I'm going back to educated!!

I'm writing essays for college scholarships and thought I'd share them here. This one is in the middle of editing so excuse the horrible punctuation. 

What Makes A Successful College Student

I could give you the normal answers; attendance, study hard, etc. But the truth is some successful students don't do any of the things we are suppose to do. I know the world sees them as passing and succeeding of course but is it really success if it isn't done with blood, sweat, and tears? I think the truly successful students have all three in their degree and don't forget passion, determination, and goals. All these things I have learned by being a homeschool mom to learning challenged kids.

Success is measured by not what you can naturally or easily achieve. My oldest son , for example, has dyslexia. We pulled him from public school in first grade. He was a SUCCESSFUL kindergartener! Top of his class, reading everything in front of him. Then he was presented in first grade with the standard cookie cutter method of “sight reading”. Imagine looking at cat and you see tac, then look again and get cta and the third time you get atc. He regressed to the point of not reading in three months. He was labeled UNSUCCESSFUL and we were told it'd be fourth grade before there was really a program to fit a dyslexic's needs.

I had to study, research, practice and plan thirty different ways to read. He had to fight tooth and nail to read Dr. Suess. Together we learned. We would practice and study everyday. Keep it short and fun if it was not clicking. Come back frequently to try again after another subject. Stay positive and never say can't! Last year was the year he would have been in fourth grade. He is joyful in his studies. He reads at his grade level and he is above and beyond in most subjects. He is a successful student, not because he doesn't get a choice on attendance, or study times. He is successful because he learned to work his weakness into his strengths. He learned determination and goals set and achieved are something to be proud of. And these hard won lessons will stay with him for the rest of his life, it shows in everything he does.

My daughter on the other hand....she was successful from the start. Successful at getting out of things, and manipulating others to do it for her. She batted her eyes and pointed and everyone fell over themselves to do it for her. It's what happens when you're cute and sickly. She was handed things on a platter and it drove me mad! Why could no one see beyond the silence and cuteness and see an overwhelmingly intelligent and intuitive child?!

When we started homeschooling it was a battle of a different sort between her and I. The first day is one I'll never forget. It was simple really, I requested she write her numbers to twenty. Five minutes later she got down and went to play. I went to check her work after finishing with her brother and saw she had only written one through eight. I called her over and asked her if she knew what came after nine, she smiled and nodded and turned to go play again. I stopped her and explained she needed to finish her work first. She looked at me, looked at the paper, sighed and sat down. Five minutes go by and she is silently sitting there staring at me. I look at her paper and again one through eight is there in her big squiggly handwriting. When I ask her if she knows what comes after eight again (I know she truly knows this already) she nods and goes to get down again. I tell her, “Evie, you must finish your work first.” She looks up at me and says, “But this is all the farther they ever made me in school.”

Thirty minutes later she hands me a paper with one through fifty written in perfect block squiggles only a kindergartener has. Did she do it because I patiently explained she needed to finish her work? No, there was quite the battle of wills that day and I ended it by telling her there would be no art class without math finished first. All things shiny and messy having the appeal that they do she begrudgingly did her work. When I asked her why she did more than required she stated simply, “I want to get ahead before tomorrow's art class.”

She is a successful student not because it comes easy to her, but because she sees the opportunity to learn is multifaceted and she is passionate about learning itself. She is eager and even when things come to her intuitively she doesn't take it for granted because the next lesson is around the corner and might take extra work. She, like her brother, has a learning challenge but to her it's something to compete against. Telling her she can't is a sure fire method to see something happen because she has passion to be the best and prove others wrong. She no longer is considered a selective mute, now she'll talk your ear off usually about a subject that seems boring to some but the sparkle and enthusiasm will catch you too, and soon you're nodding and smiling with her.

So you see to me....being a successful student is being a student like the ones I've raised. I want to be determined and goal oriented. I want to be passionate about the subject, so passionate that I turn others on to it. I want to look back at the ones who challenged me and know that I exceeded all expectations. I want to be like my kids.

The Crazies

      So you're now a mother of a precocious toddler and you start thinking like any other mom. Checking the internet for milestones, clicking the latest blog post shared by other mom's, making major decisions for your little one and yours life. But then other mom's start telling you how idiotic your choice is. Or you see people mocking your life choices. (Come on we've all either been on one end or the other of a vegetarian or vegan joke. In my case I get called a carnivore repeatedly by my veggie friends and I tell them every time, no, I eat my vegetables I'm an omnivore.)

      My question is why do a mother's personal choices affect other mothers in such a way they lose their ever loving minds?! Literally, a sane normal mother can take her five minute respite while her child sleeps, get on facebook, see one post anti/pro whatever, and that's all it takes for Daddy to come home to a raving lunatic. (At least that's what Honeybear says.)

     Every mom has done this too. "Well, I'll just explain from the other side and then they'll see we're really on the same path." .....Thirty minutes later and a hundred plus comments you're either doing one of three things; raving like a lunatic to your toddler as they bring you toy after toy, scouring the web to share links that prove you're right, or sitting there stewing thinking I'm not going to say anything and be the bigger person...oh fine one more comment. 
      
     Let's look at it from Karen's point of view. She started out with the typical first born, quick to reach milestones, puts on weight like a sumo, and running by ten months of age. (This is extremely bad considering Karen is five months pregnant and exhausted.) But then here comes that second bouncing bundle of joy. Clearly larger the the first at birth, clearly not reaching any milestones, losing weight and withering before Karen's eyes. She finally gets a pediatrician to listen, and down the rabbit hole they go.

     Fast forward five years. Karen has tried every diet, med, and lifestyle doctors have thrown her way. BB2 has had every test and screening possible. His sibling is the picture of "NORMAL"  and gets vaccinated at the correct intervals, while eating everything in sight.

     What does Karen get bombarded with? Your an "anti vaxxer" *appropriate gasp of horror* Karen patiently explains no just one child seems to be allergic to something in them. Next parent; You fully vaccinated your child.  *appropriate gasp of horror* Yes, him being fully immunized is important for the others health. *crazy eyes from other parent* One more parent: You feed one vegetarian *appropriate gasp of horror* No it's a new dr prescribed diet. Aren't you worried about the protein to help with growth. Well, it is doctor prescribed so....NO.  Superior parent at child's play group: You raise your own meat, omgosh you're scarring your children. *runs away screaming* Karen just shakes her head and grabs the goat milk that is the only thing BB2 can have without violently being ill looks from BB1 to BB2 and smiles, knowing only a mom doing her best to fill the individual needs of her children can be on all sides of the mama wars at the same time.

Just Enough Dysfunction

       We are all parents here, well mostly at least. I'd like to think I've prevented some from joining in the misery. ;)  And I have discussed this particular peeve of mine before but I loooooove the new way of telling all of us parents how we are doing. No longer are articles titled with the eye catching how to, need to know, mistakes you're making, fix it, blah blah blah blah. Now it's all coming in captions of  Things Good Parents Do and the like. (Because of course every parent out there is sure, just absolutely sure, we are the good parent on the block....I really need to develop a sarcastic font.) So here goes my version of the article. *Note: the names have been changed to protect the innocent...parents.

    1. Good parents never yell to make their children listen. Okay, obviously these parents have given birth to the only children on the planet without selective hearing. Side note- obviously I'm not one of these good parents. If a day goes by that I only break the sound barrier once trying to be heard over the racket of our children and zoo I'm sure someone is sick or trapped and start taking temperatures and head counts.

   2. Good parents pick their battles. Yep, we pick our battle the moment the eye rolling, sighing, whatever, dirty look giving 100 lbs of puberty angst ridden twin makes an appearance. Because let me tell you-MY child I gave birth to is perfect. The fairy changeling that takes its place occasionally in the form of a rude, ungrateful, and severely put upon twin, however, makes me grit my teeth and tell myself I can not kill this being or my sweet darling will not be returned.

  3. Good parents use word tricks such as the when/then parenting to get their way. Yes! Of course! This is exactly what I've been doing wrong all this time! My good friend *Ashley was shocked this one little trick could solve so many problems. "I mean what parent tells their child/ren when you do your chores, then you get a reward? To think I was throwing candy at them and not a toy was picked up afterwards. I'm embarrassed." (Really need to develop that sarcastic font.)

4.Good parents serve one meal, with a second option, and make food an adventure. Alright, this time I combined several into one. Because honestly this one baffles me. What do they think is going to happen here? A child will be so willful that they're going to starve themselves if mama doesn't feed them only chicken nuggets and mac and cheese? I promise you children are only as manipulative as a parent allows. For eleven years, four children, and several guests on different occasions I've never had to have a back up. I have had vegetarians, pescatarians, city folk, and in between to my home and aside from making sure there's enough veggies available I've never had to do anything else. Have a second option? Why so they can tell you they don't like that one either. What then? Make food an adventure? How bout eat what I made or wait till the next meal. I've had children over playing who were fascinated with a very basic lunch item (roman noodles with eggs and veggies mixed in.) She wasn't sure what a lima bean was and wanted seconds. This child had exclusively eaten chicken nuggets and ice cream for a year.   (Might I note I previously said I'm not one of these good parents.)

  5. Good parents tidy up once a day, have quiet time, and encourage hobbies other than tv.
Because apparently these so called good parents have time to spare before bedtime and a live in maid. It's the only explanation I can come up with. "IF I only cleaned up once a day, hoarders would be contacted in a week", said another friend of mine, Brandi. What's impressive is she's only got one child and a cat. If I quit cleaning for a day...well we might dwindle from a family of six to five until we relocated the child that was swallowed by the laundry pile.

     What have you learned from all this? Probably came to the same realization I did. I am NOT a good parent. That's alright though, my goal was to give the kids just enough dysfunction to make them interesting. 

The Horror Never Ends

That is it!! I want off this ride! Or at least a magic potion that makes my babies stay babies! This is absolutely ridiculous and terrifying!! (Excuse all the exclamation marks but I'm slightly freaked out...obviously.) In three days I won't have one but two...preteens! I know, right?! I'll let the horror subside a moment.

So Monday Madison turns ten. And let me tell you her age is just catching up with her attitude. There are some days I look at the the sassy britches giving me attitude and wonder where my sickly, quiet baby went. Don't get me wrong I'm ecstatic on one hand that she has finally found her voice. The girl barely spoke, even to us, till she was five or so. On the other....it's hard not to shove a pop tart in her mouth just so she stops speaking for five seconds.

Boys way older than her give her attention that is totally unwarranted. (There was a clothlining incident when Martin's little buddy made a remark when she bent over. His buddy being thirteen and Martin being eleven didn't stop him from taking great exception to the fact that the posterior in question was his nine year old sister's. In truth the little delinquent is lucky it wasn't heard by her father and I, I'd marched his little hiney home and presented him to his parents then he'd be really sorry.)

Thankfully Madison finds physical contact repulsive. Whenever kissing comes on TV or the teenagers around her decide they need to broadcast their budding hormones the response is always the same. "Ewwwwwwww! They're eating each other's faces and getting germs! That is so disgusting!" What mother doesn't want to hear that from her child? It's like music to my ears.

The only downfall is the girl definitely appreciates beauty. She's been known to remark he sure is pretty, to bad he opens his mouth and that goes out the window. The first time she referred that way to a different boy that was showing off for her I about fell off the porch swing.

 On one hand I'm quite positive the girl will be as selective as I was on who can take her on a date. On the other I'm fairly certain she'll find the one and like us there will be nothing anyone can do to tell her differently. I can only hope she holds to this wisdom that she has now cause when full blown hormones come into play she might just become the typical teenager trying to give her parents a heart attack.

Maybe we can just wrap the house in electrified barbwire. Wish me luck folks.

Metaphorically Speaking

My tears are salting the deli pretzel I am eating to hide my feelings. It would be better if it was raining, but I am sitting in the bathroom with the shower going to hide. I'm torn between being thrilled and being terrified. No one informed me this ride called motherhood was this emotionally exhausting. I want a refund.

     Today is a huge day in the life of the Waltons...we left Martin home alone. As we were shepherding the flock to the vehicle to run to the store, Martin mentioned casually that he didn't want to go really. A simple statement. Nothing but a general statement that he was disinterested in going to town period.

      Enter mama logic 101. Well as good a time as any to try this out. We'll only be gone for forty five minutes. Will he be scared? Oh well I'll ask him and see. What are the chances he actually wants to? Zero to slim. So no harm no foul. I'll look like benevolent mommy, and he won't have to admit he still needs me. Perfect plan, right? Since I've already stated he stayed home alone you know it wasn't.

      As he walked out of his room, and Honeybear walked out of our room,  I met them in the middle and smiling asked if he wanted to stay at home. Honeybear gave me a look of disbelief but looked at our firstborn too. At first Martin thought I was kidding but then he realized I was serious. There was a clear twinkle in his eyes when he confirmed that would be epic.

      We went over the rules that every child needs and told him to lock the door behind us. A block from the house I called my mom. Check on Martin in thirty minutes he's home alone. "Are you freaking out?" What? Why would I be freaking out? I just left my first born to be kidnapped, burned alived, or attacked by a minotaur. Who knows what happens when you leave a child home alone? Oh wait, my parents did it and I survived. Still the idea of highway men or a serial killer ran through my head. Maybe even a rampaging tyrannosaurs rex. (You never know when a time traveling worm hole will appear.)

     When we hit about five miles away I called him....no answer. TURN THE CAR AROUND HE'S BEING MURDERED!!!! Five seconds later he calls back. Sorry fumbled the phone. DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!!! Now are you okay? Yes, bye. We can come back? No, bye? So everything is okay? Yes mom. So good bye. Alright goodbye.

     After we rush through the store and forget the hamburger buns. (Really Honeybear, you act like you're on fire.) As we head out to the car mom calls... laughing. She called him and he was very proud he was home alone. Oh great, he's going to be packing his bags and moving out by the time we get home. On the way back, I start to breath its been less than thirty minutes. How much could go wrong?  That's when Honeybear tells me I need to let go of the phone before I crush it.

       We got home and the house was still standing. Martin was thrilled and I am still breathing so I guess no one died and it was the first of the boxes packed ,metaphorically speaking, before they all fly the nest. In the mean time I hope they don't make me pull out my feathers to much....

Naps

Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. Cliche that that is- being the mother of four kids makes it almost always true. As I day dream of burrowing back into my cozy nest, covering my head with my extra pillow, I think about nap time fights. The sweet ease into dreamland... where you can be anything and everything without paying the cost of reality, is rarely there for anyone under the age of six. They'd rather stubbornly cling to their door posts, nails digging in and leaving gouges to measure their growth by.

Why drift off to Never Never Land with Peter Pan when you can cry and scream and face the injustices of mommy refusing to refill your sippy cup. Who wants to fly through the stars, scuba dive in the frothy depths where amazing creatures play, when you can sit on your bed gasping for breath to rattle your windows.

ME! ME! ME! I DO! I DO!

But no, every young child knows the most magical moments happen after mommy tries to lay them down. We must be finger painting the frosting on world record cookies from their reactions. Either that or we're swimming in melted ice cream with unicorns. That is the only explanation for their absolute refusal to do the magical restorative thing called a nap.

Why am I reminiscing of those days? Two of mine declared loudly that they were tired from staying up late chatting and went and took a nap. Now I'm the one throwing the tantrum, cause it's just not fair. They're probably mermaids right now. While I'm sitting here drinking my second pot of coffee just trying to stay awake long enough to make it to bedtime! I wanna nap too!

Parallels

    There's a few of my friends who keep putting up these memes. Jokingly I think a war has started. They always seem to be either stay at home mom problems or working mom problems. Now don't get me wrong I'm against the whole "mommy wars" thing (seriously can't we all just get along.)  But as I watch them post and comment back forth I see the parallels that they don't. I see the exact same problems unfolding in different locations. But I think they're seriously missing a perspective. You guessed it....homeschooling mom.

    For example one exchange went something like this.

"Yes, I'm a stay at home mom. Go ahead ask me what I do all day...I dare you."

Response of, "I do the laundry, cook dinner, nuture the children all while be preoccupied by this little thing called a full time job."

And the whole time I'm thinking...I do all of that and create magical lesson plans for four different grades and don't even get the summer months off.

      Another exchange went a little like this.

"Hardest part of my day was dropping my kids of at daycare...I forgot my coffee cup there."

Response this time, "I've seen the village and I don't want them raising my child."

   My thoughts were along the lines of...coffee where's my coffee. Did you get your reading done yet? No I don't know where your book is probably where ever my coffee went to... they're eloping. Locating both book and coffee in guinea pig cage. o_O Don't ask, I don't have the answer.

          This one wasn't in meme form but rather entertaining.

"My boss keeps nagging me to finish this project. I still have to finish last weeks reports. And just got a call from daycare that little bit has a rash."

"You think you got it rough. Baby won't quit screaming. Hubby wants dinner. And my little one keeps telling me her tummy hurts only to find out she's getting the chicken pox."

     Mutual commiseration aside (see working or staying at home your lives run parallel.) I'm sitting here going we haven't finished our volcanos! Did the reading circle go around twice? Is that the time do I feed them a full lunch and hope they eat dinner. What's the dog eating? I still haven't got all the materials measured out for lab tomorrow. We have volleyball practice tonight? What do you mean you don't have any clean shorts? Did we get in that many hours for sure? I need to do objectives for next weeks lessons. And check yesterday and today's journal entries. Did I kiss Honeybear goodbye? Oh no part of his lunch is sitting here. Gotta run that to him after practice. Is there enough hours left after the kids go to bed to research the five different topics the kids asked about today? Did the trash bill get paid? What's today? Or since it's after midnight does it count as tomorrow?

      Does everyone see the parallels to our universes? If not I can't put it any other way, we're all moms. All balancing a million things, praying our brains keep our lists prioritized and organized and just trying to drink enough coffee to keep us going on nothing else but a half eaten chicken nugget and a questionable yogurt.

Homeschooling, Hillbillying, Family Oriented Humor.....Sounds about right

     You might have noticed the nice, bright, yet simplistic background change. If anyone just thought, "Nah, I just come here to read, didn't really notice." Well bless your little heart. Anyone whose read my blog posts more than once knows that the thread that holds them all together is colorful and distinct: homeschooling, hillbillying, family oriented humor. I hope that thread stays woven deeply into this blog.

     But some of the background elements have changed drastically from whence we originated. Namely the children can now all pronounce assassination....and we live "in town" with very little room to homestead. *sad face*  (I can't help but giggle to think of any of my true city slickers who came to see our "town"- all six blocks of it.)

    The minions are no longer sweet little children that adorable and appalling truths spill out of unchecked. (Still truthful just not as cute coming from an eleven year old as a six year old.) I still have moments when I want to look at them with an incredulous look and proclaim loudly, "Who are you calling Mom?" Sometimes I smugly grin and say, "Yeah, they're all mine."

     I have learned to not just say, "Oh yeah, they're homeschooled." Usually that's the last fact I give people. It skips a lot of hassle. But alas, my proud manner of exclamation of this information in their younger years has led them by example and now most often it's out of my hands. (Since I am still very proud of homeschooling I haven't flat out told them not to tell people that.)

    Honeybear is over thirty (with a better beard than most the guys on Duck Dynasty) and in a few weeks time I will hit that particular milestone myself. *happy dance* Weird, I know, but I am so thrilled to not be a twenty something with four kids. I hope to not see the people doing rapid appraisal of our family and start asking ridiculously rude and personal questions. (No, I gathered the neighbors kids up before I left....or No I don't know how that happens. Please tell me so I can prevent it next time. My two favorite responses to the stupidest question I hear repeatedly.)

      So here we sit years later, hopefully you still enjoy my writing. (I'd like to think I'm pretty witty on occasion.) I hope to be entertaining and enthralling y'all for a long time to come...all three of you.

Mother's Guilt

     It's summer vacation!!! FREEEEEDDDOOM! Yeah, no, not really. I never escape. I've only left once and not felt extreme mother's guilt. You know mother's guilt surely? That is where you leave your precocious children with their father or some other safe person that isn't you. As you close the door you take a deep breath and relax for a millisecond....then the guilt hits.

     At first I always believed it to be because I could hear a child saying bye bye mama and felt I was shirking my motherly duty of being their everything. (chauffeur, cook, nurse, teacher, maid, slave, etc) Now I know the truth...the guilt is because I'm happy to have a moment to myself. Now don't get me wrong. I cherish my children. I just want to hug them, and squeeze them, and call them George. Sometimes I want to squeeze the orneriness out of them but hey who doesn't.

     The point is in over eleven years I've nurtured them to be these amazing and independent individuals and still feel like I'm doing something wrong by not being there when they need to come running to me. For goodness sakes I might be picking out a cantaloupe when they have an epiphany on dark matter. Their attention spans being equivalent to a guppy's the whole world could blame me for years to come when they find out it took them years to grasp the concept again. Our time machines will be twenty years later than they should have been. And it will be all my fault for leaving to go grocery shopping in peace.

     As the years have gone by the guilt has eased. When Degan came along was the first time I was so selfish as to dare leave them behind to go grocery shopping. I managed to do two weeks of shopping in twenty minutes. Elbows flying, cart wheels screeching around corners, I probably looked like a crazy woman putting my arm out and just shoving a whole row of cans into the basket as I zoomed down the aisle veering out of the path of some coupon queen. (The air horn was probably a little much but it was effective for getting people out of the way.) I sped back to the house and ran inside the words of "Mommy's back." died on my lips as I saw they were all exactly where I had left them. Honeybear came and kissed me asking if I'd forgotten something. I just shook my head as I watched him deftly change a diaper and grab the next one as she crawled past.The next time I left the air horn at home.

       Last week the glory that is guiltless happened. I had been up to my eyeballs in kids for a few days. Friends of the kids were in and out. I had not been able to even go to the bathroom without someone rattling the knob needing a bandaid, more koolaid, an argument settled. (Trust me I kept trying to escape from the mob and that door at least has a lock.) So finally I walked out looked at Honeybear and said, "Honey I'm going to run over to Britty Bacon's for a bit." He spared me a glance, "Okay."
 I stopped in the middle of my hunt for my other shoe and looked at him. "No really. I might not even come back."
 Not even looking at me, "See ya in an hour tops. But if you do make it to her house, have fun."
I stopped searching completely at this. "You don't want me to go, do you?"
He sighed and looked at me then, "I wish you would go. And stay away for a bit. They're old enough and I'm here. Go have fun...if you remember what that is without kids."
Right then I spotted my elusive shoe and gingerly wiggled into it without looking at him. Grabbed my keys, walked over to him, kissed him while searching his face. "I'm leaving now."
"Yep."
I walked out to the car, looked back at the house waiting for the mob to come throw themselves at my feet pleading with me to not leave them...nothing but shrieks of laughter from the backyard and treehouse. I pulled out took a breath....nothing. So I cranked the music and joyfully and blissfully spent the next couple of hours in quiet enjoyment with an adult who doesn't have children therefore even the conversation was mostly missing of children. Took eleven years but it did happen.

       I have looked at this as the beginning of the end. My children don't need me the way they use to, this was just a small slice of what is to come. Sooner than I realize I will have an empty nest. So I guess the guilt will eventually leave me entirely. By then I'll probably miss the guilt cause then my children will be so busy I'll be the one trying to get a little of their attention. Till then I'll just breath and wait.

motherhood

     When I started this blog a couple of years ago I was in a bubble on our homestead with young, precocious children without a care in the world. Things have changed so much since then. I find having a couple of preteens and all four actively homeschooled leaves me very little time for things like writing, painting, being carefree...not to mention more important things like bathing in peace or making the bed. I can't even keep a straight face on that line, I don't remember the last time either of those happened.

      But one thing I have noticed is parenting has gotten a lot harder. Just since Bella has been born parenting has become so trendsetting theories are everywhere. Things have gotten so out of hand people compete to see who can be the most zen and creative best friend their kids have ever seen. (I'm sorry but I'm not even going to consider baby bird feeding my kids.) I've tried to show the light hearted side of motherhood but now realize my bubble made me see my children's childhood in rose colored glasses (or maybe rainbow colored ones on more exciting days.)

      Because of those glasses being so rudely broken (four kids is it really that surprising they're broken?) I thought maybe I'd just tear it down to brass tacks. By that I'm going to do the very thing that drives me crazy, I'm going to tell you exactly how to fail as a parent. No, you didn't read that last sentence wrong I said FAIL!

     Your probably all shaking your head thinking that's it she's finally lost it. My response....finally? I lost it the moment I found out I was going to be a mom. I devoured every book I could find. Thought I had all the answers, smirked when Martin slept through the night the first night home from the hospital. And then the second day home came......

     I have tried every method of discipline known, looked at every psycho babble that came along, promised not to yell, find myself yelling, promised a million different times I was going to not screw up this gig. Guess what I fail every time I make that promise. I am not my kids' best friend, they don't always like me, and sometimes I'm not sure if they'll all survive till dinner without mommy hiding in the corner rocking and babbling to herself. (I find a great deal of relief in knowing I'm not the only parent that fails to keep it perfectly together everyday.)

       Guess what else...my kids are individuals. They know right from wrong. They have different tastes in everything from clothes to music to activities they enjoy. They get punished differently. They are very afraid when they get caught. (As they should be.) But are they afraid of me? Not on your life. They're afraid of the punishment. Do they think if I don't explain every decision their father and I make they feel like they're not members of this family? lol That one is just utterly ridiculous. Do they understand life isn't fair and sometimes things just don't go your way? What kind of parent would I be if I led them to believe that the world would bend to their every whim while under our roof, then threw them out in the real world to find out the truth.  I let them fail. And their failures are their own.

         Once again you're probably rereading that last sentence going what? That's right. They fail and it's their fault. I don't fix it for them. But Honeybear and I are right there to help them up and give them the tools to fix it themselves. And hopefully I fail to step in enough that they learn to fix their problems themselves and not rely on others while they sit in the middle of their mess going but it's not my fault. (Remember the age old adage "Your raising the next generation." I'd like them not to be boomerang babies.)

        Notice I've refrained from mentioning one concrete piece of advice or disciplinary tactics? Because children and families aren't cookie cutters! What works for Martin doesn't work for Degan or Madison. The only two things that in general terms holds for every child and parent is...1) know your child and 2) there has yet to be a perfect parent in the history of humanity the only thing you can hope for is you don't screw up to badly.  So how do you fail at being a parent? You get pregnant.

    

Super Gypsy

     Yeah, yeah, I know you feel mistreated. I get back to writing and suddenly stop again. I 'm a big tease. You're not talking to me, you mean it this time. Yeah, I get it. But come on I have chocolate. Okay, so I can't really share cause Wonka Vision doesn't exist. Hey it's the thought that counts.

    So a lots changed this winter. I don't mean just not having Pops around or settling into town living.  I mean- this winter I got another ear infection and went deaf. Completely. Yeah, I'll sit back while you all gasp in horror and give me mental hugs. . . Not so tight people. Geeze. I'm deaf not dead. The fact of the matter is it's not big a difference from what I hear anyways. My hearing has gotten so bad it's more like I catch a letter sound than a word, if I'm lucky. I've gotten great at speech reading people.

    And something amazing came out of it. Gypsy Rose is now my Hearing Dog. Yes, I'm serious the queen bee has come down off the throne to be my ears. Truthfully she's been doing it for longer than I can remember, I just didn't realize she could do it away from home. Let me give you the mental picture.

     A wide-eyed, crazy looking woman is preceded by a small black pug with a bright orange leash and lettered vest. You notice a car coming around the aisle of the parking lot quicker than they're suppose to. The crazy looking dog lady isn't looking at the tire squealing vehicle and is walking right into it's path. You start to jump up and down to get either her attention or the drivers. And then you notice the small dog cross in front of her and sits preventing her from going forward. She looks down with a slightly puzzled look and starts looking around. This all happens quicker than ten seconds but she notices the car and starts waving her hands at the dog.

    Sounds like fiction probably, right? That's actually exactly what Gypsy did for me the first time I took her in public with the intention of seeing if she'd benefit me. But it was really a ride on floor sweeper in Sam's club. (The car one came a few weeks later, and scared the reese's pieces out of me.) I nervously took her place to place at first. Waiting for a crowd to gather and point at me and say "Dogs aren't allowed in here!" It never came. And I realized how anxious I had become in public, and how that changed with Gypsy there. People didn't "sneak up" on me cause Gypsy blocked them. I knew exactly where my husband and kids were cause Gypsy told me. If we got separated it wasn't a frantic search in every direction I trusted Gypsy to take me to them. I even went to town...by myself! *GASP*

    The weeks stretched on and after two different antibiotics my ear infection is gone, and gradually my hearing has "returned" at least for me.  But even with my aid things aren't clear. So Gypsy remains my constant companion.

    **Disclaimer: This should not be an tried unless your dog is specifically trained to a task and you are disabled. Gypsy is a highly unusual case. She has been trained and conditioned to do this at home for the past couple of years as my hearing declined. Which is the only reason she can be classified as a service dog. And she is exceptionally obedient to me and super socialized. Do not take your dog in public just because.**

trapping the children

    So not only is Honeybear the principal he sometimes takes on the role of student too. No, I don't make him sit in class or write sentences for misbehavior... but now that you mention it. No. No. It wouldn't work his handwriting will always look like a chicken was scratching at the paper.

    Okay back on point forget my shiny moment. As I was saying sometimes he becomes his children's student. This gives them a great way to really learn and comprehend what I've been teaching them. It also serves me with a purpose...revenge. Look at today's lesson with their daddy and you will understand why.

Madison: Okay today we are goin' to talk about crust and core.

Honeybear: I don't mind the crust on my sandwiches.

Martin: No dad. Like Earth.

Honeybear: Of course I like Earth I'm a human.

Degan: NO! Layers of Earth.

Honeybear: You found Batman's lair?! Awesome.

Martin: (hand to his forehead) No. We mean like the mantle that moves-

Honeybear: Pappaw has two mantles and they don't move.

Madison: Daddy! Pay attention.

Honeybear: Why?

Madison: You won't learn if you don't.

(CRASH! That's the sound of the trap closing that Honeybear just set.)

Honeybear: Really? But I watched you yesterday and it didn't seem like you were.

(Dead silence as they realized they have just been caught in the principal's snare. Mwhahahahahaha.)

     At this point they all look wide eyed and stumped. Honeybear gives them their warning and the lesson continues. Martin and Madison grab their white boards and draw a diagram. As they hold it up and start talking Honeybear interrupts with "What's an egg frying got to do with Earth?" Okay so their diagrams did kinda look like eggs but they completely disagreed.

    Degan saved the day his explanation was great. "Dad, you're absolutely right. It does look like an egg and it's kinda like a fried egg. The yolk is liquid and hot like the core. The white is like the mantle semi solid but still sloshy. And the pan holding it in is the crust."

    The lesson went on as they tend to. But I was proud my youngest had such a grasp of the material and saw such an astute connection to explain to his dad.
Tomorrow should be interesting they're suppose to teach him about forces that refigure the Earth. Hmmmm if Honeybear was teaching I might worry he'd go all Animal House on them and show them a volcano with whip cream or something in his mouth and show them what happens when forces is exerted to it.

Why me?

    Seems Honeybear has taken a game the kids started years ago and become a supreme master. Let's just say as the years have gone on Gypsy Rose no longer sees any point in protecting me from "assilenation" attempts.  In fact at times she is solely responsible for these attacks.

     This all started with a simple request at Honeybear's break time. (He calls at 8:30 on break to say goodnight.) After saying night to the kids, we get a few minutes of idle chatter, tonight it went something like this...

Honeybear: Might be home early.

Me: So what does that mean tonight?

Honeybear: (playfully) I expect you to be up with a snack and drink. Ready to take off my boots and give me a foot massage. Like every good wife should when their husband gets home from work.

Me: (laughing) Well aren't you glad I don't hold myself to the standards of others.

Honeybear: You're slacking woman! Where's my pie?

Me: Now Honeybear what kind of wife would I be if I disregarded your whining about gaining weight? No pie till you lose...twenty pounds. Trim your beard up and you might hit your goal quicker and get pie...tomorrow.

Honeybear: (mockingly growls) Woman what'd I say!

Me: Bring me a coke.

Honeybear: No!

Me: (nonchalantly) M'kay no foot rub.

(By now we're both laughing. I mean if you can't give your spouse a hard time what's going to break up the day to day, right? At this point it's also time for him to go back to work so we say good night, he goes back I go tuck in.)

     After prayers and tuck in I get the holy hour otherwise known as MOM TIME!
This is where I actually do my own thing. No schoolwork, housework, or anything other than purely selfish pampering. I watch a mindless uneducational show and paint my toes or something for a few before finishing up the days tasks. (Why not do that after the day's work is done? Did you not read my schedule last week? There is never an end! I must divide and conquer!)

    Anyways after Mom time and more work I sat down to look through our texts book and devise a science project for this week and...fell asleep.

    Sometime later I come to complete alertness to a deep growl and a dark figure reaching for me. I scream bloody murder as I see the inhuman girth of this creature with horns reaching for me and strike out at its nose. It jumps back laughing and the light is no longer at its back.

     Yeah you guessed it...Honeybear. One of these days....to the moon Alice!

Ps. The inhuman girth was Honeybear still wearing his coveralls. His horns? He really needs a trim to his curls.
  

i miss sesame street

     Yeah, yeah I have been quiet again. You try homeschooling four different grades with the holidays and everything going on and see if you have sanity left to string words together. As we get deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of homeschooling it takes more and more hours of prep and schooling.

     When they were little we finger painted, watched sesame street, counted animal crackers, and practiced the alphabet and felt accomplished. Now I have to stair step through math, science, geography, social studies, language arts, history, art, asl, and reading. All while planning around my husband and other needs. (Although I'd be lying if I said the break from scouts, sports, and farming/gardening this last nine months hasn't been awesome.)

My routine looks something like this:
730 wake up, let dogs out, cook
8  feed kids, dogs, cats, and other assorted animals
845 clean up from the above step
9  shoo the kids away to do assigned reading
905 to 935 look for said assigned reading books that magically moved since          yesterday
935 go back to cleaning only to find the mess has taken my absence to get
        amorous and multiply
1030 start Honeybear's breakfast
11  clean up from second breakfast making, tell kids to start writing
1115 pausing to break up the fight over pencils for writing
12  start lunch, threaten kids with principal if they don't finish chores and
        homework
1210 let dogs out and back in three times in a row cause they really need to
         go but it's too cold for them
1  serve lunch
130 pack Honeybear's lunch box, locate specific hoody that has made a break
         for it since he set it down
2   tell kids to get ready for school core (bathroom, hair combed, homework
         ready to turn in etc.)
230 Honeybear leaves, school core starts along with dishwasher
645-8 school hours are over, dinner is started, kids tv time 
830  Honeybear calls on break
9 to 915 bedtime routine
915 to ? repeatedly tell kids to go to sleep, turn tv on to a mom show and check
       over school work and plan or alter school projects and objectives while
       letting dogs in and out for final time of the night and the cat meows

But the bonus of all this extra school and kids getting older? They help out more with keeping the house up. So heh who cares I'd rather plan how to build bones than do dishes any day.

A moment of silence

   I have been very busy and not in the mindset to find the light side of life. A few days after my last post our wonderful Pops past away. You guys might remember me mentioning him a few times. Hillbilly definition redefined the one that comes to mind first.

   The man was almost indescribable. He did one thing I never thanked him for but teased him about constantly. He raised my husband to be the wonderful man he is. He didn't have to you see, he met Honeybear when he was two. And while it was unspoken he was the one who was a true father to him. He taught my husband to work, hunt, fish, and what real men should be. He never spoke ill of the absent man he replaced. When Honeybear would be stood up he would never say a word just come hand him his baseball glove or start loading the fishing equipment. And while Honeybear might not bear much of a physical appearance to him, anyone who knew them both knew they were father and son the mannerisms were identical.

   He was a man of many hats. Drummer in a country band (much to his chagrin as he hated country but he loved music), chicken catcher, rich man, poor man, outdoorsman, music aficionado, father, husband, son, friend, listener, and wise man.  The first one on my husband's side to show me unconditional love and acceptance. An amazing granddad to our children. One of my favorite people in all the world.

   The first prominent memory I have is of calling him Pops for the first time. I didn't know what to call him in my defense. Honeybear didn't call him anything. And ma called him hun. I forgot his name and couldn't think of anything else to say when I was trying to get his attention. He stopped mid stride and looked at me. That was it...the beginning of the end. He was from then Pops. My one regret is his dad was called Granddad and he wanted the kids to call him that too. But thanks to me they never got the hang of it.

   He was an oddity to say the least. Looking at the scruffy man in cargo camo pants and old flannel shirt with vest and his crazy jack russel driving around in his old dodge with the Charlton Heston is my president bumper sticker you'd probably judge him to be a crazy old man. (Okay so you'd be right.) But if you stopped to pet Pando and say hi. You'd find a slow talking generous wise man that might just buy you lunch.

    The first time we brought Martin up we left for the store and came back to his walker hanging from the porch roof to make him a swing.  He would come and drop off fruit and treats for the kids, sometimes knocking, sometimes we'd walk out and find it on the porch. Before his health declined he'd come get them one at a time take them to town for lunch show them off and then take them fishing or to check traps. Every other Christmas we spent with them and Pops would act like a kid himself.

   He was a man of few words, more so as his hearing got worse. But bring up one of his favorite subjects such as music, hunting, fishing, or grandbabies and he would talk to you forever. Many hours him and I sat and talked music. He introduced me to the Nace Brothers, and I actually got him to listen to Nickelback. And one time Zac Brown's Sic 'Em on a Chicken. He loved chicken songs his dad was a chicken catcher and Pops and Honeybear would do it with him every time they went to visit.

   He seemed to doubt his role with us and I hope we changed that before he passed. He never was one to say how he felt...more of a nodder. When we first told him I was pregnant we gave him a cigar. After we left he told ma he probably wouldn't know the kid. (We lived a few hours away and couldn't get up much with both work schedules then.) Even when he doubted us he put that cigar away and it still was in a prominent place in his gun room along with pics of Honeybear through the years, and the father's day presents we had given him. 

When Honeybear went to get something out of his truck for ma he found last years father's day card that he kept with him. Everywhere we went looking for this or that we found mementos of his love. Next to his chair in the garage...photo envelopes full of the kids pictures. His wallet (somewhere ma and Honeybear dare never touch before) pics of Ma when they first met and Honeybear's freshman picture. His desk...father's day cards and a special present for ma.

   Sounds perfect right? Not really. He would purposely aggravate Ma.Make fun of me every chance he got. Let the kids watch Jaws one night on a sleepover. Bought my daughter spiderman shoe's cause that's what she wanted. And gave our kids way to many moon pies and suckers. Refused to let Honeybear fix things the last couple of years insisting he'd have a good day and get to it. And told us more times than we could count we were making bad choices. (He later came to love a few of those bad choices but wasn't to happy when we told him another was on the way.) He's been to two (out of 6) houses of ours and even in helping us get this house never saw it before he passed. He yelled at Honeybear, me, and the kids for no reason a few times. And let his jack russel pup Pearl run wild after Pando passed six months ago. He also refused to listen to doctors and cared more about his beagles than he did himself. He was aggravating as all get out this last year at times and I wanted to shake him. But I would give just about anything to be able to talk to him one more time and tell him how much he really meant to each and every one of us.

Martin in the Spotlight

  My oldest wrote part of a story in class yesterday. He asked if I would put it up for all the world to read. (I don't think he understands how unfamous I am.) But in his words who cares cause he's going to be famous enough for the both of us.

SUPER DUCK

Super duck is about a duck that got his powers by a magic well. Let me tell the story, okay enough jibber jabber. It starts on an island called 123 (oddly enough shaped like the number 4) and there lived two best friends a duck called Duckler and a mouse called Shaperowe. Now that you have met those two let's get to the time where Duckler was making a meal (completely out of coconuts.)

Out of coconuts? Well, they had been shipwrecked on 123 for awhile. The fact is 123 is not a true island. It is a giant floating junkyard. Started with one ship called Collision (named after the captains lady love) hit a small pebble that a seagull had dropped after having mistaking it for a crab. Unbelievably the small pebble generated so much power it went through all the decks. And Collision slowly sunk halfway below the surface.

It wouldn't be a problem except for the storm that caused the lightning that struck the seagull that made it drop the pebble. As the storm moved it created the fog that covered the Collision. And then the other ships didn't see it and 123 slowly floated and built itself off the wrecked ships that came to close to the storm.



Obviously this isn't the end but I have to correct and help him transition the next scene. He's really very talented. But him dictating changes to me is impossible to comprehend he talks to fast and isn't clear. The writing might be riddled with misspellings but it's clever and precise in idea.

Homestead Homesick

 Guys I know it's been a while but honestly I just haven't thought of anything to say. Being in town has changed our lives so much. I think of things but their really not the same here. Our bubble has burst so to speak.

   But as the kids and I sit here doing our schoolwork and trying to find ways to keep our same old attitude. (Ya really not going so well.) But now I am inspired. We might look like a bunch of nuts, see some things never change, but I'll figure out how to keep our happy happy happy life outlook. (See what I did there, hillbillies, duck dynasty. Ya I'm a genius.) 

   It's really quite simple. I just have to start the glad game again. You know where you look for something to be glad about in every situation. For example, the house next door is the biggest in town, also the ugliest. We can be glad our home looks twice as good next to it. I have to watch the neighborhood kids suck face almost daily. So so glad my kids still find that disgusting.

   In all honesty Madison has made a couple of really great friends. (Can't say I like their parents. Okay I like most the parents.) The fact that she only has to go next door and there's a gaggle of giggling girls running around in between three yards is pretty cool. (See that glad came easily. If you practice it does get easier.)

   I sure hope it gets easier for real. Right now I just miss our homestead. 

  

kids real superpower

     Everyone knows children possess selective hearing. One second they can't hear you repeatedly saying pick up your socks, the next they can hear ice cream being scooped a mile away. (Martin's words from a few years ago that have always stuck with me.) But until recently I would have believed that was their dominating selective power. My children of course love to open my eyes to their truth.

     It started quietly and snuck up on me. Surprising right? Most the time it's more of a knock to the back of the head. See public school gave me two things 1) my children test out in the genius level 2) the public school thought after a year that their tests were wrong.  In three years I have proven 1) the schools test are pretty accurate 2) the teachers are not geniuses...but my children can really make you want to pull your hair out at times.

     I have spent the last three years throwing myself wholeheartedly into the world of homeschooling. Okay so the first couple of months we might have slept in...and stayed in our pjs way too late...and watched a whole lot of pbs. Hey they were in Kindergarten and Preschool neither technically were even the 7 year old state required school age. 

    Point being we've been at this a while. Most days are typical. Kids do reading and group spelling while I make breakfast. We do math and science. Break for lunch and start in with geography or history. Usually finishing with asl. Lots of days we end up sidetracked into science yet again.  The kids have "homework"
we prefer the term independent work. It earns them electronics time if completed in a timely manner. (Don't tell my brother but I also read the dictionary to the kids. I believe in a superb vocabulary.)

     Lately though the independent work has become a major competition between the kids. They sneak their workbooks under the table trying to complete a page or two during class or reading while I cook. I got so frustrated I banned them for a week trying to get our class time focused. HA!

Me: Martin what place value do you start multiplication from?

Martin: ....uh? The spongy part.

Me: No we're actually into math here. Madison what place value do you start all math problems from?

Madison: *whispering* no you spell it P-U-

Me: MADISON! DEGAN! Put that up! What place value do you start with in this problem?

Degan: I thought we were doing science?

Me: We are trying to review place value if y'all want to participate.

*Degan raises his hand*

Me: Yes, Degan?

Degan: Can I play on the tablet after school first?

Me: You all fail and I am sending you back to kindergarten.

Martin: *rolls eyes* Like that would even work mom. We'd out read Bella.

     Now we've went through place values every year and whenever one reaches a math milestone that requires refreshers. So do I doubt my children KNOW what place value to start at? No. But then you get the flip side of selective intelligence.

     Let me set the scene. My children sit around the dining room table workbooks out. Madison is doing a worksheet on similes. Martin on possessive nouns. Degan is just speeding through his workbook.

Madison: No. You're wrong. They are different!

Martin: Are you kidding me?! They're just metaphors of similarities.

Madison: No they're an exaggerated comparison.

     Yeah. That's really what I walked into. They were arguing over the definition of a simile. I called my mom and she said, "I wasn't aware they knew those words." Lol. Yeah and more. But their father says its annoying to have a conversation with someone throwing out ten dollar words and they get tired of explaining themselves to their friends, so they tend to use them just to annoy each other and win an argument.  But my question is why can't they even follow a subject change in class yet manage to confuse adults with things they throw out. It's simple their real superpower is SELECTIVE INTELLIGENCE! 

One mystery solved. Onto the next. Till next time y'all.

Igors and Knights

         Floggers Toggers Ugly Froggers! That was how today's adventure started. Hold up that's not true. It actually started with reading time. Yesterday they all got new library books. Bella found one she has always loved Alice the Fairy. As the older three did independent reading Bella and I read through her book after which she sat beside me reading it.

       Then it was a short break that turned into an amazing adventure. While I was helping Madison I hear the magic words. Looking up we see Martin being bopped in the nose with a pencil and that Bella has set up a fairy lab. (She wants to be a permanent fairy.) Within a few minutes Madison is sitting next to Bella in the lab giving her pointers on wand technique and pronunciation importance (goodness forbid you accidentally end up turning your brother into a lima bean instead of lama.)

       Somewhere in the midst of turning her brothers ugly (Madison's response is, "Bella you really think an ugly spell is necessary? I think they got it covered.") Bella went from a fairy to a witch. Not sure when it happened all I know is she ended up with an igor (Martin,) a wicked shopkeeper (Degan,) and a spy sabotaging her behind her back (otherwise known as Madison.)

       Somehow as I sat at the table I became the magical information desk. Soon they were bidding dead man's toes and dragon tongue for the many useful ingredients needed in an all important and top secret potion.

       "Mwhahahhahahhahhaha" rang out from a high pitched squeaky little witch. "I have completed it. My master piece! Mwhahahahaha!" I don't know bout y'all but when a midget five year old starts looking and sounding like that your best bet is to hide.

      I asked her what was in this master piece and she looked at me oh so seriously and said, " NO! It's a secret and it's mine. ALL MINE!!"

      Right about the time the words left her mouth her two igors rebel (Degan is now one as well, in trade for dragon tongue pizza I believe.) They grab her and wrestle her to the ground and take her potion. They sit on her and take drinks in turn. Bella cries out ," NO!!! MY READING POTION!!! NO FAIR YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO READ!!"

      Where as the igors realizing the error of their ways helps the evil witch up and gives her the last drop of potion and are transformed into knights. Bella said there wasn't enough potion to really make her read but she thinks it put a few words in her head. And Madison sits on the sofa petting her cat saying "I'll get you my pretty and your little knights too."

     I don't know about y'all but I can't wait till their next installment. Tell next time y'all.

Can of Worms

I found this post in my drafts. It is at least three years old and probably written on a spur of aggravation which I don't always post. But I liked it so much I am sharing it now. I must have gotten a lot older and wiser in the last three years.( On second thought I think my level of tolerance for other parents might have just gone down.) Lol.

      Many parents are finding out that a pat on the back helps develop character - if given often enough, early enough, and low enough. Author Unknown. Yes, I'm opening a can of worms. Deal with it.

Yesterday a mother in the store was appalled with me. (Why is it always me? Is it the age? or the number of kids?) A complete stranger felt the need to grab my arm and tell me it was best to do that behind closed doors. Ummmm....I'm fairly certain an hour from now or even a minute from now my two year old isn't going to remember why she is in trouble. Not that it's her business.

Why was she so appalled? I dare give my two year old a swat for throwing a screaming, kicking, biting fit in the middle of the store. Why was this angelic child throwing a fit? I took the mushrooms she was bruising away from her. I happily handed her a bottle of tea, and she threw it and started screaming.

That girl is so strong-willed. I dread her being a teenager. I picture a fifteen year old walking in with a fresh nose ring, and a guy whose hair covers his face with pants down to his knees. Lord help me. So I do what every parent does, I try my very best to teach her control, and self awareness. I'm failing miserably some days. Other days I feel like I am winning the war.

Only time will tell for sure. But why is it people constantly feel the need to interfere in my parenting? I homeschool, I swat on occasion, I make them do chores. Horrible has all that is. And to think we bake, we read stories, we do nature hikes, we cuddle, we stay up all night when the night terrors are bad. I don't know, with that list is it any wonder people fear for my children. (To bad there isn't a sarcastic font)

Do we all parent the same way? Heck no. Do I parent all four of my children in the same fashion? Heck no, like that would even work. So my two year old gets a swat, okay. My six year old gets a dirty look, and absolutely falls apart. My boys? We won't even go into some of the inventive techniques for those heathens. Does swatting make me any less of a parent than those that don't? Personally I think the parent that never ever has to discipline their child, isn't a parent.

I say that because there is a message here. To each their own, leave people alone.