Another Week Down

We had a not-so-hot week here, literally. We got six or four or rather a lot of inches of snow toward the middle of the week, and, after some almost-summer-like weather, I think that put us all into hibernation.

And, what's more, I decided that since this is kindergarten (although who knows if we'll "skip" a year later on - St. Nick is six - first grade age, but with a December birthday, he'd be in kindergarten if he were in school), we'd take it easy. Not that we hadn't been - we had been, but I'd been feeling badly about it. Now I'm going to give that up.

So, what did we do? We did our usual language arts of reading everything in sight (McGuffey's 1st reader, XXIII-XXV and Wind on p. 279 of Reading Reflex), learning about telling sentences and exclamation points, and a very little bit of writing.

We're still doing ordinal numbers in Singapore Math - working through some of the intensive practice. Not sure if St. Nick just doesn't want to turn his brain on, or if this is really that hard for him. He gets first, second, etc., and can even tell me which item in a line is third from the left or fifth from the right. But those word problems in the Intensive Practice book ... brutal. "Maria is fourth in line, Juan is after Maria, there are two people after Juan. How many children are in line?" To which St. Nick says, "What are they all waiting for?"

Hmmm.

Excitement for the week was catching our caterpillar, trumped only by St. Nick's first Lego Engineering class, which is two hours long every Monday afternoon. He absolutely loved it, and it's held at the library, which is super-convenient for me. As is Photoshop, which I've used for years and years, and just this week I opened up a new window, showed St. Nick the basics of selecting a paint brush and color, and half an hour later came back to see a really cute "painting" of Jonah being swallowed by a whale (sigh, okay, okay, a "big fish"). It's on the desktop, but I'll upload it when I'm over there next.

Ah, here it is!

Fencing on Tuesday was fun too. "Mommy! I got five points against that really good fencing guy!" The "really good fencing guy" is actually a boy whose been in his class since last winter, and has a tactic of running straight at his opponent while waving his foil madly in front of him. More often than not, he goes sliding onto the gym floor just as he's about to get hit. Methinks the child needs a little less sugar in his diet. I find it interesting, however, that St. Nick equates spasticness with being "really good."

We did a good bit of reading - about a third through Charlotte's Web, read Madeline five or six times (and discussed surgery, what your appendix does [i.e., not much], and boarding schools - heeheee), a sweet story about a thunder storm The Way the Storm Stops - also five or six times. And Our Nest which has a sort of Creation theme. In a strangely New Agey way. It's a cute book, though. Oh! And we got on a Patricia Polacco kick (thanks to our home ed group!) and read the strange Native American (sort of) story of Boat Ride With Lillian Two Blossom. Cute. Strange, but cute.

Anyway, we are so so so SO BORED with Egermier's Bible Story Book - painfully so. So (just so I can work the word 'so' in one more time), I broke down and purchased a Comic Book Bible and two little story books - one on Gideon and one on Samson. Those are for next week, technically, although St. Nick can't keep his hands off the Comic Book Bible. "I just LOVE the Bible, Mommy! It's my favorite book." That's what I like to hear!

We gave the sickie's immune systems one more day to recover from a nasty, nasty illness (Little Fish coughed so hard he vomited - several times - sort of like a cat with hairballs, only more fluid volume and less hair), and opted for a nature walk instead of church. It was great fun and we climbed some very steep hills. The coming back down was a real strain for the kids, but I think this sort of hiking is excellent for their physical and even emotional development. Nothing like scaling a mountain to develop persistence! Not that we have any mountains around here, but hey, when you're three feet tall, every hill is a mountain.

Grace Notes

Homeschooling has been a bit of a drag the past few weeks. Our warm, beautiful spring turned back to snow; St. Nick has been hard to motivate because he's developed a single-minded fixation on Legos; Little Fish and Mud Pie have been ill. I also tend to beat myself up over little things - I don't run around very much so we don't go on educational outings more than once a month or so; my friend got caterpillars (yes, HeartMom, I mean you!) and the mere thought of caterpillars in the house sends shivers of horror up my spine. How can I be a good homeschooling mom if I don't leave the house? If I don't buy caterpillars?

I'd pretty much convinced myself that I wasn't a good homeschooling mom at all.

And then yesterday, before the snowstorm hit, I sent the boys out to play in the mud yard. Suddenly St. Nick hollered, "I found a baby porcupine! A baby porcupine is on the stairs!"

It wasn't a porcupine, although I can certainly see why he'd think it was. It was one of these not-so-little guys (those aren't blades of grass - they're tulip greens!):

Ewww.

And what is doubly amazing, is that I actually helped St. Nick make a habitat and put the critter in it (or rather, watched while he put the critter in it). It's now on our dining room window ledge, happily munching away on ivy and tulip leaves. A caterpillar! A real, live caterpillar that we will grow and watch turn into a moth!

I don't tend to read deeply spiritual meanings into everyday events, but I couldn't help but pray a quiet 'Thank You' for the one thing that would most encourage me in this homeschooling journey. A little Note of Grace, proof that God is there, and He does care, sent quite literally to my very doorstep.

Some caterpillar links:
NPWRC information on caterpillars.
Wikipedia on the Giant Leopard Moth (which we think this guy will become).
Bug Guide: A source for more great pictures of this and other creepy-crawlies. (Another picture.)

Week 11 - off the charts

Har har - off my planning charts, that is. I promised myself I'd do better keeping track of things, since this is supposed to be a place where I keep records of homeschooling, so here goes.

Language arts:
We covered Syllables (Reading Reflex p. 311), which we talk about being "word chunks"; we made it through lesson XXII (22) in McGuffey's First Reader; St. Nick picked a couple of level 3 I Want to Read readers to read; and we did a spelling puzzle.

How'd it go? Well, word chunks made sense to St. Nick and the reading was easy (he also got an Arthur reader and one on dolphins from Grandma for Easter, which he read aloud on our drive yesterday). The spelling puzzle, however. I'd decided to let him try it on his own, without hovering/helping. He didn't read the instructions and only did about half of it, but once we DID read the instructions, he went back and fixed it up without issue. Except, of course, that his handwriting is eh, not so hot. But this is Kindergarten! C'mon!

Math:
We did Singapore whatever it is we're on (first grade, first book - 1A?), the intensive practice for Topic 4. We were supposed to move on to Topic 5, but, well, we didn't. Too bad!

Topic 4 was meshing addition and subtraction, which was driving both of us a little batty. But what's funny is, suddenly yesterday (in the van, when he wasn't reading about Dolphins or Arthur) St. Nick started making up math problems and solving them. "Mommy, I know what ten plus ten is! It's twenty! I know what ten minus ten is, it's zero!" Dr. D (aka Daddy) was extremely impressed (so was I)!

TOG/Humanities:
As usual, life and illness and all that sort of pushed this to the edge. We read about Rahab and the spies, and about the wall of Jericho. I'd intended to do more with this, like find some books at the library but, well, life happens.

And what of Little Fish and Mud Pie? Well, Fish lost his voice due to this nasty nasty cold (which has ensured no more than four hours sleep for Mom and Dad for the past week) - but this is really wonderful! It's been so peaceful. I mean, he can still talk, but that ear-shattering scream of his, it's sort of a hiss. And it's funny (in a mean sort of way) to hear the hiss-scream and watch how mad he gets that he can't cause his usual amount of disruption. Considering the number of times he's gotten us up - for potty and medicine and to inform us his nose is stuffy and on and on - his lack of voice may well be the only reason he made it through the week. Oh, I was also surprised to find that he knew his colors. How'd that happen? We were sorting math blocks and on a whim I asked him what color one was (a green one, which is his favorite) and he got that right, along with the rest of them. I know St. Nick did not know his colors at 3.5 - he didn't "get" color yet at that age.

Oh! And Mud Pie took a step. One itsy-bitsy step and quickly clung to Mommy, but she was SO proud of herself! I have long since given up worrying about her walking even though she is now officially even later than Little Fish - she'll do it in her own time.

The thing I feel very badly about, however, is Easter. Not only did we not go to church ("Hi! We're visiting today! Oh, no, he's not sick, his voice always sounds like a hair dryer, and she's not sick either - it's allergies, you know. All that snot, and the fever! Just allergies!") but we were so overwhelmed and overtired from Saturday night that we didn't so much as mention what I consider to be the most important holiday of the ecclesiastical year. St. Nick saw Passover on the calendar on Friday and almost pitched a fit because he had so wanted to do Passover, and Easter. Well, I felt like the worst mother of all when, late Sunday evening, I finally said to Dr. D, "Happy Easter," and St. Nick said, "What? TODAY is Easter?!?!"

Um. *Cringe.* Yeah. Sorry.

Pizza for $499 - An Easter Bargain

We passed the marque for a new pizza place this morning on our way out for a drive (the only thing we can do with two of the three kids feverish and quite literally snotty), and saw the advertisement in bold letters, "Pizza $499!"

"Wow, expensive pizza," Dr. D said.

"Makes last night's dinner look like a bargain." And we both burst into something between giggles and weeping.

You see, last night we went to a party at some posh downtown restaurant. "It's covered," Dr. D insisted, saying that the hostess, who had just come into a huge inheritance, wanted to celebrate with her favorite friends in style. Well, who is going to pass up a bash in one of those restaurants you see on TV - the ones where the servers tuck your napkin under your chin for you and bring your meal out covered with a silver dome?

So, we went. "You said 'covered' right?" I asked as we drove to a distant parking lot (where we can park for free). "There's no way you misunderstood and we'll get stuck with the tab?"

"Oh, no. She was very clear. She wants to do this."

The restaurant was, indeed, a posh place. A bevy of servers escorted us to a table, shook out our napkins, offered menus, filled our water glasses. And I found you can tell the quality of a restaurant by the menu selection - i.e., more quality equals fewer options. There were eight or so dinner offerings, none of which were under $25. And all sides were ala carte. But the hostess again intimated that the meal was on her, and that no one should think about the dollar signs on the menu (she never exactly said this, however, not in so many words). So we ordered wine, and salads, and potatoes, and steaks. Not extravagant, but not the "budget plan" either. And the food, although not brought out with little domes, was delivered in perfect synchrony - six servers holding six plates, all bending to place them on the table at the exact same moment.

A new Olympic sport - synchronized serving.

My steak was lovely, but I'll admit, I've made steak au poivre before, and it tasted exactly the same. So a nice meal, good conversation, overpriced wine (Rosemont Cabernet at $10 per glass when I can get a whole bottle for $12? Please.), and an eerily choreographed serving staff - it would have been a good experience, for a party. But, then came The Moment. Our server asked, "Will this be on separate checks or one?"

This isn't MY steak. Just any old steak. They're all the same after a while...

One of the other guests, who'd been knocking back Scotch with gusto, quickly said, "Oh, separate of course!" The hostess said nothing.

And that was that.

The cost of two steaks, two salads, drinks and a side? $170, with tip. Compared to a $499 pizza, that is quite the bargain.

Who am I Kidding?

Yesterday I took the kids to the library. Easy enough, yes? A simple little trip: in the van, out of the van, in the library, look about a bit, back in the van, home?

Um, no. Not simple. Not at all.

I did not take any of this advice under consideration. Why should I? I've been to the library before. I've left the kids to play under Daddy's attentive eye and run off to pick up a book or two from the children's nonfiction section, and lived to tell the tale. So, I hopped in the car without a second thought.

Only, I did not have Dr. D with me. Oops.

Flashback a few months: the library system opens their much-anticipated brand new beautiful library. After a year of operating at minimum capacity out of a little storefront, they have a huge, sprawling building. Two floors! Elevator! A deck overlooking the lake! Quite impressive, I think, until my first visit.

Why are designers who have no children allowed to design children's sections of libraries? Why? There are a dozen lovely play areas. A little kitchen. A puppet theater. A huge aquarium. Climbing mats. A doll house. A baby enclosure. Did I mention the library is sprawling? I think so. And so, the play areas should have signs, "limited sight distance." Because if one child is in the kitchen, the baby in the baby area, and another looking at the fish ... there is no place for Mom to stand where she can see all at once. Where she can see even two at once.

That first trip to the library resulted in me coming home frazzled and in tears (Dr. D was out of town which always makes things worse). And since then, I'd been back many times, almost always with Dr. D. so the memory was no more than a shadow. Until yesterday.

Yesterday St. Nick attached himself to the computer, Little Fish went for the kitchen, and Mud Pie took up a seat at the doll house. But I didn't want St. Nick at the computers - he has a "problem" with computers. Screen time makes him fussy and it's very hard to get him away from them. So I told him to stay in the kitchen for "just a second" while I ran off (with Mud Pie and one of the doll house toys) to the other side of the aquarium to get some books for school (the nonfiction children's books are on the other side of that level).

A few seconds later, over Mud Pie's protests about missing the doll house, I heard Little Fish screaming. I rushed back ... around the aquarium, through the floor-to-ceiling poles of the "lily pad", past the doll house (cue Mud Pie screamed again), past the computers where I found St. Nick ... and to the kitchen, where Little Fish was playing happily. ??? Some other child has a scream just as shrill as his. Good to know. I told St. Nick to GET OFF THE COMPUTER, left Mud Pie this time at the doll house and rounded the aquarium with the intention of really quickly finding a book on weather.

I found my book and rushed back again to find Mud Pie staring in horror at some other child who had taken all the doll house toys from her. The mother of that child fake-smiled at me and said, "Oh, we were WONDERING who she belonged to!" and St. Nick was AGAIN at the computer (not using it - he had obeyed that - rather sitting beside another boy, instructing him on how to play the game), and, thankfully, Little Fish was still playing happily at the kitchen. Despite having been shoved in the chest by another child right as I walked up.

Next up was checking out. So, I herded the brood to the self-scan (self-scan! at the library!) and Little Fish bolted out the doors and into the community center to the elevator. I dropped Mud Pie on the counter by the self-scan and told St. Nick to NOT MOVE from her (the same "I WONDERED" mom was at the other self-check and was glaring at me), and sprinted to the elevator before Fish could get on and end up who knows where. Then I ran back to scan books while I had Little Fish by the scruff of his jacket, had Mud Pie on the counter trying to grab the glaring-mommy's child's hat, and had St. Nick fighting me over how to scan the books.

More adventures on the way out of the building, including me having to leave Mud Pie in the entry way to run back and keep Little Fish from dropping his movie over the balcony to the ground floor.

I did not cry when I got home, I just popped in the movie, sat all three kids in front of it, and made lunch. I'll be honest, the Mom's Survival Guide wouldn't have helped me, not unless it recommended tranquilizers or a leash. I suppose it would have helped, had I truly taken to heart the "Know Thyself" dictum. Then I never would have gotten in the van in the first place.

About this time last year, we purchased a year's membership to the zoo, which gets me in for free whenever I want. I have not yet used it.

The mere thought of Zoo + Kids makes me want to break out the hard stuff.

Cheap Chocolate Saves the Day!

In the morning was a Mom.
A grumpy Mom.
And with that grumpy Mom were three kids.
Three noisy kids.
Three fussy kids.
Three grumpy, fussy, noisy kids.
Mom had a headache.
Mom had a to-do list with no check marks.
Grumpy Mom had a headache, a to-do list with no check marks, and three grumpy, fussy, noisy kids.

And then the mail came.
In the mail was a box.
The box said, "To the Kids."
In the box was newspaper.
In the newspaper were packages.
One for St. Nick.
One for Little Fish.
One for Mud Pie.
In the first package were toys and candy and chocolate Easter bunnies.
In the second package were bubbles and candy and chocolate Easter bunnies.
In the third package were cuddly peeping chicks and candy and chocolate Easter bunnies.

Kids ate chocolate bunny ears.
No more fussy!
No more grumpy!
No more noisy!

Ahhhhh. Happy Mommy and Happy Kids.
Thank You, Grandma!