The Miracle of Dawn

This is something I'd ordinarily save for my little homeschooling journal, but since it's book related, and really just fabulous, I'll share it here.

Today St. Nick, who is seven and technically in first grade, cajoled me into taking him and his siblings to the library. This was our conversation on the drive there:

Him: Mom, do you know why I like going to the library so much?

Me: (Slightly irritable - I didn't really want to drag out in the rain and Mud Pie had a fashion meltdown on the way out the door) To get movies?

Him: Nope.

Me: Really? (Truly surprised) Then why?

Him: Well, I do like the DVDs but I love the books too. Want to know why?

Me: Sure.

Him: The books are sort of like movies, only better. When I read them I make pictures in my head and it's just like watching a movie but without having to watch it.

Me: (Momentarily speechless)

Him: Yup. I use my imagination. It's really powerful and I can see the stories just like movies. So that's why I like the library so much.

Me: (Still speechless)

This has been one of the greatest privileges of motherhood. I labored with St. Nick over letters and sounds, over sound bingo and Bob Books and the laborious sounding out of word after word. There were times I doubted my ability to teach this most fundamental skill, and doubted his ability to learn. Times when I suspected the dozen or more books he keeps squirreled beneath his pillow were there just for the pictures.

And now I know they were - but not the pictures drawn with graphite or a brush, but those created within. Within his mind, and ultimately, within his soul.

To see this dawn in him is to witness a miracle. I understand a little better what might feel like to look down from the heavens and see that the world is good.

On Grief

We're looking at another trip to Ohio next week, this time to say goodbye to Dr. D's father, who passed away on Monday.

Most of my grief is for myself, and for Dr. D, his brother, his mom, and for the kids who will now never have the sort of relationship with a grandfather that I'd hoped. For Grandpa? Only peace, joy.

It hardly matters that we're being asked to take an insane amount off the price of our house, or that we're paying more than we wanted to for the house we want to buy. What's money? Gained, lost, and outside of its power to purchase, it is worthless.

I had more meaningful things to write, about value, worth, but my thoughts are a jumble. Maybe next time I'll have something to say worth reading.

Like a Carnival Ride

That would be my emotions. Inspections went fine. Found a few things (don't they always?), but nothing really major and nothing that would break the deal. And nothing that matched that first (fictitious?) inspection report. So, this is good.

Been round and round on the house we want to buy. First they don't want to lower the price quite enough, then we find an agreeable price but they say stubbornly, "We won't do ANY repairs based on inspections." To which we wondered, what are they hiding? So they struck that clause. But then they wanted twice the length of time that *we* have until we can have possession. Easy way of saying it: we'll be homeless for two weeks unless we can get our buyer to delay his move from Kentucky. Still waiting to hear on that one.

But right now Dr. D is on his way to Indianapolis because his father isn't going to pull through this final round of chemo. The Big "C" is such a terrible thing - I didn't respect it enough until now. Now that it's taking the children's grandpa from them before they've hardly had a chance to know him.

Nothing more to say. Trying to keep it together here at home, which means TV dinners and DVDs from the library.

Mud Pie is hollering about her need to use the facilities, so my time is up! She's still too little to get herself on the potty without help, and heaven forbid she come back downstairs to use her little potty. Ah, the joys!

Waiting waiting waiting

Waiting to hear on the offer we put out on another house.

Waiting to hear how the inspections went on ours.

A mite nervous simply because of the experience last time - shoddy inspection job - even our Realtor said it was the most unprofessional report she'd ever seen. And it had factual errors, like that a certain type of wiring was from the 40s and 50s. Uh, nope. Daughter of an electrician knows a bit about these things. So anyway, not meaning to go there, but I don't want to get another offer dropped, especially for things that are entirely fictitious.

Here We Are Again

Another offer on the house! We just got off the phone with our (wonderful) Realtor a little while ago. This one is a lower offer, so we'll counter, but I think it could work. Oh, I hope hope hope it does!!!!

I think.

Because if it does then we have to look for another house. And we're pretty sure we know which one we might want, and it is still for sale, but then we'd have to do all that home-buying stuff. Inspections, packing, moving. MOVING! Yikes.

Ok, jumping ahead a bit too much now. It's only an offer; we'll counter; it could very easily not go beyond this next step.

Something Startling

On iTunes radio, there's a station of bird songs. Nothing but birds. Chirping, hooting, wood-pecking, tweeting. That's it.

It's playing in the background right now.

Sort of eerie. Especially with the volume up really high.

Let's Hope "They" don't read this

Whoever "they" are. Those anti-homeschoolers who are on the prowl for evidence that we're all secretly squirreling our kids away at home to fill their minds with anti-semitic mantras and instructions on bomb production. Or at least that we're neglecting their education and turning them into dull witted, socially inept, intellectually anemic adults. Because the past two weeks have really sucked on the school front.

Here's what we did:
Leading Little Ones to God: 60-62. And Psalm 100.
Math intensive practice (Singapore 1B, the second to last unit, whichever that is. Adding and subtracting to 100): a bunch of pages.
Scholastic Success for second grade: some stuff on maps and worksheets on proper nouns and verbs.
Some poems in Modern Rhymes on Ancient Times: Rome.
Several home showings.
A whole lot of time outside digging for bugs.
A handful of experiments involving vinegar and baking soda, all having the same basic outcome.
And a Lego robot built to resemble (quite accurately) the robot in a movie called Iron something. I can't even remember the title of the film.
Oh, and three trips to the library for movies and reading material. St. Nick has started picking up chapter books (vs. comic books/graphic novels) and, basing solely on the amount of time he spends looking at each page, I'm guessing he's actually READING them.

Another house showing tomorrow and an open house on Sunday, so rather than do school, I am doing laundry. St. Nick is playing with pipe cleaners. I'd like to say next week we'll get back to it, but I'm not making any promises.

(Ok, ok, we will. We WILL!)