Post Category → home schooling

november 21

The boys are obsessed with Monopoly.

This week has been Thanksgiving vacation, because I said so. Jameson was thrilled when I told him so on Monday morning, and ran off singing, “I don’t have to do any Ma-ath!” Of course, he then proceeded to set out Monopoly, and has been adding and subtracting ever since. Don’t tell him how much ma-ath he’s doing, okay?

Yes, three mornings in a row. Extending long into the day, when Mama allows. (And a “new” corner, after I went on a little rearranging spree last night.)

Two days of just trying to get things crossed off has resulted in… well, not much. Ha! But regardless of how much gets “done”, there is always living that happens. I think I’m really starting to learn and appreciate that fact. Of course, waking up to a house in a cloud really helps one to just focus on the things (and lives) right here. I think I could use a few more cloud-wrapped days!

Our little house on a hill is wrapped in cloud this morning.

I rearranged lamps last night. And bookshelves. Bringing “cozy” into our home is one of my favorite things, and the highlight of the colder, darker months. Summer living happens outside, and the house becomes nothing more than the refueling station. But now, in these short days and long nights, fireplaces and chairs with afghans and books readily at hand — those things shine. Of course, those things are only tools: What’s really happening is an invitation to come, be together, pause, laugh, talk, rest.

The sun, trying its best.

We are talking about thankfulness lately. (Of course.) Thankfulness is enjoying quite the rise in popularity, as t-shirts and throw pillows and cross-stitched wall hangings remind us to love friends, be thankful for friends, count our blessings, and generally be positive about life. This all reminds me of something I read several years ago: The thing about thankfulness is that it inherently requires a recipient. When the pillow encourages you to “be thankful for family and friends”, who is it you’re thanking?

I want my children to not just see me being positive about the good things in life, but to hear me thanking God for His many blessings. My thank yous need to be addressed to the Giver, not some black hole of positivism.

This song is a favorite, and I’ve been appreciating the reminder to be vocal with praise and thanks.

november 13

So, yes. The weekend flew by, and somehow swept Monday right along with it. Unseasonably warm weather, almost the whole Sinclair family in one house on the same day, and husbands with the day off convincing the rest of us that we, too, should take a vacation day results in, well, a vacation!

Today it’s back to being 40 degrees, give or take. So the boys drew fantastic pictures of “November is… bare trees”, and “November is… football!” My boys do not just sit and draw, unless it’s the beginning of the school year and there are all new drawing utensils (of course). I usually have to assign such creative pursuits — and once assigned, they throw themselves into it. (Hmmm. I think I need to come up with drawing assignments more often.)

*****

Jameson lost his first tooth Sunday morning. He exuberantly bounced into the kitchen, eyes beaming, mouth full of blood. Ha! We dutifully saved his eensy-weensy tooth, and then Ryan told some elaborate tall tale about a tooth fairy tapping on the window and fluttering around the room while they slept. William, who is far too clever to fall for such yarns, declared that he “knowed” the tooth fairy did no such thing; he would have heard the rapping and woken up. So there. We’re not sure whether or not he realizes the tooth fairy is completely non-existent, or if he’s just quite confident in his sharp hearing skillz. Either way, he’s ridiculously cute, and we’ll keep him. Also, Jameson will keep the dough, regardless of the realness of said tooth fairy.

*****

Sometimes, like today, I go into my room to check on my sleeping babe, and I find a wide-eyed, smiling, frowsy-headed darling. Her cheeks are irresistibly pink in the morning, and her chubby arms and hands are just that much softer. Over a year later, she’s still greeted with joy and celebration by her brothers every morning. She just may feel like the most special girl in the world. (And that wouldn’t be far from the truth. As we read at naptime, God said, “Let there be Beatrice”, and then saw that it was good. Pretty special, if you ask me.)

*****

Our school day routine includes devotions after breakfast. This is when our home turns into part church, part circus, part tyrranical-toddler-grabs-every-candle-while-her-mom-is-trying-to-memorize-scripture. I love it. We’ve had such wonderful little conversations, Ryan has been able to teach their little hearts so many important truths, and we get to pray for so many people that we love. I’m not kidding about the toddler part, though. After being told many times to sit down, here she is. Gotta love a little spunk, right?

*****

Day after day. Weeks, months, years. I’m alternately exhausted by the big events, and worried that the small days are amounting to nothing. My worry knows no end, when allowed to run its course. Thankfully, thankfully, my job is not to orchestrate our lives. There’s the Holy Spirit for that sort of thing. He weaves and guides and creates beauty in ways I’m astonished by, in ways I’ll not even know the whole of until I’m looking at Time from Eternity. For now, faithfulness is my portion: being faithful to believe, to repent, to trust, to live for Him.

november 9

Fridays are a special days in our lives. Busy, but special.

It begins Thursday night. Jameson sets out his school uniform (and Mama realizes his jeans/polo/whatever isn’t clean. Grrr! Better hurry and get that laundry done!)

Friday morning, I skip my walk and jump right into the shower instead. Jameson bounces out of bed with extra excitement (I say extra, because there’s always excitement), and hurries through his morning chores. I make him a sandwich, label a brown paper bag, fill his water bottle, and feed him breakfast. One more uniform check before we leave, and every week I’m stunned by how grown up he is. Such a good, good boy.

I wave good-bye to William, reminding him to keep an eye on Beattie, and drive Jameson to the church. I’m in a long stream of minivans and SUVs, as families from all over the county drop their home schooled children off for a morning of enrichment activities. Jameson hops out of the backseat, shouts goodbye, and joins the throng of children excitedly bounding up the steps and through the front door. He’s confident. Just last year, he wanted me to hold his hand and take him inside. Not anymore.

I drive back home and join William and Beatrice for breakfast. We tidy the house, get baths, read books, and prepare for errands together. Today, we picked up the last of our CSA and grabbed a few groceries. People ooohed and ahhhhed over William and Beatrice at the grocery store, of course. “Are they always so good?” I smile. “They really are blessings.” (How do you answer that question, anyway? Right?)

We listen to Psalty in the car and play William’s favorite song over and over. Usually he has to take turns choosing songs, but today it’s just him. Live it up, kid!

Back to the church, where the three of us open our own paper bag lunch. PB&J! Quickly wipe off sticky fingers, and drop William and Beatrice off at the nursery, where a couple of home school moms volunteer to watch teachers’ children. Then I grab my music folder and head up to the choir room. Soon, the thunderous sound of 40 2nd-4th graders is heard in the hallway, and then they are bursting through the door, chatting and laughing, bright eyed and pink-cheeked. Happy, happy kids. So far this semester, we have learned efficient ways of getting bathroom runs out of the way, how to answer respectfully when I take attendance, and that a singing voice is different that a talking voice. Several of them are also learning harmony lines, and though they’re deeply nervous about it, watching their faces when they hear their voices blending in harmony is just fun. Bell rings, and without too much stampeding, they head down to assembly. The morning is over.

Last year, Jameson would come home and not remember a single thing that had happened. “It was fun.” Really? That’s all you’ve got? But this year, he tells funny stories from lunchtime, sings snippets of his choir songs, gets really excited about his art projects, and remembers all about storytime and character class. He’s so much older!

William just loves that he gets to go see Aunt Bettia in the nursery. (That’s Brietta, for those of you who were stumped.)

I’m really, really thankful that I get to home school Jameson, and I’m also really thankful for a great program on Friday mornings. This little corner of the world is really blessed, and I don’t take it for granted!

*****

Also, because I forgot to post anything yesterday, you get a photo for free. Totally unrelated. But absolutely adorable.

new things

It’s Friday evening. Inside, there’s the peace of sleeping children; outside, a chorus of crickets. (I love that so much!) Tonight, I’m tired. My feet ache, my eyes burn, tired. But that’s okay. You’re supposed to be tired on Friday night. Especially when it marks the end of a packed-full-of-new-starts week:

On Monday, Beatrice started walking. She’d been taking a couple of steps here and there for several weeks — and then Monday morning, she just got a fire in her eyes and walked across the room. We’ve been highly entertained by her adorable, tipsy walking all week long. Do I have any videos of this adorable walk? Of course not! She drops to her hands and knees the minute I pull out my phone. It really is cute. And shocking — I’m still caught off guard when I look up and she’s walking down the hall. My baby is growing up.

On Tuesday, we implemented a new fall routine. I’d worked on it a few weeks ago, trying so hard to sort out priorities for this year and make room for it all. I finally got it all squeezed into 5 24-hour slots. Phew. Then Ryan casually said, “As long as you still have plenty of time for Bible reading,” and I read somewhere that one should consider “starting your day slowly.” Ugh. I knew I hadn’t quite gotten the priorities accurately sorted. So I went back to the drawing board, asking the Lord to help me let go of the unnecessary “good” things — and I feel like He really did. Granted, it’s only been a week, but still — I’m shocked by how much “slow” time there has been each morning. Time to smile, to wake up a bit slowly with a book and an afghan, to eat a real breakfast, to slip in a few minutes outdoors before gathering at the table. Starting our days with that sort of pace just seems to help us.

I am walking. Thirty minutes, early in the morning, I have been slipping out the door for some exercise. It’s working. There are some seasons when fitting in any form of exercise has seemed like an insurmountable impossibility. But right now, with these three kids at these ages, it’s working. I’m really happy.

Wednesday was our first day of school. Books have been arriving via UPS for weeks, but I kept them tucked away in my closet. On Tuesday night, I tied them up with ribbons and slipped a card for each boy into their stack. It was like Christmas. They couldn’t wait to start! Jameson is in 1st grade, and is eager to learn to read. William is happy to be included at the table with all sorts of pre-K activities. Along with reading, math, history, and science, Jameson is starting piano lessons. He is over the moon excited about that! He slips away to the piano all through the day, happily practicing his two-black-key songs. It’s pretty cute!

This isn’t exactly new this week, but it’s still relatively new: Ryan’s got a beard. He’s very worried I’ll get him mixed up with George Clooney, but so far, I’ve been able to keep them straight. I think he looks very handsome.

The best new start of the week, by far, was the one that happened every morning — or even more often, depending on how regularly I needed to stop and start over. How thankful I am for grace that never gets old, for mercy that makes all things new.

making plans, following his lead

Halfway through get-ready-for-school week:

Crayons, pencils, construction paper, glue.

Books that teach reading, books that teach math, books that teach piano, books that tell stories, books to just learn.

Chore charts revamped, priorities sorted, schedules made.

A list of projects that may or may not be realistic in the remaining days.

Doing my best. That’s what this all represents: me taking my responsibility as homemaker, nutritionist, school teacher, character developer, and job trainer seriously. I do my best to sort out pie-in-the-sky idealism — this isn’t about creating the quintessential homeschool, whole foods, wholesome kids setting: it’s about honoring God to the best of my abilities.

I sit on my stoop Monday morning, coffee in hand, looking out over the glistening dew on our fields, and I ponder this. I remind my soul: this is for the Lord. He wants us to grow in work ethic, in attitude, in ability, in wonder, in body, and all of this is our eager response to that desire. All of my plans, my schedules, my charts — simply an effort to honor and grow. So then, I remind my soul, of course He can change my plans, interrupt our days. If this is all really for Him — if, indeed, this is about more than just controlling every moment of our lives and seeing it run the way I have planned — then He is free to lead our lives. All of the things I want to teach and the character I want to impart through these schedules and activities can only truly be brought about by the Holy Spirit.

He is the ultimate School Master. I must remind myself of this. Every day.

May my heart be oriented towards Jesus, not toward my methods.