I Scream, You Scream, We all Scream for Ice Cream!

What began last September as a celebration of effort at Dairy Queen after swim practice has evolved into an ice cream sundae buffet at home!  The boys love creating their own ice cream masterpieces and devouring them alongside apples, popcorn, and milk.  I love watching them have fun and enjoy themselves. 

John Robert is growing so fast, he is almost taller than me-- and he is only twelve!  After an hour and a half of swimming, his hunger is nearly insatiable.  A giant ice cream with Reese cups and hot fudge is only an appetizer!  This will ordinarily be followed by popcorn, Clif bars, apple juice, and at least two bowls of cereal before bed.  Even after their big bowls of ice cream, Denver and Spencer can nearly eat their weight in fresh fruit, milk, and popcorn.  I'm afraid I'm going to look for a fourth job just to keep us in groceries.  Thank Goodness for coupons and Aldi's! 



The Joy of Little Boys





The Three Musketeers spent all day either drawing
imaginary characters or pretending to be them.



Adventure, excitement, shouting, and explosive noises-- this is the land in which I live.  As a woman who loves yoga and silence (I don't even listen to music when I run!), it is fascinating to me how much my boys love VOLUME.  You'll find very few coloring books or craft projects in our house.  The mystery of little boys is in their fascination with ACTION. 

 

For Denver, Spencer, and their friends, all of the action is acted out.  They fly around the house like crazed cats.  They shoot nerf guns in the upstairs hallway.  They dress as superheroes and run around the yard.  Periodically, they stop and draw pictures of the characters they are pretending to be.  They chatter constantly to each other: "My character looks like this and he has this power."



Our newest little reader.

 
If 20 years ago I had looked into the future and seen my life, I wouldn't have recognized myself.  Yet it is the most lovely life I can imagine.  As I pick up nerf darts and clean blueberry syrup stains from the tablecloth, I think of all I am learning: reasons for laughter, patience, love, acceptance . . . did I say patience? 

Denver wears a bicycling helmet for really adventurous stories!



Goodbye to Bill Bradley

I think I took every class Mr. Bradley taught.  He waited at the door and greeted each student as they entered.  Always relaxed and pleasant, he brought that same atmosphere into his classroom.  Kind and accepting of everyone's opinion, he had everyone's respect.  We loved him for his kindness, his willingness to ask questions, and his willingness to listen to our answers. 

Mr. Bradley challenged me to think about my life, to plan my life instead of just letting it happen.  He once said, "How happy are you right now?  Don't think that time or more money or a different boyfriend or girlfriend is going to change how happy you are.  Most likely your happiness right now is an indicator of how happy you will be in the future."  I've been thinking about those words for nearly 30 years, and I've found that true happiness cannot be found outside oneself.  I've found that happiness comes from within, and I take responsibility for my attitude.

Mr. Bradley was also famous for asking us to make a list.  This was a list of qualities we were looking for in a future spouse.  It also included a list of qualities that were unacceptable.  He asked us to consider whether-- before we fell in love-- we would want to marry someone who smoked, drank alcohol, lied to parents; or more grey areas: had a disability, did not have any money, did not want children, or wanted to live in another country.  No one else ever asked me these questions.  In addition, Mr. Bradley welcomed our discussion on political issues of the day, and listened attentively no matter what the opinion.  His class was one of the very few times in school that I felt my thoughts mattered to a teacher.

Mr. Bradley was a friend to my father-- a fellow teacher, golfer, and basketball coach.  I knew my father respected him, and that meant something to me.  Mr. Bradley once gave me a statue that said, "Happiness is beating your dad at tennis."  I loved that gift.  He was quick to tell me when he respected one of my decisions and equally honest when he felt I had made a poor choice.  Either way, I still felt that he liked me.

I didn't know Mr. Bradley as a father, husband, basketball coach, statesman, or in any of the other ways he affected so many lives.  I know he must have made a few poor decisions; and he probably wouldn't mind our saying it.  He never made any mistakes with me, though.  I knew him best wearing a tweed blazer and saddle shoes, sitting on a stool outside his classroom and welcoming us in. 

I have been praying for Mr. Bradley ever since I first heard of his hospitalization.  I thought he would heal and rise out of that bed for another round of golf.  I was shocked to hear otherwise.  Although I never much questioned God's presence, I do find myself questioning his decisions.  My mom said that Bill once commented in Sunday School that he sure hoped there were golf courses in heaven.  When another person said she couldn't imagine heaven without horses, he said, smiling, "Well, you just keep your horses off of my greens!"

It Doesn't Feel Like School

 Last night, I really only wanted to curl up on the couch and finish reading an interesting book.  Homeschool was over for the day, and everyone could do as they pleased.



Spencer reads a book about beetles. 
Denver hangs on every word.

Although the two older boys found quiet activities to do on their own, Denver wanted me to play with him.  We drew pictures and created word searches on the white board.  We talked about homonyms-- when two words sound alike, but have different spellings and meanings; like write and right or blue and blew.  For reasons I do not understand, Denver is fascinated by homonyms.  He loves thinking about words, and I enjoy and encourage it. 

Denver can be very creative.  When I created a word search for him last night, he selected letters from all over the board to create new words.  I had never thought of that!  We played word search for quite a while.

Spencer and I then played a couple rounds of Denver Chess.  We lined up the pieces and pushed them toward one another until someone's king fell.  That's a fun game, and takes only seconds to play!  Spencer then enjoyed reading a new library book about beetles.  Denver hung on every word.

John Robert answers the question: How many squares are on a chessboard?



Later in the evening, John Robert remembered a challenge I once posed to him: How many squares are on a chessboard?  After counting the checkered squares, he realized that there are far more than the 1x1 squares.  There are 2x2, 3x3, 4x4, and more.  Even the board itself is a square.  Spencer got tracing paper and a calculator, and the two set out to determine how many squares are actually on a chessboard.  Although he didn't solve it that night, John Robert ran downstairs the next morning and announced that he had identified his error and solved the puzzle.  Indeed, he was correct.  I was amazed that he was so interested and capable.  Amazed, but happy and grateful to be homeschooling.  He never would have had the time or interest to solve that problem-- just for fun-- when he was in school. 



Denver has a new friend named Freaky Fred.



We also have a continuous stream of visitors to our home.  One is Freaky Fred, a new fellow created by Denver.  Other visitors last only minutes, like Clif the granola bar.

Yes, we are learning all the time, but it doesn't feel like school.  It feels like fun and curiosity and love and giggles. 

Right now, Spencer is fishing on the pond in his boat.  Denver is playing with a new toy he saved money to buy.  John Robert has his nose buried in a book. 

I am so grateful for this family.  This life.  I am so grateful to be a homeschooling parent, a Home's Cool Mama.



Clif.



 

Little Daniel Boone

Since before he was born, Spencer loved the outdoors.  While pregnant with him, I dreamed vividly and often of woods and pastures filled with animals.  I felt that his nursury should be woodland green and filled with bunnies and deer.  I didn't feel this way about our other boys.  I don't know what caused it.  As a small child, Spencer used to beg me to take him into the woods to "live off the land."  Occasionally, we slept in the treehouse and in a tent in the yard. One of his greatest joys is to camp with Nana and Papa Dale in the summertime.  We've read Little House in the Big Woods, Hatchet, and My Side of the Mountain more than once. 

Little wonder, then, that Spencer loves hunting with his Papa Dale.  The surprise is how good he is at it!  The first time he went deer hunting, he shot a small buck.  With help and guidance from his grandfather, he proceeded to skin it, cut it up, and later cooked the tenderloin for the family.  The second time he went turkey hunting, he and his Papa Dale called up two huge gobblers.  With careful aim, he took his turkey with one shot.  Is this guy Daniel Boone, or what?



Spencer completely camouflaged
to the left of the spring.



When a child has a passion, it is a parent's greatest wish to help him fulfill it.  That is why I am so grateful for my father's knowledge of the outdoors and his patient willingness to share his skills with Spencer.  These are priceless gifts of experience; but I could do without the turkey beard necklace.

   



Spring Break-- A Change of Pace





Photograph by Denver



A two week spring break?!  A little voice whispered in my ear . . . "Are you homeschooling or just quitting?"  It seemed wrong to allow the boys extra time away from their studies when everyone else was hitting the books.  However, with Spencer in Missouri for an extra week to turkey hunt, shoot his bow, ride four wheelers, and explore the woods with his Papa Dale, it hardly seemed fair to ask the other two boys to keep up with their academic work.  At the last minute, we decided to extend both spring break and our school year for another week.  Problem solved.

So for the last week, it's been like summer vacation at Chez Degonia.  The boys slept in, played on the computer, read books, went to the library, and played board games.  We watched movies, took hikes and went for bike rides.  John Robert went to swim practice.  We all raced in the Cheerios Challenge.  They downloaded new apps on the ipad.  They annoyed one another and me.  Yet it was lovely.  

I must say, if the purpose of spring break was to take a break from "learning," they failed miserably.  Just playing monopoly-- a three day event-- they practiced rather sophisticated math skills.  John Robert read almost a dozen adult science and technology magazines, and beat me soundly in chess.  We went to an art exhibit where the boys' friend was showing his work.  Afterward, we enjoyed discussing the artwork.

So spring break has not failed to be a time of learning, but only a change of pace.  It's been kind of like going from running on the road to taking a run on a hiking trail.  The path is less sure.  There are lots of turns and you can't really see where you're going.  It's a little slower.  But the scenery is great, surprises abound, and the rewards are rich and memorable.  

   

 

A Country Boy Education

"Thank God I'm a Country Boy" was a big hit when I was a child.  Singing the praises of a simple, country life, John Denver won the hearts of everyone I knew.  Thirty-five years later, when my boys have the chance to visit Nana and Papa Dale in Missouri, they rediscover the pleasures of blue skies, creeks, and all that country life has to offer.

This past week, Spencer went turkey hunting with his Papa Dale in Missouri.  He watched a big gobbler flee unexpectedly, followed closely by a large coyote.  The boys played with their cousins, Breanna and Hannah; they went hiking through the woods, riding four wheelers, and chasing rabbits.  They practiced archery with compound bows and crossbows.  They shot rifles, went bicycling, and played outside until dark nearly every day.  John Robert learned how to fix a flat tire on a bicycle.  They went swimming.  They played hide and seek with the neighbor children.  They spent the week smelling like grass and, well, like little boys.

There are many private schools these days that make a big deal about their outdoor education programs.  They take hikes and field trips and charge thousands of dollars for these "enrichment" experiences.  We called it spring break.  But it was really just a little bit of Country Boy Education.  And it was priceless. 

DIY Adventure in St. Louis

Last Sunday, I created my own DIY adventure.  It was called the St. Louis Marathon!  Thanks to the support of my parents who kept the boys, my best friend who ran beside me for several miles, and my husband who traipsed from point to point delivering bananas, walnuts, and Odwalla juices, I completed the marathon!  Don't ask my time: suffice it to say that I finished, and I was not last!

My husband's work is a constant adventure.  He flies around the nation hauling the famous and merely rich, flying through storms, over mountains, across the Bermuda triangle.  Every day is different.  He never knows what the next hour will bring.

My life is very organized.  I go to court on the same days each week.  I teach yoga on Wednesdays.  I organize and teach our homeschool.  I manage our three boys' interests and needs.  I cook, I clean; I take care of the dog; and although every day is a little different, I wouldn't say that my life is an adventure. 

Last weekend, I changed that routine.  After a mere three months of training, and no long runs past 13 miles, I ran the full 26.2 miles of the St. Louis Marathon.  What a surprise!  I expected to drop out somewhere between 13 and 18 miles.  After the first two hours, my jitters went away as exhaustion set in. At the halfway point, I would have stopped if not for my dear friend, Tammy Johnson, who ran alongside me through all of Forest Park, and kept me energized with laughter and conversation.  Once we reached mile 15, I decided to go for it!

John described my pace as "Chugga-chugga."  I guess that's about right.  I was just proud not to be walking.  The miles creeped by.  John handed me bananas and juices whenever he found me.  Strangers cheered and held up funny signs-- none of which I can now remember.  Strangers set up renegade aid stations serving everything from water and Twizzlers to beer and waffles.  I gulped Gatorade and sucked Gu gels and kept going.  The muscles in my legs became more and more stiff as I concentrated on moving forward.  I no longer had a thought in my head.  Just running.

At mile 25, John ran with me to the finish.  He chanted bits of marine corps running songs.  He distracted me and cheered me.  As I sprinted forward to the finish (at least I thought I was sprinting!), John veered off the course to avoid entering the finishers chute.  At that moment, a (presumably) homeless man shouted to John, "DON'T GIVE UP NOW!  YOU'RE ALMOST THERE!!"  Bless his heart.  The poor man didn't want to see John quit.  John, dressed in khaki shorts, t-shirt, street shoes, and wearing a backpack, turned around and thought about explaining that he was not in the race, but changed his mind when he saw the man's appearance.

The walk to the car was almost as hard as the race itself.  My legs were seizing up on me, and I was afraid I would fall over when I had to step down from a curb or hurry across the street.  John held my arm and helped me.  He tried not to laugh.  I was both teary with pleasure at my unexpected accomplishment and simultaneously amazed at what a stupid idea it is to pay to go through it!

Much to my surprise, John told me how proud he was of me as we drove home.  He told me how he had stopped questioning my ability to accomplish the things I set out to do.  Quit my job and go to law school on a full scholarship?  Sure.  Work for a big Atlanta law firm?  Done.  Quit my high paying job, have three kids, three part-time jobs, homeschool, and train for a marathon?  Why not?! 

I guess my life is a bit of an adventure after all.  Of course, the next big adventure was crawling up the stairs to a hot bath.  Weirdest part? As I lay in the bathtub unable to get out, I found myself planning for the next one!   

   

Normal Surprises


There are no normal days in this family.  Every day is a surprise.  Every hour brings some unexpected event.  It's a good thing I'm a yoga teacher.  Most of the time I can stay flexible. 


What happens if you're late for breakfast!

As much as I work and plan for our homeschooling, I find that my children constantly surprise me.  I sometimes fear that money is wasted on books and materials that lie untouched, only to realize they've been used and learned while my head was turned.  For instance, two years ago I bought John Robert a book about math called Go Figure.  It was full of facts, history, and math brainteasers.  I thought he would love it.  Sadly, I never saw him pick it up. 

Then yesterday while he was doing his algebra, John Robert asked,"Where is that really good book about math?  This math problem is talking about pi, and I want to read more about it in that book."  I had no idea which book he was talking about until he pulled it off the shelf.  "Here it is!  This is an awesome book."  He proceeded to spend the next 45 minutes rereading and occasionally sharing bits of information with whomever would listen.



Sometimes surprises are less pleasant.  I cannot keep the boys in clothes and shoes.  John Robert has only two pair of pants that cover his ankles.  Spencer lost his one really good coat.  Then today as we were leaving Wal-Mart, I looked down and noticed Denver had what appeared to be a leaf stuck to his toe.  When I asked him about it, he said, "That's not a leaf.  It's part of my shoe!"  When I looked closer, I realized the entire toe of his shoe was open, and the sole of his shoe was shredded and falling out.  Needless to say, we turned around and went back to the shoe department! 

I cannot predict what is going to happen this evening, much less what the week will hold.  Denver now refuses to wear underwear, while he insists on wearing his chef hat while baking.  Just another normal surprise in the Degonia family.   



Blueberry muffins