Holidays

2019 is wrapping up, along with all that means. 


Among other things, it means that Caleb's speech clinicians can no longer be amused by his aphorisms. 


His clinician this semester was particularly good--and brave too, as she brought in a little trampoline for him and various games that involved throwing things, along with shaving cream to smear on the table and write letters in.  (He wuved her.)


I tuned in to the audio just in time to see shaving cream splattering everywhere and the clinicians saying, "You're messy!  I bet your mom has a hard time keeping the house clean with you around!"  Caleb agreed that our house gets messy, and added, "But there's a special day called Saturday, when we clean up." 

Presents are bought and wrapped and either waiting by the door to be delivered, or nestled under our tree.  Somewhere among the boxes is Ears, in a secret new outfit tailored by Ada, waiting to be released on Christmas morning. 


Hopefully Caleb will be appreciative, since Ada's sewing skills so far outstrip his own.  I found him stapling fabric together to fit around Ears one day, and he told me it was "man sewing." 

I'm glad to have a break from driving into town every week for speech.  I'm guessing Lizzy and Caleb have mixed feelings about it.  We did have an elating grand finale ride home for the last one, when we approached the railroad crossing as a train was approaching.  They both begged me not to detour so they could watch the train, and I pulled up just as the safety arm was coming down.  Caleb fervently uttered, "Ohhhh, my favorite part of my life!"

My friend agreed to take these pics of us at sunset--apparently one of the few times of day Caleb understands.  One day at breakfast, he looked out the window and said, "Look, a sunset in the morning!"

Thankfully, now my anxieties have transitioned from school days to gift deliveries.  I'm looking forward to a few weeks off and hoping to enjoy the family time regardless of all of our sometimes-provoking imperfections.  I'm avoiding thinking of the transition back in January, and hoping I'm Relaxed Mom instead of Drill Sergeant Mom over Christmas break.

I came across this quote in an article recently:

When I understand that everything happening to me is to make me more Christlike, it resolves a great deal of anxiety.

I hope that's where my mind goes this Christmas when someone is whiny and my house is a mess (in between those special days called Saturday).

After all, my suffering be big or small, this admonition from another article rings true:

When you suffer, think about the people watching you suffer, and what they're learning about Jesus.

When my children see me starting to twitch, I want them to learn that the Baby in the manger is worth magnifying no matter what life throws at us.

Grandpa interrupting school stopping by to drop off bagel bites and chocolate milk.

Caleb is taking the time off as an opportunity to spend more time with Ziggy the zebra puppet outside of school.  He has made a very nice bed for Ziggy next to his own bed, and tucks him in at night (Ada pointed out that poor Ears is probably jealous).  And then sometimes he sings him a lullaby:  Go to sleeeeep, Zig-gyyyyyy....


Silent night, all is calm.

Bunny school

We're about eight weeks into school.

That's long enough for everyone to have decided which subjects they like and which ones they don't. 


Caleb's favorite thing ever--apart from Buck--is Ziggy the zebra puppet.  Ziggy comes out to help Caleb learn his letter sounds, and he is a huge hit. 

One day after the Ziggy lesson, while I had moved on to teach Lizzy, Caleb reanimated Ziggy right in Buck's face.  "I'm fuzzy.  You're fuzzy.  It's a fuzzy party!"

Caleb tells me he (Caleb) is a good "bunny take-care-of-er guy."


It's a good thing Buck is so good-natured.

Though he does sometimes resort to hiding in the trash can.

Alternately, sometimes he stands on his tiptoes, steals crumpled papers from the trash can, and runs (hops) away with it, to chew it up in the corner.

Jason and I have been tickled to death planning an international getaway in honor of our upcoming fifteenth anniversary.  Earlier this month we trekked into town to get our passports, which, hopefully, will be the worst part of the experience, other than the flight. 


We paid $10 each to have a photo taken that could easily pass for a mugshot of a corpse.  Then we paid a few hundred dollars to have said photos sent far, far away. 


Sadly, they will return to us in the form of legal passports (hopefully).  At least we don't have to look at them; we just have to show them to border agents, who will undoubtedly scratch their heads and wonder why we don't look like criminal zombies in real life.

To add some challenge to my life, I volunteered to teach fourth-grade Sunday school this year.  I had intended to teach 4-year-olds, but that class was already claimed--as was preschool, kindergarten, first grade and second grade.  And I've heard enough about the third-grade class that I chose fourth.

So we're in a learning curve together, the fourth-graders and me.  They could hardly be a sweeter group of kids, and I'm thinking maybe by May I'll figure out what I'm doing.

Other than that and the ridiculous amounts of rain that have fallen continuously since May, things are pretty much the same as always.  School, dinner, make lunches for tomorrow, repeat.  

I still run in the mornings; a shot of endorphins works better than coffee to get you going.  Added bonus if you get a shot of terror-induced adrenaline from walking out the back where Shelob has woven her web as tall as I am somewhere across the steps Every Single Morning.  

Thank God for the recent wet weather, which makes the web visible, along with the spider's thick fur and every single one of its many legs.  

At eye height.  

First thing in the morning.  

What's up in March

Lizzy started softball practice three weeks ago, already making her daddy proud with her slugging.  Caleb starts t-ball practice next week, assuming it falls on one of the days he wants to do it, and not one of the days when he's violently opposed. 

We attended our church's annual talent show for the first time in many years--and I was also in it, for the first time in ever.  I was only talked into it because my face was not seen and my voice was not heard.  I was the arms in the classic "not-my-arms" skit.  (Clearly, it was a "talent-optional" show.)

We had our annual hot tub board meeting for our homeschool support group.  First we covered all agenda items that required writing; then we five ladies retired together to the hot tub with a post-it note containing the rest of the agenda.

It was a lovely time--better than most board meetings, I'd venture to say.  Unfortunately, we had a brainstorm at just about 10:00pm when we were about to leave that requires reworking our entire plan for the end-of-year picnic I was supposed to plan.  So I'm a little lost at sea about how to arrange an end-of-year picnic slash field day.  

But it was a nice board meeting.

We had a helpful snowstorm that dropped 4 or 5 inches on us--enough to close the library on book club day, which was a relief, as I hadn't finished reading the book yet (it was a bit longer than I thought).

It was also enough snow to make me give in after lunch and cancel the rest of the school day so we could go sledding instead.  

And then I had to buckle down, because, probably due to another miscalculation on my part, I only left myself two days to read Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea in its entirety before Jeddy's book report on it was due and needing correcting from an informed teacher.

I scrapped yet another curriculum that hasn't been working and ordered a different one.  This one involves lots of gluing and coloring, which the child in question informs me that he doesn't like, so hopefully it's not a complete disaster.  I'm pinning my hopes on the very attractive Ziggy Zebra puppet.

May Ziggy not fail me.

I got an email several days ago reminding me of an article on children's ministry I needed to write for our church newsletter.  So, naturally, I wrote it the day before the deadline.  (Since I had to finish Twenty Thousand Leagues first.)

That was the first day of our two-week spring break.  

I spent that first Monday doing massive loads of laundry and all those normal housekeeping tasks that I never get done during school days--like wiping down the kitchen, sweeping the floor, etc.  It's surprising how satisfying it is to have a clean house.

[Satisfying for five minutes, at least.  Then it's just demoralizing when I blink and it looks the exact same as before.]

On Monday I also managed to research and make a very important decision, in between kids talking to me:  to order some bigger lunchboxes.  

I call them "Jeddy boxes."

But in fairness, I want them for myself, too, to make big salads.  For Jeddy, I'll just empty the fridge's whole supply of leftovers in one for him.

The rest of Monday I spent reading the eight or nine newspapers I was behind on (another thing I typically can't keep up with when school's in session)--and that's not counting the ones that blew away in pre-dawn windstorms.

Frustratingly, I have appointments seven out of ten spring break days, including four this week.  Monday: piano lesson.  Tuesday: orthodontist, where Jeddy got fitted with a creative new accessory on his braces to torture him.  Wednesday: audiologist for Lizzy.  Thursday: impromptu dentist appointment for Ada, who is sprouting an unexpected tooth.

Most of my free moments this week were spent trying to make an actual important decision about whether I need to enroll Jeddy in a co-op for eighth grade next year.  Half hours in between appointments when kids are also talking to me and I'm processing whatever the appointment was about are not ideal chunks of time to think straight, leading me to stay up waaaaay past my bedtime one night researching, considering, weighing options.  

It wasn't until today, literally five minutes before I had to leave for the dentist, that I made the decision, registered Jeddy for two online courses, and put the co-op question to rest.  Happily, I think we can get along without a co-op for another year at least.  Jeddy was just disappointed that I gave him a choice of which Latin class time to sign up for, because now he can't complain about it when it rolls around.  (So he says, although I'm confident he'll be able to find a way.)

I thankful that it's spring.  I hope the rest of spring break, and the arrival of April, will help shake off the winter blahs and refresh us for that final school push to June.