Remembering Me

Since this homeschooling journey has begun, I've been patient with the process.  I knew (thanks to many other homeschooling moms) it would be a process, and that getting into a grove would take a while, and there would be ups and downs, and curriculum changes and all that.  What I didn't take into account was that I would forget to put myself sufficiently into the equation.  My grandma asked why I was homeschooling, and after sharing all of Ethan's academic history, and my feelings and theories, etc., she said: "but when will you have time for yourself, now?"  Oh yeah.  Last year I had to fight for myself, as I emerged from two very, very difficult years only to fall into depression.  I had to relearn self-care and believe that it really was  important.  And now I do believe it, and know better how to take care of myself, but I've forgotten to do it somehow, in the midst of starting homeschooling.

Well, no longer.  After an inspiring book group discussion last night, I remembered myself.  And today, I made time for prayer in the morning, scripture reading, exercise, eating well, and even a shower!  Yes, this is good.  Thank goodness it was a day with absolutely nothing on the calendar (including the dentist appointment for E, which should have been there and which I forgot until they called to ask if we were coming!)

I'm still creating the homeschooling experience I want to have in my head.  The interesting thing, though, is that whenever I create it, my two girls who I am not currently homeschooling are part of it, too.  When will it be time to pull them out?  They have both asked to be homeschooled, but I feel like they need to be where they are just a little bit longer. . .

Anyway, other than the quick trip to the dentist for a tooth removal, today was leisurely.  E determined in the morning that we was going to get all his work done by 2:30 so he could meet his best friend online in Lego Universe, and they could play together.  Consequently, he followed through with all his assignments and came to me for the ones I hadn't already given, rather than disappearing for long stretches into his room.  He did Latin (he is doing great, and impresses me with how quickly he learns), typing, history, math, lots of reading, piano practice, scripture reading, walking 1.5 miles, vocabulary, and writing.  And he did it by 2pm.

I made chicken soup from the rotisserie chicken we got over the weekend, also, which made for an easy dinner, with plenty to share.  C and I worked on her violin practicing--in front of a mirror so she could see if her alignment and positioning were correct, and she played taka taka stop stop 100 times on the E string.  Her arms were sore afterward, and she kept complaining that she just wanted to sit down during the practicing.  But she did it.

Today I also contemplated the shift we seem to make from right brain to left brain as we get older.  Logical Song by Supertramp put me in mind of that.  As children, we live in the moment and see the beauty and unity of what is around us.  Children laugh so readily, not because life is carefree for them, but because the cares of yesterday or tomorrow don't infringe so much on the joy of the moment.  Their minds haven't learned to worry so much.  I think the socialization we receive (at least in my culture) tends to emphasize and place value on being "logical, responsible, practical" which are wholly in the sphere of the left brain.  We tend to devalue the ability to embrace the moment, to imagine what is not real, be spontaneous, be led by our feelings and just play.  (Or maybe it was just me?)  Anyway, I think getting out of balance within the brain tends to unbalance our lives.  I wonder if this is part of what James is experiencing?

Today

In this morning's bustle,
I roused sleepers, warm in their blankets.
Made hurried lunches and
and a hurried breakfast,
and hurried orders: " Get dressed!  Eat! Drink!"
that fell on ears, still languid with sleep.

Out into the cool, fresh morning
I rushed, barely glancing at the sun-laced leaves
or hearing the sweet songs of contented birds.
I drove fast to school,
with the impatience of expectations
hanging over me,
tardy-notes ready to drop on my head.

Still, Carol enjoyed the sweet anticipation
of a book fair,
and Dorothea was delighted to be riding with Dad.
Isaac pitter-patted gleefully, simply
because it was day, and he was alive,
and Ethan slept in
rousing only to wonder where we all were.

Today was a day of piano,
gymnastics, soccer, scouts, violin,
Latin, typing, reading and cleaning, but
it was also a day of gratitude,
sharing a moment of conversation with my distant brother,
cheering Sam from a rough day at work.

It was a day of contemplation
of three ruby rings for three sons of a king, (it is more important to live well than be right)
of laughter in learning, (who'd have thunk Latin could be so funny)
of sisterly sharing, (visiting teaching and book group are manna to my soul)
of order and balance and patience (we're still working to refine our homeschooling methods.)

It was another day of beauty,
stretched from humble beginnings,
to enjoy.