School

A few of you have asked what we do for school...do our kids go to public school? Private school? Homeschooled?

If you had to take a guess, by looking at us, which would you choose?


Yes, we homeschool.

When I was school-age myself, there were a few homeschooled kids whom we knew. Some of them were just downright weird. Some of them were downright great. Particularly one who went back to public school just in time to meet me. (Wuv. Twue Wuv.)


When I was a young, rookie, high school math teacher, I watched some of the weird homeschool kids go wild upon their eye-opening initiation into the public school arena. Others just seemed to flourish, excelling in the newness of public high school.

Being that I'm not a very nurturing person and a terrible elementary school substitute teacher, I was pretty convinced that if I homeschooled, I'd land my children in the "wacky, socially inept" category of homeschool prodigies.

I resolved that I would never, ever homeschool my children. This, of course, was the cool answer anyway, which gave me bonus points for impressing people. (Lame, Karen. Lame.) Ask any of my close friends and they will tell you that my intentions were clear - our wild maniacs turn five-years old and I send them away on a bus from 8:30 until 3:30 five days a week.

Like all non-parent advisors, I knew best. I was so sure that I knew what was best for us and our future family that I even made sure to let other people know that our plan was best for them.

Then, we had kids. And Real Gil found a great job with wacky hours.

After sending Punkin off to school for kindergarten, the wacky hours seemed to get even wackier for Real Gil. We made it work for her half-day of school.



Then, like many things in my life, it all came down to a great sale.

On e-bay.


We call her "The Tenement on Wheels." She even has carpet on the ceiling. That's what you get when you buy a good, 10-year old deal on e-bay.

So, many people have asked me why I homeschool...My answers are many...

• I'm home with two preschoolers so why not just throw a first-grader in the mix too?!

• We love having our family together.

• It means Punkin gets to see her dad. (Did I mention his schedule is a bit wonky?)

• Homeschooling isn't as "uncool" as it used to be thirty years ago. I think it might even be the wild, on-the-fringe sorta cool thing to do. I'm lacking in coolness and not above using my children to get some.

• I love teaching, I love my kids, and we are blessed with the chance for me to be at home with the Littles. Of course, I have no pipe-cleaner-and-glue-stick abilities, but throw me a list of vocabulary words and I can't help putting them to music. Okay, I'm totally lying about that last part. I've never, ever sang a list of vocabulary words, but I really want to. If I ever do, you can bet your grandma's best coupon clippings, you'll be hearing about it on this blog. In the meantime, even without a song and dance, it all seems to be a good fit for our family. And so far, no one has failed first grade.
  

• Perhaps the most important reason we homeschool is because it's what God has specifically called us to do. We will only do it until we feel He is leading us in another direction, and in no way think it's for everyone. It has to be a calling for me to eat as much humble pie as I have in the last year or so. If I had a dollar for every time someone said, "What?! You are homeschooling?" Usually, I resort to some goofy joke about making my own kefir and sewing prairie bonnets for my daughters, just to cover my own squirming discomfort. Or I just sigh and roll my eyes like an adolescent: yes, I know. I always said I'd never...
  

• But mostly...I homeschool because Disneyland has absolutely no lines in mid-October (We slap our knees in triumphant laughter at those empty mazes weaving through the ride entrances). And RV parks are crazy cheap in February. We get a few looks, but I'm pretty sure we'd get those even if we sent our children to organized school (not to be confused with unorganized school which is definitely the teaching method around here).

So there you go. A few of you asked why we homeschool. I'm sure you're a bit disappointed with how little depth there is to my answer, but that's the honest truth (except the part about me being cool - I really don't care about it anymore....very much...most of the time...). I'll pass on a really annoying post on what exactly we are using for homeschooling curriculum tomorrow. If you aren't interested in homeschooling, be sure to not bore yourself with the most tedious post ever as I don't know how to make curriculum exciting. Only practical. That's the new side of me you're going to see this week as I map out our own curriculum for the year.
On a more serious note, I hope my words have only encouraged those of you who are homeschooling, and have not, in any way, by any means, discouraged or alienated those of you who are not homeschooling. I hesitate to write about such a personal topic usually full of defensive triggers. Perhaps that's why I add dumb jokes throughout...I'm just so thankful that we have a God who prepares the good works for us to do beforehand and we just get to walk in them (Eph. 2:10). Whatever yours are today, I hope you are joyfully walking in them. And knowing that they don't make you or define you, but they are yours for the taking and ultimately for His glory.

Resting in Him,
Karen

When Moms Become Best Friends

I haven't told you much about my mom.

The only reason for this is because her personality is so dynamic that it's hard to squeeze it into one blog post. She's kind and tender, but she means business (ask her kids) and works harder and faster than anyone else I know. She makes us all laugh, and lightens the mood in awkward family dinners - we've had a few over the years...like the one where my father told the foreign exchange student that guacamole was lizard poop and she shivered whenever we took crunchy tortilla-laden bites of the stuff for the remaining nine months she lived with us...or the one where Mom cooked a pot roast for international customers for my father and when he cut into it, we all discovered it was just a huge cow butt bone...Somehow, she shrugged it off with a cute joke and ordered pizza.

My mom is also the most supportive gal you would ever know. When my little sister had a crush on The New Kids on the Block (who am I kidding? She still does. Ben, did you know that?), she let her hang posters up, even while me and The Twin looked on in disapproval. When I made the freshman cheer squad, in a once-in-a-lifetime moment of graceful coordination, she started planning how we could earn money to pay for the uniform. I know pom-poms held no usefulness in her mind, but she went with it for my sake. The same goes for all of us kids.

It's the same reason she came to my house and enthusiastically slapped really bright paint onto my walls last week. Now, I must insert this here: this post is in no way obligatory. It should be. After all, the woman who is afraid of heights climbed an extension ladder and painted the trim around my 20-foot-high walls.

But this post is not about her service. And it's not because I feel like I need to say nice things about my mom. I do that on Mother's Day anyways.

Like I said, this woman cannot be put into one category, one post title doesn't do her justice. So, I'm only giving you a glimpse of her. Particularly, a glimpse of her yesterday.


A bit of background here: we went to our town Fourth of July celebration. It was hot and crowded, but a perfect day.There was a philharmonic orchestra and choir making patriotic music, grass for the children, and juicy watermelon to snack on. And there were lots of odd-looking people for the Littles to make embarrassing comments about. I smiled sheepishly when the Ticking Time Bomb pointed to a man driving a motorized wheelchair and shouted in a very excited voice, "Look at that guy? He's driving a monster truck! Flip it, flip it, Guy!"

When the kids got bored, Grandpa was there to keep them happy.

Then, the master of ceremonies asked those in armed forces to please stand.

That was my cue to get out of the lawn chair, grab the camera, and focus on my mom.

Because if you know her, you know what is coming....tears. Happy, tender, chin-quivering tears, especially since one of her son-in-laws just returned from Afghanistan. My dad would be a bit teary too, except that someone has to be strong around here and Mom does the crying thing so he's off the hook.

Right about now, she's giving me the "Don't Make Me Get Up and Come Over There and Give YOU Something To Cry About" look, upon which I zoomed in and took one more shot. Like any good daughter would do.

Do you see the little chin tremble? Oh, it makes me want to pinch her cheeks, she's so cute!!!

Then, Real Gil got in on the action, which really had us all laughing.

I think he was trying to keep his mascara from running...

It might have been a "had to be there" kind of moment, but even Mom was laughing by the end of his antics. I think we're all so relieved Uncle 'Keve is home and for the first time in nine months, we weren't thinking in the back of our minds about standing with American flags at his funeral. And we were so thankful for LIFE - life in America, life for our favorite Marine, and life as a family. Right down to the ice cream tears.


Thank you, Uncle 'Keve, for your hard work on our behalf. And for coming home safe and sound.

Thank you to the four men who did NOT come home from Uncle 'Keve's company. Thanks to their families who are enduring grief and questions and sleepless nights and life in a new reality without their sons and brothers and husbands.

Thank you, God, for this country I call home. It's not perfect, but it was established by You and I trust that You know what You are doing with it.

Thank you, Mom, for just being you, even if we tease you. And for being genuine. Thanks for being my best friend. I can't help but wonder if me and my girls will ever interact the way you and I do...time-outs and stern, mom-voices seem to abound these days, but then, I catch a little glimpse of what might be, years down the road...

(Found on my door this morning)

And I can't wait to be a mom-friend like my own mom!

Praying it happens, and resting in Him alone who will mold my daughters as they allow Him,

Resting in Him,
Karen

The Sorta Reveal

Well, it's not all put together.

Professional bloggers would never post their "reveal" pictures before they are completely finished with the project.

But I just can't wait. And knowing me, I'll never be "completely finished" with the room so my only criteria for resolving to show you this room is whether it's clean or not.

Today, it's clean.

It's not complete, but it's clean. And I can't wait to put a silver Christmas tree in there come next December!

So, here it is:

Our master bedroom BEFORE: (as in, before I bought five gallons of paint and borrowed the extension ladder from my parents)



Our master bedroom AFTER: (as in, after my children and husband survived three days of ill-prepared or fast-food meals; as in, after my mom survived three days of me talking and talking and talking while I painted; as in, after I finally got all the paint out from under my fingernails and even took a real shower...)

Walking into our room...

Looking left...

And looking left again...
(Sis, you can't have your couch back!
I'll pay you for it when you return stateside okay?
But it works in here, I think...)

This wall was made by Real Gil of weathered wood. And it really was weathered, as my parents had milled it on their mountain property and nixed ideas to built a cabin. After three years of snowfall on top of this stuff, it was truly weathered. Real Gil wasn't afraid...He bundled the Littles up in snow suits and shifted the truck into four-wheel drive.

After hauling it all home, he went to work...

Another view of the vaulted ceiling and shelf above...

My budget for our bedroom was never officially mentioned. That's because the hubby and I are so in tuned with one another that we don't even have to speak finances, like some kind of love-ESP. Our marriage is that good. Or, perhaps I'm stretching the truth a bit... it may be that our marriage was worth Real Gil's not mentioning costs and my not mentioning expenses. It's done, the colors are manly enough to suit him, and there is a floral print here or there to appease me.

A few of my favorite details include this screen found locally. I hot-glued clothespins on to it and affixed a collection of love letters from Real Gil to me (and back), a few pictures of us dating, the pocket watch I gave him on our wedding day, and the corsage he gave me on prom night when I was FOURTEEN. Did you hear that crazy number? Never tell my daughters that number. Unless you want me to retaliate and tell your children how they were made by Mommy and Daddy.

A collection of scenic pictures found at antique stores around town. I'll be hunting for these for the next ten years...until I finish the collection...upon which I will promptly decide to change the color of the walls, and break up the entire scenic goodness. Well anyways, here I have my first art collection. And one other reason to drag Real Gil into odd hole-in-the-wall stores while we vacation. He loves to carry these kind of shapes onto airplanes and find creative ways to get them into the overhead compartments.

Storage around the desk is clumsy at best. Bills, post-it notes, and a few Hot Wheels all needed a home. I'm pretty sure these wire baskets aren't the way to store stuff practically, but practicality went out the window with the budget and these came home with me.

Whew!

I am not an interior designer by any stretch of the word, but I am smiling every time I walk into my bedroom. Glad it's done!

Thanks for letting me neglect you all for a few days.

Resting in Him Spiritually, and in bed physically!
Karen