That's Why it's a Gift . . . The Present.

I was sitting and worrying about the lack of rigor in our homeschool today; probably because everyone is done early (okay, no one finished Latin!) and we are having fun-- taking turns playing on the computers, playing a favorite card game, and Spencer has been doing some programming and playing with his Lord of the Rings Lego set.  He occasionally runs past me, stopping for a hug.  

John Robert went to algebra class at Montessori, spent some time laughing and eating lunch with us, and is now reading upstairs.  I am so relaxed, I wonder if this is poor homeschool parenting.  After all, the daily schedule reveals our lack of rigor.

But then I realize. . . everyone in the house is happy.  Everyone in the house is happily pursuing an interest or two or three; and probably learning something!

For the last hour, Denver has been across the table from me asking me how to spell various words as he plays a computer game.  Of course, I never could have designed a spelling lesson that would have been as important to him as the words he wanted to spell this afternoon.

In a world where most parents and children have to spend 40 + hours a week away from home, we may forget that this is called being together.  Even as a homeschool mom, I sometimes forget the most powerful teaching I can share with my children is the gift of attention and my presence.

Hanging out at the Botanical Garden.

Choosing Goosebumps

What silly photographer forgot to move her finger
out of the way of the camera?

It is fun to choose to experience fear; and that is what the boys and I did at Fernbank's new Science of Fear exhibit.

You can choose to put your finger in a machine and receive an electric shock (No, thank you!) or put your hand in dark holes beneath a spider or snake's cage.  You can choose to be strapped in a contraption that will allow you to safely but suddenly fall several feet (Fun!) and you can learn about how the body responds to fear. We had a fine time and enjoyed the bonus exhibits in the lobby about brain science and phobias.

At one point, Denver got separated from us.  I saw him walking fast, head swiveling right to left, eyes wide.  It was only a few seconds before he saw me waving and his whole body relaxed.  Immediately, he became angry.  We had walked away from him without his noticing. That was fear he hadn't chosen!


Watching Denver reminded me of the importance of choice and its effect on our happiness.

Learning to say "Yes"

Our new YES button.
It says YES in ten different voices.

Life is more joyful, peaceful, and wonderful when we are able to say "Yes" as often as possible. Saying YES increases the love, respect, and trust between my children and me.

My parents said YES to me a lot. Other people surely said I was spoiled, but I felt valued.  I felt respected.  I want my children to feel the same way.

I try to think of my children as guests in my home.  After all, I invited them here.  They won't be staying forever.  If I wouldn't say it to a guest, should I say it to them?  

Denver enjoys a new Dinosaur Minecraft Mod
Spencer downloaded for him.

If a guest ran out of the house without his umbrella, would I shout, "Hey,Goofus!  Come back here and get your umbrella or you're going to get soaked!"  Probably not.  I might say instead, "Would you like to take your umbrella?"  It's clear which response is more respectful.  I'm trying to make that choice.  Yes.

Spencer enjoys working on his
computer programming.

I just got SCHOOLED!

Our New Science Kit.

I was so proud of our new science kit.  I couldn't wait to do the experiments with the boys, and I was feeling like a good homeschool mom.  We laughed and had fun as we explored the effects of water surface tension, the strength of the column, and the physics of pendulums.

The most surprising part for me, however, was when I tried to explain potential and kinetic energy to the boys through the use of the provided pendulum.  I was having trouble getting the experiment to work, and Spencer said, "Oh!  The red ball is supposed to strike the green ball and transfer its energy to the green ball causing the red ball to stop but the green ball to continue the pendulum motion."

"Uh . . . Yes."  I looked at him in quiet wonder.  "Where did you learn that?"

"Minecraft," Spencer said simply.  One of his favorite programmers had set up just such an experiment on minecraft and explained the potential and kinetic energy involved.  "Can I go outside and run around for a little while now?"

"Sure," I said.  "You guys take a little break."  So much for my fancy science kit!  

Fun experiments this morning!

A Morning of Happy Smiles and Wonderful Things

While the two John Degonias in our house chose to stay home; Spencer, Denver, and I rose early and made our way to Homeschool Day at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens.

The Four Seasons: Four statues over 20 feet tall.

We saw poisonous dart frogs, pitcher plants, venus flytraps, rainforests, and enormous cacti.  We wandered and looked and laughed.  It was an easy, smiling day.

A Unicorn Statue
in grasses, vines, and flowers.
Almost ten feet tall.

The highlights of our visit were the enormous living sculptures.  Some we remembered from our last visit over a year ago; others were new.  They were amazing!

It was a little hard not to have John Robert with us.  He hadn't wanted to get up early.  He wanted to stay home and do his homework and homeschool.  I missed him.

Still, it was wonderful to simply focus on Spencer and Denver.  It was good to share the morning and early afternoon with two such fun, interesting guys.  We all agreed as we meandered toward the car-- "Fun.  Amazing statues.  Glad we came."

Berries in the Children's Garden.

Tarzan?

My Growing Boys

Spencer admires the Giant Ogre

The boys in Mr. McGregor's Garden

Two Monkeys.  Two Gorillas.

Relaxing after lunch.

Spencer caught stealing a bite
of Denver's pudding :-)

I See a Snapping Turtle!

Look at all those roots!

Watch out for the cacti!

Cooling off in the children's fountain.

The boys in front of Mother Earth sculpture and fountain.

A Captured Moment: Sunset and Ice Cream plus Commercial

Driving home from John Robert's swim practice last night, we turned onto Meadow Lane.  "Look at that sunset!," I called to John Robert.  He was sitting next to me absorbed in his Peanut Buster Parfait after two hours of swimming.

"Want to stop and take a picture?" I asked, fully expecting him to grunt and ignore me.

"Yes," he replied, grabbing his phone.

So we stood for a few minutes near the pasture fence trying to grab the last pink streaks of sunset on our camera phones.  "It doesn't capture it," John Robert said as the sunlight faded.

"No," I agreed; getting back into the car.  "It was nice, though."

"Yes, it was."  John Robert went back to his Peanut Buster Parfait.  I finished the drive home smiling.

John Robert and classmates
acting out a commercial they wrote.

Galloping Through the Days

The days gallop by.  Where did they go?  It is mid-September and I don't know where the summer went.

Reading to Jake-- who is a very good listener.
Sorry about the couch, Nana!

Spencer and Denver
at Turner Lake Park.

The danger of being busy seems to be my tendency not to appreciate the marvel of each day; so here are a few peeks.

Spencer's Commercial for Writing Workshop

Paw Paw's 75th Birthday!

Jibby wearing one of his father's shirts!

On our way to a church to hear a holocaust survivor speak.

There is nothing that makes me happier than a good day with the boys; no matter what we accomplish or fail to accomplish.  

An evening often ends with Denver's pronouncement, "I'm happy."

Me, too.

This Too Shall Pass.

My Pencie struggles some days.  Other days, he breezes right through.
Today there is NO breeze.

It must be remembered: not every day is this way.  Most days are pleasant, with rolling hills of pleasure and challenge.  Today has been the Black Death of homeschool days.

Today . . . 
Spencer is seven hours into his homeschool and finally nearly done.  I gave him a history assignment I thought he would enjoy.  Instead, he cried.  

In history class, Denver dressed as a plague
doctor today: he pokes a black death victim
with his cane.

His math took him three hours, and it was a six problem review of his last assignment!  

He has an essay due tomorrow, and I know he did a very poor job on it; but I can't bring myself to ask him to spend more time.  

I don't know what to do.  I don't know why he can't simply sit down and work.  Spencer has all the necessary knowledge and skill, but doesn't seem to be able to relax and do his work.  I don't know if being gentle is going to help Spencer learn, but I know that showing my frustration only creates more chaos.

Denver and Audrey hanging out and cuddling.

Denver is done with today's homeschool; he plows through his work like a bulldozer-- though not without complaint.  He zooms from history to math to grammar to Latin to reading and writing and then on to more exciting activities-- playing with Jake, exploring a new video game, pestering me or his brothers for attention every 15 minutes.  He tends to get underfoot much like the dogs-- wanting to be noticed, wanting attention, especially while I'm in the midst of trying to assist Spencer.

John Robert works like a humming machine.  He asks questions when he has them and then moves on to the next assignment.  He is helpful with his brothers, kind to me, and determined to solve his academic challenges.  He barely needs me, but I love his company, his sense of humor, his calm.  I am grateful for his presence on these challenging days. 

I don't know what to do to be a better mother and teacher.  I am trying to be quiet; to wait until I am calm before I speak.  Often my anger comes from not having my expectations met: I had hoped to go swimming this afternoon, maybe get some exercise, and walk the dogs.  Instead, I've spent the whole day teaching; and circling Spencer trying to sing and dance him through his work. Homeschooling and parenting are not always easy.  Yet this too shall pass.  I want it to be filled with mostly good memories.  Some days I don't know how.