I ♥ Homeschooling...

When I sent Little Brother off to get dressed this morning, he came out dressed in a hand-me-down bat costume. No problem!

Boys are different...

In case you needed proof that boys really are different from girls, some gems from my 6-year old...

LB: "Mom, you know what chore is my favorite?"
Me: "No, which one?"
LB: "Putting away the silverware, cuz I get to put away all the sharp knives!" Followed by a sinister laugh...

The other morning I was about to wake LB to get ready for school, when I heard quiet singing coming from his room. "Oh, how sweet!" I thought... then I stood outside the door listening, and this was the made up song that I heard:
"...soup cups, and teacups.
And the teacups each had a lasergun,
and I took one! And I pushed the button..."

Telling me about a girl from school:
"She makes me feel happy. I really like her, but so does my friend Alex. I'm going to let Alex marry her. I like her, but I don't want all that marriage stuff, like kids and everything, so he can have her. Plus, he's my friend, and I want to be nice." (LOL - you should see how all the little boys act when in this girl's company. She has the entire class of kindergarten boys wrapped around her finger. It's frightening, really.)

If I were a baby bird...

I overheard Little Brother telling Big Sister that if he were a baby bird, he would never fly out of the nest. Smart cookie - he knows when he's got a good thing!

She tried to reason with him that if he never left the nest he would freeze to death in the winter time.

He countered that he would be a baby bird in Mexico.

An origami update...

Yesterday I mentioned that Big Sister had gotten ahold of an origami book I'd found. After creating a plethora of various birds and fish, today we have furniture...

Thursday

Rain, rain, go away....

Not much to report here. Instead of starting the morning off with homeschooling, Big Sister and I ended up grocery shopping. We ran out of milk after I made Little Brother's oatmeal, and I didn't have anymore in the downstairs fridge. Oops. On the way to the store, I mentioned to Big Sis that some other families we know let their kids plan and prepare one dinner/week. She was very interested, and wants to get started tonight. She's making sloppy joes and tossed salad. I'm looking forward to it - not sure why I didn't consider this before!

In the process of looking for some knitting needles I knew I had stashed around here somewhere, I came across an origami instruction book. Origami is something Big Sis has talked about wanting to learn, and she was really excited when she saw the book on the coffee table. I'd also found a pack of origami paper, so she got to work right away. So far she's folded a swan, goose, duck, and fish.

Part of Little Brother's homework this afternoon was to write a list of three things that are cold. Are you ready for his list?

1. ice
2. Antarctica
3. liquid nitrogen

We saw a program at the science center last week called "Super Cool" and they used liquid nitrogen experiments to demonstrate states of matter. Apparently it left a lasting impression.

It's wet up here. Our seasonal stream through the backyard has returned. The snow is nearly all melted - just a few stray patches here and there. The road around the corner from us is closed due to flooding. Other than that, we're doing just fine. There are many nearby communities that are much, much worse off, with towns turned to islands by the rivers rising well above flood stage. Everytime this happens, I'm reminded of how thankful I am that hubby talked me out of buying a home out in Carnation!

Oops...

We've been on a cleaning rampage this weekend. Keeping a tidy house is not high on my list of strengths. Anyway, I'd been working my rear off, and as dinnertime approached I wanted to reiterate to my dear children how important it was to me that they not promptly mess it all up. We have an eating nook with an L-shaped bench in our kitchen. The corner of the "L' had amassed quite a substantial pile of "stuff" - books, coats, construction paper, dried up playdough, pens, happy meal toys, etc. And now it was all put away. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

So I said to my daughter, who stood before me in the kitchen: "I just cleaned up all that C-R-A-P in the corner, and I don't want to do it again".

From the other room, the Peanut Gallery (ie. Little Brother) chimes in: "I know what C-R-A-P spells! TOYS!"

and now a little humor

Tonight, after reading a story to the kids, Little Brother was laying down next to me. He was being very still, with his body very straight, and his arms straight down along his body. Then he said to me:

"Look, Mom! I'm the Floating Bridge!"

For my non-local blog readers, the 520 Floating Bridge is one of two bridges connecting the Eastside with Seattle, across Lake Washington. My kids are both fans of this bridge. I'm not really sure why, other than we drive across it when we're on our way to cool places, like the zoo or the science center.

I should also mention that Little Brother announced to me yesterday that he'd recently had a "color divorce". This term was new to me, so he was kind enough to fill me in:

"You know how sometimes people get married, and then they decide they want to marry someone else? Well, a color divorce is like that. It's when your favorite color isn't your favorite color anymore."

For anyone keeping track, the color "green" is now single. Purple and Little Brother are now hitched.

And in other news, we were able to create a fix so that we didn't have to replace the $100 piece that broke off the washing machine earlier today. I love it when we manage to figure things out for ourselves and avoid large repair bills. The internet was hugely helpful, especially partselect.com - we were able to look at schematics online, and get an idea what we were looking for.

Off to do laundry!

When I grow up...

On Sunday we had a lot of yardwork to accomplish, seeing as how sunny weekend days are hard to come by this time of year. We also had my nephew, J-Man, over. When I went to pick him up at my sister's, I mentioned to him that I had a couple of jobs in mind for him, and that there might be payment involved.

"Quarters??!" he asked, enthusiastically.

LOL - that's my kind of yard help!

Little Brother wasn't interested in helping in the yard, even when I dangled the prospect of quarters in his face. Big Sister and J-Man were my eager helpers. I set my nephew to work raking leaves under the apple tree, and my girl was supposed to pick up all the nasty, rotten, moldy, disgusting apples from off the ground. Turns out that neither of them was too impressed with their assigned tasks, and they switched after five minutes or so. It turns out that tossing putrid apples into a yard waste bin from 20 feet away is a much sought after job if you're a 6-yr. old boy. 9-yr. old girls would rather be distanced from such filth by the length of a rake handle. Or more.

And, as luck would have it, both kids walked off the job within 15 minutes. I raked leaves AND picked up all of the sour, decomposed apple flesh that littered the ground, all by myself.

Not one to be deterred from possible financial gain, J-Man came over and asked when he was getting paid. I told him no work, no pay. To which Big Sister concurred...

Sister: "That's true. You have to do something to make money".

J-Man: "Not guards. Guards just have to stand in one spot. I want to be a guard".

Sister: "Or a judge - they just sit down all day. I think I'd like to be a judge when I grow up. They get paid to do nothing".

Kids are brilliant, aren't they?

When children speak

You know when your kids are babies and toddlers and you look forward to the day when they can verbally articulate their needs and thoughts to you. Why do we do that? I'm certain I never imagined a day when I'd be driving down the road, minding my own business, and from the backseat my 5 yr. old son would randomly, quite out of the blue say:

"Hey, Mom? If Sponge Bob died, he would bleed yellow."


Boy, talk about non sequitur. Maybe I don't really need to know what goes on inside his head.

A captive audience

Maybe you've heard of those programs where they take new and struggling readers and have them read to a canine companion? These take place in libraries and schools around the country. My kids have never shown any interest in reading to our dog, and I've never actually suggested it. However, as I sit typing this, N. is reading to her rats, and she came up with it all on her own. She's reading to them from a passage titled: Animals in Winter: the Dozers.

LOL - here's the conversation taking place...

N (reading): "... they eat worms and grubs."
(to the rats): "Don't worry, boys, you're not worms or grubs, so you don't have anything to worry about!"

Overheard...

The kids have been playing some imaginative scenario involving a variety of toys, including their fisher price castle, a rescue hero firetruck, and a planet heroes spaceship. While they were playing, I overheard this:

N's character (a polly pocket) said: How'd the battle go?
A's character (a rescue hero) said (in a deep voice): Oh, not well. I got fired. There were cameras, and they saw me not shooting the water cannons. That's the problem with battles - no rest time.

LOL - video surveillance on the battlefield. Roman Empire meets 21st century.

Also overheard (or rather, following from afar) - a ruling was recently made in Los Angeles county that has homeschoolers watching closely. The case involved allegations of child abuse against parents who were educating their children at home under an independent study program through a "charter school" (in paretheses because it's unclear whether this school was actually a public charter, or a private school). There a lot of unanswered questions for those of us who are just becoming aware of the story. One of the biggest questions is why wasn't this pursued as simply an abuse case? Why attack homeschooling? Unfortunately abuse takes place in all sorts of families, including families that send their kids to public school. Does the government suggest that, in the interest of avoiding child abuse, all children be removed from their parents' care shortly after birth so that the authorities can better monitor their well-being? No, that would be ridiculous, just as ridiculous as requiring all children to physically attend school in a full-time private or public school outside of the home in the interest of ensuring that none are being abused. For more on this story, including the court document filed in this case, visit the California Homeschool Network website.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Borrowed this from my sister - I couldn't resist!



11/29/07 UPDATE:
My 8-year old was sitting here next to me and saw the Happy Thanksgiving cartoon. "What's that?" she asked, and then a mortified look of understanding came over her face. With a tone of utter disdain in her voice she exclaimed "Who would think that is funny???" LOL - poor kid!

It's a Calgon day

It's not even 9am, and I feel like I'm in that old "Calgon, take me away!" commercial! LOL!
Andrew is trying my patience. In his defense, he spent the last 3 days having a tummy bug, and is obviously still feeling a little out of sorts. But he's been crying since he woke up two hours ago. First he was sobbing because his nose is stuffed up "and I'll never be able to breathe out of it again!". I reminded him that crying usually makes noses more stuffed up. Does he want to blow it? No. More sobbing. Goes to his room, mad at me, and strips down to his underwear.

Now he's hungry. I thought he said he wanted waffles. Apparently I was wrong. He wants oatmeal. More crying. And he'd like apple juice. No problem. But now he's cold, and there are goosebumps on his arms - crying. I suggest clothing. NO!!! It's not because he's not wearing clothing that he's cold (silly me), it's because the sun isn't out enough (let me get right on that...). And he's hungry, because he's so cold that he can't use his arms to lift his hands to raise the spoon to his mouth. And he wants the bumps to be off his arms.

So he's sobbing, actually a full-blown tantrum right now. There's nothing that I can do. He chooses battles that cannot be won, or refuses to let be solved. And so he cries. And then he sits in a corner and sings from the song Ugly Bug Ball "I've got nobody to hug. I'm such an ugly bug." And he doesn't want anyone to talk to him, hold him, or comfort him. He wants to be alone to stay in his funk.

Vent, vent, vent. sigh.

Party! Party! Party!

Yesterday I had to run over to Kinkos to make copies with the kids. For some reason they're always a little crazy when we go in that place, so I prepped them before we went in "No running around, and try to keep your voices down, please. People are trying to work in there."

Poor A. He just couldn't contain himself. He was running under the tunnels (the area underneath each of the work stations), pulling himself up onto the posts that mark the line you wait in at the counter, jumping, running, hugging N, hanging on her, doing handstands. All while I made two double-sided copies.

When I was finally done and we were back out to the parking lot, I stopped A and had him look at me while I told him "In the next store, I need you to control your body. That was too much craziness, and you need to keep it together a little bit." He "Okay, Mommy"s me, and we cross the parking lot to our car. As I'm getting him buckled in his carseat he exclaims.

"ARR! It's my brain!" and starts punching himself in the head.

Me, slightly horrified, though not completely unaccustomed to seeing him flog himself: "It's your brain?"

"Yah, Mom. Ya know? My brain tells my body to do these things, and I have to tell it not to."

"Really? How do you tell it not to?"

"Like this:" and he whacks himself again, "It's a party in there!"

It was quite an insightful conversation, actually. I've read of kids with ADHD describing parties in their brain, though I've never heard A. use that description, nor would I necessarily consider him hyperactive (LOL, although yesterday in Kinko's a wave of movement had definitely washed over him). I'm happy that he's able to reflect inward like that and describe what he's feeling - maybe someday that ability will carry over during his fits of anger and disappointment, too. I don't think I've ever had a party in my brain - I think I'm missing out!

Do what I mean, not what I say.

Last night I sent the kids upstairs to clean up the living room before bedtime. For most of the afternoon, they'd been playing some complicated scenario that involved a new Darth Vader and Littlest Pet Shop kitty cat that Grammy had sent to them, so they had toys spread all over. After a few minutes, I headed up the stairs. I often try to sneak up the stairs to eavesdrop on their conversations, and the one last night just made me beam.

N: (in a slightly bossy tone) "A., you need to put your toys away in your room."

A: "Momma said to clean up the living room."

N: "I know, but she didn't mean to just throw them in your bedroom. I think she meant that she wanted us to put our toys away. You can do what you want to do, but I am going to go put my stuff away where it belongs."

I couldn't help but smile to myself. Aside from the Bossy Big Sister thing she had going on, it was nice to know she's finally starting to read between the lines and be a little less literal about things. I experienced that fleeting moment of "they really are listening to me!" that you get as a parent once in a while. The small affirmations that you're getting through to them in tiny bits. It was a nice feeling. In the end, hopefully A. won't feel the need to rebel against both of his mommies when he gets older, LOL!

Goosed

I was grocery shopping last week and came across Gooseberry Jam on the PB&J aisle. I haven't seen gooseberry jam since I was a kid at my grandparents' house. Our grandma used to make the most outstanding jams and jellies, but gooseberry jam really stands out in my mind. I think because it was, quite possibly, the most repulsive looking food I ever let past my lips and then ended up LOVING! I always thought of frog eggs when I looked at gooseberry jam - like plump frog eggs suspended in a gel - but tasty! In a fit of nostalgia, I purchased...

And this morning, I used it to top a warm, fluffy, buttermilk pancake, just like we used to do at Grandma and Grandpa's house. I have to say that my first impression upon opening the jar was that it looked all wrong. Grandma's was more translucent with a slight light green tint, while this is sort of a brownish yellow. At least it's staying true to the "not appealing to look at" quality that Grandma's had. Hero's gooseberry jam is all mashed up and mixed together, while Grandma's retained more of the whole gooseberry goodness. And the taste of Hero's... well... not the same. I think Grandma's must have been a little sweeter. And tasted less bad. And without this strange aftertaste that seems to linger an hour after consumption. (I'll go brush my teeth soon, I promise). So this walk down food-memory lane was a bit of a disappointment, but makes me appreciate Grandma's culinary feat with that crazy little berry even more than before.

And in other Goose news... This weekend, hubby took our boy out for a bike ride this weekend while I took the girl out to choose goodie bags (and goodies!) for her upcoming bday party. (N. and I had quite a nice time out, btw). When we all returned home I noticed that A. had a big scrape on his elbow, so I asked him about.

Me: "A. where'd you get that big scrape on your elbow? Did it happen on your bikeride?"

A: (one hand on his hip, other hand flips out, palm up - those of you who know him in person know just how he talks with his hands!) "Well (pause) I'll tell you. It was a goose."

Me: (certain I'd heard incorrectly) "A goose?"

A: "Yes. A goose! I was standing with my elbow like this (hands on his hips), and the goose bit me!"

Me: "Wow! Really? Did you cry?"

A: "No. Well, yes. It surprised me!"

I always knew geese were no good. Dumb parks, overrun with waterfowl... sheesh. Some goose is gonna get it now. Nobody attacks my children and gets away with it. Dang. Looks like now the war is on with Spittle Bugs AND Geese. If Nature crosses me too many more times, I'll have to write it all down to keep track, LOL!

Treading water

Lots going on. The kids started swimming lessons this week. They use these weird foam squares attached to an adjustable belt to assist the kids as they learn to swim. N. hasn't had any lessons since the summer before last, but she can float on her tummy, and dog paddle underwater. She doesn't float on her back - mostly flails and freaks out, actually, LOL! But that seems to be pretty normal. I keep trying to convince her that if she just relaxes, the water will hold her up, and it's actually quite calming. She's not quite buying it. She wears two squares on her back. A. had a couple sessions of mommy and me swimming classes two summers ago, so he's starting from square one (ha, ha - he actually wears 2 squares on his back, and two on his front). He had such a big smile on his face throughout his lesson. He's going to have fun with this. Actually, I think this teacher will be good for both kids - firm, yet kind.

After their lessons, the kids were talking in the back of the car. They were talking about their mutual discomfort with floating on their backs, and I was telling N. to relax and trust the floaties (foam squares) and the water.

N: "They'll hold me up?"
Me: "Yep."
N: "But there are only two of them."
Me: "I know, but between you and those floaties, you aren't going to sink."
N: "Wow. Okay."
A: "What about me? Will I sink?"
N: "No! If I have two floaties, and I won't sink, and you have four floaties - there's no way you'll sink! And you're even lighter than me!"
A: "I'm lighter?"
N: "Yeah. Lighter means you're easier to carry."
A: "Yeah. I'm lighter, and you're darker."

LMAO. They crack me up.

Last night was our homeschool group's Annual Meeting where we had to elect board members, and appoint our operations team. I have one year left in my two year term, so I'm still on. I volunteered to be the Chair. It was that, or continue as Secretary, but I'm happy not to type up notes anymore, and now I can be a control freak, LOL! I'd been planning on volunteering to be President, but life is kind of up in the air right now. Which leads me to...

Friday night my mom called to tell me that the ENT, who was supposed to be checking out her sinuses, found a growth on her larynx. To shrink it, she'll undergo radiation treatment. The radiation will eventually cause her to lose her voice, which should return 3-6 weeks after treatments are over. If the growth is benign, then presumably that's as bad as it gets, and life returns to normal at the end of summer. If not, well... we just have to wait and see. I can't let myself get worked up about the unknown. I can't allow myself to speculate about the Worst Case Scenario. I just can't. I have to stay hopeful until.... I don't know. Over 90% of laryngeal cancers occur in people who are heavy smokers or drinkers. My mom doesn't fall into either of those categories. But she's sick. She's been sick for months, and she's not really getting better. She's had a low-grade fever for over a month now, and swollen lymph nodes... but I can't go there. I just can't. And so we wait.

Who, exactly, is evil?

Remember I said I was going to switch A. over to a gluten-free diet? Well yesterday was the big shopping day to aquire all the things I would need to make that happen. I'd already purchased a book by the Gluten-Free Gourmet, and had a list of the different flours, etc. I needed to find, plus all the other grocery items we needed. We went to Whole Foods, which I don't usually frequent because they're a little farther away then I like (plus there are at least 8 other grocery stores closer to me), but I knew they'd be sure to have most of what I needed. Of course, going to a store you're not familiar with means that it's going to take forever. To top that off, A. fell asleep in the car on the way over, so I had to wake him in order to go in and shop.

At some point in the day I had mentioned getting a cookie at the grocery store. About 30 minutes into our shopping, A. starts saying, in this creepy, monsterous voice "I want a cookie NOW!" It became a loud chant before I finally decided I had to say something about it, but it was getting a little embarassing. Still, every once in a while he'd pipe in with that scary sounding voice "I want a cookie NOW!". Funny, but somehow mothers have an ability to tune that kind of stuff out after awhile. Shortly there after I realized that the chant had changed to "Evil Mommy! Evil Mommy!" Geez, this kid was on a roll this afternoon! Honestly, he's usually not like this, which is fortunate for both of us. The highlight was when some poor, unsuspecting mother, with three delightful, quiet, young children, one of which who was just a sweet, innocent little baby, turned down our aisle. "EVIL BABY!! EVIL BABY!!" shouts my spawn in that creepy, satan voice while pointing at that angelic little soul. He is definitely overstaying his welcome, and it was high time for us to be going. *I* was ready to be out of there, or at the very least was about to hide myself behind the nearest organic nuts display.

Happily, the shopping trip was worth it because last night I whipped out some of the most awesome bread that's ever come out of my breadmachine. A. even ate it this morning. He's never eaten any of my homemade bread. Had he not eaten it, I'm sure I'd be starting up a chant of my own right about now.

I'm not going crazy!

Last week I started losing towels. One day it was the husband's towel in the upstairs bathroom (and he had the audacity to use MY towel instead - I HATE being stuck with a wet, pre-used towel!), the next day a towel from downstairs was missing, the next day another one from downstairs plus one from upstairs. By the next morning, I was really going a little loony. I couldn't figure out where the towels were ending up. They weren't in the dirty clothes, or in the dryer, or being used as a fort by the kids. They had disappeared. *poof*

So I was in the kitchen talking to A. who was out in the living room, and I was discussing the towel shenanigans that seemed to be going on. I asked if he was in on the shenanigans, to which he replied...

"Huh?"

"The towels that are missing. Do you know anything about that?"

"Nope."

"Hmmmm. Do you think N. knows anything about it?" (She was still sleeping).

"Mm mm mmm." (translated: "I don't know")

"I'll have to ask her when she wakes up."

So when she did wake up, I related the story of the missing towels, and how brother seemed to not know anything about it, and did she maybe know. She exclaimed that she knew exactly who had taken my towels, and ran into her room to bring out... a storybook. In it was a story that her daddy had read to her the night before about an Invisible Imp that played tricks on people. While it seemed as if there were likely an imp amongst us, I was fairly certain it wasn't invisible. But I still had no towels.

By the kids' bedtime that night, I was at the end of my rope. I finally demanded that if anyone knew anything about the missing towels, they really needed to speak up or we'd all have to start drying ourselves with washcloths. A. hopped off the bed, ran over to the husband's closet, and swung open the door to reveal a pile of towels deep in the dark depths within. Mind you, A. was laughing hysterically, and I finally figured out I'd been duped by my 4 year old. And the husband thinks anything that sends the wifey over the edge is pretty darn funny, too.

As parents, we were struck by two simultaneous reactions to this. One being a tiny bit of pride in this prank pulled off by our clown of a 4 year old. The fact that he chose something that I'd notice was missing, hid it in a place I'd never look, and that he'd chosen something that wasn't in danger of causing mom to completely go ballistic (like if he'd hidden all the shoes in the house as we're late heading out the door). To all that we say "Bravo!". Yet at the same time, there's the fact that he didn't break under interogation. Granted, it wasn't a bright-light-in-the-face type of interrogation, but still. He had me going for days on end, and I was clueless that my sweet little Imp had anything to do with it. We are so in for trouble in the years to come! So, the good news is that I'm not going crazy... yet.

Recently heard...

N. and I were standing in the kitchen the other day, when suddenly, the tack that was holding our calendar up fell out of the wall and the calendar fell to the ground. I commented that I really needed to take care of that.

N. commiserated with me (she has a calendar in her room that apparently suffers from the same problem), saying

"You know? I find that the Bi-ble... Is it the Bible, Mom?"

"Yes, dear." (really need to do something about their spiritual upbringing, or lack their of).

"I find that the Bible really helps."

I'm thinking, "huh"? What? She prays that the calendar won't fall down? Then it clicks - she uses the Bible to get the tack back into her wall!

My little lamb has already learned to use the Bible as a hammer. Literally. ;P