Why We Homeschool

About four-five years ago, long before we knew how our child was wired, I came across this little video.... and it floored me. Stopped me in my tracks. Not because of what  Sir Ken Robinson said, not because of the entertaining illustrations.... but what God told me the moment it was over.



"You will be a homeschooling family."



See, I had no choice in the matter. He said it, and even though some days it scares the snot out of me, most of the time it is truly the most rewarding part of being a parent. Watching her learn to read and write and do number sentences and about the world around her is like watching her be born all over again a hundred times a day.



So yes. We homeschool so we can instill our values in our child. We homeschool because of the way our child learns. We homeschool because a 1:1 teacher/child ratio is much better than a 1:25-30. We homeschool because we want to build up her strengths and shore up her weaknesses. We homeschool because we want to educate the whole child, not just the parts that can be measured by standardized testing. We homeschool because she is an amazingly intelligent, creative, articulate, eager to learn child and we did not want to give that gift to anyone who may choose to crush it to fit their mold of what she should be instead of loving her for who she is.



But the number one reason we homeschool is that the system is broken and we can't sit around waiting for it to be fixed.









*- As you can see the problem is with the system, not the teachers. I love me some teachers. Some of my greatest homeschooling resources come from teachers. A good portion of teachers are handcuffed as to what they can do. I see that, we all see that. Please don't send your union rep after me.



**- If you can you should totally watch "Waiting for Superman" and "Class Dismissed". Both are required watching for those who are homeschooling or thinking of homeschooling.



***- If you choose not to homeschool please, please, please don't feel guilty reading this. I very rarely get on my homeschooling soapbox. Mostly because I don't want anyone to feel like they "should" homeschool. It's not for every family. That's fine. It's not a mark of a good mother or a promise of a smarter child.... You do what is best for your family because that's who God gave you.

So what do you say after that?

"Hey, I walked through fire with Jesus beside me. I danced with depression for longer than I'd like to admit and fooled so many of you as we chatted over coffee. I lost a part of myself that I most likely won't ever be able to get back and I still walk a fine line between anger and acceptance over it.... SO HERE'S HOW I MADE THIS DOILY FROM ALL THE DUSTBUNNIES I FOUND UNDER MY COUCH!"

No.

Just, no.

So what do I say?

I say I'm thankful. Honest to goodness thankful.

Enough.

The timing is right for this post*. I've written so many things but without this story, without this base... none of it makes sense. So I delete them and write on crash pads and body wash. I'm going out on a limb here. Gonna put some real stuff out here. Not looking for pity or sympathy or anything.... just giving out some real. -deep breaths-

This is the (lightly edited) testimony I shared with my MOPS group at the very beginning of the year. The one that started all this.... stuff. The real reason I wanted to start this. I mean, yay on the crash pads and body wash... but I'm nothing if not real. And real needs some brave to get it going. -deep breaths-




Hi, I’m Jessica. If we haven’t had a chance to really chat there are three things you need to know about who I am:

1- I have no filters. No, I HAD filters but I think they broke or need to be changed or something and I just don’t have time for that stuff right now… so I have no filters. Someone recently asked me if I listened to the words that come out of my mouth and I responded “NO. Then I’d be really upset with myself most of the time!” So forgive me. No filters.

2- You must understand that I don’t judge anyone’s mothering. No, Really. I have no time to judge you. I’m too busy judging myself.  Every day. Every moment.

3- In the end I truly believe that every mother who is at least trying to be a mother, is doing the very best THEY can do for THEIR child.  Because HE gave us our children knowing who WE are to our core.

I say all this so that you know nothing that follows comes from a place of judgment (not even for my own parents) but from a place that God has brought me to.

So back to my story....I was a happy surprise: the first child to a couple living in the mountains of Virginia.

Like most couples my parents wanted more than just one child. They wanted a real family. My parents made no secret of it and although I knew they loved me my little child mind took their endless “trying to conceive”, fertility treatments and in vitro fertilization appointments as “Jessica, you are not enough.”

It continued. The words that came from my parent’s actions were:

I wasn’t pretty enough.

I wasn’t skinny enough.

I wasn’t quiet enough.

I wasn’t creative enough.

I wasn’t athletic enough.

I wasn’t a good enough student.

I wasn’t a good enough friend.

I wasn’t a good enough daughter.

Not enough.

After 10 years of  failed attempts and a couple of lost babies my parents finally had my brother in 1991……in the midst of my father’s infidelity.

And when my father finally decided to leave my Mom for another woman during Christmas of 1992 and I tearfully asked him to stay...If only for me...

His leaving said more than any words he could ever say: I wasn’t enough.

My parents divorced and My mother moved 11 year old me and my 1 year old brother up to Upstate New York to be closer to her family. A strange land of snow, cold and salt. I had never seen more than 3 inches of snow at one time and we had arrived the summer before the famed “Winter of ‘93”. It was a new world to say the least.

Even though we had a new life the record was the same:

I wasn’t enough.

And I believed it, whole heartedly.

Even after I accepted Christ and found my future husband (all in one summer. Woot-woot!) I still believed the track my parents gave me. Their actions continued to prove that I wasn’t enough.

I went on with life; graduated High School, got married. Got a job or two. Bought a house. And enjoyed life with just me and my husband  for 7 whole years.

Then five years ago I had a child. My beautiful little girl. I tell her every day she is my gift from God because she is.

I prayed for a beautiful, smart, outgoing, fearless (believing it would be easier to reign in fearless-ness than teach confidence. HA!), compassionate, helpful, Jesus-loving little girl. I wanted her to be adventurous and receive whatever God had planned for her with open arms and a joyful heart. To have my eye color and lashes and Cor’s height and smile. And He gave it to me. All of it.
       

And in the weeks that followed I found I was finally enough.

I was post-baby glowing; I was pretty enough.

I snapped back to pre-pregnancy weight -10 pounds; I was skinny enough.

I could help my itty bitty one off to sleep with just a boob and a rocking chair; I was quiet enough.

I went from a 40 hour a week job to staying home with an infant who slept all. The. Time. I finally had time to craft to my heart’s content; I was creative enough.

And Athletic? Well, you can’t have it all..

I was a good enough Wife

I was a good enough Mother.

Finally I was enough. Motherhood made me enough.

So why just one? Why wouldn’t I do it all again?

In October of 2012 I lost a 6(ish) week pregnancy. It was hard, I cried but I was really OK. I named him October. I loved him (or her) and the little man (or lady) he (or she) would have been. I mourned for the thought of the child more than the child itself and found it easier to deal with at the time.

The second time we were so close to being “safe”. She was so much like her sister I knew she was a girl. It was love at first morning sickness all over again. I had named this one Sparrow. Her name came from my favorite hymn.

“I don’t know about tomorrow
it may bring me poverty
but the one who feeds the sparrow
is the one who stands by me”

I knew THIS time Jesus was standing by me. THIS time would be it.  That He knew I was enough to be a Mommy again. But nearly 12 weeks in I had lost her; 3 days before my 31st birthday.

And there I was, alone in the exam room, sobbing as I was losing my sweet fragile little Sparrow. Not enough all over again.

Not even for God… not enough to give me another child. Just one more little one, I wasn’t being greedy.

But the song continues:

“And the path that be my portion
May be through the flame or flood
But his presence goes before me
And I’m covered with His blood.

Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand”

I am enough for Him. Enough for Him to go through all the rage and resentment and anger and sorrow and hate and everything I felt towards Him and every single pregnant woman around me popping out babies like gumball machines.

He was with me as I wept, as I slept away my afternoons because it was easier than functioning as an adult.

As I parked in the “expectant mother” parking spot at Wegman’s because passive aggression is a great release sometimes.

As I tried to live a Christian life while ignoring Him as being a part of it.

But even more precious than  Him waiting though all of that is that he waited for me to get to the other side.

To where I know my mothering isn’t based on how full my quiver is. That I’m just as good of a mother with one little girl as Michelle Dugger is with her 18? 19? 31? Kids.

To knowing I am not less blessed with my one child than those with more babies than bedrooms.

To the point where I know I’m enough for Him, and that’s all that matters.

And slowly I’m getting to the point where He is enough for me. Some days are better than others. And some days I’m thankful for unanswered prayers (Did I mention that my child was fearless?). But I’m getting there. To enough.



A few weeks ago my sweet daughter and I were sitting on the couch chatting.

“Mommy, you have one little girl.”

Yep, one sweet little girl.

“Some Mommies have girls and some Mommies have boys.”

That’s the way God planned it out.

“Some Mommies have lotsa little boys and girls.”

Yep.

“But you have just one Me.”

Yep.

“Is that enough?”

And here was my moment of truth.

Here was God looking at me through her little child eyes and saying: “Here’s what you prayed for. Every little detail in one little package that I made for you, just for you, before YOU were even born. Is it enough?”

My sweet human. You are enough for me. Every day. Every minute. Every second. You are more than enough and a little extra on the side.

*I had originally planned to post this on October 15th: National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day....but things didn't work out as I had planned. As they rarely do. Since 1988 the whole month has been dedicated to remembering our nation's lost children. I felt it was only right to stop in the middle of my daily madness and remember our two lost children, even if it wasn't on the 15th.

I know we are not alone in this. That we live life with many hurting Mommies and Daddies. It doesn't make it easier... It doesn't make it better... But maybe we can all heal a little stronger with each other's support. Or at least know we're not alone. Nothing is worse than suffering loss all on your own. Don't. Reach out. Find someone. Share your story.

And most importantly, if you're a Momma of a lost child and hear nothing else in what I've said hear this: It's. Not. Your. Fault. You ARE enough. 

Romans 12:15

I've been considering closing my Facebook account. It's just too emotionally draining.

No, not the whole comparison thing. I'm kinda in a good place with all that. I mean, there will always be someone more __________ than me. Have more ____________ than me. And that's OK. Because I am where I am because He wants me there... with Him. Sittin' right here. And if He's sittin' with me who am I to complain?

No, not that. There's just a lot. (And bear with me 'cuz you're gonna need tissues if you're gonna click on these links.) 

There's the public stuff found on my newsfeed.... 

A beautiful 29 year old woman choosing to end her life before cancer does. 

(and the be story of another woman, a mother of four young children, also dying of cancer pleading with her about her choice.)

The couple who lovingly planned a 'bucket list' for their unborn child meeting him face to face and saying goodbye to him this very morning. 

.... and the private stuff of those around me. Friends of friends, family of family... dealing with things that we were never designed in mind to deal with.

I find myself with no words...

....and all I can think is Romans 12:15

(Let's all pretend this is a self portrait, OK?)

I used to struggle with the first half SO MUCH. So very much. But the longer I experience adult life the more I can see His blessings. (more in hindsight than I'd like to admit) I've learned to rejoice with those who rejoice. Truly. Some days may be harder than others... I'm 95% of the way there. 

So I rejoice with those who rejoice. Which we all can agree is fun, once you get there. Sharing in their new jobs and new vehicles and new pets and new babies. 

We bounce around through life, accumulating children and homes and vehicles and stuff.....And adulthood rolls on... 

...and the children get older, 

...and our parents get older,

...and we get older. 

Things happen. Real things. 

And what do we do then? What do we do when we're not enough to help our kids, or our parents, or ourselves?

We weep.

We sit with, eat with, cry with, pray with those around us. We either weep because they're happening to us or weeping at the helplessness that comes with watching our friends suffer. The real face-to-face friends and the ones that we've adopted in our hearts.

When we really weep with those who weep, it doesn't stop when they've walked away from the dining room table. It's so much more and so much harder than that. It's hard to see those we love, those we've rejoiced with only what seems like moments before, suffer. To see the unsaid question of "Why would God, who says He loves me, do this?" in their eyes. To know we have no answers. We take that burden and wear it ourselves. For them and, because of our human nature, for us. Snuggling with our children a little longer. Calling our parents "just because". Making that appointment for the long postponed "yearly" physical. Looking at our spouse simply to see the person we fell in love with years ago.

So you know what? I'll stay on facebook. I'll post the silly things of my day (Because if I get a laugh out of it, you should too!) and the fun things and the awareness things....

...and I'll like the photo of your sweet goofy kids. 

...and I'll commiserate with you as you share your struggles through yet another school day.

...and I'll "Wooo-hoo" your trip to Trader Joe's. ('cuz it's about stinkin' time we got one!!)

...and I'll tear up at the announcement of your pet passing.

... and I'll smile at the family fun you are having on a random Tuesday.

... and I'll sit with and pray for you as you face something you never thought would happen to you and yours. 

I'll rejoice with those of your rejoicing.

I'll weep with those of you weeping. 

Even when it's hard. 

Make It Monday: PT Edition

It's Monday. I made something. Make it Monday is back, Boy-eeeeee!!!!

So, yeah, we pretty much have the best PT office on the face of the planet. They're just MADE to do what they do. The whole place rocks. Need a reference? Let me know. I'll point you in their direction. Anyway, we've been on a "crash pad wait-list" for months. MONTHS. Which is fine. We're not the only family that needs a crash pad. And our turn came up! 

What's a crash pad? Oh, honey, a crash pad is God's perfect gift to sensory seeking kiddos. It's basically a giant pillowcase filled with foam chunks. Nothing fancy there. Just all kinds of foam chunks in all kinds of sizes. Their office has one that HAS to be 8'x5' big. Huge. The little one has to earn her crash-pad time because she loves it so much and would do nothing else for the whole half hour if we let her. All that beautiful sensory input crashing all over her little body. Mmmm-mmmmm good! 

Apparently our PT has connections with local furniture shops that send their leftover foam over to the PT office instead of trashing it. They called me this morning with the good news and the conversation went a little something like this:

"Hey, just wanted to let you know the foam is in for your crash pad. Are you still interested?"

YESSSSSSS!

"Can you pick it up today?"

YESSSSSSSSSSSS!

"Would you be coming by this morning?"

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

Want one of your very own? Well, here's what you need for your very own Crash Pad:

Foam (Cost- Free. Well, not FREE. PT ain't cheap, people, and we have just about a year under our belt. Ohhh.... THAT'S where all our vacation money went. -sigh-)

I can only tell you how we got the foam, all 5 trashbags full. I've seen the stuff at JoAnn's but never priced it before. Ideally you'd have chunks of all different densities and sizes. You're gonna be cutting up chunks of foam into smaller, more manageable chunks. Be sure they're all different sizes; no smaller than your hand, no bigger than your head. (if you're me you'll be chucking them into a big ol' box that a tub came home in....Long story). Lots of therapeutic ripping and cutting for you Mommies.

(Then you child might woke up and see the box-o-foam and be in heaven.)

Fabric (Cost- Free.)

I went into her linen stash and took out a flat sheet. See, she doesn't use flat sheets. I've tried to get her to use them but after tucking her in she'll sneak out of bed, rip the bed apart and then cries that she's not tucked in again. She sleeps on a fitted sheet and then a blanket on top. A thick one for cool nights, a thin one for warm nights.... So I have this pile-o-flats that I can use for whatever. Like Crash Pads. You could run out and buy a flat sheet. That can't cost more than $10, right?

You simply sew it up. I took the sheet and folded the top to the bottom and sewed two sides leaving one whole end open, like a pillowcase. Then stuff ALL THE FOAM into the "pillowcase". Be sure to mix up the sizes at this point. Little pieces, big pieces, squishy pieces, dense pieces. All mixed up. Shake it up. A lot. Get the foam in it however you can. 

Then sew. it. shut. 

You're gonna need a lot of space to place this giant mound of foam. Clear off the dining room table. The WHOLE table. Clear it off. 

I can also suggest that an extra pair of strong hands might have been worth the wait. Just someone holding it closed while you run the machine. Not required... just the peace of mind knowing you're not going to break a needle and send the sharp tip into a hunk of foam for your sweet child to impale themselves on........or something.

Then you just let them go buck-nutty. Because they will.

So there you go. Therapy tools can be as cheap as free instead of hundreds of dollars. Don't spend hundreds of dollars. Please. We'll make it together. Promise. Just bring over the supplies and a cup of coffee. 

Fakin' it.

So I feel like a fraud. This blog thing makes me feel like a fraud.

I've taken a break from the blogging because of it. I am no great speaker or writer or conduit from God. I don't have daily epiphanies that bring me closer to Him. I will freely admit that some days I read the Bible on autopilot. I have no great wisdom, I can't share what "works for me" because I haven't found what works for me yet.

I'm a plain ol' mom, who is just struggling to survive the days. Some days that takes less effort than others.

 Some days I can bring myself to spend the entire day in crafty/outsidey/happy/smiley/adventures mode and others I just pray the iPad battery lasts until naptime.

Some days I have great patience and others I send the wild beast outside where she belongs.

Some days I accomplish everything on the to-do list and other days are considered a success if I even make a list.

Some days we have green smoothies for lunch and others I roll through a Wendy's.

Some days I rock and others I just plain suck.

Some days there just is no Joy in the day.

So there it is. The truth.

I see the pins on Pinterest. The pretty little signs to hang on our walls. To remind us.

And some days I can't. There's no joy to be found.  Just survival. Then guilt from not finding joy.

Why should I be joyless? I'm blessed beyond measure: our little house and our little family. But these reminders of what I should feel make me feel guilty, once again less than, because I don't feel joy.

Behind these signs and the blogs I follow I see women, mamas, who seem to have it together. That plaster a perfectly veneered smile on their faces and sing-song-ily say "Choose Joy."

I fake it 'till I make it..... but what if I never make it?


Then this.

And I felt joy. This spoke to me more than the pretty pastel, chevron, chalkboard signs guilting me into joy. This statement makes me want to move mountains. 

Not because it takes the power from God. Not that it puts the power in my hands.... but it allows me to be me; a little ball of fury taking down whatever is in my way. With Him by my side. Coaching me through the day. Not just making a choice but actually DOING something.

Child trying to corner me into a corn syrup filled breakfast? Bob and Weave.

Blowing though both Language Arts and Math lessons in less than 45 minutes WITH comprehension? One-Two-Punch

Facebook friend backdoor bragging about their child's ahead-a-grade-level-reading in their beautiful home remodel on the heels of their warm-weather vacation? Blocking

Attacking the laundry pile? Jab

Toys sorted? Uppercut

Cooking a meal that everyone will eat without any complaints at the dinner table? Footwork

Ending the day with the house a little cleaner, child a little smarter, husband a little more comforted? Punchout

At the end of the day I may be tired out. I may be bruised and battered and swollen. But I hit back. Yes, I do choose joy. Forget "'till I make it".... I'll be faking it 'till I die. But I am gonna punch today in the face. Everyday.... and that makes me a little happy. Even joyful.

Quiz Show

My favorite part of all those teen magazines in middle school was the quizzes. Stuff like "Stressed or Tressed: Your Perfect Yearbook Look" and "How Many BFFs Should YOU Have?" and "What Kind Of Mini-Backpack Are You? Cute 'n' Cuddly OR Slick Transparent Glitter?"  I held on to those answers like gospel. I mean, it was obvious I should have a teddy bear backpack as a Freshman, right?!

I kept taking those glossy tests throughout my adolescence and into my wedding planning year. (Yes, that's right.... year. Approximately 14 months from engagement to wedding date. Do not recommend.) 

And now they've come back with a vengeance on Facebook.

According to these quizzes today I should:

Have raven black hair. Have green eyes. Play the guitar. Be A Creative Master.  Be named Serena. Live in Maine (or Vermont or Washington State depending on the quiz). 

If I was a dessert I would be Pie. If I was a color I would be pink. If I was an animal I would be a tiger. If I was a Disney Princess I would be Tiana. If I was a president I would be John Adams. If I was a '30 Rock" character I would be Jack Donaghy. If I was a TV mother I would be Clair Huxtable OR Lorelai Gilmore (once again, depending on the quiz). 

My ideal dream job, apparently, is a lifeguard at a nude beach AND my most favorite quiz says that I am a Poopstar. Yes, you read that right. Poop. Star. I know a lot about poop.

I think taking all these quizzes say one thing about me.... I need someone else to make choices for me. 

I have about a million things I need to make decisions on and I just can't. 

I look at the mountain of "I need to"s. I start at the bottom and my eyes travel up and up and up. I'm now looking 45 degrees from the horizon and this Everest keeps going up, shadowing any progress I may have made in the day. I don't stop, keep looking for the peak and now the back of my head has touched my neck and my balance is thrown off enough for me to take a step back but I have no view of the snowy summit curving over my head. I'm no longer looking up, but now looking behind me and there it is. The end of what needs to be done. And it crashes down behind me, swallowing me up and spitting me out onto the sweet sanctuary of my bed. 

And nothing gets done it seems. I need someone else to make these decisions for me so I can just go do them. 

What I really need is these quizzes:

"The Perfect Curriculum For Your Homeschooler Years K-12." - Answer three yes or no questions and you'll be linked to the perfect curriculum that are guaranteed board approved and guaranteed to work with your child. Complete with IEPs and weekly lesson plans. 

"What To Make For Dinner: Gluten Free, Dairy Free, Clean Eating, Kid AND Husband Friendly Edition"- Use the simple multiple choice test format to tell the quiz what you have in your pantry/freezer and you'll have the perfect instagrammable meal your whole family will happily eat in 30 minutes or less.

"How Should YOU Say 'NO'?"- With a simple apology or with a plate of cookies BONUS RESULTS: how many 'guilt points' you'll acquire with each refusal. Use them wisely. Accumulate too many and you'll crash on the couch browsing nothing on your phone instead of spending time with your husband for an entire evening.

"Exact Color Coordinating Swatches For Your Home" - Using information like your favorite song, yout top 10 pins and name of your first pet this quiz will give you the perfect color swatches for every room in your home. This simple coat of paint will transform your 1200 square foot home into the next HGTV Dream Giveaway Home.

"What Netflix Show Should You Binge On Next?"....... Actually, I'm good. I got this one down.

"Can You Wear Yoga Pants There?" This quiz reads more like a flow chart letting you know when yoga pants can be used in each social situation. Did you know that if they're black you can wear them to a funeral? The more you know!

"Should You Even Try?"- Enter all your past failures and then this quiz will tell you the likelihood of success for your next venture. (Much like those "Mostly A's/Mostly B's/Mostly C's" quizzes you already know the answer before you finish the third question.)


Bottom line is this. The answers to my life questions are not gonna be on Facebook. Ever. My life is not going to be enriched by finding out what 80's Cartoon Show I am... Even if it is "The Snorks".

I need to shut down my phone and walk away. And just do stuff. And not turning on the computer stuff.....

I need to make a list and start knocking stuff off of it. I need to set realistic time tables to get stuff done. I need to put some stuff that I want to do just because I want to do it on there. I need to lay off pinterest because I have 2,500+ pins and there is no way I'll be able to even do a quarter of the stuff on it. I need to do that thing that I want to do and buy the stuff for it... because what's one more failure on the list? This could be the thing! It could be MY thing!

..... Oh, but I don't know what Oscar Winning Movie I am! I gotta go do this one and then I'll get stuff done.