killing me.

Teacher Mom is sleep-deprived, nightmare-ridden, scatter-brained and may be suffering a mild concussion. The kids say I’m acting the same as usual, other than the puffy lip, so I guess we’re off and running.

Friendly Letters

There is nothing “friendly” about teaching a fourth grader to write a friendly letter. Nothing. Friendly. About. It. He was to write a personal narrative then put it into the form of a friendly letter. He’s been re-writing his letter, after revisions and proofreading, since about 9:30 this morning (it’s now almost 1:00). I could strangle him. We’re out of one of his ADHD meds, so he’s only taking the one med right now. (Normally he takes an extremely low-dose cocktail of two meds.) I’m beginning to really question the lack of the one med. Especially since he has his karate test tonight. Sabotaged by his own mother’s inadequacy as a drug pusher. He just asked if he could type the letter on the computer instead. “Yes!” I almost screeched. Yes! Yes! Yes! Just get it done! I no longer care about your penmanship!!! Not true. He’s got great penmanship which is evidenced with his first draft – and that will suffice JUST FINE. I kid you not, he just came in here and asked me what our address is. We’ve covered this about 10 trillion times in the past two years, including a refresher last week. Is it wrong that I told him to go outside and look at the mailbox and a street sign? Yes, I suppose it is. In his current state, he may get lost and not be able to find his way home because he doesn’t know his address!!!! Maybe we should take a lunch break so that the carb surge will cause his pencil to move across the page at a normal rate of speed, rather than one stroke every 14 minutes. Lunch was the dangling carrot that was to motivate speedy letter writing. Who am I kidding? Have I forgotten who my child is? “He loves a Happy Meal: Just hold the meal and he’ll be happy.” Oh, right. He doesn’t care about food. Gggrrrrr!

Heartsore Homeschooling

Most days I love homeschooling, but (y’all knew there was a BUT coming, right?), you know, some days I wish I were one of the moms who ships her kids off to school and has time to herself during the day. I wonder what that must feel like. I had snippets of freedom when the kids were both in preschool for 3 hours a day, twice per week. I’d love to know what it feels like to have 7ish hours a day, 5 days per week. Just for a little while.

I get so tired of good-intentioned gushes of, “I just don’t know how you do it. I’d go crazy if I homeschooled and was home all day with my kids all the time. You’re a better person than I am.” I suppose that those are supposed to be compliments (?), but all I hear are recriminations of my own idiocy, misguided priorities and loss of touch with reality – my perception of their perceptions, I’ll admit. Sometimes I think of how it would be so much easier if I didn't mention homeschooling to Some People. I should just answer their questions with "I teach" rather than "I homeschool." But I'm kind of twisted and like the uncomfortable looks on Some People's faces. It's almost like I've said that I have 24 cats or communicate with space aliens. The looks people give are about the same for all three statements. Some People are so wrapped up in WHAT they do that they've lost WHO they are. It's sad to be so wrapped up in the what and not the who, but I digress.

Most days I really do enjoy homeschooling. I LOVE being home with my kids. I LOVE the schooling part. Watching them learn. Seeing their excitement. Building memories. Introducing them to new things. The freedom, ah yes, the freedom. I could go on for hours about the positives. But, let’s focus on the negatives for a bit, people. Sometimes I feel like I’m more about quantity than quality. I don’t like the hours after school is done and before bedtime on days when I cannot summon the mood to do all the Good Mommy things, such as crafts (*shudder*), visiting the park, baking cookies, etc. Y’all know the drill. Those afternoons are filled with pesky, witching hours around here. I wish I had a neighborhood full of kids so I could kick the kids out of the house to play until I called them at dinnertime, but I do not. Some days I feel the need to “get some things done around here.” The kids know this means Mom needs to be left alone to salvage what is left of her sanity.

Anyone else?

Homeschool Hiccups

I’ve had the “You’re in 4th Grade Now and Must __________” lecture YET AGAIN this morning. It’s a fill-in-the-blank lecture to fit any given circumstance relating to school, the fourth grade, adhd, and anything else that pops into my head while I'm babbling, I mean, lecturing. Truthfully, it’s all about the same. Bottom line is that it is about damn time for JT to SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUP, AND GET HIS SH*T TOGETHER. Fortunately, I have not filled in the blank with that particular response. I’m couching it with phrases like pay attention, organize yourself, take responsibility, have pride in your performance, etc. It all means the other, though, in reality. I also used the phrase “timely manner” with JT. As in, “You must complete your schoolwork in a timely manner if you want to….” Timely manner! Did I really just use those words? Don’t old, uptight, buttoned-down, dinosaur-era teachers use phrases like ‘timely manner’? What is happening to me? When did this happen? Have I become an uptight dinosaur? (Don’t answer that.)

MO, on the other hand, has finished her entire day’s work with smiles and enthusiasm. Armageddon is near. It must be. There is no other explanation for that child doing anything willingly. I’d like to be the kind of mom who appreciates the doll that her daughter has been, but I’m not that mom. I’m the kind of mom who feverishly wonders what crime has been committed. Did MO cut her own hair again? Cut the dog’s hair? Paint her bedroom walls with finger paint? Hide last night’s dinner under her bed? I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. That child is never agreeable unless something is up. More than a little nervous over here, folks. I should focus on the positives, though, right? MO is now eating lunch and moving on with her day while JT is still twitching and tweeting and snapping and working on his first lesson of the morning. Do I hear shrieking? What could that be? The construction next door? Ooops, it’s me. Breathe, Cindy, breathe.

Two birds?

Can cleaning up breakfast dishes count as science class? Curdled milk, anyone?

To Underline or Not To Underline

I had SUCH a conversation with JT in the car the other day. He was doing a writing practice sheet where he was asked to write about a play he has seen. Why were we doing school in the car you might ask? Well, I had a doctor's appointment, so I loaded up the kids and their schoolwork and took them to Hubby's office to hang out and get their work done. When I retrieved the kiddos 2-1/2 hours later, they spilled the beans that Daddy let them play their DS's the entire time. What a great Daddy. But I digress. My conversation went something like this:


Me: You must underline the name of the play.

Jacob: Why would I do that?

Me: So that people will know it's a play.

Jacob: Mo-o-om, they have to already know that. I'm writing about a play. It says so in the directions.

Me: But when you write the name of the play you must underline it.

Jacob: What's underline mean?

Me: (gritted teeth) Draw a line under it.

Jacob: But there's already a line under it. (He's writing on lined paper.)

Me: (Do I feel those gritted teeth starting to crack?) Add another line so that there are two lines.

Jacob: Do I write it on top of the first line or below it? Either way it will mess up the words I've written.

Me: (Where is that screeching sound coming from?) Just draw it on the line that's already there.

Jacob: But then it will just look like one line again.

Me: Who's on first?

Vocabulary

JT was doing vocabulary today and asked me what the word flinched means. Stick with me on this next part, I thought I'd demonstrate the word, so, without saying anything, I reached out to flick my fingers towards his face and misjudged the distance. I flicked the poor kid in the face. After gushes of I’m sorry’s and are you all right?’s, I cracked up. I couldn't help it. He laughed a little, too. Actions speak louder than words and my actions distinctly said: You ask a question around here, Kid, and you get smacked in the head.

Homeschool Mom of the Year, right here. Again and again, I keep racking up the points! Next time I'll just send him to the dictionary.

Just call me Ms. No Depth Perception.

Pressure

JT, who is nine and full of questions, recently asked me how an airplane stays in the air. Hm...good question. As the homeschool teacher, I felt compelled to actually answer this question rather than pushing it off on my dear husband, the airplane fanatic. So I decided to do an entire unit on air. (Yawn) But it's what the kid is interested in learning, so off we go. I look up air pressure online (where else?) and discover Bernoulli's Principle. Yes, discovered as in never heard of it before, since I've never questioned WHY the airplanes stay in the air. I'm just happy that they do. This is what I learned:


"As the fluid passes over the central part of the tube more energy is used up as the molecules accelerate. This leaves less energy to exert pressure, and the pressure thus decreases. Concerning flight, Bernoulli's Principle has to do with the shape of an airplane's wing. The bottom is flat, while the top is curved. Air travels across the top and bottom in the same time, so air travels slower on the bottom (creating more pressure) and faster on top (creating less pressure). This keeps the plane in the air."



Huh? What? I had to read that approximately 3.5 trillion times to determine that I don't know what it means. And this was the simplest explanation I could find. Several failed experiments later, my head huuurrrtttss!! (she whines LOUDLY). I don't care how the $%#@ airplane stays in the air...just that it does. Is science class almost over? Oh well, I'm off to go prove that air can do work by making some tea and maybe we'll blow up a balloon or two to prove that it takes up space. I'm taking the kids to the museum that does a class on air pressure...so the pressure is off me. Ha! Ha! (Is that a twinge of hysteria in my voice?) Maybe I should open a bottle of wine instead of drinking tea. Think I could tweak that into a lesson on air pressure? Eh, probably not the best idea.