My Supernatural World

My chickens

2010-06-28T00:21:00.009-06:00

Last winter I decided I was going to take the plunge into urban chickens. Well, ok, technically they're not "urban" when we don't really live in an actual real "city," so to speak, but hey, we have neighbors a rock's throw in either direction. So it totally counts. The biggest hurdle was that the hatchery had a minimum order of 25 chicks, and ~~there was no way in hell~~ I just didn't need that many. Then very early in the spring, my country friend lost most of his 40+ flock to mink and hawks, so I made a deal with him = I'd order 5 Buff Orpington chicks for myself and 20 Dark Cornish for him. The box came May 1st (even though the shipping receipt said February 29th). Check out these teensy peepers:

McMurray Hatchery sent us one extra Cornish and another (Bonus! FREE RARE!!!) chick - it was a Crested Polish. If you look closely, you can see her there near the back. The blonde chicks were mine, the speckly ones are the Cornish. My friend picked his chicks up the next day, and we moved ours to a spare rodent cage, since it was still ridiculously cold outside.

In practically no time, they'd outgrown their little cage (and gotten really ugly).
Pictured: Ugly Dinosaur Chickens Eating the Xbox.

So we moved on to building the coop. I mentioned here before that we intended to use the kids' old clubhouse for a coop, with a few modifications, and that's exactly what we did. With my husband's gracious help (long, LONG story that starts with me saying to him "I don't need your f***ing help and I don't want it!", and ends with me saying, "Please help me for the love of God."), we built our ladies a nice sized coop and a little yard to scratch in. (pics of the coop later).

These pictures were taken this morning, while I fed The Ladies some grapes.

Thankfully, they've feathered out (and aren't so ugly), and their waddles (or as Riley says, "wobbles") are getting darker by the day - a sign of sexual maturity (i.e. EGGS). I'm expecting them to start laying by the middle of July or Early August.

WARNING Graphic Images...

2009-11-29T20:14:00.007-06:00

Do not scroll down if you're sensitive to the sight of blood, or images of dead things.

Still here? Good. My son killed a deer yesterday. If you've been here lately, you'll know that means he brought home a hide for me to tan. In the book I bought, the author called the process of prepping the brains for use in the tanning process making "brain soup" .. and that was enough to make me run screaming from the whole mess. I had intended to use the brains, because it's the most natural and authentic you see, but decided on an ~~less disgusting~~ easier method.

This is the package that Chad brought home:

See how neat and tidy it all is? I figured it wouldn't stay that way, so I made an "apron" out of a garbage bag.

The head was included in our little gift package, but since we wouldn't be using any part of that now, I had to remove it along with the tail.

Peeling off the nasty bits.

Scraping off the rest of the nasty bits. I didn't have a proper scraping tool, so this part was a real bitch. If I do this again, I'll be looking into some better tools.

And then, into the drink. Weighed down with some rocks, it will soak in a lye solution in a plastic garbage can (outside) for the next few days, stirring occasionally, until it's spongy and the hairs are loose and easier to remove.

The most exciting part for me was that I handled this whole thing without a single gag reflex. I'm not sure if it was because it was fresh and not all that bloody, so there was very little smell. Or maybe because I wore gloves, eliminating the problems caused by my texture issues. Or maybe because I had to do it in the dark, in 40 degree weather and was more concerned with just getting-done-for-chrissake-so-we-can-get-in-the-house. It didn't bother the kids much either. As Cadence and I scraped, Riley played with the head. "Look, Mama, I closed his eye." "Look, Mama, I made his ears point up/back/sideways." **shudder**

There are harder steps ahead, as far as actual work and time spent on the hide, but the grossest part is over, and we all handled it really well. More photos and updates soon!

Who needs building plans?

2009-11-23T12:50:00.004-06:00

The chicken coop plans that I spent a good hour on, carefully drawing and measuring, have been scrapped. The early dark (thanks, time change) and the rainy cold weather have been a big deterrent in getting the coop built this last week. But I had a backup plan, and by the looks of it, it should have been our plan in the first place.

This is the kids' clubhouse:

(This picture was taken last winter, no actual snow around here yet. The apparent tilt is the result of the camera-operator - likely me.)

When the clubhouse was new, it was a place for reading, a lookout, an advantage spot in a water gun fight, and a place to keep the toy kitchen and all the bazillions of dishes and plastic food. In the last year, it's become an ignored and empty waste of space. The kids still climb up in there, but now it's just to sit and chat for a few minutes, or stop off on the way further up the tree.

So really the only thing making the difference between a clubhouse and a chicken coop are a door and some insulating. I'll post more pictures of those, the fence, etc. as we go.

More on satisfying projects...

2009-11-13T10:27:00.000-06:00

So, I'm getting some chickens. 25 of them to be exact, because the hatchery has a minimum order. The plan is to keep them in the kitchen for a couple of weeks, then divide those we're keeping to move outside (just three of them), and move the rest to my country friend's place for the next 4-6 weeks until they're big enough to sell (craigslist, anyone?) or eat (umm.. we might pass on that one). We've had a house chicken before, what's another couple of dozen right?

As usual, I am jumping into this with both feet. But as usual, I am researching and learning as much as I can before said jumping. Keeping chickens is much easier than it may seem, and so much information about health, potential issues, housing, etc. is available online for free - no need to even buy a book. But I still bought this one. First things first, though: My chickens need a home.

I've googled a zillion chicken coops and drawn up a design that I'm happy with. Because money is an issue, the majority of materials we'll be using are recycled scraps gathered from friends and family. This is what it looks like right now:

A pile of old fence pieces and some random boards. I'll be taking more pictures as we build. Just hoping to get done and get those chickens settled (wherever they're settled) before I have a hide to tan.

A Satisfying Life

2009-11-12T08:18:00.005-06:00

How much do we hear, in some version or another while talking with people, "My life is so unsatisfying." People are lonely and depressed. As a culture, we are bored. We spend so much time and money; buying things, joining clubs, playing games, chatting and texting and facebooking - desperate to get some kind of enjoyment out of our lives. And one thing I am so guilty of myself: complaining about the monotony and just overall dissatisfaction. I also have heard a lot, and seen in practice, that the more you involve yourself in daily activities, the less negativity you feel, and the happier you are in life. I've always thought this was because if I'm busy all the time, I don't have time to think about how bad my life sucks. This was a depressing thought all it's own, because my life isn't any better, I'm just ignoring it. It felt like a form of denial.

But now I'm starting to understand that it's not doing things; it's the things you do. Busying yourself with unfulfilling things still leaves you feeling unfulfilled. Facebook is fun, online games are entertaining and doing those things seem like ways to enjoy my life, but all they do is take up some time - my life is not changed by them in any way, just put off. Cleaning the house for half the day makes me feel better; not because it's taken up half the day, but because my house is clean. Because I've worked diligently, and can see and enjoy the benefit of that work. If my daily activities don't change anything, benefit anything, or provide anything useful, it's not a wonder I start feeling useless and unsatisfied with my life.

When I first started knitting, I was excited about it, but I also felt more upbeat and positive - I was using my free time and talent to create something beautiful and useful for my family. After a while though, the slow, slow stitches seemed like a chore, and I thought, "Well, I was just doing it for fun, so I can quit if I want to." As soon as I started viewing it as "just for fun" it was no different than wasting an hour on the computer - unimportant, unsatisfying. But mostly I'm seeing that putting in that extra effort - like cleaning the house - really pays off in the satisfaction with the completed project. I think that effort might even be one of the most important parts of the equation. I worked for this, it benefits me/my family/the world; I did this hard thing, and it was worth it. How empowering and satisfying and rewarding!

I'm not giving up my FarmVille any time soon, nor am I willing to exhaust myself with busy things, but I am making a point to fill the gaps in my time with more useful activities, even those that require a lot of work. The more difficult projects, new skills, and even little (but still a mountain) jobs I take on, the more satisfied I feel with my life, my home, my family, myself. It is self-sacrifice, when you think of the work involved, but it doesn't feel like a sacrifice at all when you reap the joys and benefits of your hard work. Kind of like parenting, isn't it? I'm parenting my life.

Deer Season

2009-11-09T00:35:00.003-06:00

Deer hunting season is upon us - bowhunting now, shotgun next month. Normally deer season comes and goes with me remaining oblivious to its passing, aside from the occasional gift of deer meat from friends. This year is different.

My son, all of his life, rejected his dad's offers to go hunting together. Refused to eat fresh-caught fish and said he'd sooner eat dirt than a rabbit. He told me in no uncertain terms that he could never hunt, could never even support hunting, because it was stupid to kill a wild animal when there were animals raised specifically for food. And come to think of it, he wasn't so sure he was okay with that either. I was bracing myself for a declaration of vegetarianism. I even went as far as researching vegetarian diets, variations on meals we already eat.. the whole deal.

Then something strange happened. Suddenly he was eating all the beef he could get his hands on, and a few deer burgers convinced him deer was the Best Meat Ever. He thought maybe he'd like to try hunting for NON-food animals, so my country friend took him prairie dog hunting in SD for a few days. You could almost smell the change on him when he came home. It happened one step at a time, but it felt like a flash to me. Now he's gun-crazy, scanning guns & ammo magazines, visiting the local Bass Pro and drooling over the rifles. He can't stop talking about how much meat we can get "for free" (ha! hasn't bought a hunting license lately, I see).

Then there was this crazy thing I did. I went and bought a book on brain tanning, hoping to try making buckskins. Call it a homeschool project. I bought the book before my son's drastic transformation from border-veggie to hunter-killer, and had asked several of my hunting friends, "Hey, when you get a deer, save me the hide and brains, k? And it has to be fresh, so call me right away. Cuz I'm doin this thing.." They shook their heads, because they know how ~~weird~~ adventurous I am, but they all promised me the hide.

Well, without me even noticing, it's Deer Season. The day of reckoning approaches. I, one who can barely handle boiling a chicken, will very likely have a large - and freshly killed by my firstborn child - animal in my back yard being cleaned (why is such a bloody messy job called "cleaning"?) I will, regardless of my son's success, have someone's deer hide with bits of .. you can imagine what.. on it, waiting for me to soak and scrape, stretch and oil. And brains?!?! What the hell was I thinking??

Please keep me in your thoughts. I have made my bed, so to speak. It would ~~harm my pride~~ be wrong not to lie in it. I'm just hoping I can do this with a smile.

**sniff** that's my baby

Trick or Treat!

2009-11-05T22:48:00.004-06:00

We approached Beggar's Night this year the same as we always do, by putting off making or buying any costumes or accessories until the last minute, to ensure the highest stress level possible. Cadence remained undecided about what thing/person she intended to dress up as until 2 days before. Chad skipped this year, he's "too grown" for it I guess, but kept saying things like, "Well maybe I'll go, just for a while," and, "Well I could just do some simple costume." Riley has wanted to be a cheetah since August.

So 2 days before the big begging day, we shopped for materials and accessories. Cat ears on the list, but all they had were black and striped - no spots. Hell, I'll just make some, I thought. After an hour at Walmart, Cadence settled on "Reaper" and I figured what we couldn't make, we could do with makeup. I bought some cheetah-print material and two small makeup kits. By then, Chad was insisting I told him he wasn't allowed to go begging, and refused to do so. (Whatever?)

Of course I couldn't get to any actual sewing that night, or the next day. So there I was, on The Day Of, Googling some easy sewing instructions for a hooded robe and wondering if I could use a pajama pattern (or SOMEthing) for Riley's cheetah. That's when I found this page - it's a Jedi robe, but a robe is a robe right? The "pattern" amounted to body-tracing, no real measuring or anything. This worked so well for Cadence's robe, I repeated the process with the cheetah fabric, tracing around the legs instead of leaving it open. Stick on a tail and sew a couple triangle ears to a headband, and voila! Halloween costumes were done in less than an hour.(Cardboard scythe and candy buckets not shown)

Now, before you go thinking the whole thing came off without a hitch, this photo was taken AFTER a night of trick or treating, because, as usual, we left about a half hour late. And froze our butts off in the first 20 minutes (it was 36 degrees!!), and drove instead to a "safe, indoor trick or treat" at a local mall. And wandered the entire mall for an hour, just for 5 tootsie rolls and 3 stickers, so that whole thing was a huge disappointment. The kids only got about 1/4 of their little buckets filled during the whole night.

After we got home, Vic told me to get the kids cleaned up and into pajamas and said he'd be right back. Too tired and frozen to care where he was going, I set about taking pictures and washing off makeup. 20 minutes later, Vic came in with a grocery bag full of candy. "Wow, you kids should have taken the car trick or treating!" he told them. "I was only out a few minutes and look at how much I got!" So ~~I still got my chocolate fix~~ the kids still got some candy, and all is right with the world again.

The Tough Stuff...

2009-05-30T15:03:00.003-06:00

Every month, I pick up a box of food from Angel Food Ministries. $30 for a box of bulk-purchased food that they say will feed a family of 4 for a week, but I have no problem stretching it out for my family of 5, even if some smaller people are eating more than the bigger people. It's easy to incorporate the contents of one of these boxes into our monthly meals, and makes a huge difference for our food budget. Often there is an ... interesting... package of chicken in the box. One month the was a frozen package of "chicken breast pieces" that was exactly that - pieces and bits of breasts, scraps I imagine, but all good meat. This month it was bone-in leg quarters. Usually when we get the bone-in chicken, I just fry it in whatever odd cut comes out of the package. This time I decided I'd boil it down for meat and broth.

Now, I'd never done this before, as much as I'd heard how much money can be saved by buying whole chickens or irregular cuts and boiling them. I'd never done it because I get a bit squeamish with meat, especially when bones are involved. I had the same problem last summer when we were bringing home fresh-caught catfish every week or so. After seeing the fish alive, then picking out bits of bone or skin missed in cleaning, soaking (and smelling) the fish overnight, and handling it repeatedly, I was so grossed out I'd convinced myself the fish was nasty. I couldn't make myself swallow it.

I thawed this chicken and cooked it for a couple of hours in a big pot full of water with a lid. After it had cooled for a while, I pulled the chicken out of the stock to find the meat "falling off the bone". (This term might make a lot of people's mouth water, but in my case, it makes me a bit ill to think about.) I stripped off the skin and picked the meat from the bones with my hands, and for the first several minutes I really thought I might hurl. I was a bit surprised (and not pleasantly, I can tell you) to find other stuff with the meat. Like a bit of spinal bones and a couple of unidentifiable (to me anyway) organs. When I started to feel faint, I called Vic in to help me.

The work was tedious, because I was being extremely careful not to leave any teeny bits of bone or cartilage in with the meat. But I noticed after a while that it was getting easier and easier for me to handle. I was no longer fighting my gag reflex. I realized it was because the more I focused on the job at hand and its benefits, I was thinking less about the gory details. I happily realized I had enough meat and broth for two or three meals here, instead of just the one meal of fried chicken I was used to. I was chatting with my husband, laughing even, feeding bits of skin or whatever to the desperately begging cats at my feet. Holy crap, I was actually having fun. Considering the amount of meat and broth I'd gotten out of the deal, heck.. this was easy. I should do this every time.

There is a homeschooling lesson here. A life lesson, even. If you keep your eyes open, there is always a lesson, isn't there? Because sometimes the idea of doing something you're not used to, have never done, or don't know much about, sounds horrifying. You can pretty easily become overwhelmed with the details, even if it seemed like a good idea when you started. If you focus on all the nasty bits, you become so disgusted that you completely miss the point of doing it in the first place. But when you concentrate on the job at hand, focus on the benefits, all the negatives are at least worth dealing with. If you're lucky, you'll stop seeing them as negatives at all. Just tiny details in a bigger picture - the benefits are what matter.

So now I have about 3 pounds of meat and enough broth for a few meals tucked away in my freezer. I have 3 kids growing into intelligent, wonderful people, even if raising them sometimes seems hard and homeschooling them sometimes doesn't seem worth it. I have a great marriage, even when the stress of inlaws and disagreements make it seem unbearable. The benefits are what matter. We're doing great, and it was easy.

A new way to burn down your house...

2009-02-20T08:12:00.003-06:00

Chad has been obsessing for months over survivalism (if there is such a word). I don't know where on earth he gets his obsessive nature. ;) First he went through catalogues, sports stores, and camping websites looking for The Perfect Backpack. Then he started comparing nutritional content of different foods, trying to find The Perfect Foods to pack in his backpack in case of... alien attack or nuclear winter or something. He compared water bottles for volume, weight, and shape. Somewhere in the midst of all that, he was looking into kerosene lanterns. The biggest turnoff there was that you had to buy the kerosene. But he knew that other things burn, and we set about finding household things that would work. Cooking oils (corn, olive, canola) turned out to be the best, because it takes a pretty hot flame to start the oil itself burning, but will burn nicely for a long time when soaked into paper or cloth.

After a couple of quick internet searches, notes written down and gathering of supplies....

....he made this:

Corn oil in a beer bottle. (Yeah, it's a 40. Don't judge me.) Wick made from strands of white cotton Sugar'N Cream yarn, fed through a small hole in the metal lid. You might be able to see in the picture that the bottom of the bottle is filled with water, and oil for only the top 4 inches or so. This is to save on the amount of oil used in such a large bottle, but it also looks pretty cool. You could use any glass bottle with a screw-on lid, and if you used a clear bottle (Vodka maybe?), you could even add food coloring to the water for a pretty neat effect.

Chad spent hours and hours working out the best wick arrangement; first trying different lengths of exposed wick and settling on 1/2 inch, then timing how long it took to burn that 1/2 inch of wick and multiplying by 12 (6 inches total length). He was most satisfied with 3 strands of yarn, braided tightly, which worked out to about 15 hours of burn time.

Then he tossed everything on the counter and went online to look for a new tent. Because the one he just bought won't fit into the super-deluxe backpack he's eyeing. Gah.

*I might mention that all the above was done completely on his own, with me playing the part of Question Answerer occasionally. Who needs textbooks and lesson plans?

Food and income...

2008-12-17T07:56:00.005-06:00

A good while back, there was a big buzz around the messageboards I was frequenting and all over the internet about the Food Stamp Challenge. Even members of Congress have taken on the challenge, painstakingly planning and shopping for meals that will fit into their "food stamp budget". I've seen this done two ways; basing your monthly shopping on the maximum allowable food stamp benefit per household ($698/month for my family of 5), or a baseline $21 per family member per week (about $420/month for my family). Way back when we were on welfare and food stamps, our monthly food stamp benefit was about $540.

I was never quite sure if the idea was to shine a light on how very little the poor folks have to eat on, to make those in higher income brackets feel humbled and thankful, or to simply make people feel better about themselves. Whatever the reason, for most people, meeting the monthly food stamp goal seemed to be damn near to impossible. I am honestly extremely confused by the difficulty. We got food stamps for a little over three months, and had so much leftover money on our food stamp card that we used it for another two months after we stopped receiving benefits. I can't even imagine how long we could have gone on the maximum allowable amount. My normal grocery store budget per week is about $100 - and this is counting the extras you get at the grocery store, like shampoo and toilet paper. Sometimes I go a couple of dollars over, but well within the $21/week guidelines. If I didn't count the non-food items, our average monthly food expense is about $350.

I've seen and heard people complain while doing the food stamp challenge, that they had to stop buying the fun foods - prepackaged snacks, chips, soda, etc. When we were on food stamps, we always had those things. People mention giving up "good meat" and switching to low quality hamburger and pork. When we were on food stamps, we ate a few steaks and good quality roasts, and on Vic's birthday we even got a live lobster (!!!). I had to eventually just stop visiting the messageboards and other forums where people discussed this challenge, because I seriously wanted to ask, "What the fuck are you people eating?? Caviar??" To their credit, there were several people who were starting to figure out it wasn't so hard to live on that amount of money for food, but they still seemed to be missing the point.

Sometime last week I was discussing this with a friend, and I mentioned that I felt the Upper Middle and above to just be clueless about food and expenses in poorer households. "Of course they are," she said, "They're getting the wrong picture. They're only hearing about the maximum benefit." The maximum allowable food stamp benefit is based on absolutely NO income, and figuring in things like medical expenses caused by disability. The more money you earn, the less your food stamp benefit. According to this chart, the maximum monthly income for a family of 5 to qualify for ANY benefit is $2687, and that's only with other expenses figured in. Even then, you might only qualify for $40 per month in food stamps. In order to qualify for a food stamp benefit large enough to pay for all your food, even when you're super-thrifty, you'd have to have a much smaller income. The income requirements are a little higher for medical benefits, but only for the children in the home - the adults can apparently do without.

And that's the heart of the problem. Those on welfare and the maximum food stamp benefit are not really struggling. With no income, you can qualify for all kinds of things: housing assistance, food stamps, medical coverage, child care expenses, transportation, even education and job placement services. But the more money you make, the less help you qualify for. "The REAL challenge," said my friend, "Would be to see if they could live on just enough income not to qualify for anything. That's where the majority of 'poor' people are. They HAVE jobs and child care and housing, and can barely afford to eat. That's the working poor."

What if your total family income was just over the required amount to qualify for aid? What if you.. I dunno.. homeschooled or something (or were a single mother whose loser ex won't pay child support, or whatever), and had only one working parent in your 5-person household? What if you had to live on $2600 a month (gross, not net), with no disabilities or other deductions - too much to qualify for food stamps, housing assistance, or medical insurance? Could you pay your rent or mortgage? Property taxes or homeowners insurance? Could you buy health insurance for your entire family? Car insurance (required in most states), and/or a car payment? Clothing for your growing children? School expenses? Child care costs for the single parent? Put gas in your car to get to work, and eat lunch while you were there? Keep your lights and heat on? What about all the conveniences you're used to, like cell phones and internet access? And don't forget the unplanned expenses, like replacing a broken washing machine or a car repair, maybe a parking ticket or two. Could you eat on what was left? If something must be cut out in order to afford food, which necessity is the least necessary, or would make the most difference when it's eliminated? Do some quick figuring of monthly expenses for the average household, and you'll start getting a clearer picture of poverty than any $21 per week food budget could give you. Then it begins to make sense why there are so many people in this country without health insurance - the *possibility* of getting sick is much less than the *inevitability* of hunger.

For more information on struggling families and food benefits:
One Dollar Diet Project
Feeding America
St. Mary's Food Bank Alliance

On cutting your budget and managing less income:
Miserly Moms
Living on Less
The Dollar Stretcher

"Young mothers"...

2008-10-15T09:59:00.010-06:00

A rant. *

I'm 31. My oldest child is 12. If you'd rather not do the math in your head, I'll tell you that I was 18 when I was pregnant with my son, and he was born the day after my 19th birthday. This is not a confession, an excuse, or an explanation. It's simply a fact, and whenever I mention it to anyone, I present it just that way. Often, when I mention it, it's part of another conversation. Such as a discussion of whether wine is safe to drink while pregnant, and I say, "Well, I didn't drink when I was pregnant with Chad, but that's because I was only 18." Just the truth - not looking to shock everyone. But as soon as those words come out of my mouth, the conversation is no longer about whether drinking in moderation during pregnancy is okay, but about how young I was when I was pregnant, the tragedy of young motherhood, and unsettled disbelief. This is fine, really, and I know nobody is trying to offend me. In fact, they may actually be trying to offer some kind of comfort or support, and usually the only reason it gets to me is because it's changed the whole focus of the conversation to me and my parenting.

Maybe I am just overly sensitive. When Chad was a baby, I was talked down to everywhere I went. The obstetrician called me "Kiddo." When I took that long trip on the Greyhound to NC, I was repeatedly approached by strange older women I did not know, trying to take my crying, overstimulated and extremely tired baby from my arms, saying, "Let me try, Sweetie," or offering advice on what I might be doing wrong. With his first ear infection, the pediatrician explained to me in slow, careful language how to read the bottle of infant Tylenol and how to use the dropper, while I looked at her like she was insane. Acquaintances who were older than me often gave me parenting advice, forgetting I suppose that their babies were actually younger than mine. I stopped going to mommy groups and playdates after being repeatedly snubbed and ignored by groups of older moms who were fond of saying things like, "When you're older, you'll know," and, "I'm glad I finished my education before having children, because educated mothers..." Well... those particular women were just bitches, but you get the idea.

The only person that offered full support and a feeling of complete confidence in my competence as a parent was my grandmother. My grandmother was pregnant at 18. "Of course, I was married," she never neglected to add. She was 19 when her first child was born, many years ago. And here lies my point (I'm sure you're anxious for me to make it already). I hear so much about "young mothers these days" as if having a child before the age of 25 or 30 is some kind of societal tragedy. In the 40's women were trained for marriage and motherhood in high school. It was completely normal to marry your high school boyfriend the second you were graduated. And have a baby, because that's what you did. Get married, have a baby. Most women looked forward to it with gleeful anticipation. If you weren't married by the time you were 30, something was probably wrong with you. A result of a now-outdated patriarchal view of an ideal society, possibly, but there it is. It was normal, even expected, and completely acceptable.

There's not a sad and catastrophic increase of young mothers nowadays. In fact, the average age of American women having their first child has actually increased in the last 30 years. And a leaning trend toward older mothers through the decades does not magically make 18 younger than it was 50, or even 30 years ago.

People tell me I was "just a baby" when I became a mother. They say they "just can't imagine being a parent so young." They mean well, and I know that. But I fell in love with my husband when I was 16. I was still in love with him when I got pregnant at 18. I'm still in love with him now, 12 years later. Had I never gotten pregnant, I probably would have eventually married him anyway, because I loved him. Pregnancy simply moved our plans forward a bit. I don't need sympathy or pity because I "had to" get married and have a family so young. I just can't imagine spending the last 12 years of my life without the love, comfort and joy of a family, no matter what age I was when it all started.

*Certainly not meant to offend anyone, in any group, but simply for the purpose of blowing off some steam and pent-up frustration.

The S Word...

2008-09-23T10:51:00.006-06:00

Recently, I watched a report about homeschooling from CBS Sunday Morning on Daryl's blog. The report was mostly good, and showed some non-traditional homeschooling in a very good light. Within a few days, I'd seen the same video on several other blogs (to be fair, I'm not sure who found it first, in case that matters to anyone), and almost everyone who posted it mentioned that when the topic of socialization came up, it was handled well. I really don't agree.

In just about every report or newsy article I've seen, there is some expert insisting children need to socialize. They're missing out on prom/sports/clubs, and they need that. They won't have friends, and they need them. They won't be involved in social networks, and they need those. The common way for homeschooling advocates to address these issues is to insist, as in this recent CBS report, that homeschooling support groups and social activities exist, and are used diligently within the homeschool community. You silly people, can't you see we have it covered?

Not once have I seen or heard an expert explain WHY kids absolutely and unequivocally NEED regular activities with children their age. Never have I seen or heard anyone explain why children NEED social interaction with other children at all. I know it's important for children to have social interaction with other people. I'd just like to see the evidence that suggests those people must be children. The "experts" say interaction with other children (preferably in a school setting, of course) teaches kids they can't get their own way all the time, that rules must be followed, and all about the complicated experience that is friendship. They suggest this is the only way children will learn how to interact in the "real world." And the rebuttal from the homeschool community is: they DO get social interaction with other children. They list all the recreational classes their kids take, the clubs they're involved in, and the social activities ad nauseum, even saying exasperatedly that, "we homeschool, but we're never home!" Never once do you hear a homeschooler say, "Socializing with other kids? What makes you think they need to do that?"

There are problems with defending your homeschooled kids' social development with a list of their activities. Not only does it reinforce the idea that children somehow NEED other children around them to be mentally healthy, it makes attaining that goal seem like an exhausting task. One that requires a huge amount of your time, energy, and probably money. And one that could be easily attained without all that effort just by putting your kid in public school. The seemingly overwhelming burden of meeting their kids' social needs intimidates people that might consider homeschooling otherwise. It suggests that homeschooling alone is risking social detriment. It instills guilt in homeschool parents who can't keep up, or don't want to. Because most children are involved in lots of social activities, we quickly and blindly accept that it's necessary for proper development, leaving the door open for accusations of neglect when we don't provide it. As long as homeschoolers continue to agree with the educrats on the importance of child social groups, we allow ourselves to be criticized by their standards.

I understand that children play together in ways adults can't comprehend, and that children, when playing together, reach levels of imagination unfathomable to adults. But aren't they already getting more time at imaginative play than their public school counterparts with their siblings at home? A neighbor kid or two? Can they not learn they can't always have their way from their parents? From the fact that they're all out of blueberry pancakes at the diner today? From the car repair that prevents them from going to the amusement park? LIFE doesn't let you have your own way all the time. Can they not learn about rules and how to follow them from their parents? From the "No Running" sign at the swimming pool? From watching Mom get a speeding ticket? LIFE shows you there are rules that must be followed. Interacting with other children, in school or in homeschool group playdates, does not teach kids about the real world. Interacting with the real world does.

Emotional bonds with other humans is necessary for proper mental stability. That those humans be unrelated to you is not. We homeschoolers need to stop agreeing with the experts in the necessity of socializing with justifications, explanations, and excuses. Socializing with other kids? Who the hell needs it?

Today's rant: Unhealthy foods...

2008-07-31T07:01:00.004-06:00

More and more folks are jumping on the "Be Healthy, it's the Law" bandwagon by banning the use of trans fats in restaurants, and demanding full disclosure of caloric content, making the sale of unhealthy foods an issue of public health. It makes sense, especially when consumers are completely unaware of the ingredients... right?

Laws like this get to me because they clearly demonstrate Americans' general inability to take responsibility for themselves. This cannot possibly be the first time people were aware french fries and hot wings are bad for you. Did they really not know burgers were bad for the arteries? Were they seriously unaware eating donuts can make you fat? What really pisses me off is the suggestion that restaurants are deliberately causing obesity and heart disease. Oh, I'm sure they'd rather you didn't know precisely how fattening their foods are, but they aren't exactly cramming it down anyone's throats. Restaurant executives aren't sitting around trying to think of ways to add more calories and fat in an attempt to slowly kill their customers. Whether or not they disclose caloric content, they're not making a secret of the fact that their foods are deep-fried in grease and covered in butter and cheese.

It's the attitude in articles like this, apparently shared by the majority of Americans, that's aggravating. How dare you clog my arteries with your french fries?!? I can't believe you'd put a bunch of sugar in your smoothies!! High fructose corn syrup?? You bastards!!

Time-Life had a book series in the 80's called Healthy Home Cooking. We've known home-cooked meals were cheaper and healthier than any restaurant could offer for at least 20 years. Yet in 1998, almost half the money spent on food in America was spent in restaurants (would have liked to find something more current, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't changed much). Thank goodness lawmakers decided to step in and save us from unhealthy food. It's obvious we can't be trusted to do avoid it ourselves.

A good reason to beat up a kid...

2008-07-18T06:56:00.004-06:00

Via Daryl: We have to protect our school children from The Gays, so we refuse to protect Those Gay Kids from being bullied. You know, for the children.

This really doesn't make any sense to me. I think they're going at this backwards. Instead of adding more details to the bullying and harassment laws, why don't they remove them all? Is bullying and harassment ever okay? For any reason? Listing specific reasons someone may not be harassed or physically abused only suggests that there are reasons not specified where bullying is acceptable. I see this being a perpetual problem in the future. Will the inclusion of tattoos and piercings be proposed next? How about "unnatural hair colors"? Will we someday have to include "artificial body parts" to the harassment laws? And what about the details of the harassment itself? Right now, it probably says something like "physical or verbal assault or threats, in person or through mail, email, phone, text, or website forum." Must we change the laws every time a new form of communication is invented?

We cannot possibly stay on top at the legal level of all the reasons a person can be harassed or bullied, nor can we keep up with the ways in which they're harassed and bullied. Wouldn't it be easier just to say "ANY form of harassment or bullying in ANY way for ANY reason is illegal"?? The ~~bigots~~ conservatives insist that they don't advocate hurting a child, but that the inclusion of such terms as "sexual orientation" will open the door for ~~gays to have equal rights~~ more gay propaganda. Eliminating all specifics in the law seems to me to serve both the ~~fears of the paranoid bigots~~ concerns of the conservatives, and kids who are subjected to bullying.

Sometimes, simpler is better.

Love and Hate...

2008-06-06T01:28:00.002-06:00

You know how when you have a ferret (a beautiful ferret named Daisy, because we didn't like Sally), and you let her out to explore in the morning, and she climbs the couch and over the bookshelves and across the table to the plants to dig and throw dirt all over the place, and then you have to give her a bath where she completely freaks out, and then after you've fought the terrified creature through towel-drying, while you're draining and washing the fur out of the tub, she's back in the livingroom in the plant again? I hate that.

But that part where you're frustrated because you've bathed the ferret (Daisy, not Sally) twice, and found out that she can climb the gate you put up in the kitchen doorway and get into the dreaded under-the-sink, and she's spilled the bathroom garbage can, and you found a stash of sticky twizzlers that she's stolen and piled up in your bedroom doorway for your bare feet to step on, and you say to the ferret, "You are so naughty!".. and then your five year old says, "Mama, she's not naughty. She's a ferret. It's her nature. That's what makes her special." Well that part, I really love.

And you know how you finally get a day at the salon, when you haven't had your hair done in an honest-to-goodness salon in forever -like, years- and you find this trendy awesome place, and the hairdresser is super nice and instinctively knows exactly what will look good on you and fit your personality, and you leave looking like a supermodel? I SO love that.

Then, after spending money on expensive shampoo and something called "hair wax" at the salon and buying some more hair stuff here and there until you're afraid if you confess how much money went into your hair your husband may divorce you, you find out you can't recreate that supermodel look at home. And that blows.

And you know how Mother Nature seems to be holding a serious grudge and dumps rain on you for weeks and weeks, with a few sunny days scattered in between just long enough to clean up the yard from the last destructive storm, and you can't even burn the ever-growing brush pile because it Won't Stop Fucking Raining?? And how you're up half the night because the tornado sirens in every nearby town are roaring away, and you sit listening to the boring news guy for hours in case you need to wake everyone and hide in an "interior room without windows".. for like three nights in a row? I really, really hate that.

But then the storms stop - or actually just fade and fade until they're gone - and everything is completely still, and the flowers in the yard hang their heads with the weight of the water, and lights from the city look pink and gray in the sky, and the only sound you hear is the drip drip dripping of water from some nearby tree, and the smell of the rainwater on the thick green trees and summer flowers is just intoxicating. And then you start thinking the Deep Thoughts about rebirth and cycles of nature and human potential and the wonders of the universe and just how utterly beautiful the whole world is. I think that's about one of the best things ever.

In case you were wondering...

2008-03-26T17:01:00.005-06:00

Some of you may have noticed a lack of homeschooling posts in the last few months. Springtime is my normal time of reflecting over our school year, reviewing what we've accomplished, and subsequently freaking out over what we haven't gotten done. But this time, I'm remarkably calm about the whole situation. We're only on chapter 36 when we should be on chapter 47, and I'm okay with that. We have this summer, right? And the kids are learning tons of stuff they wouldn't be learning otherwise if we were focusing solely on our textbooks. See? It's all good.

Right after Christmas, I started my regular freakout sessions, "We haven't done spelling since November!! AAACK!!!" With an upcoming tax refund (whenever they worked out what I owed and all that), I was planning on buying new books for next year and stuff too. So one day I'm telling the kids we're gonna skip science today (because I'm going to buy from a different company next year), and telling them watching Animal Planet or The Weather Channel, or playing with kitchen ingredients will be sufficient. And the next day I'm yelling at them, doubling up on assignments in subjects we're behind in. And threatening them! Because if they don't be quiet and do their damn Language work Right This Second, the lady that reviews our portfolio will think they're not learning, and they'll have to go to public school, and I'll probably go to jail or something.

Can you feel the crazy, people? It radiates from my body.

Then one night while I sat drinking my tea and reading some math geek book, I remembered a funny family story. See, my great aunt had a cat that was not allowed on the furniture. The story goes that the cat had a litter of kittens, and when they were big enough to get around, she got on the couch for the one and only time of her life and taught her kittens not to go on the furniture as well. She meowed and called them, and every time they jumped up, she would hiss and bat at them until they went sprawling back on the floor. After several minutes, none of the kittens were willing to jump from the floor. Lesson learned.

Then I saw that this is what I've been doing to my kids. I suddenly realized that as much as I talk about being a relaxed homeschooler, I haven't actually been one. I've baited them with the wonderful ideals found in all those books: learning should be fun, learning is a natural process, learn at your own pace, c'mon you'll love it... and then switched on them, lecturing about the importance of education and staying at "grade level", punishing them with extra work and guilt trips about laziness. (Hello? Hypocrite??) My great aunt's cat was pretty darned smart. But me? Not so much. Why this story popped into my head that night I'll never know. But my next big thought was, "Pretty soon, they'll stop trying to jump." What happens when they stop believing that learning can be fun? What happens when "school" becomes a code word for boring drudgery, or worse, forced work on the whims of a crazy lady? And *choke* how do I look to them, with this homeschool teacher schizophrenia?? How will they look back on our homeschooling experience? Holy hell.

So I've made a deliberate and pointed attempt to let go. They are learning, without my pressure. They can learn those few things I feel they need to have, but they can do it on their terms. I will no longer look at lesson numbers, or count days until the end of the year. Despite all the former attempts at this kind of calm, I don't think I ever achieved it before now. Don't get me wrong, I don't think for a second that I will feel this way every day (and I don't). But it's March, and I haven't forced double lessons or yelled about schoolwork since January. It's a step down a long, long path and I realize that. But I feel so much better about homeschooling than I ever have before. And it's all good.

Dye-no-mite...

2008-03-22T00:42:00.004-06:00

Monday afternoon, as I sat with the kids in the lobby of the oral surgeon's office waiting to take my bleeding husband home with one less tooth than he came in with, I perused the Family Fun magazine and found this awesome idea for leaf-printing eggs. I was planning on trying egg-dying with the kids this year anyway, but this was the most fabulous thing ever and I was anxious to try it. I imagined doing them, and taking pictures, and posting them here so people could ooh and ahh and then go try it themselves. I was really excited.

After buying all the dye and eggs and stuff and promising to dye eggs this week, imagine my surprise to see that Poppins had seen the same article, and tried it with great results. Ah, well. She is the queen of fab, and one can't be first all the time.

We still did leaf print eggs, and we still had a really fun time doing them, and you can still ooh and ahh over them if you like:

This is the first time I've ever dyed eggs, and Vic had never done it either, so it was a first for everyone in my house. My leaf print was the green one in the middle, which turned out pretty cool, and Cadence's blue leaf egg and Riley's orange (top right) were neat too. But I was especially impressed with Chad's (top left) where he dipped and soaked a million times in red, green, and blue, until the contrast of the leaf print was the most dramatic. I'm so glad we tried this. It was so much fun!

Rednecks in the Snow...

2008-02-07T10:11:00.000-06:00

Our most recent snowstorm dumped ten inches of perfectly sticky "packing snow" all over the neighborhood. A snowman builder's dream. I sent the kids out yesterday to shovel the driveway, and when they were finished, they played for at least another hour out there. When Vic got home, it was dark, and he was kind of bummed to miss out on all the snow fun. So after the kids were in bed, my husband went outside to build.

What glorious snow structures can a kid-at-heart, creative-minded redneck build? The Parthenon? The Statue of Liberty? The Great Pyramid? Nope. He built this:
A life-sized lawn tractor. Complete with wheels, blade cover, seat and steering wheel. I'm so proud.

This morning, the guy from the gas company wandered through the yard on his way to the meter. Cadence watched him from the back door and said, "Mama, he's taking a picture!" I opened the door and chatted with him a few minutes. He said he couldn't resist taking a picture. Not something you see every day I guess.

I expect it to be completely wrecked by this afternoon, but I did get lots of pictures, so it was fun while it lasted eh?

Murphy's Law...

2008-02-02T07:51:00.000-06:00

Tuesday, my computer monitor was flashing and blinking on and off. It only happened a couple of times, and I figured the power cord must have been loose or something. I straightened all the cords and plugs, and called it good. Wednesday when I sat down for my daily dose of blogging and reading, posting and otherwise wasting hours of time on the internet, the monitor was black. Turning the monitor off and on again gave me a picture of my desktop for a few seconds before going black again, so it was clear the issue wasn't the computer itself, thankfully. So I called tech support.

The automated voice on the phone demanded I speak to it. I know I'm old and out of the technological loop at this point, but I feel like a complete jackass talking to a computer. Can I just push a button? Please? Pleasant Automated Voice asked me to speak the name of the afflicted hardware. "If you're having a software issue, say, 'software'..." Unwilling to wait any further, I said "Monitor." Automated Voice asked me to wait a moment, then said, "Please say the serial number of your... plotter... " I don't even know what a plotter is or whether I even have one, but that's not what I said. Hoping the word, "NO!" would send me back to the previous menu, I said it a few times. Automated Voice kept asking for my plotter's serial number. By now I'm pissed off and push the #0 on the phone keypad. Automated Voice now became Condescending Automated Voice and actually said, "I can understand you when you speak to me. Please say the serial number of your... plotter..." Ack. "No, bitch, you can't understand me when I speak to you, because I didn't say 'plotter'!!"

I pushed #0 about five million times and was finally transferred to India. I then spent 45 minutes talking to three different men, first doing all their suggested "fixes" like replugging and restarting, and eventually just saying I was doing them when I wasn't. My monitor is broken. I can't go into BIOS because I can't see the fucking screen. They finally agreed and said they would send me a new one, to arrive in 3-5 business days.

On Wednesday, I called around asking if anyone had a spare monitor laying around. "My kids can't do their typing," I said. "They can't do internet research." Uh.. yeah. The kids need it. My cousin offered to bring over a spare from her parent's house, but couldn't get it for me until Thursday. Ugh.

Thursday, my cousin drove out to her parent's place to pick it up for me, then clear out to my place to drop it off. I spent a good half hour looking for cords and fighting with connectors while cramped under the desk with a flashlight. Woohoo, it worked! I sat back and viewed my desktop in all its glory. Then FedEx pulled up out front with my new monitor. Figures. Laughing, I thanked my cousin for going out of her way to bring me that spare. "You know how it goes," she told me, "If I didn't have a spare for you, they wouldn't have delivered it until next week."

So ~~I can get my internet fix~~ the kids can do their internet research now. ~~Blogs can be read and posted~~ The kids can type papers. And we can return to our regularly scheduled ~~surfing~~ educational activities.

I'm learnin' 'em real good...

2008-01-23T23:57:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was the homeschool day from hell.

Cadence apparently forgot how to add. She didn't "get it," I guess. This was worth about an hour of very frustrated conversations. When that was finally done, I gave her some writing to do, sent her on her way, and moved on to Chad.

I gave Chad a map, and told him to label all the Scandinavian countries. (I should mention that he has done this sort of map project at least 10 times. I might also mention that a full half of my lineage is Swedish. That's half my family. That's a grandpa and a full set of great-grandparents to my kids. It's aunts and uncles. It's great aunts and uncles still living in Sweden.) "How am I supposed to know where the countries are?" he asked me. "There are no words on this map." Ahem. "Of course not," I told him, "You're supposed to put the words there." "How am I supposed to know where they are?" "Umm.. maybe try the atlas?"

He couldn't find the atlas. He said he didn't know what an atlas was, even though he's used it every few days since the beginning of the year.
He didn't know how to figure out what part of the world to look up in the atlas.
He couldn't find Greenland.
During writing, he asked what a paragraph was. "Is that the same thing as a sentence?"
I reminded him to indent, and he indented every line except the first one.

And I corrected his spelling of the word "they", like I've been doing for four years, bringing the total to about 5,473,000,058. Right about that time, Riley broke up the party by saying, "Mama come and see this. It was an accident." While trying to dislodge the toothpicks from the Cook button on the microwave, I announced school was over for the day.

Thankfully, today went much better.

Keeping busy in the winter...

2008-01-17T16:26:00.000-06:00

The winter months are perfect for projects. Sure, you can go outside, but the time spent out there is significantly less, and the stuff you can do out there is pretty limited. Walks, building snow structures and sledding. And all of them are cold. I've been busily organizing things. The dreaded pan cupboard. The bookshelves. Tax records (ha!). Dresser drawers. When I'm not organizing like a crank addict with OCD, I knit and sew, read and cook. I'm busy.

The kids, however, are going insane. Up until last week or so, they were filling their days with arguments, inappropriate indoor behavior (water balloons, slingshots and roller-skating, to name a few), and slowly driving me insane with tattling. But something happened last week, when they suddenly realized they could be doing projects. Useful projects, like knitted potholders and decorated candles. Decorative projects like wall hangings and cross-stitch. A literally endless supply of projects to keep a person busy for an endless number of winters.

First, Cadence decided she'd draw pictures of all the planets to put up on her bedroom walls. She started with Saturn because, "It's the coolest planet. Besides Earth I mean." She asked how many moons Saturn has, and Vic told her Saturn has more than sixty. Here's how it turned out:

By my count, there's only 59 in this picture, but close enough I think.

Next, I showed them how to make what my Girl Scout leader called a God's Eye. Riley surprised me by catching on to the technique very quickly:Chad is experimenting with different wrapping arrangements, but hasn't been satisfied enough with anything to allow me to photograph it.

Then, they all made Dream Catchers. After a few failed attempts using regular sticks from the yard, Chad thought of using grape vine, which we happen to have an abundance of, since after the vine has been cut, torn up by the roots and even burnt repeatedly, just Will Not Die. Throw in some beads and chicken feathers, and you've got yourself a pretty awesome dream catcher to hang over the bed:Riley's (She's four, you know).

Cadence's.

And Chad's. He helped the girls with theirs, but was sure that his was the most elaborate. He later complained that the star was not geometrically perfect, but it must have been good enough to hang over his bed.

As I type, they are all three in Chad's room cutting apart a dowel and making an exercise area in the rat cage. They're happily working together, and I've had an entire afternoon for my own projects and time-wasters. I'm starting to like winter.

Candle Envy...

2008-01-14T09:08:00.000-06:00

Unintended pregnancies...

2008-01-11T08:03:00.001-06:00

In local news:

Former first lady Christie Vilsack has launched a new statewide program aimed at
reducing unintended pregnancies in Iowa. The goal is to educate Iowans
about contraception and make it easier to get family planning services.
Vilsack is the new executive director of the Iowa Initiative to Reduce
Unintended Pregnancies. According to the organization, the level of
unintended pregnancy by age is 72 percent for 18-19 year olds, 48 percent for
20-25 year olds, 25 percent for 26-30 year olds, and 20 percent for 30-35 year
olds. Vilsack says when half of all pregnancies in Iowa are unintended,
then "we are not doing enough for women."

This from the wife of a governor that believed unless we allowed Child and Family Services to forcibly remove children from the home without proof abuse, we weren't doing enough for the children. But hat's a rant for another day.

Those numbers look shocking, unless you consider that "unintended" is not the same thing as "unwanted." I have given birth to four children. Two of them were unintended pregnancies. While the first of these unintended children was conceived when I was 18 and stupid (but thank goodness, right?), the second was after I was married with two kids running around, and well aware of all my contraceptive options. Heck, I was well aware of my contraceptive options at 18 too, I just didn't care. How many married couples had that "Surprise!" baby?? How many couples are using alternative methods and having numerous "unintended" pregnancies? How much do you suppose that percentage goes up in the 40-45 group? Holy cow. Unintended. That's not even the same as "unexpected." I mean, I didn't intend to get pregnant with Riley, but when there's sex and no contraception, I'd have to be an idiot not to expect that.

Babies don't have to be planned to be a valid, wanted blessing to their families. I don't care about women between the ages of 18 and 35 having an unintended pregnancy. Those women are adults with a firm grasp of where babies come from; most of whom have jobs and the means and maturity to care for a child. They don't need to be educated about contraception. They know where to buy condoms and how to get birth control pills, and they no longer have to worry about Mom and Dad finding out about it. They've got it covered, I think. I care about 12 year old girls with unintended pregnancies. Educate them, Christie Vilsack, you incompetent twit!

I'd like to know how much money it's going to take to educate adults in a subject they are already pretty clear on, and just where that money is coming from. I'm betting it could be better spent in about 57,396,478 different ways.

Soup freaks...

2008-01-08T22:24:00.000-06:00

Who doesn't love settling into a warm bowl of soup in the winter? Here's what we had tonight:

Butternut Squash Soup

Shamefully snagged from AllRecipes (but then tweaked so much it's almost my own). This is the recipe:

1/4 cup chopped onion

1 clove chopped garlic

1/4 cup margarine or butter, melted (butter is better, of course)

2 medium sized butternut squash (about 6 cups after cooking and peeling)

3 cups chicken broth

1/2 tsp dried marjoram

1/8 tsp ground cumin

1/8 - 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (depending on your taste for spice)

1 package cream cheese or Neufchtel (8 oz)

Slice and core squash. Brush lightly with butter, setting remaining butter aside. Roast squash in a 425 degree oven 25 minutes or until tender. While squash cools, in a large soup pot, saute onions and garlic in remaining butter until clear and tender. Scoop squash from the skins, discard skins (duh). Add chicken broth and spices to the soup pot, bring to a boil. Add squash and remove from heat. Process soup with cream cheese in batches in the food processor until smooth. Return to soup pot and heat through (do not boil). 6 servings.

I double this recipe, but I like to have lots of leftovers. As with just about any squash recipe, any old squash or pumpkin will do. This time I used acorn squash, but butternut gives it a slightly nutty undertone that I love. A fantastic change from the usual sweet squash soups, this soup is creamy, spicy and wonderful, and completely tweakable. Imagine it with roasted red peppers. Diced asparagus. ..bacon... mmmmm...

Thoughts...

2008-01-08T00:17:00.001-06:00

"School" was perfect today. Calm. No conflicts with time. No arguments about content. Cadence only said, "I don't get it," six times instead of sixty. I didn't lose my patience one time. Rare, but I can still appreciate how wonderful it could be, if every day were like this.

I struggle with Riley's schoolwork. Through the normal parenting stuff (singing songs, nursery rhymes, fairy tales, "look, radishes! See the sign says 'radishes'." etc.), my youngest child has learned all her letters, numbers, shapes and colors. Essentially, she's mastered preschool content without ever attending preschool. She knows several letter sounds and can sound out a lot of small words. She writes letters to people, asking the spelling of Every. Single. Word. BUT, she is not ready for Kindergarten work. Adding she can do, but put the numbers on paper and she's lost. She lacks the motor skills needed to write "right", and knows it (and it seems she's another perfectionist - great!), so she often refuses to practice writing letters and numbers. Sequencing is easy for her as long as it's a pictorial 3-step easy thing, like a whole apple, an apple with a bite out of it, and a well-eaten core. Anything beyond that and she's frustrated and refuses to do it.

Now before you get the wrong idea, I want it to be clear that I have never, EVER asked her to do any of this directly. She's four. There's no way I'm pushing her at all. Chad and Cadence start their schoolwork and Riley starts begging. "I want schoolwork too!" She loves workbooks, but has declared the preschool workbooks "baby books". When I give her the harder stuff, she refuses to do it, and of course I say, "You don't have to if you don't want to." But she DOES want to do SOMETHING, just not that. There have been a few workbooks she really likes, but I actually take those away from her after a few pages, afraid she'll finish the book and have nothing to do tomorrow.. and then have a huge fit because I don't have anything for her to do. *Sigh*

Real Christmas Trees...

2007-12-29T01:44:00.000-06:00

Chad: Why don't we get a real Christmas tree?
Me: Because I can't justify cutting down a perfectly good tree just to decorate our house for a few weeks.
Chad: Do they just go out and cut them down from everywhere?
Me: No. They grow them in something called a tree farm.
Chad: So, they buy some land with trees, and cut them down?
Me: No. I'm pretty sure they plant the trees there.
Chad: That's good, right? Planting trees?
Me: Not if they're just going to cut them down in a couple of years. What's the point?
Chad: Oh.
(long, thoughtful pause)

Chad: If they didn't have tree farms, the trees could just grow wild there?
Me: Well.. no probably not. It would probably be turned into farmland.
Chad: With no trees at all.
Me: Right.
Chad: So.. the tree farmers are still kind of helping. They keep planting trees there, and if they didn't, there would be no trees.
Me: I... I guess so.
Chad: So maybe we should get a real tree. You know, so the tree farmers will keep planting them.

Sometimes that kid is so much smarter than I am.

Politics...

2007-12-20T01:03:00.000-06:00

Help me, smarty-pants political people!

I think every eligible voter in America should vote. I think people should know who they're voting for and why. I also think people need to take candidate's claims with a HUGE grain of salt, considering the lack of actual power the president is allowed. Blaming the president for the faults of the entire government, while placing little importance on the congress is just nutty. Voting for a party instead of a person is nutty. I also think voters should be fully informed on the issues that concern them, and where the candidates (presidential AND congressional) stand on those issues.

That being said, I'm a complete political idiot. Don't get me wrong, I'm not stupid. But until a few years ago I told people, "I don't like politics," just because the subject seemed so overwhelming and confusing I felt it was impossible to understand - so I didn't even try. I don't know the difference between partisan and non-partisan and bi-partisan.. what the hell is "partisan"? What does it mean to be "Independent"? How on earth do we have all these parties, and laws regulating equal coverage and an unbiased media, yet only hear about two parties? Why is the Des Moines newspaper endorsing Hillary? Are they allowed to endorse anyone?

I really want to know more about politics. I want to understand it, so I can be a better informed voter. I feel it's my duty to do so. But should it be so complicated? I'm convinced all these big words and fancy terms and complicated rules put in place to intimidate the uneducated (like myself, unfortunately) and discourage them from voting. I try to watch the political shows, but my head starts hurting, and I start fidgeting, and my mind starts wandering because NONE of it makes any sense to me. Am I paranoid in thinking this is deliberate? I'd like to be involved in political support, working for a campaign office or volunteering with a party office, but a visit to a few party websites only leaves my head swimming with all those weird big words again.

Ballot initiative - In political science, the initiative (also known as popular
or citizen's initiative) provides a means by which a petition signed by a
certain minimum number of registered voters can force a public vote on a
proposed statute, constitutional amendment, charter amendment or ordinance, or,
in its minimal form, to simply oblige the executive or legislative bodies to
consider the subject by submitting it to the order of the day.

Umm.. what?? I read things like this by substituting, omitting and rearranging in my mind as I go. The same way I read Shakespeare, actually. I can figure it out, but it takes forever and feels like translating ancient Hebrew.

Are there books available to normal people like myself to read and learn more about this kind of stuff? Something written for the average person now, not the average person with a bachelor's degree. I've tried just reading the newspaper and websites and such, but it seems the harder I try to understand it, the harder it is to understand. Politics for Dummies? I hate admitting to my political ignorance, but somehow I feel I'm about 10 years late in learning about it.

The Hillbilly Animal Shelter...

2007-11-17T10:52:00.000-06:00

I have a weakness for animals. Several years ago, some acquaintance-of-a-friend-of-a-friend had a cat they no longer wanted. Vic had seen the cat, and over the course of a couple of days must have asked me 200 times to bring it home. We already had two cats in our little house and I was in no hurry to increase the number of animals we were responsible for. But then the report came, through the chain of people who knew people, that the owners of the cat had stopped feeding her. "We're getting rid of her anyway," they said, "So why buy any more food for her if we're just going to give her away." This is how we got Foxy. Despite her bipolar disorder and overall weirdness, we made a home for her. I just couldn't stand the idea of some poor animal starving.

Then there was the time we found an injured turtle on the road and brought it home to recover before releasing it again. And the time we bought a ferret at a garage sale because the owners said they didn't take him out of the cage, and confessed they'd never taken him to the vet. And the time we hand-fed baby birds that fell from a nest outside our house. Rescued and relocated baby rabbits. Fed the wild opossums and raccoons outside our back door in the winter. I probably can't even remember everything we've done, often by my ~~begging and whining~~ request, to help an animal.

Then my country friend J called about one of his "juvenile delinquent" chickens. The last hatch this year, there was one light colored chicken in the batch of black bantams. A little hen that was smaller than the rest. J said when he went to close up the chickenhouse for the night, all the other chickens, including the mother hen, were crowded together on the perch, while this little hen was huddled by herself, cold and shivering on the floor. She'd been pecked by the others and was holding one of her eyes closed. If you want to know the truth of it, I think my friend knows my weakness and was using it against me. I think he also knows Cadence shares my love of animals and would be delighted to be the stand-in chicken mama.

So we have a new "pet" chicken. We've yet to name her, but this website says chickens can learn their names and actually be very affectionate. I've yet to see affection from the little hen, but she is getting more comfortable with being held and carried around. She makes peeping noises constantly, sometimes long after we've covered up her cage for the night. The GBH would love to eat her. The kids barely let her little chicken feet touch the ground. Because of the cold, the lack of a suitable outdoor home, and her small size, we'll be letting her stay in the house through the winter. My plan is to return her to her chicken family at my friend's place as soon as she's big enough to defend herself, probably in the spring. I was thinking of something like this for her to stay in when she outgrows the aquarium:The bottom lined with newspapers, something like this would be perfect for a little chicken.

*Sigh*

Now that we have a pet chicken, I think we've gone past the point of denying we're rednecks.

Middle Schooler Gets Detention For Hugging...

2007-11-06T19:21:00.000-06:00

An 8th grade girl in Illinois is punished for hugging her friends, because it violates the school's policy on public displays of affection.

District Superintendent Sam McGowen said that he thinks the penalty is fair and
that administrators in the school east of St. Louis were following policy in the
student handbook.
It states: "Displays of affection should not occur on the
school campus at any time. It is in poor taste, reflects poor judgment, and
brings discredit to the school and to the persons involved."

I'd like to think when this policy was created, they were looking to eliminate hallway makeout sessions and had no idea the span of behaviors they would cover by being so vague; and that whoever called this girl on her breech of policy was just being a rule-driven, tyrannical asshole. The alternative is pretty scary, because that would suggest an institution where students -children - are forced to refrain from any human contact that suggests affection.

Punishing this girl is in poor taste. Making this policy so vague reflects poor judgment. Insisting that the penalty is fair brings discredit to the school and the persons involved. Thankfully, we have no such policy. Hugs and kisses are encouraged around here.

Wonder Woman...

2007-10-30T00:22:00.000-06:00

Fourmother at Land of Our Fourmother has passed some lovely Wonder Woman roses on to me. How sweet!

I think all of us has our Wonder Woman moments. Walking into a room full of screaming, fighting, crying children and with your great and mysterious superpowers, magically turning it into a room full of snuggling, happy people. Cooking a 5 course meal for the inlaws and managing to get everything done at precisely the right moment - nothing burned or overspiced or anything. Tackling the huge evil stack of bills and plugging away until everything is paid or filed in the appropriate place.

I'd like to think, at least once in a while, Wonder Woman arrived home after dropping the bad guys off to the authorities in her invisible jet, poured herself a drink, plopped down on her pet-hair coated couch and thought to herself, "Holy crap! I can't believe I pulled that off."

So, in the tradition of blog awards, I give credit where it's due and pass this on to five wonderful women bloggers:
Ami, who shares the glory and misery of her life with grace, intelligence, and humor. Ami, you rock!
Leola at Living on the Edge... She's a great woman with a lot of guts.
Heather at Mini Memoirs of Mine. She's a neighbor, with a much more interesting life than she gives herself credit for.
Gail at Life a la Carte. The more I learn about Gail, the more I find we have in common.
Nina at Painted Rainbows and Chamomile Tea. She says she's learning about homeschooling, but she shares such great resources, I'm actually learning a lot from her.

I'm hoping this little gift of a silly blog graphic will help these women see how wonderful we all are, every single day.

Redneck Euphemism #135...

2007-10-25T17:56:00.000-06:00

"You can't polish a turd."

This means no matter how much you try, it's not getting any better. Most of the time, this refers to someone else's crap (no pun intended), or them personally, and is derogatory in nature. However, I use this phrase often when cleaning my house. That carpet might be vacuumed and free of clutter, but it's still stained and looks like hell. No matter how clean the windows, they still look out onto our yard, yet to recover completely from years of garbage storage with the previous tenants. No matter how much mowing and weed-whacking and flowers planted, the house in the center is missing siding and falling apart. No matter what I fill it with, or how clean it is, this place is still kind of a dump.

Sounds sort of cynical and pessimistic, but it's not. For me, this is a humorous way to appreciate what I have. Nope, it's not perfect. But I can't expect it to be. After all, you can't polish a turd. And that's ok. This turd is my home :)

The snag in structured schooling...

2007-08-30T11:00:00.000-06:00

We're not unschoolers, but I cling very tightly to our unschooling tendencies. For example, Chad finished his structured work yesterday in just over an hour and said, "YAY!" when he was finished. Then he went off to read a book about edible plants (and take notes), for fun. Just because he wanted to. We have a set of encyclopedias, a couple sets of children's reference books about everything you could think of, gobs of picture books and games, all of which the kids have access to whenever they like. Just about every day, at least one of them is parked on the couch looking through a book and announcing their discoveries. "Hey Mama! These people make boats out of reeds!" So yeah, we're pretty unschooly. Even our structured lessons aren't that structured. But it's not really unschooling either.

The problem with any kind of structured schooling is time. The kids have chores they do every morning and I ~~freak out if we don't finish~~ expect breakfast and chores to be done somewhere around 10. The idea is that lessons will be finished by lunchtime, and sometimes this works. If we have to spend an hour in the afternoon finishing, that's fine too. See? Not too structured. Except Every Little Fucking Thing disrupts this relaxed-but-structured schedule. Riley decides to play the harmonica right in the middle of math. My mother calls to ask a question and thinks of about 5 million other things to ask about while she's at it. They're working on the road outside and I decide - like a good unschooling parent, you understand - to call lessons off and go watch, then I get all upset later about what wasn't done and what needs to be "caught up" on.

Today we were going to go to the library. I want to make Thursday our library day this year (last year it was Tuesdays. I'm telling you, I'm a complete freak sometimes!). Everything was going along fine, lessons were getting done quickly and by 11:00 I knew we'd be finished before lunch and off to the library after. Then my aunt called. My uncle is having some tests done at the hospital, and due to some trauma patients coming in to the E.R., they're backed up. My aunt was supposed to be babysitting her granddaughter this afternoon, and would I mind taking her just for a few hours so they could wait at the hospital. "Not at all!" I say, "Bring her on over." Now my kids are off playing and schoolwork will never get done. We won't be able to go to the library until someone comes to pick up my little cousin, and by then it will be time to start dinner. Holy crap, this is SOOOO not a big deal. And I am so freaking out about what isn't getting done today.

A nice light week...

2007-08-23T16:05:00.000-06:00

I need a vacation from life right now. I can't even keep up with all the things I'm supposed to be remembering. I have little lists of things around the house. Lists of stuff I need to buy at the store. Lists of books I'll get from amazon if the much-needed help that has so generously been offered and is so greatly appreciated, ever actually comes. Phone numbers. Lists of books to get on our next library trip and books that need to be returned. Circled calendar dates. Little half-sentences like, "bday fri/colored pencils" written on napkins and the backs of envelopes. Disorganized stress-bomb anyone? Wow.

I decided to postpone the imminent breakdown due to lack of necessary materials for our History Odyssey program by a week. We are having a light week. Next week I'll have my breakdown. We didn't do anything at all until Wednesday, which just happened to be the first day of school for our district. I didn't do that on purpose, I was just busy babysitting Monday and running errands Tuesday, so it worked out that way. Wednesday there was much fighting and yelling and, "You stop talking." "No YOU stop talking, I'm not talking." "You're talking NOW. I didn't say anything." "Yes you DID!"

Yesterday, after finishing the second day of only handwriting and math, I'm ready to pull my hair out. Chad has this habit of asking to do something, then bitching that he "has to" do it. Like handwriting. I could personally care less how neat his writing is, as long as others can read it. He writes on his own, making little books or taking notes on books he's reading (this too is his own idea). Cadence loves handwriting practice. Anything in a workbook. So yesterday, when Cadence was doing handwriting, Chad asked if he could re-learn cursive (claims he forgot how). No problem. I spent about an hour digging up some practice worksheets online and printing them. Then today I handed him the "A" sheet only to have him say, "Why do I have to do handwriting?" What the hell? Some kind of juvenile Alzheimer's? I just handed him the cursive sheets and told him to do them if he wanted, use them for reference when writing, or throw them away for all I cared. Sheesh.

We took a trip back to the doctor for Riley again. That swollen lymph node from several weeks ago? Yep, still there and not getting smaller. The doctor was very nice, telling me not to ever read about medical stuff on the internet. "You probably read all about Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma didn't you?" Um.. well, yeah. He was a lot more informative than the last doctor, and explained how sometimes it can be long after the original infection clears before they go back to normal. He said they see this kind of thing a lot, and its very VERY rare that anything comes of it. More antibiotics for now, and if that doesn't work in two weeks we'll do a steroid shot. I guess if that doesn't work, they'll move on to biopsy, but he sounded pretty confident that Riley would be fine well before we need to do that. "She looks really healthy otherwise, no other symptoms, I'm sure it's nothing." I feel a lot better than I did before.

My old and ailing cat is no longer ailing. He's still old. No more puking everywhere though, which is nice because I don't have to worry about him so much, and also because I don't have to clean it off the carpets and furniture (computer, washing machine, bathtub...). Now he's spending most of his time sleeping and doing cat things. Like sleeping. Oh, and eating. And sleeping of course. I think I need a couple of days to be a cat.

The Redneck Steam Cannon...

2007-08-17T08:18:00.000-06:00

*Updated to add photos*

Ah, the Redneck life! You just can't do any better than good old redneck fun. Like most rednecks, we frequently build a bonfire in our back yard - right in the middle of town. The place we live technically IS a town, I mean, we have a post office. But I don't know if 5 or 6 square blocks really counts. Still, we have bonfires. And nobody cares, so long as it's "yard waste". For the record, the local fire department doesn't consider old wood siding that's fallen off your house INTO your yard, as yard waste. Go figure. "Ma'am, we mean the stuff that grows in your yard, not just stuff that happens to be there." Picky, picky.

Anyway, it's common while having a bonfire for Dad and the kids to play in the burning flames and coals. This is fun, right? This is the part where Vic laughs a lot and I say, "Please step back a bit," and, "Please don't run," and, "Please don't wave the flaming stick near your sisters." Usually, I get so stressed out I have to go into the house and find something to do. I trust my husband to be a good father and not allow them to get hurt. He's an old fire pro and is the reason my kids know how to build and bank a fire, which wood burns best, etc. But sometimes maintaining that trust requires me to leave the premises.

During one such backyard bonfire, Chad suggested making a steam cannon. Vic assisted the kids in a makeshift prototype, and after some tweaking and experimenting, this is what they were successful with:

The Redneck Steam Cannon
Supplies- one 2-foot (or so) piece of copper water pipe (diameter under 1-1/2 inches), red-hot coals (from a good couple of hours of burn is best), one wire coat hanger, water, and mud.
Assembly- With a pair of metal crimpers, pliers, or even a vice, bend up about 1-2 inches at the bottom of the pipe. Then, bend it up again, essentially "rolling up" or folding the pipe twice.
Make sure the "folds" are tight and flat. Straighten the wire coat hanger into one long wire. About 4 inches down from the top of the pipe, twist the coat hanger tightly, like a twist tie. You want it tight to make a secure handle that's not likely to slip. (In this version, we used a piece of bent metal, tied on with the wire, but the concept is the same)
Firing the "cannon"- Pour a small amount (1/4 cup or less) of water into your cannon. (As you can see in the photo, we usually just dip it in the nearest rain-filled outdoor object.) Plug up the top with a sticky clod of mud. Mud with very few pebbles is recommended; it lessens the air pockets and your risk of breaking window glass in the event of a misfire. You want your mud to be about the consistency of playdoh. If you're lacking this kind of mud, I suppose you really could use playdoh, although in my opinion it wouldn't be as fun. With a shovel or spade, make a big hill of your hot coals, at least 6 inches tall for good stability. Nestle your loaded cannon right in the middle of the coals, deep enough to prevent it from falling over. Remember to aim it away from people, houses, and your neighbor's car. (Since the kids would be heading to bed soon and I wanted a decent photo, we just braced the cannon with ~~boards~~ strangely straight sticks that fell off the tree. Ahem.) That's it! Within a few seconds, your cannon should fire, blowing a big ole mud clod high in the air. If it doesn't fire, give it a couple of minutes to make sure you're not just being impatient before trying to remove it from the coals. Check for leaks in the bottom of the cannon, holes in the sides, or cracks where steam could escape around the mud. Maybe your mud ammo is too thick or thin? Too much or too little water could also be the culprit. Experiment with different amounts of mud and water. Have fun with it.

This is great fire entertainment, and has become a camping (and backyard) favorite for the kids. Simple and using the basics of supplies, it's guaranteed to leave you grinning like a shit-eating possum.

Solitary Confinement for Schoolchildren...

2007-08-06T16:32:00.000-06:00

A local school district just faced a lawsuit for keeping an autistic child in a "timeout room" for three hours. The timeout was videotaped.

"It was more than shock. It was pure mortification," her father later testified
during a legal proceeding. "We saw her hitting herself in the head. We saw her
just looking like a wild animal, essentially, for well over an hour, someone who
had just lost all control of herself and all hope."

I'd never even heard of timeout rooms before this story. Apparently, they're in use all over the state. They're just what you think they are - solitary confinement for children. The girl in this story asked to go to the bathroom and was denied. She tried at least 10 times to sit in the "body basics" position for the required 5 minutes, but every time she fidgeted, she was told she would have to start the count over. She wet her pants during her confinement, and still wasn't allowed to leave.

Kevin Took, a psychiatrist at Blank Children's Hospital in Des Moines, said he
deals with children who have been severely traumatized.Took testified that he
did not see anything traumatic about Isabel's videotaped timeout, even though
she wet her pants. Urination and defecation are fairly common issues with
children with autism spectrum disorders, he said.

While she is autistic, this is a child able to ask for a restroom break and function without accidents every day at school. This guy is supposed to be an expert in traumatic situations. Anyone who has ever been to school knows how traumatic wetting your pants can be. Her autism is no excuse for this abuse.

Records show Isabel was in timeout for 100 sessions between September and
December 2005, for as many as five sessions in a single school day, and
sometimes for an hour or more.

This whole article was maddening and horrifying. Especially this part:

As a result, Waukee is not bound to change the way it uses timeout rooms.Because
it was an administrative hearing, the Loefflers cannot seek damages, although
they could seek reimbursement for their $80,000 in legal fees. They also have
the right to sue for damages in civil court.There was no penalty for the school
district.

Jesus Christ. "I'm glad we homeschool" isn't good enough this time. What about all those kids continuing to spend time in isolation rooms? Did anyone else even know they used these? Are homeschoolers still making an unfair comparison when we say public schools are like prisons?

Flat Stanley...

2007-08-06T06:50:00.000-06:00

Since I've sent our Flat Stanley pictures off to Robinella, I thought I would share our Stanley adventures here.

I didn't get a picture of Cadence's Stanley pre-adventure, but she dressed him in a snappy black tshirt and some green waist-high waders. I think she was planning to take him to the river, before she realized water is a bad place for little paper boys. Since Riley's Stanley had upset Cadence so badly, Riley made another that we called Freckles because of his bright orange spots everywhere. Some kind of skin condition I guess. We took Stanley and Freckles to Ledges State Park, where there are enough hiking trails and lookout points to make you want to fall over and die.
The road is flooded out from the Des Moines River. It always is. This is actually part of the reason the kids like to go there. The kids wore their bathing suits most of the day.

The first stop was the picnic area for lunch. The kids found a tree frog right off the bat. No big surprise there. Stanley wanted to hold it too.

Next, we went for a hike.

The kids love the hiking part. You're hiking for hours on a trail that never seems to end. You keep thinking, "I'm sure we're almost there," but you're not. The kids always laugh and run ahead and say, "Come on!" about a million times. Stanley and Freckles had to stop to rest too.

Freckles is kind of a sickly kid, if you ask me. One of those scared-of-nature types. Allergies or something. We took a couple of breaks.See that green stuff in the foreground? That's poison ivy.

Then, to everyone's delight, we spotted this great little "cave."

You probably can't see it well in this picture, but there's a brown sign just to the left of the white fence in front of this "cave." It's teeny. Can't see it? Yeah, we didn't either.Up the side of the rocks! Cadence is obviously recovered from her broken collarbone, just in time to break something else. More green stuff. Yep, that's poison ivy too.Chad and Stanley, chillin' in the cliffs yo. After many shouts of, "Jesus, be careful!" and "Jesus, don't do that!" (should have named them all Jesus), we moved out. That's when we saw the sign.Oops. We moved on to the flooded road, aka the Swimming Area.Chad got busy damming up the road. Dams are his passion. They soon enlisted the help of about 6 other kids. Too bad my kids are lonely social outcasts and don't know how to interact with others.No matter how many other kids come around, my girls are still best pals.

Our next adventure with Stanley took place Down on the Farm. Well ok, it wasn't really a farm, but my friend's house is in a rural area, surrounded by crops. Does that count? We were happy to discover an old friend from Seattle was also visiting that day. Her daughter is just a few months older than Riley, and we hadn't seen them since last summer. Stanley donned his best farmer clothes (courtesy of Chad), and buddied up to the resident pet, a bantam rooster named Lone Ranger.

Notice the kids are holding Lone Ranger. He doesn't know he's a chicken and doesn't hang out with the other chickens. Hence his name. He spends his days guarding the garage so the other chickens don't get in, and hanging out around people.

Next was the corn field.

Children of the Corn. Remind me to make Cadence wear sandals the next time she wears those capris. Sheesh. Then they mowed the yard a bit. Stanley got to drive.This was taken before any mowing actually occurred. I think they mowed about 15 feet before running off to do something else. Kids are flighty like that.This green stuff is not poison ivy. It's actually soybean plants, although it does look a lot like poison ivy from a distance. Leaves of three and all that.

And speaking of poison ivy, Stanley suffered the effects of a whole day's worth of exposure:

Thankfully, my kids didn't get it. I mean worse than they already had it. Which was not too bad.

Now for the bad news.

This Stanley didn't make it. According to Riley, his extremities have turned black from frostbite. I don't know how many times I've said, "Wear your gloves. Frostbite will make your fingers turn black and fall off." (scare tactic parenting works like a charm) His lungs are intact, but the rest of his organs are "mixed up." His bladder, the dark swirly thing at the bottom, is full because the frostbite has rendered his ridiculously large penis functionally inactive. Poor Stanley. At first glance, you might think Stanley just got lost in the frozen mountains, but look closer. His brains have all come out of his head. We suspect foul play.

Update...

2007-08-02T06:53:00.000-06:00

Highlights of the last couple of days:

We took lots of pictures of Flat Stanley for Robinella. I've neglected her and her kiddos, and that makes me a very very bad friend. Public apology doesn't even make it right. I hope she can forgive me. We printed and colored our own Stanleys, I even made one. I asked the kids to think of somewhere they would like to take Stanley, and color him accordingly. Riley's Stanley has a very large penis, and several exposed organs. It's like Autopsy Stanley. Stanley Visits the Morgue?? Cadence was very upset about it, but so far, we have no pictures of that one. If we end up taking any of those, I'll post them here rather than email them. My kids are warped enough, we don't have to warp other people's kids. ;) Robinella, I'll get those organized and sent this weekend. I cross my heart and hope to die.

The poison ivy is looking better. Down to just a bunch of scabby spots. That's good right? I seriously don't know how this is supposed to work. I've been washing sheets and clothing every day in hot water. The kids have been showering with dish detergent and we have a nightly routine of baking soda paste. After much internet searching and a tip from Katherine, we discovered the weirdo bug we found was a soft tick, which I'd never even heard of, but apparently aren't known for carrying diseases. The swollen lymph node is "probably virus-related", and being treated by antibiotics (that I thought were for bacterial infections, not viruses). It's still swollen and painful, and we'll be heading to the doctor if it doesn't go away soon.

I am losing my voice. No throat pain or headache or anything, just scratchy and hoarse. It's weird. I'm starting to wonder if it's strep and related to Riley's lymph node thing. Hypochondria anyone?

Last night we went to a "steakhouse" which was really a more of a bar and grill with fancy prices. I had the first steak I've eaten in about a year. It was super good. I then spent the evening feeling lethargic and dumb, reminding me why I don't eat steak. But it was so worth it. Mmmm. I also had a Sam Adams, in an attempt to feel cultured, but quickly discovered culture isn't for everyone.

Hopefully later today I'll get around to actually posting something interesting. Right now I think I'll have some warm tea and a nap.

Measels make you bumpy, and mumps'll make you lumpy...

2007-07-30T23:49:00.000-06:00

That bitch. All this talk about immunity, and my kids are covered in poison ivy. Covered. Chad is completely red from his toes to just above the knees. Cadence has it from head to toe, on her forehead even. I still appear to be immune, since all the itchy insect bites I keep unconsciously scratching have remained only insect bites.. even after several half-hour sessions each day of applying a baking soda paste to miles and miles of the stuff.

We had a long talk about scratching. The kids are washing with dish detergent. I was thinking since it dries the skin so well, it would help. Just an idea, but it can't hurt them. I've considered a salt soak, but I'm afraid it will sting. Wait it out. Just don't scratch.

Riley doesn't have poison ivy, despite having the same contact with the plants as her siblings. She's suffering from some other weird and scary symptoms that will take us to the doctor tomorrow.

There's this gland in her neck that's swollen. I mean it pops right out, you can see it. It's only on one side, and she says it hurts to the touch. No fever, but on her way to bed tonight, she said her body hurt. I pulled off a tick that was embedded in the middle of her back tonight (weird, and just.. eww), and she has a strange sore on her scalp. The sore could easily be an insect bite she scratched open, but we also found some weirdo bug in the girls' room. Ever seen a grub? Its body was like that, all white and squashy and fat and gross-looking. Only round like a marble, not long like a worm. And it had little red legs and a little red head, which also reminded me of a tick. Only bigger, like a June bug in May. Chad killed the thing before I got a good look at it, so I have no idea what it is. She's also Completely Covered In Mosquito Bites.

So now I'm worrying that it's Lyme disease or some kind of lymphoma or an allergic reaction to all the bites or any number of horrible things that could be wrong with my kid. I'm worrying that I'll end up in the hospital with Chad and Cadence getting cortisone shots. I can't sleep from checking on them.

And my husband says my "job" is easy.

Everything Wants to Be Loved...

2007-07-27T14:08:00.000-06:00

"...Everything wanna be loved. Us sing and dance, and holla just wanting to be loved. Look at them trees. Notice how the trees do everything people do to get attention... except walk?" --The Color Purple

I was thinking today about other's opinions. We all pretend like they don't matter, but to almost everyone, to a varied extent, they do.

When I first discovered internet messageboards, it was like finding the Holy Grail or the Lost Temple of Hercules. It was better than websites, and better than email. You can interact with several others, to whatever degree of intimate details you're comfortable with, and come and go as you please. Unlike websites, you can always comment when you want to. Unlike email, you don't have to wait for days or weeks (or forever) for a response. Blogs followed, which were equally fantastic things. Read people's thoughts; leave comments readily. Awesome.

I felt a sense of friendship that I'd long forgotten. My old high school friends have taken their lives in drastically different directions than me, and we are no longer close. I hadn't made any new friends for a thousand reasons, mostly because I was too busy being a mom and going through the motions of my regular life. Suddenly I had an opportunity, through websites like MatchingMoms and homeschool groups, to actually meet and make friends with others based on common interests - How easy!

Except it wasn't easy. Every homeschool activity with a group I've been invited to, I've been somehow unable to get to. Our car was broken down. Or we had no gas. Or we had no money. Or something. People begin to get the idea I'm purposely avoiding them. I've started several potential friendships that just abruptly stopped. MatchingMoms brought me together with several moms who exchanged only a few emails before ending contact altogether. Messageboards have shown me several people with personalities (as far as one can tell, anyway) that I adored, and who were receptive to written and email exchanges at first. Then, again, abruptly ended. I don't even know why it happens. It just stops. I send another email or letter. Nothing.

I'm seriously wondering what the hell I'm doing to drive people off. What did I say? What did I talk about that may have turned them off? Am I not smart enough? Educated enough? Earthy enough? Am I too pushy or abrasive? Too young? Too old? Too .. what? I started trying to present myself in a more friend-friendly way. But through all my attempts I'm not even sure what that means. Maybe I'm just not outwardly friendly. Not that I'm aggressive or anything, I'm just not a smiling, bubbly, overflowing with friendliness kind of person. And I hate pretending to be. This is why I'm not a waitress.

It's a natural human reaction to get defensive when your feelings are hurt. This is because we care what people think. I'm likely to say, "To hell with them. If I'm somehow not good enough for them, good riddance. I didn't want to be in their pompous little Good Enough Club anyway." Except I do want to be in their club. I do want to be good enough. I get angry so I don't have to feel bad. I'd really like to be able to be completely apathetic about their lack of interest. I don't want to be jealous every time I read someone's posts about having coffee with the friend they made on the internet or about the latest playgroup they attended. I'd like to believe when I "meet" potential friends, we just "didn't click" and leave it at that. But I wonder. And worry. Because I care what people think.

Everyone just wants to be loved. We want to be seen as intelligent, wonderful people. We want to have friends who adore us as much as we adore them. We leave our childhood to go have children of our own, becoming the providers of love for our children. Sometimes leaving behind the reception of love from others. That's why internet messageboards and blogs are so popular. We sing and dance, and blog, just wanting to be loved.

Music and Life - Alan Watts

2007-07-27T14:02:00.001-06:00

From Katherine at Our Report Card today. Check it out!

Score One for Mom...

2007-07-25T16:43:00.001-06:00

I just picked up a whole set of Junior Edition encyclopedias, and an accompanying set of atlases from a freecycler in Des Moines. Yay! I can't say enough good things about freecycle. I've gotten rid of some books and random household stuff through freecycle, and have picked up some huge finds. Freecycle kicks butt.

And speaking of BUT, I had a hell of a time finding this place this afternoon. I was driving on fumes and hoping I had enough gas to get home again, becoming more and more worried about it the longer I spent driving around. Then, to top it all off, I got lost on the way home again.

There are not many places I can get truly lost in Des Moines. Usually I know that even though I'm not familiar with the road I'm driving on, if I keep going North (or West, or whatever) long enough, I'm bound to find a street that I do recognize. Not the case this time. This time, every street I took ended in a roadblock, an accident, a parking lot or a construction site. I was doing really good at not swearing at first, but the longer I drove around, and turned around, the more (and louder) cursing I did. I tried to get on the freeway going East, but because of an accident, all lines of traffic except one were blocked off - the one left open being the entrance to the freeway going West. At this point, I was so flustered I didn't even notice I was going the wrong way for several exits. Ugh. By the time I got home, I was a complete wreck.

It's kind of a dirty little secret of mine that I'm terrified of heavy traffic. I'm not frozen with fear or anything, but I'd rather drive 30 miles out of the way than drive down one street with heavy traffic. When Vic flew to Japan, he flew out of St. Louis and I saw him off alone. That meant I had to drive home again alone. Twelve lanes of heavy traffic, it was a nightmare. I cried until I got back on a good old two-lane highway. Today, the directions to this pickup were from the freeway. I sucked it up and took it, the same way I do when I go to the hospital, or anywhere else downtown. But I didn't like it. This getting lost thing just really frazzled me.

People Get Ready For School??...

2007-07-25T16:21:00.000-06:00

I'm seeing a lot of posts lately with statements of homeschooling readiness. "We're all set!" they say. They list their curriculum to prove it. I thought I would list mine...

Umm..

Well, we have that History Odyssey I bought, and I can't wait to use it! Except I still have some books that go with the program that I've yet to buy. I didn't realize I needed anything else when I bought the study guides, or I would have gotten it then - before that money was spent on other things. So, History! We're ready! Almost.

I bought Saxon math for Chad. It came with everything we need, except the notebook paper of course. Ooh, crap. Looks like we're out of notebook paper. He's ready to do some math! After I get the paper. Woohoo!

I haven't decided yet if I want to use the district math curriculum for Cadence or buy our own. I don't think Saxon will work well for her. Too much book work, not enough pictures. So, until I actually purchase something, I guess it's just the district's stuff. She's ready! I guess.

I've also been hunting desperately for a science curriculum, since we have to report science this year. The reviewer (no, I still haven't replaced her) said we could just keep notes of the science-related activities we do, which is nice. I dunno. Seems like a book and paper curriculum would be so much easier to document.

History Odyssey is supposed to incorporate reading and writing, but I plan to assign a book each week, just like I did last year. Does "I plan to" count as being ready? I'm also drooling over Sequential Spelling, but have yet to buy it. But I plan to.

One of the nice things about being a relaxed homeschooler is that I don't feel the need to micromanage our schooling. One of the bad things about it though, is that I'm not really "relaxed" and pretty soon I'm bound to start freaking out about what we don't have.

Here I Am Again...

2007-07-25T06:32:00.000-06:00

Here I am. Again. Crabby. Bloated. Crampy. Bitchy.

Monday I took Cadence to the doctor and went completely psycho on my kids in the car on the way. Chad and Riley were fighting over some little McDonald's toy. After ~~screaming at~~ asking Chad to give it to her about a million times, and Riley throwing it at him, I said, "Give it to me!" .. and pitched it right out the window of the car. Riley immediately started to cry. I felt terrible. I blamed it all on Chad, telling him if he had just done what I said and left her alone, none of this would have happened. The rest of the ride was very quiet.

Later I apologized of course, because I just couldn't let my kids go on feeling like a) it was all their fault or b) their mom was insane. So, I apologized. And I didn't even use the word "but."

There is no manual, although I'm not sure it would help if there was. I'm trying, and while I usually am doing my best, sometimes I'm not. Some days I feel like the struggle to be a better parent is just that - a struggle. A pushing, wrestling, biting and scratching, fistfight of a battle with myself just to keep from abusing my kids with my words and actions. Screaming and yelling was all I knew how to do when I became a parent. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, to sit and make myself be quiet, quite literally biting my tongue instead of saying, "Gah! What is WRONG with you?"

And the hormones don't help. Hormones are my enemy. My little temper tantrum in the car was completely out of nowhere, which was why it slipped through my filters so easily. Normally, I would notice I was getting angry and step on it; just grit my teeth and say, "Please just put the toy away if you can't agree on who will play with it," in my best Sweet Mommy voice.

I used to hope my kids couldn't see through my fake sweetness. I was afraid they would think I spent my days hating them and pretending I didn't. Now, thanks to these outbursts and subsequent apologies, I'm glad they know the truth. I'm not perfect. But I'm doing my damndest to be the best parent I can. Now, my hope is that my children will reach adulthood with the understanding that while my instinct was to beat the living crap out of them, I somehow managed to treat them with love and respect. I made mistakes and then did my best to make it right again. I loved them enough to fight with myself instead of them.

I think the worst part about living this way is the feeling that I'm the only one who has this much trouble. Every other parent I know seems to be a natural at it. When Mom raises her voice, it's because she's Really Mad, it's not just part of a normal day. The parents I know don't have to apologize to their kids because they never hurt their feelings in the first place. I see the awfullest kids with the sweetest parents and I think I can't possibly deserve such great kids when I'm such a psycho. I don't see other parents taking deep breaths and counting backwards from 10. I don't see other parents start sentences with, "Damnit! ---" before replacing the angry face with a nice one and restarting with, "Please." I'm sure they exist. I just don't know anyone like that.

Thankfully, the worst of the hormones are out of the way now. I'm still suffering and grumpy, but I'm past the point of complete insanity. I plan to spend the afternoon reading 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and drinking homemade cocoa with my kids. May chocolate cure all that ails us.

Check out Mars on August 27...

2007-07-23T06:29:00.000-06:00

Contrary to a circulating email that goes around every year or two, Mars will not be as big as a second moon to the naked eye on the 27th of August (Who believed that anyway? Duh.). However, thanks to orbiting patterns it will be in opposition on that date, and closer than it has been in thousands of years. It would be a good time to dig out the old telescope and get a good look.

To my Artist internet/messageboard/blogger Friends...

2007-07-05T15:28:00.000-06:00

I'm going to sketch on my wall. I can't stand it anymore. See this wall?

Just pale yellow paint and some coathooks. It's begging to be filled with chaotic and unrelated images, no? It's seriously bothering me.

So.. how do I do this so the sketches LOOK like sketches and can still withstand washing of fingerprints and crayon? Is it possible to paint something and have it still look like a charcoal sketch? I considered spray lacquer, but I don't want it to be shiny.

Any ideas?

They make coats out of these things?...

2007-07-04T23:01:00.000-06:00

Check out what we saw on the way to the cookout today:

A MINK! (This isn't an actual picture of the mink I saw, and not to cheat the guy out of his photograph, I found it here.) I was so excited! But, I was driving and it was hippity-hopping across the grassy clearing so quickly. If I hadn't gotten a better look at it, I would have assumed it was a muskrat or maybe even a cat. But it was mostly the mink's canter that gave it away. We've had ferrets, and the way a weasel moves is pretty unique.

I was kind of surprised, previously assuming mink are all glossy and black. This one was fluffy and brown, just as in the picture. I knew mink lived around here, but in all my years in this farm and country state, I'd never seen one before.

Weekend at the Arts Festival...

2007-07-01T22:55:00.000-06:00

Saturday we took the kids to check out the Arts Festival in downtown Des Moines. We parked several blocks from Gateway Park where the festival was held and walked. Des Moines has changed a lot in the last 5 years, and Gateway Park is just one of those changes. We passed several new lofts and cute little shops along the way. Country girl that I am, I still found myself fantasizing about living in some swanky loft, shopping in those cute little shops, walking to one of the many new parks and outdoor areas, visiting museums, etc.

The Arts Festival has tons of activities for kids. My kids made beaded bracelets, painted and colored, and glittered to their hearts content. I'll have glitter in my hair for years.

Sunday I returned to the festival with my mom, without kids, to look at the art displays. One artist scuplted in clay, removed the sculpture from the kiln when it was red-hot, and rolled in it ashes. The result was a dark, charred effect that was just beautiful. I could have looked for hours.

Here are the highlights of the weekend:

Gateway Park, on the south side of downtown Des Moines. The park was lined with tents: artist tents filled with the products of some great creativity, vendor tents brimming with tasty and bad for you Fair Food, and community tents for things like the zoo and the performing arts center. I read that more than 1400 artist applied for one of the 166 display tents available, which means next year will be even bigger and better.

Riley's bead bracelet.

Cadence glittering her painted horseshoe.

A mosaic-style recreation of Van Gogh, in ginormous size. Very cool.

Street art in chalk.

This was a very cool stand-alone sculpture the kids loved.

And my personal favorite - Geek Art! Microscope images, tinted in different colors and printed for the nerdy art enthusiast's home (at a hefty price, I might add):

Zucchini pollen in orange.

A dust mite, the hairs in green. This piece was called Nightmare Blanket, which I found quite fitting.

Closeup of a crystal formation, I forget now what type of crystal.

This was the third year my kids have gone to the Arts Festival, but it was the first time for me. I had so much fun! I can't wait until next year.

Warning...

2007-06-30T00:56:00.000-06:00

Mingle² - Rate your blog

Go rate your own blog. C'mon it's fun. I found my blog rated R due to repeated use of the words: hurt, pain, hell, bitch, and vagina.

I find it interesting (sad, sick, infuriating) that the search tool doesn't scan for the F word, which I tend to use a lot, but found the word "vagina" to be offensive.

Must..Have..Coffee...

2007-06-13T07:09:00.000-06:00

I am now plowing through the third day in a row that I've gotten out of bed at 6:00am. Please send coffee. In order to make Vic's new job a success, we decided (well, HE decided) we should go to bed earlier and get up together. He thinks we will spend more time together this way, but I don't know if staring at each other with foggy eyes and muttering unintelligible one-syllable words at each other counts as spending time together.

Normally, I would stay up late. Till 1 or 2 in the morning. This night owl behavior gives me time to get things done. Like reading, sewing, knitting, laundry or whatever, with a clear head and no interruptions. The extra couple of hours after the kids go to bed also give me time to unwind from the constant noise of the day. I need that time to relax enough to sleep. So this getting up early thing is killing me. I find it difficult to go to bed any earlier, since insufficient unwinding leaves me lying in bed for at least an hour before sleep finds me. I figure either I'll become so sleep-deprived that I'll eventually adjust, or I'll go insane. Either is acceptable to me at this point. They have Nap Time in the institution.

My kids have a specified bedtime, but no specified wake time. Their bed time is for my sanity, and their safety as it relates to my sanity. I figure letting them sleep as long as they feel necessary in the mornings ensures they're getting enough sleep. Before this routine of getting up at 6:00, the kids would wake me when they were all up, which was about 9:00 or so. I feel it's important to mention that I'm not a believer in using caffeine to avoid responding to the body's need for sleep. But I'm starting to realize how much of a difference the lack of sleep makes in my brain function. So I'm shamefully drinking caffeinated coffee and telling myself that I'll eventually learn to sleep at night. I will, won't I?

I'll be watching for the men in white coats.

The apple and the tree...

2007-06-12T06:15:00.000-06:00

You know that phrase "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree"? Chad and Riley are both very much like me - so much so that we often butt heads in mutual defiance and determination. But sometimes the apple falls off, rolls down a hill, drops into a river and floats out to sea, ending up on some other continent entirely. Such is the case with my oldest daughter.

For me, raising my kids means reminding myself (and my husband) constantly that they're individual people, with personalities not at all dependent on their upbringing. I guess it could be a source of extreme frustration (well, sometimes it is), but for the most part I am just awe-struck. I'm often amazed at how children raised in the same home can not only be so unlike each other, but so unlike anyone else in the house. One could spend an eternity pondering where our personalities come from and what aspects can alter them.

I'm starting to dread the words, "When I was a kid.." that Vic is so fond of uttering when discussing Chad. He mentions how driven HE was to work hard, and take pride in what he works for. I answer with, "He's not you. He's not like you. He doesn't think like you," etc. Chad must see the big picture and how he personally fits into it before taking any pleasure in work. He's just that way. Then an hour later, I'm complaining to Vic about how Cadence won't stand up for herself. She's the complete opposite of Chad, putting the needs and even wants of others before herself, and often being taken advantage of because of it. She's an alien to me. I cannot possibly imagine that line of thinking. She... Well, I don't... How can she... -- But she's not me. She doesn't think like me.

In their schooling, Chad's Big Picture thinking makes him incredibly perceptive and is a driving force to his learning. Cadence learns everything set before her in a calculated and robotic way, out of a need to please me and earn my praise. Chad always asks why, and many hours each day are spent in discussion instead of "real" schoolwork. Cadence never asks why, and is likely to get several lessons ahead in a subject before admitting she really doesn't understand it. Each child's learning must be approached from a different direction. Countless time is spent reminding Chad to focus on the task at hand instead of wandering off into left field; and also in reminding Cadence that my love is not contingent on her performance.

I think this is one of the most important, albeit hardest, lessons I've learned from my kids. The apple might end up in Timbuktu or resting against the trunk of the tree it fell from, but the soil can still be rich. Give them what they each need, and the seeds can still grow. Help them along the way, and the tree can still be strong and healthy. Even if it eventually bears oranges.

Starfall

2007-06-03T00:14:00.000-06:00

If you haven't already, go check out www.starfall.com. Tons of free stuff to download and use. Bunches more to order at cheapo prices.

While we didn't use this program as our sole learn-to-read resource, Cadence used Zac the Rat and the other downloadable books for reading practice and loved them. She enjoyed the writing journal as well.

My kids are dirty...

2007-05-29T18:09:00.000-06:00

I refuse to take my kids out in public looking like what my grandmother called "crumb bums". (I go into a fit of giggles every time I say that. The kids do too.) One afternoon I left the house in a huge hurry to get to the grocery store before they closed and called the kids from the yard with, "Hurry and get in the car, let's go!" I was so distracted with time that I only glanced in the back to see that everyone was buckled before pulling out of the driveway. I was so focused on the heavy traffic that I never once even did a rear-view check of the kids. After pulling into the parking lot, I turned around to see three filthy children, covered in dirt from head to toe. Mortified at the idea of taking my kids into the store this way, I turned around and drove home. We made a dinner of scrounged-from-the-cupboard stuff and went to the grocery store the next day.

I'm not a clean freak by any means. I don't care if the kids get dirty, as long as they aren't ruining some previously un-ruined clothing. I don't make a big deal out of stains, and the kids have plenty of stuff suitable for dirty activities like camping, fishing, or digging a moat in the yard. I've actually had conversations with the kids that went something like: (Me) What on Earth are you guys doing out here? (Them) We're digging a well. (Me) Oh. Well if you don't find water, fill it in when you're done. I seriously do not care if they're dirty. But the idea of letting the world know that I'm raising a bunch of crumb bums (See how funny that is?) has never sat well with me. What will people think of my parenting if they see my kids looking like filthy little urchins? What kind of gross neglect is that?

I haven't posted too many pictures of the kids themselves here because most of the time they're dirty. I've decided though, that to thoroughly share our lives and experiences, I'm going to have to suck it up. My kids are dirty. Almost all the time. They're not neglected at all, in fact quite the contrary. They aren't models and this isn't a sitcom. They're children, doing what I think all children should be allowed to do. They're free to play as they like, under sufficient adult supervision. And they like to play in the dirt. So without further ado, this is what my children actually look like, about 90% of the time:

And this is what happens when Mom joins in the fun:

7 Random Things About Me...

2007-05-29T14:18:00.000-06:00

Over the weekend, I was tagged simultaneously by Katherine and Robin for this meme. I love these!:

1. I tend to like things simply because they're not what most people like. I tend to dislike things just because they're very popular.

2. I enjoy parenting a LOT more than I ever thought I would.

3. I developed a love for art in my early teens. I drew the picture I use here for my blogger profile when I was 15. While I still occasionally sketch and paint, I'm not nearly as happy with the results as I was back then.

4. I embrace my redneck nature. And stuff like this makes me all fluttery and woozy:

5. I grew up swimming in lakes and rivers. I'm afraid of the ocean.

6. I have two tattoos. I ditched the nose ring when Chad was born, but I've been thinking about getting one again.

7. I don't care what anyone thinks of me, as long as they don't think I'm stupid. I'd much rather be considered ugly (even repulsive) than ignorant.

Now I'm supposed to tag 3 people. I tag Ami, Just a Mom, and GailV.

Fly - er, Hop Away Home..

2007-05-22T11:33:00.000-06:00

After close inspection of our developing amphibians, we've decided we have a mix of Spring Peeper frogs and some kind of toad, probably just an American Toad. The Spring Peepers are smooth and brown/green, while the toads are darker and slightly bumpier. Spring Peepers have a bumpy appearance anyway, so identification, especially of such small specimens, has been pretty difficult. This would explain their great differences in development the last few weeks. Either way, they're pretty cool.

There were eleven frogs and toads ready to hop to freedom last Friday. Forgive the blurryish pictures. I couldn't use the viewscreen in the bright sunlight, but you should get at least a reasonable idea of the size of these teeny little guys. This is the "path" we walk through to get to the creek across the road. Poison Ivy, anyone?
I've never had poison ivy and so far the kids have proven to also be immune. While we don't count on immunity, as often as we're exposed it's still a good thing to have. We transported the frogs (and toads) in an old tea canister.

Aww, aren't they just So Freakin Cute?!?

Hop away, my tiny little friends! See how camouflaged they are in the sand and mud?On Sunday, we took another eight to my friend's pond, where the eggs were gathered weeks ago. On the walk back to the house, the kids found a very cool garter snake.

After several minutes of handling, the snake was not happy. Garters aren't venomous, but they will still bite. Here it is, pissed off and poised to strike at anything that gets too close. Like some crazy lady with a camera. Isn't it beautiful?
Here is a picture taken while I'm running from the beautiful snake that has determined I am close enough, and slow enough to take out its aggression.

Ah, wildlife!

We started with 26 live tadpoles and have so far released 19 frogs and toads. Yesterday two frogs died suddenly in the tank before their tails were fully absorbed. I'm not sure what happened there, but considering how many have made it, I think we've done pretty well in caring for them. For those of you that have a hard time with math, that means we have 5 left in the tank; two toads we're letting go this afternoon, one tadpole with only back legs, and two frogs (or maybe toads?) that still have significant tails. More updates soon.

Email forwards...

2007-05-18T13:34:00.001-06:00

Guess I'm just in a bitching mood today.

If you receive an email that you think is so funny, or touching, or thought-provoking that you want to forward it on to others, please please PLEASE for the love of Bob, do a few things first:

1) Think about who you're forwarding to. Are they a good Christian like you believe yourself to be? Are you even sure of their religious preferences? Could they be Buddhist or Muslim or *gasp* Pagan? Do they agree with the opinions about race, homosexuality, immigration, national language, religion or parenting reflected in this email? Might they be insulted if they're not in agreement with you about how great this email is? Consider how your one-click attempt to save their soul or give them a good laugh might in fact cause them not to speak to you again. If you have hundreds of people on your email list, chances are most of them aren't your real friends anyway. Otherwise, it only takes a few more seconds to add people individually to your email forward instead of just clicking the "send to all" button.

2) Think about the age-appropriateness of the email. Some people have children in their homes, even if you don't. While your friend might enjoy a picture of a drunk guy with his penis hanging out of his shorts, they might not appreciate their kids seeing it. Even an email with graphic text can be a problem for those parents with reading children. Take the time to label your message "Adult" in the subject line, preferably right after the "FWD" part, in case it's a particularly long subject title.

3) Never spam your friends. If you're forwarding an email with coupons or details of an upcoming sale, consider whether the people you're forwarding it to will have any use for this information. If they are really your friends, then you know if they can or cannot afford a shopping spree at Bed, Bath and Beyond, even with a 10% discount. They don't care about gardening sales when they live in an apartment. They're not interested in a sale at Baby Gap when their kids are all over the age of 10. If they're going to get one look at your email forward, make a disgusted noise and click the "delete" button, you're no better than the senders filling their Junk Folder with crap.

4) Remember this because it's probably the most important: Truthorfiction and Snopes are your friends. Use them. Every time. If you forward an email to 10 people about carcinogens in canned lima beans that turns out to be false, not only have you misinformed 10 people and contributed to a rumor that could possibly have seriously ill effects on the lima bean industry, but you've convinced the friends that took five seconds to look it up on a rumor website that you are an idiot. Think of the lima bean farmers! Think of your reputation as a reasonably intelligent person for crying out loud.

I just received this hateful piece of crap in my email box today. Not only did Andy Rooney not say any of this stuff, most of it doesn't go along with my personal beliefs at all. I've had enough conversations with the sender that this should have been obvious. I was shocked not only that the "friend" that sent it would think it was so profound and funny, but that they would think I would agree. I had thought better of them. I replied and told them to check a rumor site next time, and that I didn't think their email was at all amusing. Maybe next time they'll think before they click "send to all."

Check it out!...

2007-05-17T12:11:00.000-06:00

Leetle teeny amphibians of some sort have started crawling out onto the rocks. None yet who have completely lost their tails. We're pretty sure most of our tadpoles have grown into some kind of toad, instead of Spring Peepers as we originally thought. Most of the tadpoles/frogs/toads are very dark, almost black in color, while some are brown and speckled. None of them appear to have the telltale markings of a Spring Peeper. Two days ago, three out of the 26 tadpoles had all 4 legs. Yesterday there were eight quadrupeds.

Check out this picture from above the tank:

While it's sort of difficult to see, the amphibian on the left has all four legs. The one on the top has just back legs, and those little bumps from its sides are front legs still tethered with the transparent skin covering they've had since hatching. The one on the bottom has its back legs just beginning to form underneath its body. There are still one or two in the tank with no signs of developing appendages yet.

We will be releasing the frogs/toads individually when they are fully formed with no remaining tail, and by the looks of things that may be as soon as two days from now. I'm actually very happy that they have developed at different rates because that gives us more time to watch them before they're all released. I'm guessing we'll only have them another two weeks at most.

The Mother's Day Booty...

2007-05-13T22:28:00.000-06:00

This morning I woke to gifts from my children. No breakfast in bed, but they're not allowed to use the stove anyway and I did make that rule about no food in the bedroom, so I guess that was my fault.

First a homemade card from Cadence:

Cadence frequently mixes up "th" with "sh". The inventive spelling is cute, eh? Inside the card was Cadence's very first attempt at poetry (translated below, for those of you who don't fluently speak and read Kid):

"If it is a nice day,

I will tell you what to do.

Go outside and play.

If you have a pool,

Play in it instead.

But you will need a swimming suit."

She signed it with her first and last names, which she often does in her letters and notes.

Next was a box from both of the girls, with this note on top:

Inside the box were oodles of gifts from the garage sale shopping the kids did with Grandma Saturday morning:

Three beautiful necklaces; one with the letter "A", a blue sparkly lightening bolt, and a black flower with a rhinestone center. And two baggies of hair ties. Can't ever have enough hair ties, can we? I loved them! Next was Chad's gift:

A gorgeous mantle clock with only the teeniest chip in the corner of the glass.

I think I liked the notes and poem best, but I was so thrilled that my kids picked and paid for gifts for me all by themselves. On this Mother's Day, I'm the happy Mom of three great kids. Here's hoping your Mother's Day was just as nice.

Those Crazy High School Days...

2007-05-11T20:31:00.000-06:00

All this talk about high school is going around the blogosphere like a case of the chicken-pox, and has me thoroughly appreciating our choice to homeschool. I could share some horrible stories of what I endured from Kindergarten through high school. I could give all the aching detail of the teasing for every stupid little reason in the book. I could explain how my very big home issues impacted that school experience. But instead, I'm going to tell you about my sophomore year.

The summer before my sophomore year, the home issues I just spoke of led me to two "temporary home placements," both about 200 miles away from "home", and attending two new schools. The first school was relatively the same as my old school. Cliques and bullshit. Nothing notable. I tried to fit in, to no avail since the uncool kids must put out some kind of Dork Pheromones and nothing I tried worked for me. In the second school, I abandoned any efforts to fit in and steeled myself to finishing sophomore year with no friends at all. Not much of a problem, really. I decided at that point that if they didn't like me, I didn't have to like them either. I did my homework and went from class to class like a robot, and other people barely noticed I was there.

The door to my science classroom said Mr. Harvey*, and while there was a man always in the room sitting at a desk near the front, the class itself was taught by Mrs. Brown*. The first few weeks, I thought Mrs. Brown must be a student teacher or something and it didn't seem weird at all. After a while though, I started to notice that Mr. Harvey never addressed the class at all, not even for a few minutes. Not even to say "hello," or "sit down," or "go to the Principal's office." Finally I asked another student just what the deal was. Apparently, Mr. Harvey, at the age of fifty-something, had lived his whole life in his mother's house, and she had recently died. Mrs. Brown was brought in as a substitute while Mr. Harvey was on leave, then stayed on to help out in the classroom since he was dealing with so much grief. According to the student in the next desk, he hadn't taught a class or spoken at all for at least a month before I transferred to the school. Sad. And weird too.

A week or so after learning the scoop on Mr. Harvey, he resumed teaching classes. That first week, we learned about Hitler, Kennedy, and aliens. This was a biology class. It started to become obvious that Mr. Harvey was not just grief-stricken. He was crazy. Soon Mrs. Brown, who'd stayed in the classroom during Mr. Harvey's lectures, took over again. This time, Mr. Harvey was not silent in class. He shouted at people who moved from their seats. He sang Camptown Races. He threw paper airplanes around the room. Crazy.

After a couple of weeks of this weirdness, Mr. Harvey befriended a few boys in his various classes. You knew which boys they were because they all carried around The Anarchist's Cookbook, just like the copy on Mr. Harvey's desk. After school and between classes, Mr. Harvey gave demonstrations of various soda-bottle bombs; the smaller bombs inside the explosion box in the classroom, the larger bombs in the football field outside. The boys all thought this was very cool, of course, since most of the ingredients were household products, and wasn't Mr. Harvey just the awesomest teacher ever? The rest of us were growing concerned, including Mrs. Brown and a lot of the faculty.

I began to wonder why Mr. Harvey wasn't fired. Clearly he was not fit to be a teacher and was in no kind of mental state to be around kids. I finally asked Mrs. Brown. She told me it was because the school would be closing its doors for good after this year due to a district restructure. A lot of the teachers would be losing their jobs, Mr. Harvey included, and since we were nearing the end of the school year, the administrators didn't have the heart to fire the guy. In other words, it's only another month, and a little exposure to a man in the process of losing his mind won't hurt the kids too badly.

One Monday right before class started, a girl a few rows over snagged a pen from the boy behind her. They wrestled for the pen in the way flirtatious teenagers do, with lots of giggling and gag-me stuff. Mr. Harvey jumped to his feet and ran to them, screaming at the top of his lungs for the boy to, "LET HER GO!!" The horseplay immediately stopped and the boy reached out to the girl to retrieve his pen. "SIT DOWN!" Mr. Harvey shouted. The boy started to explain, "..but Mr. Harvey, I just--" Mr. Harvey reached across to the lab table, grabbed a scalpel, held it in the boy's face and said, "I SAID SIT DOWN NOW!!" The boy sat. Mr. Harvey returned to his desk, scalpel in hand. Nobody called the police or escorted Mr. Harvey from the room. Instead, we all sat silently for 45 minutes until the class let out. Mrs. Brown didn't even move from her desk. That was probably the most terrifying 45 minutes of my life. Mr. Brown wasn't just crazy, he was dangerously insane.

Mr. Harvey was not in class on Tuesday, and Mrs. Brown informed us he'd been let go. We had a test that day and nobody even complained because the relief was so great that Mr. Harvey was gone. We were supposed to get the test results the following day, but Mrs. Brown said she'd "misplaced" the tests and would get back to us after she'd found and graded them.

On Thursday, I walked into the science classroom to see Mr. Harvey once again, arguing quietly with Mrs. Brown. I joined the group of huddling students in the corner, all of us wondering if we should slip out before something awful happened. I heard snippets of the argument, mostly from Mrs. Brown like, "you should get some help," and "you can't be here." It seems Mr. Harvey had returned to the school late on Tuesday night, stolen the "misplaced" tests, graded them all, and walked into the school Thursday morning with graded tests in hand as if he had never been fired. Soon the Principal showed up and quietly escorted Mr. Harvey to his car. There was quite a scene in the parking lot when Mr. Harvey was asked to relinquish his keys to the building (why didn't they do that when they fired him?), that ended with Mr. Harvey shouting, "I'll get you! You'll Pay!" Again, no police were called.

Mr. Harvey was arrested two days later while attempting to buy very large amounts of the same chemicals (in higher, purer concentrations) found in the household products he was teaching the boys at school to make bombs with. Only then did the school faculty report Mr. Harvey's behavior in the previous months. When my sophomore year ended and I left my "home placement" for my real home once again, Mr. Harvey was living in a secured mental institution, where he should have been months before.

There are many reasons that I homeschool my children. Bullies, cliques and other self-esteem crushing factors come into play. At first though, I thought they were things we could deal with. In fact, by the time I enrolled my son in public school for kindergarten, I'd completely brushed off this horrifying incident as a "you won't even fucking believe this" experience that was rare and would never happen again. But when my son started having problems and the Principal, teachers and even the bus drivers did as they chose regardless of my concerns, I realized that my experience was worth more than a good story to tell to people at parties. It was a lesson. I, along with the rest of my 20 or so classmates that year, watched a teacher literally lose his mind, and were helpless to stop it. We were at the mercy of school administrators making decisions based on their personal feelings instead of our safety and well being. Someone could have been killed. Hell, everyone could have been killed. I realized that my kid was spending 8 hours each day at the complete and total control of school administrators and faculty just like those at my old school. Just like everywhere. People with personal feelings, weaknesses and agendas. Some people with hidden demons like addictions, pedophilia and mental disorders. Human beings that can make mistakes. And I'd be damned if one of those mistakes put my child at risk.

A lot of my friends and family members think I'm overprotective and have said things like, "You can't protect your kids from everything," but I say that protecting my kids is my JOB. And this comes down to the heart of the matter in why homeschooling is best for my family. As long as they are both living and learning in my home, I know every decision that effects them is made in their best interest.

*Names changed partly to protect anonymity, and partly because I no longer remember them. Blocked it out maybe. It was that bad.

They grow up so fast!...

2007-05-10T15:23:00.000-06:00

I took some more pictures of the tadpoles today. It's starting to become more difficult with the tank filling with muck. I tried to filter it some yesterday, but the tank is only about 3 inches deep with water, and the pump can't pull the water that far up apparently. I settled for a 50% water change, which helped, but I'll have to do a full change soon if they keep messing the water up like they've been doing.Here are three of them crowded into a corner. For size comparison, the larger shiny rocks in the tank are about the size of a quarter. Last time I pointed out the size difference between the late-hatcher and his companions. Since then we've found others that were smaller than most, and as they've grown it seems they aren't growing at the same rate. The largest tadpoles are about 1 and 1/4 inches long now, and 3/8 inch wide at their widest part of their (head? belly?) bodies. Spring Peeper tadpoles are supposed to grow larger than the frogs they eventually become, so this should be interesting to watch them grow. Their eyes, which started sort of on the sides of their heads, have moved to the top and very much resemble the eyes of an adult frog. They're still coated in the clear jelly-like skin over their whole bodies.

I zoomed in on this guy, post-photo so it's a bit blurry, so you could see their little back legs are developing. We saw this more than a week ago in the form of one solid appendage from their underbelly. We didn't realize at the time it was their legs forming, we just thought it was poop. (If you've ever had goldfish, you know what I'm talking about.)

I can't believe how much fun they are to watch. They've become a lot more active than they were shortly after hatching, and zoom around the tank at the slightest bump or glimpse of movement. When they get a bit bigger and more hearty, I plan to catch a couple and photograph them outside of the water.

Surviving High School...

2007-05-10T12:20:00.000-06:00

RegularMom had a great post about the high school cafeteria. It got me thinking about how readily (and sometimes openly) people downplay my choice to homeschool. My grandmother, a wonderful and respectable woman that I admire more than anyone else, dislikes the fact that I homeschool. Maybe even hates it. A lot of my friends say they think it's a good idea, but they say it in that uncomfortable way you might tell a good friend, "You're right. Eating dirt IS a good idea. Get your minerals right from the source. Good thinking." and as with homeschooling, end it with, "I could never do it myself, but that's great that you are." In other words, I get the feeling they don't really mean it.

Sometimes though, people are outright critical. They bring up the "S" word. They talk about high school dances and sports, and most importantly, friends. They almost always say, "Well, you and I both went to high school, and we survived just fine." Surviving is something you do when you're involved in a plane crash over the Alps and stranded in a frozen wasteland with nothing to eat but other "survivors." Surviving indicates something you managed to live through, despite the odds against you. Surviving is something that disregards other things like happiness, security and contentment.

What these critics fail to see is that, like other survivors, they remember a lot of the good things and tend to block out the bad things. In the case of institutional schools, it's a pretty successful tactic. In a few short years, long enough to finish college and start having children of their own, people have almost completely forgotten everything but the few good things that kept them holding on through high school. High school dances, sports and friends are how teenagers cope with the trauma of high school. And just like a lot of finely tuned coping skills, they're hard to let go of, and become so deeply ingrained in their brains that they start thinking all kids need to have them. They've forgotten that dances, sports and friends are what they are - coping skills for an unhealthy environment - and that if you're not IN that unhealthy environment, you have no need for a way to cope with them. That's why so few high school friendships last beyond high school. You no longer need them to cope with your life.

I don't suffer from trauma-induced amnesia. I still very clearly remember that hot, sick feeling that starts in your stomach and moves through your head, brought on by someone else's laughter. I remember hearing "slut" and "bitch" coming from the seat behind me, not-so-cleverly disguised in a fake cough. I remember holding my bowels until I thought I would explode so I could use the bathroom at home rather than stink up the school bathroom and people would know it was me (God forbid I poop like everyone else does). I remember what it feels like to have a ball of paper, wet with someone else's saliva, stuck in my hair. I remember the feeling of complete elation at the realization that it was Friday and I wouldn't have to be in this horrible place for two whole days, and the subsequent feeling of depression on Sunday night. I bet if you think about it, you can remember these things, or other horrors, too. Like those critics, I survived high school. Thank goodness for my friends, or I may not have made it. Not everyone does.

My kids aren't involved in group activities, they don't go to many birthday parties, and we aren't involved in any playgroups. They won't go to prom. But my kids don't need coping skills. They possess qualities I never had in my childhood, like confidence, self-respect and a sense of security. My kids are fun-loving, independent and most importantly, happy. They're not just surviving. They're thriving.

And it all started with a friendly game of cards...

2007-05-09T01:38:00.000-06:00

I was playing Old Maid with the girls today. Riley asked what an old maid was, and I changed the subject. I could get into a big ole tangent about expectations of marriage and negative biases, etc. but for one thing, she's four and wouldn't follow me past the first few words, and second, I don't think "old maid" is a term people even use anymore. Not that it isn't still worth discussing at some point, I just didn't think it was worth discussing right then. Regardless, it stayed in my mind as cards were dealt and I separated the little cartoon people matches. Two Doctors. Two Teachers. Two Veterinarians. At least there were women in there, being pilots and bakers, and we'll just pretend the Movie Star isn't clearly holding one of those cigarettes-on-a-stick. Still, most of these people are men. And since when did "Witch" become a profession?

I was sitting there quietly, thinking these thoughts when Cadence said, "Why are all the women in these pictures wearing lipstick?" I looked through my cards. She was right. The Police Officer, the Baker, even the Old Maid wore lipstick. Cadence started flipping through her cards too and said, "You don't HAVE to wear lipstick. Oh I guess the witch isn't wearing any, but still." I nodded and said, "I hardly ever wear lipstick myself."

Riley, silent until this moment, spoke up then. "You don't wear lipstick, Mama. You're just like the witch."

"Yep," I told her. Just like the witch."

Stephen King, the brain-altering writer...

2007-05-08T00:04:00.000-06:00

I have a love/hate relationship with Stephen King novels. He's one of my favorite authors, but sometimes his stories irritate me with their silliness. A hand of God descending from the clouds to wipe out Super Evil Guy? Really? I hated 'Salem's Lot. Vampires, Catholic priests and crosses. Gimme a break. Yet I read it all. Why? Because the way he writes speaks to me. He's not trying to flower up his novels with "sophisticated" vocabulary, he's just writing the damn story. I respect an author that can include a sex scene without using the words "member" or "honeypot." Jean M. Auel's Earth Children series pissed me off with the detailed sex scenes every other page until eventually I just started skipping my way through the books. In King novels, people have sex, then they move on with the story. Characters swear and urinate and speak with thick accents and aren't afraid to toss in a racial slur or two. It's real, and not just some rosy-colored version of real.

I am now reading the seventh and final book in the Dark Tower series. Honestly, the fifth book left me so annoyed I didn't know if I wanted to finish. But I have some kind of read-them-all-in-order book OCD, and if I didn't read the others it would bother me that I hadn't. The sixth was even more annoying. Recycling old characters. Stephen King as a messenger of God, controlling the universe with his keyboard. What a bunch of self-righteous crap. Oh I get it, sure. How do we know our lives are "real"? How do we know there aren't forces beyond our conscious mind doing things we may not even realize? And the references to King Arthur (Mordred, the evil son spawned to kill his father) are clear enough. I'm picking up what he's throwing down. It still annoyed me. And I still kept reading. And to be fair, despite the occasional annoyance caused by too much thinking on my part, I really am enjoying this series.

Now, halfway through the final book, I find myself doing something weird. The characters in The Dark Tower series have unusual mannerisms and phrases that are randomly slipping into my thoughts. I can't tell you how many times I've typed "if it does ya" on this very blog before deleting and changing it to "if you like" or "if you prefer." Maybe you'd say it was because I've been reading so much of it, and maybe you'd say true. But I think it's more than that. I've read lots of books and never picked up phrases like that. I think these particular phrases just feel right. Normal, if you kennit. I think it felt so right and normal to Stephen King that it just may have been one of the reasons to expand on the main character Roland in the fourth book Wizard and Glass by spending the whole novel in a town where everyone talked this way. If that was one of the reasons, I certainly don't blame him.

My friends used to joke that they could always tell when I'd been visiting with relatives from Minnesota because I was pronouncing all my O's funny, but spending time in the south never left me with a drawl. Around my Northern family though, I was comfortable and the accent and "don'tchaknow" just felt normal. I didn't feel like a weirdo talking that way. I'm telling you this because if the phrase, "if it does ya" happens to slip into my posts, it's because I've been brainwashed by the normalcy and comfort of Stephen King. And it doesn't make me feel like a weirdo at all.

Lesson of the Day: Don't Curse the Camera...

2007-05-07T22:36:00.000-06:00

This morning I was pissed off at my camera. While studying the tadpoles, we noticed that, just like the illustrations of tadpoles we've seen, their tails are a dark line surrounded by a feathery transparent structure. We also noticed that, unlike the illustrations, a transparent jelly-like skin covers their whole bodies. I tried to take pictures of this, but closeups were blurry and zooming out again didn't show the really cool transparency around them. Cheap damn camera. I had much the same problem trying to take pictures of the ants on my peonies. Too close, blurry. Too far, can't see the tiny little ants. I cursed my camera. I called it some very bad names. The camera took my abuse quietly.

Then, my substitute dad called wanting to take me and the kids out to the lake to observe the flooding and "maybe fish a bit." Yay! I grabbed the crappy camera to document our trip.

This is the rarely-flooded area next to the lake. Normally, the lake sits beyond the furthest treeline in this picture. It might interest you to know that this 1000 acres or so of land, owned by the State of Iowa, is available for lease to farmers every year at a lowered price. Due to rising gas prices, and corresponding rising corn prices, the farmers paid about four times more than prior years per acre this year for this land. Leases were signed two weeks ago, before all this flooding. I'm betting some farmers are losing their ass on this one. While the day was overcast, the view was much brighter than this picture would indicate. Damn camera.

Cadence promptly caught a toad. This particular toad was an amputee, having lost one of his front legs, probably to a turtle. It was healed though, and while he wasn't very good at landing, his disability didn't affect his hopping skills.

Notice the crisp detail of the rocks and plants. Notice the shiny nail polish over dirt-crusted fingernails. Notice that Cadence has as many warts as her new handicapped friend. Now notice the blurry blob that's supposed to be a toad. That fuzzy stump is what's left of his front leg, but after taking four shots, this was the best picture I got of him. Grrr. Piece of shit camera.

After fishing for 45 minutes and catching only one teeny fish, we moved on. A long drive around the lake and down about a hundred gravel roads brought us to a nature preserve. (I forget the name now and it's driving me crazy!) This place had a large grassland with grazing bison and elk, and a Learning Center that offers classes, tours and information on Iowan wildlife. Very cool! We didn't have time to visit the Learning Center or the gift shop (it will make for a cool field trip at a later date), but we drove through the grazing area. I busted out my camera to take pictures. This is what I got:

The bison, buffalo if you like, were wildly and unpredictably lounging in the grass in the far edge of the pasture. I could have gotten some pictures of them, if my camera was good enough. Alas, they were too far away and I didn't even try. Heck, I couldn't even see them well. Grumble grumble.

We got home only minutes before Vic and I pulled out the camera to show off the (crappy) pictures I took today. As he handed it back to me, his fingers caught the wrist strap and the whole thing fell out of my hand onto the slate porch. Batteries went flying. The memory card skidded across into the mud. We got it assembled again and found a small dent in the lens casing and that some small piece of something under the glass viewscreen cover had peeled away at the corner. Bummer. When I turned it on, the lens wouldn't retract and the screen kept telling me "Lens error! Restart camera!" with lots of loud beeping. Fucking great. No matter how shitty, I did spend around 300 bucks for that camera and can't afford to replace it.

A few minutes of screwing with it got the lens working again and it seems that all is well after all. I'll have to deal with the little dent as my punishment for swearing at the camera all day. Cursing at your camera is very bad juju.

Insomnia...

2007-05-07T03:17:00.000-06:00

It's 3:00am. I'm sitting here composing for my silly little blog instead of sleeping, and I'm thinking about four things.

First, why are there so many homeschooling bloggers brimming with confidence when there are so many homeschoolers like myself who find themselves lacking in this area? Are people faking it? Are they deliberately not writing about the feelings of incompetence, doubt and disappointment because of some kind of denial? Are they afraid others will see them as bad mothers/teachers/people because they confess to some humanity? Or am I really in a teeny little minority and possibly AM a bad mother/teacher/person because I have these feelings when most people don't? And holy crap, am I depressing other people with my shortcomings?

Second, why can't I find a hobby I'm passionate about? Other people are passionate about things. I try new stuff all the time and I'm always excited about it. Of course I am, it's new and full of possibilities. Then I get bored and pick a new hobby. I still enjoy all the things I started: sewing, crocheting, knitting, gardening, etc., I'm just not passionate about them. And I really want to be passionate about something.

Third, how in the hell am I going to get everything together for the kids' portfolios that have to be turned in just a couple of weeks from now? My copier won't work because it's a Lexmark, and apparently that company is more concerned about selling printers than they are about whether those printers are compatible with the computer they're attached to. It will print, but it won't scan or copy, and I need about 3000 copies for my portfolios. Some of those copies will be from textbooks and novels, so that rules out Kinkos. I'm moving into full panic mode on these damn porfolios now.

Fourth, and probably most important of all, why is my whole family sleeping peacefully while I'm sitting up at 3:00am wondering/worrying about all this crap? Why won't my (lightly used) brain shut the hell up for long enough to go to sleep? They're all in there dreaming away about fuzzy little animals or floating boats in the stream or something, and I'm not dreaming at all. I don't care if I dream all night about being buried in yarn I've never used or frantically driving from one copy center to another, as long as I can GET to sleep to dream it. This lack of sleep leaves me groggy and grumpy and pessimistic (can you tell? Ha!).

Back to toss and turn for another three hours until the alarm goes off.

Why I can't teach reading & spelling...

2007-05-03T12:16:00.000-06:00

When I was a very small child, I was read to. A lot. My mother signed up for book clubs and we had several sets of books on the shelves. The Entire Dr. Suess collection,the Sweet Pickles books, the Berenstein Bears. Everyone read to me, from my mom to my grandparents, aunts and uncles, older cousins. Basically whoever I could get to read to me, did. I had a very solid vocabulary at an early age and soaked up everything that had to do with language; spoken word, written word, double entendre, innuendo, jokes.. everything. Often, if I couldn't get someone to read to me, I'd pull out a book and "read" it to myself, having heard the story a zillion times and memorized it fully.

When I was four, during Christmas break at preschool, my grandmother heard me "reading" in the next room. After a few minutes of listening it was apparent I was not just reciting from memory, but actually reading the story. She came into the room, pointed to a word and said, "What's that word?" "The." I told her. "That one?" "About." She did this for several minutes before picking a book off the shelf that wasn't read to me often. And I read it. Front to back. I had learned to read simply by seeing the words as I heard them. Throughout my early school years, my love of language gave me an advantage in spelling as well. Most of the spelling words assigned were words I'd read and written a thousand times already. I can't say that I enjoyed a literature, composition or language class until high school. Before then I was just bored.

When Chad was born, I was determined to immerse him in language. I knew the fact that I was spoken to like a person instead of a baby, and read to so frequently, was the reason I could read and speak with such fluency at an early age. I intended to repeat the process with my kids. I bought gobs of books. I read to Chad every day, even before he was old enough to ask me to. We sang the ABC's and practiced letter sounds wherever we went. "Look at the sign for the fruit. See? 'F' says 'ffff' for 'fffruit'. I was happy when Chad entered preschool and the teacher expressed her amazement at his knowledge of letters, shapes and colors. He did not learn to read at home, but learned in kindergarten and 1st grade with a program called ReadWell in the public school. Unfortunately, by the time we started homeschooling halfway through second grade, Chad was not reading with much fluency. He was phonics-focused and it was impossible for him to read words like "friend" that can't be sounded out easily. So I began a whole-language word recognition exercise every day. It went something like this:

Me- This word is "boathouse." "th" usually says "thhh" but this is a compound word. Boat-house. Boathouse. Say it.
Chad- Boathouse.
Me- This word is "would." You don't hear the "L" in this word, but that's how it's spelled. Say it.
Chad- Would.
Me- What's this word again?
Chad- Boathouse.
Me- And this one?
Chad- Would.

We did this every day. For reading, it really helped. He now reads books one or two grades ahead of his grade level. But it was an exhausting process that left us both feeling like crap. I was pushing his reading like a drill instructor, and he was hating reading everything I gave him. He refused to read on his own, just for fun. It wasn't fun at all. He's finally found some books he actually enjoys and I think he'll turn into a reader after all, but the process sucked. I wouldn't have pushed him at all, but was positive that his reading and writing ability would be greatly damaged unless he learned to do it properly.

He still cannot spell at anything better than 1st or 2nd grade level some days. He can read, but he can't spell. He can read all the words he misspells. His spelling is also phonetic, regardless of how many times he's read the word to know it's not spelled like it sounds. I've tried daily spelling practice. I've tried spelling rules. I've tried spelling aloud. Nothing has worked for him.

I don't know what else to do. Through all the struggle with Chad's spelling and now Cadence learning to read and write (on her own initiative, thankfully), I've realized I don't have the slightest idea how to teach it. I just learned. I just knew. Explain how to breathe. Teach someone how to sneeze. I don't have a clue how to explain the thinking behind learning a new word because it's something I just do. I see the word, I pronounce it, I know it. I spell as if by instinct. I typed "entendre" in the first paragraph having never seen the word in print before, double-checked and found it correct. I'm not saying I'm perfect by any means, but the way I see spelling and reading, the way I think about them, is getting in the way of teaching them.

For now, I almost have no choice but to cycle through reading and spelling programs. This one didn't work. Nope, that one didn't either. I'm just shooting for fluent readers and spellers sometime before they're 30.

Get your exercise when you can...

2007-05-02T10:45:00.000-06:00

My exercise routine for today-

Fill one 2 and 1/2 gallon bucket with warm water. Add whatever cleaner you use to mop (if applicable). Allow your kids to wrestle in the kitchen until the entire bucket gets dumped on your kitchen floor.

Spend the next 15 minutes soaking up as much as possible with a sponge mop. Be sure your mop handle is long enough that you don't have to bend over too much and strain your back. This is an excellent cardio/upper body workout.

Grab a clean(ish) bath towel. Toss it on the kitchen floor. Stand on the towel with feet shoulder-length apart. Without lifting your feet, scoot around the kitchen floor, pushing the towel over every part until the floor is dry. This should take about 10 more minutes, and makes for great leg exercise.

If your whole body isn't burning by now, move on to the next exercise:

Get a cat, preferably one that's scared of strangers and still mellow enough that he's not likely to scratch or bite the kids no matter what they do. Invite strange people over and let the kids torture him until he develops a stress-related shedding problem and takes to hiding under the bed.(Boxer, my beautiful but neurotic apricot-point)

Move the bed out and vacuum the same spot of carpet for 15 minutes. Give up on your vacuum and get the broom. Pull broom over carpet in short brisk strokes for about 20 minutes until all the cat hair is out of the carpet.

Repeat monthly for biceps of steel.

Stay tuned for more great home exercise ideas. I'm going to have a Tylenol and a nap.

The Great Black Hunter...

2007-04-30T20:29:00.000-06:00

This is Stevie, aka the Great Black Hunter. The GBH. She doesn't look too dangerous eh?

What you don't know is that lounging in this picture on my cozy fluffy blankets, with her half-asleep and contented eyes, is a wild animal. The GBH is no pet. She's assimilated well into our daily routine, doing the things cats tend to do. She sleeps. She eats. She poops. You know, all those cat things. But make no mistake. She's only a tenant in this house.

Back about eight years ago by my guess, a friend brought me a box of kittens she'd found in a barn while checking on her horse. Several adult female cats had been killed around the farm by some wild animal or tomcat and my friend was pretty sure these kittens were orphaned. She was on her way out of town and asked if I could hold onto them until the morning when they could be dropped off at the shelter. The lady at the shelter told me they weren't "taking any more kittens," and couldn't I just keep them? This particular shelter is famous for trying to convince you to keep the animal(s) you found rather than take it to them.

The kittens were only 3 or 4 weeks old, their eyes barely open, at the time. Cat food was not an option. So I bottle fed them. Stevie was the runt, she was sickly and scrawny and refused to take the bottle. I literally force-fed that cat with a syringe. I guess sometimes small kittens cannot urinate until their mother washes them with her tongue, and while the other kittens were doing ok, Stevie couldn't "go" without my help. I washed her with a warm washcloth every hour for the first week until she caught up with her littermates. All in all, I forced her to live, despite her intentions.

We gave the other kittens to relatives or friends, but Stevie stayed with us. It soon became apparent that she was no housecat. Her first few trips outside brought numerous dead rodents to our doorstep. She wouldn't come when you called her. She would bolt away from you if you approached. If you were sitting down, she might find her way into your lap and rub all over you and lick your hands and face, but try to pick her up and you might lose an eye. She had a litter of kittens of her own before we even knew she was in heat (we later had her spayed), and she actually taught her kittens to hunt. She'd bring a mouse or shrew she caught in the yard, still alive, and drop it in front of the kittens. Craziest thing I ever saw from a housecat. But then, she's no housecat. Now she's an expert hunter. When a bird found itself stuck in our fireplace and then our house, the GBH was after it, bouncing off the back of the couch and then the wall before grabbing the bird right out of the air. Le Matrix a la Feline. If there is ever a mouse brave enough to enter my home, all you have to say is, "Stevie, it's a mouse!" and she's after it in a flash. The word "mouse" is the only word she readily responds to.

Last spring, we were alerted when the mother rabbits left their babies to fend for themselves, because the GBH killed and dismembered several on my carpet. Once again, it's Baby Rabbit Season. I rescued a baby from the GBH this afternoon. This time I took it across the road and down the hill before letting it go, since last time she just kept catching them again. Boy I hope that baby rabbit finds a better home over there, because if it comes back here, it's done for.

"Come closer, sweet and furry little bunny rabbit. You can trust me. Oh yes. You can trust me."

Tadopole update...

2007-04-30T15:53:00.000-06:00

Our tadpoles, measured every two days, have grown from 3/16 of an inch at hatching on April 22 to 5/8 inch today. No sign of appendages but their bodies behind the eyes are becoming fat and rounded. They're happily eating algae and the remains of some worms leftover from the full-grown frog we released last week. I'm thinking of dumping the rest of the mealworms we bought to feed the frog into the tank for the tadpoles. Here they are basking on the basking platform that I probably didn't need to buy, in the glow of the UVA/UVB lamp I probably didn't need to buy:

An interesting twist in our little experiment came almost a week after hatching. As far as we can tell this little guy hatched on Friday, five days after the others:

He must have come from a different clutch of eggs and gotten attached to our clutch somehow. There are no others that hatched with him. The visibile difference between his size and the size of the others is a great help in seeing how quickly they've grown. In the future, I think I'll add a coin or something to the tank for our report pictures.

Death and the facts-centered child...

2007-04-30T01:03:00.000-06:00

My son is a deep thinker. He's famous for asking questions that are difficult to answer, or worse, questions that HAVE no answer. He's not satisfied with no answer, and conversations with him can become very frustrating very quickly. Most of the time I'm not smart enough to answer his questions and we have to look it up on the internet. He's become so used to this that he's been known to ask things like, "Can we get on the internet and look up how many kids in China have kites?" Umm.. I don't think we'll find that on the internet babe, but we can try if it will make you happy. It's at least teaching him deductive reasoning, what with kite sales in China and assuming at least 80 or so percent of them were bought for kids, and a small percentage probably have more than one kite, and all that.

He's also a worrier. He worries constantly about so many things that seem silly to me. Often he'll ask if some little twinge or tweak or pain is "okay," as if he might have some terrible disease because he has a "weird feeling" in his arm, or foot, or whatever. It's difficult for me not to just blow off his concerns with, "You don't need to worry about that." (I had an obstetrician that did that and I hated it.) I've told him that the human body is weird, and can do all sorts of weird things, and as long as it doesn't happen all the time or hurt, it's probably alright. What he really wants to know is what is causing this strange feeling? Why do nerves work in such strange ways, when there's no real problem? Stuff there aren't real answers for. The boy is going to give himself an ulcer. So, in order to help reduce the worry, we discuss every single one of his (ridiculous, petty, silly) concerns as thoroughly as possible. He often worries as he lays there in bed trying (not) to sleep, until he's so worked up he couldn't possibly sleep at all. Tonight he came out of his room crying and worrying about death.

Chad has never liked funerals. He becomes very upset just being in a funeral parlor, regardless of whether he knew the deceased. When we visit the cemetery, he doesn't get out of the car. He's not afraid of bodies, but is bothered by the idea of death altogether. Tonight he was upset because there was NO ANSWER about what happens when you die. I offered as many things as I could think of as possible solutions, but none of them comforted him. "You know when you first saw the roller coasters and how scary they looked?" I asked him. "But then when you rode on it, it was really really fun? Maybe death is like that. It seems scary because you don't know what it will be like. But maybe when you die, you'll find out it's fantastic." We talked about Heaven, and how one of the good things about believing in God and Heaven is so you don't have to be afraid of what you don't have answers for. It was a very nice discussion about religion, but it wasn't helpful in making him feel any better. We talked about ghosts and people who claim to speak to spirits. We talked about reincarnation. None of it helped though, because nobody can prove that stuff either. I very firmly believe that even if I raised my son in strict religion, he would grow up to be an atheist. Chad is not comfortable with faith of any kind. He needs good, solid answers.

Being a Just The Facts Ma'am person is great if you're a scientist or mathematician or something. But for now, he's a child. Not knowing is scary. I told him how my grandmother said she was visited by my grandfather after he died, in all seriousness and with a completely straight "I'm not bullshitting" face. Strangely, that calmed him enough to go to sleep. The thing is, I actually believe that story about my grandfather, but I always keep a Nobody Knows For Sure attitude with my kids about stuff like that. I'm starting to wonder if I've done the wrong thing by approaching the unknown this way. I'm not avoiding discussing my beliefs, I just am not too sure what I believe or don't believe myself. And I want my kids to choose for themselves. The problem is Chad can't make a choice unless he has the facts. And there just aren't any facts here.

Cripes. Where's the owner's manual for this kid?

Garage Sales and Homeschool Stuff...

2007-04-27T23:48:00.000-06:00

I went to garage sales with my cousin today. Garage Sale-ing we call it. "Would you like to go garage sale-ing?" "Sure! I haven't been garage sale-ing for a while." Silly, isn't it?

By some freak stroke of luck, we ended up in a neighborhood crawling with homeschoolers. One place we stopped had 5 or 6 big cardboard boxes full of homeschool texts and teaching materials. Unfortunately, almost every book in the boxes was Abeka. Bummer. We could have gotten by with some of the language books, but it's a pain to have to skip over "Read Psalm 48" every other page. There was no way in hell I was interested in the science books. Wow. The next place had a children's encyclopedia set and gozillions of early reader books. I spent my entire "garage sale-ing" allowance today.

I really need a new (another, actually) bookshelf to keep all this stuff I'm collecting. Too bad I didn't see one at any of those garage sales. I'm always on the lookout for anything useful to our homeschool. This doesn't have to specifically be textbooks or teaching materials. Most of the time if I do find something, I went to the sale because "boys clothes" and "kids furniture" were listed on your ad. Otherwise I may not have shown up at all. If you're a homeschooler selling some of your stuff, make sure you say so in your sale ad. People like me would probably clean you out in half an hour. If you're not a homeschooler having a garage sale and are selling encyclopedias, educational videos, kids craft books, etc. , say so in your ad. You might be surprised how quickly it would sell.

I'm a Winner!...

2007-04-24T21:49:00.000-06:00

All these years of being called a loser are over. I'm a winner of the fantastic Giant Frog Heads blog award. After carefully planting a plug for the blog award at Like I Have Time For This?, I've pestered my way into this awesome logo:

All that froggy posting has paid off. Thanks, RegularMom for so patiently humoring me long past the Enough Already point. Ahh, it was fun while it lasted though, huh?

We have tadpoles!...

2007-04-23T23:16:00.000-06:00

After leaving his bag of pond water behind last week, we made a second trip to my friend's pond to collect frog eggs. Turns out, Chad only collected some slime last time, so it was a good thing we waited. This time, the eggs all had black specks in the center and were easier to see. We collected a bunch, along with one little Spring Peeper frog, and brought them home. Two days later, they have all hatched into teeny little tadpoles.

It's pretty hard to see with the crappy glass reflection and they are sooo tiny. See those little black lines near the bottom? That's them. They just kind of hang there most of the time and aren't very interesting, but it's still exciting to think of frogs growing from little aquatic swimmers right here in my aquarium. That grody rust colored blob in the corner is the rock the eggs were attached to in the pond. We just snagged the whole thing and added the bucket of pond water we brought it home in to the tank.

We're feeding them algae tablets from the pet store until they're bigger. The frog was not posing for pictures today, but he's in there somewhere. He's getting a steady diet of crickets and ants from the yard, but we'll be sending him off to freedom very soon, against the wishes of my children. We're watching tadpoles grow, but we do not keep wild creatures as pets.

Today I blew 40 bucks at the pet store on a UVA/UVB light the guy insisted reptiles and amphibians need to properly digest nutrients, and a basking platform for them to crawl up on when they get their legs. I probably got boned on that one since the people at the pet store were giving me this whole line about tree frogs needing a super-humid environment and tried to get me to purchase heat lamps and spray bottles and stuff. I told them they're not tropical tree frogs, we found them in a pond. You know, here in Iowa, a.k.a. temperate. The lady gave me a weird look and handed me a pamphlet about tree frogs, saying everything in there applied to my frogs, but the pamphlet was for Red Bellied Somethings from the Amazon, Habitat: tropical. Idiots. We've probably got at least 15 tadpoles in our ten gallon tank. MamaB, do you still want a few?

If you order tadpoles, they come with instructions. I got some great info on this website about how to raise tadpoles, in case anyone else is doing it the old fashioned way and frognapping them from a pond.

I'm trying to figure out how to get decent pictures of these things for our reports. Any ideas?

P.S. RegularMom, is this froggy enough for an honorable mention or a brownie or something? I mean they're not anywhere close to Giant, but they are pretty much just Frog Heads with a little waggly neck at this point.

Hey, I'm Earthy. Really...

2007-04-23T22:33:00.000-06:00

Is it okay that I forgot it was Earth Day yesterday if I was out enjoying nature? I mean, I was appreciating the earth and stuff. We went fishing. I was careful not to litter. I got a sunburn because I'm an idiot and always forget sunscreen during the first month or so of decent weather. You get used to huddling in the house like some 21st century cave man, and when the sun finally shines again you feel like singing "Here Comes the Sun" and dancing through your yard in your underpants and wallowing in the fresh green grass and you completely forget you have to actually protect yourself from the wonderful and long-awaited Sun God. Well, maybe not all of that applies to you, but you get my drift.

We all caught at least two catfish, but none of them were keepers. And look! There was nature on our fishing trip:

See? Doesn't the sight of a pretty flower peeking through a bunch of dead leaves and sticks just make you want to don your favorite Underoos and skip around? It does for me, baby.

Adventures in inefficiency...

2007-04-21T00:58:00.000-06:00

The local DOT has never been an efficient place. This is not news to anyone. I've been known to fall into a fit of giggles in a goverment office just thinking of The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, because that's exactly how these offices work. The last time I renewed my license, it was the same old routine. Check in at the desk, show your old non-valid ID to prove you're an American citizen, take a number and wait, go through the b.s. paperwork and eye test, then wait in line for your new photograph - guaranteed to be just as awful as the last one. Freshly laminated licenses were passed out as they came out of the computer, and they called your name or just brought it to you if you looked anything like your picture. Not exactly the most efficient system, especially when there is only one, just ONE DOT in the whole of Polk County, heaviest populated in the state.

The folks at the DOT decided that the old system just wasn't working, so they closed an extra day (they're already closed on Mondays) to rearrange the waiting area and counters for their new "time-saving" plan. Now when you need a new license, things will go a bit differently. You still check in at the desk and verify you are who you say you are. You still take a number. Only now your number is for the photo, which they take right away in case you need it later. You take another number, this time to wait for a window to fill out your paperwork. After that, you move on to the eye test area. If you make it through the gauntlet, you sit and wait for your license to be printed. This may take a while since they have to match the paperwork you just filled out to the photo you posed so beautifully for (hours) earlier. If you fail your eye test, or if there are other reasons keeping you from getting your license that day, the photo you didn't even need will remain in the computerized license-laminator thingy until someone deletes it.

The waiting area is about 100 x 30 and there are seats for as many as 75 people (I'm thinking closer to 50). Babies are crying. Old ladies are standing against the wall, leaning on their walkers. Enormous women wearing housedresses and slippers are yelling, "J.D. you get your ass down from that chair or I'll knock your damn head off!" People in wheelchairs are blocking the walkway and can't do anything about it. And everyone is angry. The people working there are even more grumpy than normal. You may hear the word "bullshit" a thousand times before you get out of there. I would like to think the folks at the DOT would quickly realize their mistake and remedy it, but knowing how things work they'll probably file some paperwork and wait for the next scheduled system update, somewhere around 3 years from now.

If you live in Polk County and need to renew your license, you have been warned. If you have kids, get a sitter. If you work, just take the whole day off. Waiting through an asinine mess like that is much easier to handle when you're not also worrying about being fired.

What life is like when you're married to a redneck...

2007-04-19T22:46:00.000-06:00

My husband is a redneck. Actually we're rednecks, it's just that he's better at it. I'd pass up a cocktail party for a bonfire and beer any old day, but my husband is more than that. He's thickly cloaked in redneck. Ever seen Red Green? That's him. Only he's younger of course, and I must say quite a bit better looking. In fact, I've often looked over his latest project and said, "Well, honey, if the women don't find you handsome, at least they'll find you handy."

Being married to a redneck is a challenge. I have to have a very good sense of humor and the ability to think outside the box. Rednecks come up with solutions ~~sane people~~ others might not have thought of, and usually it works. Looks like crap, but does the job, and doing the job is what's really important, right? Arguing with this logic is futile at best. Once the idea has begun to bloom, a true redneck won't be satisfied until they know if it will work. When you're married to a redneck, you have to be prepared to fight tooth and nail for a somewhat civilized lifestyle. "No," is simply not a strong enough word.

The second year in this house, Vic decided to build a basement under the house. This normally involves some company coming out, jacking up your house, digging underneath it, pouring your basement and then securing your house to it. It's a long-ish process and can be pretty expensive. This would have been even more complicated for us because half our house is built on a slab. But we don't need no stinking house-jacks. Vic dragged a jack-hammer into my laundry room, one part of our house with a slab floor, and jack-hammered a 4 x 6 hole in the floor. He told me it was possible to dig our basement from the inside out, and began hauling wheelbarrow loads of dirt from under my house right out the front door. The neighbors probably thought we were insane people preparing to bury a body or something. After about a week, he began construction on a belt system that would carry the dirt directly from the hole out the back of the house, powered with an old lawn mower engine. Thankfully, the mower engine wasn't working well and Vic decided it was a lot of work hauling bucketloads of dirt out of a 6 foot deep hole. We ended up filling in the hole with dirt again and covering it with leftover bags of mortar. (If the neighbors wondered about hauling dirt out, I wonder what they thought about hauling it in.) I never will know if that would have worked or if my house would have fallen down on my head (thank goodness).

We found a power tiller on the side of the road a few summers ago that needed a little work but was otherwise in good condition. Ever the tinkerer, Vic picked it up and soon was tilling my garden for me. When the tiller broke in the next week, he started making plans to convert the go-cart currently in progress into a tiller. The blades, he explained to me, could easily be fashioned to fit on the underbody of the go-cart. "Then you could just drive around and till the yard!" he told me. Luckily the go-cart was nowhere near running order yet, so I was spared the horror of a drive-able tiller. I think he's forgotten about that one. I hope.

I could to on forever. The time he cut a hole in the back of the house for a large window air conditioner, then ran duct to it so we could have "central air conditioning." How he built a woodburning heater for his tool shed. The hundreds of things fixed with duct tape and the thousands of suggestions I've had to flat-out refuse (you really, really don't want to know).

Beyond the ridiculous, though, lies an intelligent man with remarkable ingenuity. He built me a solid and sturdy bookshelf out of some old wooden doors he picked up on a job. When we took out the chimney, he constructed an entire entertainment center in the old fireplace (in a 950 sq ft house, the space that saves is phenomenal). If something breaks, I need only ask, "Can you make something to fit this?" and he'll wander around his shed full of parts and either find something, or make it for me. And we never would have made it home from North Carolina in the summer of '96 if he hadn't plugged a hole in the radiator with a bolt from the side of the road. His unbelievable redneck ability to adapt has shown our kids how to find a way to make it work, which is a pretty great thing.

I've learned to stop asking, "What will the neighbors think?" I've learned that if I'm patient enough to sit through the process, the outcome is usually worth it. I've learned to only object when the invention in his head is completely out of the question, and then to do so as firmly as possible. ("Hell no! Are you crazy?!") This, young grasshoppers, can be the path to insanity or the path to clarity. I'm hoping I come through on the end of clarity, but we still have several years ahead of us.

A walk in the park...

2007-04-17T23:37:00.000-06:00

Today we took advantage of the fabulous weather with a walk in the park near our house.

It's a state park, which means a lot of trees and no playground equipment. My kids never miss the slides and swings because there's a gob of way more interesting stuff down there. Thick woods around a creek. What more could a kid ask for?

While wandering the woods, we found a tree awesomely chewed to pieces by a beaver:

And the beaver's equally awesome home:

We passed a dead and mostly eaten up dog on the way to the creek, but I'll spare you the pictures of that thing. It wasn't pretty. The people-beaten path leads to a sand bar under this very cool old train bridge:

Chad got busy building a dam, one of his favorite things to do with water:

Cadence hunted for frogs:

Riley played in the mud:

After we got good and dirty, we trudge up this treacherous incline to the top of the train bridge:
..and went across.

I was having flashbacks of Stand By Me and made the kids hurry across for no reason. We've lived here 7 years and I know perfectly well the only trains that run on this track come through at about 2am. That's paranoia for you. On the other side of the creek, Cadence caught her much-coveted frog and I got some great pictures of the water..

..along with some other pretty silly things to take pictures of. Grass? What kind of weirdo takes pictures of grass? Uhh, that would be me.

It was a great way to spend the afternoon. We're all waiting for slightly warmer weather that will enable us to wade the creek. The bottoms is covered with mussel shells, sparkly rocks, and all kinds of other treasures.

"Fishing" for frogs...

2007-04-14T20:08:00.000-06:00

Last night, Chad stayed over with a friend of mine so he could attend a farm equipment auction early this morning. This friend has several acres of a really great yard with lots of trees and a little pond out back. When we picked him up this afternoon, Chad was in the back lot scanning the pond.

I asked what he was doing. "Fishing for frog eggs," he said. I make a joke about frogging instead of fishing, but he was too absorbed and didn't even hear me. I tell ya, nobody appreciates a good smart ass anymore. I guess there's supposed to be some eggs in there. Eggs from some frog my country friend calls Spring Peepers. Looks like a bunch of slime and muck to me. Chad was determined to take some home. He carefully inspected the slime.

After deciding the good stuff was out of his reach, he hunted up an old jug to stand on.

After all that hard work, Chad had a baggie full of pond water and slime, and possibly some frog eggs. As soon as we got home again, he realized he'd left the baggie on the counter at my friend's place. Figures. Tomorrow we're going back with all the kids to fish for some more.

Confessions of a skinny woman...

2007-04-12T23:12:00.000-06:00

I'm a thin person. I'm currently at the heaviest non-pregnant weight I've been in my life, at 126 lbs. I'm five foot nine. My pregnancy with Chad was the biggest weight-gainer, and the day he was born I was 24 pounds heavier than my 4 week OB appointment. You can count all my ribs and my collarbone is clearly visible from shoulder to shoulder. I'm sayin I'm thin.

When I was a teenager, my doctor said I was underweight. I was the same weight I was the last time I'd visited, and no thinner than I had been the rest of my life up to this point, but he insisted I go on a high calorie diet. So I counted calories. I drank Carnation Instant Breakfast with my breakfast. I ate until I was overfull and snacked between meals on high calorie things like cookies and candy bars (I was a teenager, that's about all I could think of). Calorie counting, as anyone doing so to lose weight will tell you, is just plain exhausting. All I did for two straight months was think about food. Overeating had made the very idea of my next meal nauseating. For the first time in my life, I was aware of how thin I was compared to everyone else. Before, I knew I was thin, but now the doctor had confirmed that something was wrong with me. I was embarrassed by my bony shape. I started wearing loose-fitting clothing, sometimes in layers, to reduce my skinny appearance.

After two months of this kind of eating, I'd gained a whopping 2 pounds, and the doctor frustratedly mumbled it could be water weight since I was having my period. We spent a really long time discussing what I ate, how often, and what kind of exercise I got. He accused me of not sticking to the diet and insisted that my being underweight was unhealthy and that I needed to take it seriously. I cried and insisted that I really had tried. I left his office with a scribbled list of suggested meals and the name of a weight gain product made for bodybuilders.

After a week or so of self-hating, I threw that doctor's list in the garbage. I'd spent my entire first 15 years not worrying about my body, and the last two months had brought me lots of misery and worry with no results. I'm doing nothing wrong - eating properly, getting the right amount of exercise, getting enough sleep. No amount of prodding or force can change my weight much. I'm just thin.

People often speculate on why I'm so thin. Maybe it's because I don't eat much sugar? Maybe I'm under a lot of stress? Maybe I get more exercise than most? Everyone assumes there must be some sort of secret to my thin figure. My grandmother would call me "bony," since she's a believer in food curing all that ails you. Bony. Skinny. Underweight. Skin and bones. A lot of women, often "overweight" according to the charts and maybe only a few pounds in that direction, call me "skinny," and always in that snotty way that says they hate me for it. Actually, I've been told more than a couple of times, "You're so skinny. I just hate you." This pisses me off. Think about that. You're _____. I hate you. Would it be okay for me to say, "Gee you're fat. I just hate you." Of course not. You don't hate someone because they're thin. You hate them because you're not, and you hate yourself for that. You hate yourself because you don't fit into that little imaginary box called Perfect.

I'm done hating myself. Beauty should not be measured in pounds. My body wants to be this weight. And I'm okay with that.

When Dad is home...

2007-04-12T13:13:00.000-06:00

It amazes me how our home routine is so delicate. It's not much of a routine really: get up, eat, get dressed, do some schoolwork, throw in some laundry and vacuuming here and there. My husband has been home this week because of our crappy cold weather. He was supposed to be doing some excavation work, but the ground has either been wet or (gasp) snowy all week. So he has sat around here, stir crazy with his claim of nothing to do. I have plenty of suggestions, but they're not received well. In the meantime, our simple little routine is all out of whack.

The kids are demons, taking advantage of Dad's lack of knowledge about household rules. Ignoring the box full of legos and other suitable building materials, they made huge castles out of videos and dvds. I walked into the room just in time to stop a bombing of the castles, and when I reminded them we don't play with videos, Cadence said, "Daddy helped us build them."

Vic tries to help around the house, but I'm so crazy about how I do things that I don't really want help. I've already doled out all the things I'm not so particular about to the kids. There's nothing left for Vic. Not to mention the fact that he can't find anything. "I'm changing the cat litter. Where do you keep the new bag?" Ugh.

I'm going insane. Please for the love of Bob, somebody send some warm sunny weather.

Giddy book geek...

2007-04-05T18:17:00.000-06:00

Look what was waiting for me at the post office this afternoon!

Saxon 7/6 homeschool set for Chad next year. Usborne Internet-Linked Encyclopedia of World History, Kingfisher History Encyclopedia and The Story of Mankind to go with the History Odyssey I just ordered. Spirit Walker by Michelle Paver, part of the Chronicles of Ancient Darkness series that Chad started reading and really enjoys. Packages! And it's not even my birthday yet.

When Vic got home I excitedly showed off my booty (and the books too *wink*). "Look at how awesome this Usborne book is," I said. "Check out all the great pictures! The kids are gonna love these! And look! A whole math package for 6th grade, can you believe it? Oh I can't wait to start using these!"

He scanned the books. He listened to me ramble and carry on. Then he said, "I love you, honey. You're a geek." He went outside to do some manly thing and left me alone with my books.

2007-04-05T10:28:00.000-06:00

A while ago, I mentioned my pan cupboard and how disorganized it is. The pans seem to follow a general theme of disarray flowing through the whole house. This is why:

Riley decided to organize everything for me. Nice of her, eh? She is just small enough to examine every corner of the cupboard closely and make the most of the space, which I could never do.

My dirty little cooking secret...

2007-04-04T19:57:00.000-06:00

My dirtiest cooking secret is this: I can't. Cook, that is. Not well anyway. The day I got married I had never cooked any kind of meat except ground beef, tuna, or hot dogs. My ground beef experience was limited to Hamburger Helper. I'd never made cookies or any other treat food, not even instant pudding. I cooked plenty of meals growing up, it's just that all of them came in a box. Imagine my dismay when our grocery budget left me with no choice but to buy things I had to actually cook. That first year I called friends and family members at least twice a week with some sort of crisis. I'd forgotten the tomatoes for the chili, could I still make it? What the hell is buttermilk? Baking soda is the same as baking powder, right?

This may not have been so bad, except I always waited until the last minute. I've never had any trouble doing anything I really tried to do, so I assumed cooking would be the same way. I assumed I'd have everything I needed, not really knowing what I needed in the first place. I was unprepared 99% of the time. Most of our meals for the first couple of years had ingredients varying from the recipe and were eaten at 10:00 because I didn't realize how long stuff took to cook. It may have been easier just to let Vic cook, but he was raised on meat, potatoes and starch, all of them fried in about 3 inches of oil. I refused to eat like that.

So I learned. I burned stuff. I returned meat to the pan over and over because it was underdone. I scorched stuff. I curdled stuff (who knew you couldn't add lemon juice to cream sauce?). Slowly I learned which flavors complimented each other. I learned recipes are important when you haven't made something before. I'm proud to announce that after almost 11 years of barely passable cooking, I can finally cook a steak that resembles neither a leather sole or fire log. I've learned to make things I never thought I could. And while I'm still not ready to try souffle, I'm confident I can produce a meal with great flavor that everyone will love.

I still can't bake a cake without having it stick to the pan. I still can't time all the parts of dinner so they'll be ready at the same time. But I'm learning. Tonight I'm typing this while waiting on baked potatoes in the oven. Not sure how long they take to bake since I've never made "baked potatoes" in anything but the microwave. It's 8:00 and I'm hoping we'll have time to eat dinner without the kids being up past their bedtime. Again.

Yay!

2007-04-03T22:02:00.000-06:00

I just got myself a new Canon PowerShot A560. That name might mean a lot or a little to you. To me it means I can now take pictures of our daily life, our learning and who knows what else. I can print pictures of projects right on the pages of detail for our portfolios. I can email pictures to family members. Most importantly, I can know exactly what my picture looks like the second I take it. How cool is that? And I can add some awesome pictures to my boring blog to make it slightly less boring. I'm so excited!

I went a bit overboard today, so the pictures I have to share are silly and unrelated, but hey - I needed to test out the camera right?

This is Cadence happily plugging away at her math workbook. I don't understand it; I've always found workbooks dry and boring. She loves them.

This is the painting in my bedroom. (Yes, that gosh-awful pinkish paint is my bedroom wall.) I'm taking offers if anyone's interested. It's a Christian-symbolic painting by Somebody Jensen (I think). I hate it, but keep it because it fills that empty wall. And it's ... you know.. interesting.

This is the shower wall in my bathroom. Vic tiled it with some leftovers from tile jobs he did a few years ago. The floor is pretty cool too, but it was way too dirty for pictures today.

Hopefully I can find way more interesting things to take pictures of. But I had to test the camera right? Yeah, that's it. This is a test. I had a lot of fun playing with it. I'm really looking forward to all the great stuff I can do now that I've moved into the world of technology.

Is there an echo in here?...

2007-04-01T14:13:00.000-06:00

You know you've said something a million times when you hear it coming from the mouths of your children. This is usually funny, like yesterday when Riley asked Cadence to leave her alone in the bedroom because she needed "a piece of quiet." Not so funny when I hear myself saying things my mother said, but I catch those phrases and weed them out as often as possible.

Today I accidentally deleted the recycle bin from my computer desktop. Not a completely uncommon thing, and I'm wondering why an operating system that's supposed to be so dummy-proof even allows you to do something like delete your recycle bin. I'm not a computer idiot, but I've screwed up my computer more than a couple of times with an accident. One click and your computer no longer works properly. Nice programming.

Anyway, I deleted the recycle bin and realizing what I'd done and that I wasn't sure how to fix it without looking it up, I said under my breath, "Well that was good, you dumbass." I thought I was quiet enough, but Cadence heard me and began the lecture. "You're not dumb, Mama. We don't say bad things like that about anyone, even ourselves." I don't know how many times I've said that exact thing to my kids. It was funny, but it also made me proud that my little lessons about life aren't falling on deaf ears.

10 Things My Kids Learned From Dad...

2007-03-29T16:59:00.000-06:00

.. or "Reasons Not to Leave the Kids With a Redneck Ex-Marine Dad All Afternoon" :

1) Hogtying is an art.

2) Old bike innertubes make great slingshots.

3) Cats do not like duct tape.

4) Grubs are abundant when you dig.

5) Grubs make good bait and keep a long time in the refrigerator.

6) Napalm is easy to make.

7) Anything burns with napalm.

8) An air-powered pellet gun produces enough force to penetrate a metal car door.

9) Three sheets of 1/2 inch insulating foam board will support a child's weight in a pond.

10) Coca Cola makes the best burps.

Gotta love dad :)

While I'm in online ordering mode...

2007-03-29T11:10:00.000-06:00

I've been hunting around online for a history/social studies curriculum for the kids. We've been ignoring the social studies books so far because they're lame and I have issues with the subject matter. The district curriculum starts in first grade with cities and road signs, then moves through the next four grades with states, government, the revolution, then the Roman Empire. Anyone else see a huge flaw in order here? I get the idea of starting with where you live and moving outward, but wouldn't it be easier to learn history chronologically?

For example, I'd rather my kids learn about government AFTER they understand why our government is structured this way. I'd rather save the revolution until they can read and comprehend the constitution. There are way too many people in America who are content to bend over and take it from the government because they don't understand in the slightest what the government's role is supposed to be. I believe we would not be where we are if more people understood how little England had to push before we told them to piss off. Most people have no idea at all the real meaning of words like "freedom" and "liberty."

Whoa, I digress. A lot. Anyway, I'm looking at chronological history. I've heard good things about Story of the World, and while we're quite capable of supplementing text with books from the library, I get the idea that's all this program is based on. Here's the general idea, now go learn about it somewhere else. Honestly if I was going to do that, I don't even need their "textbook." Since I'm really after an unschooly approach to history, it would probably be better if I did that anyway. I'm also concerned about religious material worming its way in. Religion is a big part of history and I'm okay with that, but I'd rather not have a Christian biased history. I guess I'll keep looking.

In the meantime, I'm ordering Saxon math materials for Chad next year. I'm debating on Cadence's math curriculum because I think she'd be bored and burnt out with the constant practice that Saxon demands. But right now she's using a program based mostly on manipulatives and workbook pages, which she just zips through and asks for more. She enjoys this, but I don't feel she's getting a lot from it. It takes her a bit to understand new concepts, so I'm reluctant to just move her ahead.

All this would be no problem whatsoever if I wasn't so terrified to design our own curriculum. I really want to homeschool in a relaxed and guided (rather than structured) manner, but I'm afraid I'll screw it up. I don't know everything. I'm a disorganized mess and have a lot of doubts about my ability to research the necessary stuff and present it to the kids. And I'm worried about the whole portfolio thing and how that relates to a non-text curriculum. Am I seriously supposed to list every friggin online resource, library book, workbook or project we've used the entire year? I'm afraid of the kind of organization that would require. I know I can do it, but it scares the crap out of me.

So, until I get the balls for that kind of schooling, I'll just keep looking for the right curriculum.

What I was gonna do today...

2007-03-28T00:03:00.000-06:00

Things I was going to do today:

1) Clean off the computer desk, throw out old mail (yes, I'm one of those people), move out desk and everything on it, vacuum.

2) Go shopping for new desk, most likely the cheap kind that will fall apart in a few years, that way I'll be sure it matches everything else in the house.

3) Visit the library. It was Tuesday after all.

4) Organize my pan cupboard. The weirdest thing happens to my pans. I put them away in nice little stacks and after about a month it looks like an oversized junk drawer. Like that closet on Zaboomafoo, you open the door and tons of stuff just falls out everywhere. Ridiculous.

5) Measure the girls' room, design a bookshelf/toy cupboard, and compile a list of supplies needed. Make Vic build it.

Things I actually did today:

1) Caught a stomach bug, or something, complete with massive headache and overall ickiness.

2) Got an early visit from Aunt Flo, who was almost a week late last time. This kind of inconsistency has never happened before. Since I was 11, excluding pregnancies, I've been 28 and 1/2 days. Almost to the hour. I'm not sure what to think of it. Add some cramps and some more ickiness.

3) Lounged on the couch and whined a lot. The kids made their own dinner of pb&j and I didn't even feel guilty. I don't know what Vic ate, nor do I care much. I slept through dinner.

Now I'm awake at midnight, having slept most of the evening. Yuck. I'm hoping the stomach thing might actually be a menstrual side effect so the kids don't come down with it. I'm feeling a lot better now, after my stomach has settled and I've chased the cramps away with Merlot and about half a bottle of ibuprofen (ow! my liver!), so I'm hoping to attack all that stuff tomorrow. If all goes well, I won't have to add "Clean up kid vomit" to that list.

My seed order is in...

2007-03-27T12:45:00.000-06:00

I just finished ordering seeds from High Mowing Seed Company. I'm excited about trying a new tomato this year and very much looking forward to the awesome lettuce I've become used to through the summer. This is the third year I've ordered from them, and have always been quite satisfied with the number of viable plants and the quality of the produce.

Well, that's not entirely true. Last year I ordered corn and was pissed when the plants only grew about 5ft tall, with about 1-1/2 inch stalks. We had a wonderfully sunny summer, which corn loves. I'd fertilized and adjusted soil pH in my terribly acidic yard. I watered every other day. We got plenty of corn, an average of 2 ears per stalk, and it tasted wonderful, but I was positive it would have been so much better if it had grown properly. When I visited their website to order my seeds this time, I intended to get a different type of corn and read each description carefully.

Turns out I'm just too used to Iowa. Most of the corn we grow here is feed corn for animals or "factory" corn for things like cornmeal, oil, syrup, etc. I was unaware that the corn I got last year was only supposed to get 5ft tall, not 6-7 like the corn around here on a good year. Not all corn grows like Jack's beanstalk and gets a whopping 3 inches thick. Who knew? So I went ahead and ordered the same stuff as last year. It did have great flavor after all.

Chad is a soil hound too, but this time he's getting his plants from Four Seasons Nursery. I'm trying to talk him out of about half his list, since they're trees or bushes and we just don't have the yard space. He's planning on getting a dwarf blueberry bush, supposedly able to live in a pot. I'm really really hoping that's true. I'm not a fan of peppers or onions (or lots of other icky crunchy vegetable-y things), so I only grow boring predictable stuff. This year I'm planting the corn of course, and slicing tomatoes, leaf lettuce, pie pumpkins and basil. I actually have tons of dried basil from two years ago, but I love the smell of flowering basil. It's a wonderful, thick smell but hangs only near the plant, so it doesn't overpower the whole yard. I plant it all along the border of my porch and along the side of the house. I also ordered some flowers for the front yard. Anyone else have a garden? What are you growing this year?

More backyard wildlife...

2007-03-26T13:52:00.000-06:00

Last night, Chad came in the back door excitedly telling me there was a huge animal that had walked through our back yard into the nieghbor's yard. The last time he saw a "huge animal," he claimed it was a bear. No, insisted it was a bear, even though I was pretty clear about where bears live, which isn't in little towns in Iowa. Not even towns as little as ours. The last time, it was just a raccoon, and we've become pretty acquainted with them since then.

So, wondering which neighbor's dog had escaped, I took a flashlight and went out back. Nothing in our yard. Nothing in the neighbor's either. We walked around the front of the neighbors tall wooden fence and there around the corner was an animal alright. Its eyes were reflecting the light from the flashlight, but that's all I could see of it. I looked at it. It looked at me. We stood like that for a long time until I finally sent Chad in for the big Maglite. I'd probably been standing there, 20 feet from this thing for 5 minutes by the time we got a good light on him. And it wasn't a neighbor's dog.

It was a bobcat.

I backed up a bit, but not far. It was really exciting and the kids were crowding in behind me to get a better look. While bobcats aren't outwardly aggressive, I didn't want to give it any reason to feel threatened. After a few minutes, it finally got bored and walked away. I'm going to keep an eye out for it the next couple of nights. I'm hoping I can get a picture!

Four is a magic number...

2007-03-22T09:04:00.000-06:00

There's a Bill Cosby comedy bit, I think from Himself, that describes a very long flight with a little boy named Jeffrey. Jeffrey is four years old and tells everyone on the plane, "I'm four years old." During the wedding rehearsal a few weeks ago, the adorable little ring bearer stood shyly by his mother eyeing Cadence by the snack table. Finally he mustered enough courage to approach her, but instead of introducing himself or even saying hello, he said, "You know what? I'm four."

Four is apparently a very important age. Most four year olds will tell you their age repeatedly, in case you forgot. Riley turned four yesterday and spent the entire day saying, "Now I'm four." Not, "It's my birthday," nothing about presents or cake - other than to ask when we'd have them, and only once all day - nothing about being bigger or asking when others' birthdays would be. Nope. Just, "Now I'm four." It's a big deal.

We never make a huge deal out of birthdays here. No Chuck E Cheese or rented hotel rooms or parties at the water park. The presents don't total more than $50 usually. Thankfully this time, the idea of turning four was way more important than presents anyway. Next month, I'll be 30. You can bet your ass I'll be counting on some presents. ;)

Digital cameras...

2007-03-21T08:18:00.000-06:00

I mentioned before that I'm planning to buy a digital camera. I had one picked out, but now I'm starting to wonder if I should be more careful in my choosing. Does it matter how many megapixels it has? Is price just a matter of brand or does it reflect quality? Are there brands I should avoid for some reason? If my new computer is an HP, and the photo software I have is HP, should I get an HP camera too? This is becoming a bigger decision that I would have liked.

I really just want a stupid camera. Is there anything that fits just what I'm looking for?

-I'm not planning to submit anything to National Geographic. I just want to take pictures of my regular life.
-I don't want to email pictures the size of Canada to all my family members (Hello, family members and friends? Do you know how annoying it is to have to scroll down and over just to view pictures of your cat?), but I also don't want the picture quality to entirely suck.
-I don't want to hold the button down for 10 seconds before the camera takes the picture, and some sort of motion-correcting capabilities would be nice.
-I don't need to take thousands of pictures before I empty the memory, but it would be nice if I could take more than 50.
-I don't want to spend more money that I have to, but I also don't want something that will break by the third time I use it.
-I'd rather avoid a camera that requires a bunch of attachments to get the pictures from the camera to the computer, or anywhere else.

Any ideas?

The strangest thing happened...

2007-03-21T07:34:00.000-06:00

We took the kids to a Des Moines restaurant called Ohana, a teppanyaki restaurant where they cook your food on a grill right at your table. You share a table with other diners unless you have a really large party - I think each table seats 10. They flip knives around and throw stuff, it's very cool. Until this time, this restaurant has been "our" place, meaning neither Vic or I have taken a date there before we were married. Silly, but sometimes silly things are still special. Finally though, our desire to share such a neat place with the kids overcame our silly possessiveness of the restaurant.

While we were waiting for our table, we sat in the lounge next to a biker-type guy with a bandanna on his head, his trashy looking female counterpart, and two young girls. When my daughters crowded around Vic for hugs and kisses, just because, this trailer park family giggled and whispered and hung all over each other saying, "Oh I LOVE you!" in mockery. I guess they thought there was something weird about parent/child affection? When they called our names, we learned we would be sharing a table with Trailer Park Family, and the mom whispered (loudly) to the biker dude, "Great, we get to share a table with the happy family with their little kids." (Hello, Bitch, I can hear you.) I centered myself and refused to let them ruin our meal, even though my first impulse was to punch her.

Vic and I had just been to this restaurant last weekend while the kids overnighted with Grandma and had been disappointed with our chef. He was kinda boring and his jokes weren't very funny and well, he was kind of a jerk. There was a drunk lady harassing him, so that may have had something to do with it. Either way, you can imagine how I felt when I saw the same chef pushing his little cart our to our table on our kids' first trip to this really neat place. Throughout the introductions and preparation of the appetizer, we learned Trailer Park Family consisted of Mom and daughters, 10 and 12, and stand-in boyfriend biker guy. The chef asked some I-really-don't-care questions about school and classes and stuff and the girls responded in the normal way: school kinda sucks, favorite "classes" are recess and lunch, not very good at any subject, etc. Then he turned to my kids and asked what grade they were in. "We homeschool," I told him. He looked uncomfortable, and I almost cringed when he said, "...Oh."

He said, "Um.. I don't want to be rude or anything, but.. well.. are you homeschooling because you don't believe in evolutionary theory?" I almost laughed. "Oh no," I said, "We're not homeschooling for religious reasons if that's what you're asking." He smiled and said, "So you homeschool because the current school system, based on an outdated institutional structure, fails to produce anything but moderately literate individuals incapable of independent thought..." he went on and on like this. I was dumbstruck. "Yeah, that's the one," I said finally. He asked my kids a thousand questions, and when Chad told him his favorite subject was science, the chef turned his cart sideways to show us a sticker that said "Talk Nerdy To Me," and rattled on about the best science magazines and books. He was delighted that we owned some Azimov and told us to look for some of his non-fiction publications because they were fascinating (which I will definitely do). Trailer Park Family squirmed a lot and chatted amongst themselves, and finally started making rude comments like, "I think I fell asleep for a second there." The Chef ignored them and continued serving food and chatting with us. He even went into significant detail about a teaching theory he'd read about, the name of the book, and the basics of the theory, finishing with, "See, I'm homeschooled too, only I'm homeschooling myself."

When we left our table, Chad and Cadence had to stop at the bathroom and Vic took Riley to get the car. I stood at the bar waiting for my older kids, and our chef was there talking to some of the other employees. He told me to keep up the good work, that what Vic and I are doing for our kids is a great thing, and that he doesn't often see such well-adjusted, intelligent kids as ours. I felt so great when we left that place. I know I'm doing the right thing for my kids. I know they're well-adjusted and intelligent. But since most of the feedback we get from family and people we come into contact with every day is negative or completely uninterested, it's great to get some compliments sometimes. We'll be returning to this restaurant with our children, and we might just ask for this chef again.

Ahhh...

2007-03-20T00:16:00.000-06:00

Well it finally happened and my barely-hanging-on computer went caput. I was checking some blogs and mail with an old computer, but the keyboard port is broken on that one so no typing for me. Why do I have all these broken computers???

The tax return I've been waiting and waiting and waiting for finally came on Friday, so after the major bills and stuff were paid, we went computer shopping. Now I'm typing this on a brand spanking new keyboard with no missing keys, attached to a brand spanking new computer with Windows Vista. I'm having a hard time adjusting to Vista, but I think I'll live. I've never had a new computer before. Every computer I've ever owned has been either a hand-me-down from a friend or relative who replaced theirs or a discount rebuild from one of those shady rebuilt computer places. I can't even tell you how excited I am!

It's reeeally late here and I should be in bed but couldn't resist the peace and quiet of sleeping family members enabling me to type without distraction. I've been using that laptop with missing keys for so long I actually had to re-learn how to type properly. The space bar on the laptop was just a tiny plunger thingy, so I had been pushing it with an index finger - hard- for every space. It's a miracle I ever typed anything at all really. Now I'm having to train my index finger away from the space bar and teach my thumb to find it again. Funny how a few months of impairment have screwed up years of 70+ wpm.

Tomorrow I'm going shopping for a digital camera. It's like Christmas, only better since most of the new stuff is for me instead of everyone else. Hope everyone had a great weekend

Grandma's Spaghetti Sauce...

2007-03-08T22:45:00.000-06:00

Tonight we had the rare treat of Grandma's Special Spaghetti and Meatballs. My grandmother made the best spaghetti sauce ever, and I've spent the last 10 years trying to recreate her "secret" recipe. It's still subject to some tweaking, but here's my base recipe:

2 quarts tomato juice
2 cans (14.5oz) diced tomatoes
1/2 cup chopped onions
2 cloves chopped garlic
1 tsp each- basil, oregano, salt and rosemary
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 lb ground beef
1/2 lb ground breakfast sausage
1 cup cracker crumbs
2 eggs
2 tbsp cooking oil

Dump the tomato juice, diced tomatoes, spices, onions, garlic and brown sugar in a large pot. Bring to a gentle boil, reduce heat and simmer (here's the kicker) 3-4 hours, stirring occasionally. When the sauce cooks down to a nice thickness, mix the ground beef, sausage, cracker crumbs and eggs in a mixing bowl (use your hands, it's more fun). Preheat a skillet with the cooking oil on medium heat. Roll meat mixture into 2 inch balls and fry, rolling around often to brown all sides, until cooked through. Drain off grease and dump meatballs into the sauce. Simmer another 15 minutes while you get your noodles together. By the time this cooks down, it's about 8 pretty generous servings. (?? I really have no clue??) We always have seconds.

I always add things every time I stir this sauce, mostly salt and brown sugar. However I'm a salt-hound, and a lover of sweet sauces, which may not apply to everyone. We scraped our leftovers into the bowl outside for the critters. Skittish was here early tonight and got the best of the offering, and let me tell you there's not much funnier than a raccoon eating spaghetti.

I'm an UNschooler...

2007-03-05T00:20:00.000-06:00

Ok, I'm uschoolISH. Don't ask for a definition, I just don't have one. We dual-enroll, so we have books, we just don't use them much. We do book work for math and we read, read, read and we watch lots of educational programs and we learn from lots of other areas. A few weeks ago, I bitched to a local homeschool group about our reviewing teacher. When we started out, our choices were slim and I didn't know how to find a supervising teacher. An internet search brought me to the Network of Iowa Christian Home Educators, or NICHE. Great and all, but we're not Christian home educators.

I was clear with the teacher I chose that we were secular and unschool-leaning. She assured me that she'd worked for many years with many different types of homeschoolers. That first year, she suggested several religion-based homeschool textbooks, saying, "I know you're secular, but..." The second year when we decided to use the portfolio option instead of testing, she lectured me about including something that proved my son had learned grammar and sentence structure, proper writing technique, and a tape-recording of his reading. We hadn't studied sentence structure or grammar outside of the normal common-sense stuff. Most people speak with correct grammar by the time they're five, so writing this way is not difficult. Do we really need to break it down to nouns, verbs and adjectives, and discuss the proper tense? Do we really need to learn things like subject and predicate? I can honestly say in my entire adult life, I've never used the word "predicate" until this teacher required we include it in our portfolio. Chad is a reluctant writer, and pushing and forced writing activities only strengthen that reluctance. And what the hell does reading aloud prove? I can barely read Dr. Suess aloud without stumbling a bit, and saying "the" instead of "a" or something similar. He would lose points for every misread word, and he was then at the point of reading several 5th grade level books per week silently - big words and all.

So I cheated. I printed a couple stupid worksheets about parts of speech and subjects and predicates and I actually stood over my son while he did them. I briefly explained each worksheet and then asked him to answer aloud before writing the answer. If he was wrong, I simply told him the answer and we moved on. These cheated worksheets were my examples of his grammar lessons, and if he remembered any of that stuff longer than five minutes, he's doing better than most kids in public school as far as I'm concerned. Considering newspapers and the like are written at a 4th or 5th grade reading level, the fact that anything harder shows up on his reading list is a pretty good example of his reading progress. We picked a reading selection without too many multi-syllable words for him to read aloud, and I let him practice reading those two pages for almost half an hour before we recorded it. When we recorded, I let him run the machine, and if he misread or didn't like the way something sounded, he rewound and recorded again. The whole thing left me feeling icky and wrong, but it satisfied the teacher, and I was hoping once we were past all that silly grammar stuff it would not have to be repeated this year.

I was wrong. I just received a letter from our reviewing teacher, sealed with a sticker showing a sweet little boy praying and the word "Faithfulness" across the top. Ugh. The letter states her requirements for portfolio content as:

1. Results of baseline tests (this doesn't apply to us)
2. lesson plans, diary or written record of planning overview. (we don't plan, we just learn)
3. Outline of curriculum used (umm...)
4. Samples of work in each subject area: Reading, Math, Language, for grades 6+ add social studies and science (we have a reading list and math work, but language? .. I'm also concerned about next year and how the hell I'm supposed to prove he learned social studies and science? A list of videos and field trips?)
5. Any grades, assessments, written reports, test results, etc. (we do none of this)
6. A list of books read (covered)
7. A cassette tape of the child reading aloud (wtf? Why?!?)

I'm starting to think this woman doesn't understand the meaning of "unschooling," nor does she appreciate the benefits, obviously. I'm shopping for a new reviewing teacher this week for the next school year. I'll also spend the week making a fake lesson plan for the year and pretending I have a clue what days we did or did not "do school." Traditional school uses the same methods to prove learning as they do to teach. I'm not teaching my children to pass tests, I'm teaching them what they need to learn, in any way they need to learn it. So how the hell am I supposed to prove learning that isn't done simply to pass a test? I do not want to misrepresent my kids' progress and feel like a huge cheating loser for this, but I'm at a loss on a better way to handle it at this point.

The Princess and fifteen minutes of fame...

2007-02-28T13:25:00.000-06:00

I'm late posting this because of the crazy week we've been having, and because I'm apparently too dumb to figure out how to get pictures uploaded to blogger. I think I've finally mastered it now, thank goodness, so I can finally share more than boring stories with you nice folks. I digress.

The wedding went completely without a hitch, aside from the nasty weather we had. The crazy photographer insisted on getting a few outside pictures, with the poor bride and her seven bridesmaids suffering sleeveless in 30 degree temperatures. Cadence got to wear a tiara and said, "I look just like a princess!" She was so excited and went about mothering the ring bearer, something she does with everyone smaller than herself, telling him where to stand and holding his hand right along with her basket as they walked down the aisle. We had to be at the church early to get ready for pictures, and there were some incredibly sweet shots of Cadence and the ring bearer exchanging cheek-kisses (which were quickly wiped off, of course) that I can't wait to get copies of from my friend.

Here's Cadence before the wedding:

You can't really see the pretty beading and lace on the dress because this was a disposable camera, and I'm still using my scanner, but you can believe it was gorgeous. Her hair is incredibly fine and is normally straight as a stick, so she wore about half a can of hair spray. Here she is waiting to go upstairs for "the show.":

I didn't scan any pics including the rest of the wedding party, since I have no permission to post pics of anybody but my own little family. I'm so proud of my beautiful little brown-eyed princess, and we had a wonderful time with lots of wonderful memories.

The drive home was treacherous and crazy, with sleet and snow and about 4 inches of slushy slick stuff all over the roads. This was the worst storm in several years, but we made it home ok and all got to bed on time - a blessing since the lack of sleep the night before made my kids all a little crazy (and me along with them!).

The Flower Girl and the Rehearsal...

2007-02-23T23:37:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, I got a formal invitation to the rehearsal dinner following my friend's wedding rehearsal. I've been a bridesmaid in two weddings, but had never gotten an official invitation before. I was impressed.

The rehearsal took way longer than it should have, and poor Cadence was a nervous wreck wondering where to stand and when to walk and how fast. The ring bearer is four, cute as a bug, and he loved Cadence from the second he saw her. He insisted on holding her hand, even though during the actual wedding, Cadence is supposed to hold a basket.

SEVEN bridesmaids and groomsmen. Seven. There was barely room at the altar.

The whole time I felt completely out of place. I had every right to be right where my daughter was, yet I'm not part of the actual wedding party this time. This is Cadence's glory, but it's not really HER wedding. Is it ok to let her think it was her special day anyway? I've been telling her things like, "It's A's wedding, but you're gonna look like the princess and everyone will talk about how cute you are." I'm trying to psyche her up a bit. When she was asked to do this, she agreed but wasn't excited - I discovered later she just had no idea what a flower girl IS, so she didn't know how neat it was. Or how special to be asked.

The dinner was at a pretty nice restaurant and Cadence ordered a burger that was so huge it had to be smooshed to fit in her mouth. When I asked if she liked it, she said, "It's okay. Not at all like McDonalds." She didn't eat much of the burger because this alien child of mine likes salad and had filled up on her first course.

All the kids were up well past their bedtimes tonight. We're supposed to get a bunch of snow tomorrow, so I hope we can make it to pictures on time. I'm so excited for Cadence and can't wait to get some great pictures of her and the wedding tomorrow.

My wedding...

2007-02-21T00:27:00.000-06:00

Over the summer, a friend of mine asked Cadence to be the flower girl in her wedding this spring. Cadence has been so excited, asking almost every day how many days were left until the wedding. Our part in the planning has been very minimal: we showed up at the dress shop, Cadence tried on dresses till she found one she and the bride both liked, we went home. We bought some shoes at Payless last month and they've sat on a shelf since. Easy peasy. I'm hearing the usual stuff from the bride, like messes with caterers, arguments with people, dresses and tuxes and all that. I'm telling you all this because the wedding is this weekend, and today I've been thinking of my own wedding.

Vic and I were on again off again the entire time we dated. We were currently broken up when I discovered I was pregnant, and fought for almost two months over whether we should be together. Somewhere we reconciled, and I really can't even remember the details, but I moved in with him and his parents. (About the dumbest thing I ever did.) We got engaged, mostly because that's what his parents thought we should do. We applied for a marriage license. I bought a wedding dress from a second-hand store. We bought a bridal ring set. Then we decided to wait until at least after the baby was born. What if we didn't love each other at all and just wanted to get married because we "should"? I really loved him, but with all those breakups and makeups I wasn't sure marriage was a good idea. He wasn't sure either, and by the time I was 4 months pregnant, he'd signed up for the Marines and shipped off to boot camp.

Now it might have seemed like a terrible situation doomed to fail, as many stories we've all heard. Sure, he'll marry you when he comes home. Sure, you'll wait for him. Whatever, right? He DID write a letter to an ex-girlfriend while in boot camp, saying how "confused" he was. I DID have lots of fun with my friends and very much enjoyed being away from him. But I loved him, and the longer he was away, and the more letters we exchanged, the more I missed him.

Chad was due two weeks after Vic's graduation, but decided to come early - a week and a half before he left boot camp. When I met Vic in the airport with a tiny bundle of baby, he declared he wanted to get married in his two weeks of leave before shipping off to more training. I was overwhelmed, but also completely swept away with love for him and our new son. I was 19 and immature and knew nothing of the world, but I wanted to marry this man.

That afternoon, a call to the courthouse told us our previously-applied-for marriage license expired in THREE DAYS. It was Thursday. If we reapplied, we'd have to wait two weeks for a new one, and in two weeks Vic would be flying to North Carolina. We frantically called every minister we could think of, but they were all booked. Finally we found one, a kindly older pastor who had also married both my brothers-in-law to their wives. He had church service on Sunday and a funeral on Saturday he said, "But I can do it tomorrow." "Umm.." I stumbled, "Well, that will have to do." It was 6pm. Our wedding was scheduled at 5pm the following day.

The wedding dress I'd held on to since we got engaged no longer fit, since when I bought it I wasn't planning to wear it 11 days after giving birth. I borrowed a nice white dress from my (very)soon-to-be mother in law - one of those she'd kept since she was 20 for the day she's skinny enough to wear it again. It wasn't beautiful and was slightly out of style, but it did just fine. We had no caterer. No flowers. About 50 guests we'd called that night. ("Wanna come to our wedding? It's tomorrow.") We bought Vic's wedding band from a department store. My uncle made a cake and my grandmother cleaned out her basement for the reception. (Pretty good for Betty Crocker, some food coloring, and decorations from the party supply store, eh?) We had no bridesmaids or groomsmen and Vic wore his dress uniform, convenient since he didn't own even a nice suit. Isn't he dashing?My father was out of town working, so my father-in-law walked me down the little aisle. It was windy as hell, my mother got embarassingly drunk while I - nursing a newborn - drank 7up, and it rained all the way home. There was no fun wedding night sex, since we were sharing a twin bed in my mom's house and with Chad's birth and the subsequent 6 stitches, I was in no shape for it.My friends have expressed sympathy for not having a dream wedding, but I could not have asked for anything more special. My family came together for me, preparing the reception with food and cake and plenty of champagne. The wedding gifts were numerous and fantastic, despite the short notice. Our entire wedding cost $375, not several thousand. I still got married, which was the point, and it didn't have to cost a lot. Considering the length of the average marriage, I don't know why anyone would want to spend thousands of dollars anyway. Ten years later, my $375 has been a wonderful investment.

Wildlife in our yard...

2007-02-13T10:53:00.000-06:00

If I had that digital camera I'm jonesing for, it would be a lot easier to share pictures of our little world. For now, I'm stuck with scanning pics with my crappy printer/scanner. Bear with me on the photo quality, but I wanted to share our outdoor pets with you.

A few months ago, we spent every morning cleaning garbage up in our front yard because neighborhood animals got into our trash can. Since we couldn't get out right away to buy a garbage can with a lid, we decided to bribe them away from the can with readily available food. We placed a large plastic bowl outside the back door and started filling it with food items we'd normally throw away. Pizza crusts, melon rinds, egg shells, stale bread and crackers, etc. Not only were we helping out some animals that would normally be hard-up for food this time of year, but there was no longer food in our garbage can to tempt them into ripping into the bags. It's all in the bowl.

It took only two nights before the animals found it, and started making a nightly trek to our back door. It's a sliding glass double-door, so we get a fantastic view of the animals when they visit. Vic started putting a bowl of water out for them too. Within a week, we had a pair of opossums and a pair of raccoons visiting nightly. As is traditional for children, mine named our new "pets." The opossums are Hammer and Bob. We have no pictures of either, and they've recently stopped visiting since it's been so cold.

This is the larger raccoon, Scruff (with a nice reflection from the back door glass):

This is the smaller raccoon, Skittish:

Scruff posing for the camera:

This morning we had a new visitor, a squirrel that's missing a large amount of fur on his back. He will henceforth be known as Baldy the Squirrel. Baldy has altered many of my beliefs on squirrel diets by happily munching on rice and french fries. I'm looking forward to this summer and what new animals might find their way into my back yard.

Adventures in cooking...

2007-02-12T10:28:00.000-06:00

I've recently become addicted to Eggs Benedict. I decided to try it a few weeks ago while out with my friends for breakfast. I can't believe I never ate eggs benedict before. I wasn't too impressed with it, but I was convinced it was the hollandaise sauce. Cheapo restaurant hollandaise comes frozen in a box and is thick and orange with very little flavor. Some people think hollandaise is a cheese sauce because the only exposure they've ever had was the thick orangey stuff. There is no cheese in hollandaise sauce. If you've never had it at an upscale restaurant or made it yourself, y'all are missing out.

I happen to make an awesome hollandaise sauce, despite the fact that I have so many cooking shortcomings. Recipes vary, but this is how I make mine:

8 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp lemon juice
3 egg yolks, slightly beaten
dash red pepper flakes

Melt butter in a stainless steel saucepan. Add lemon juice and heat until steamy but not boiling. Remove from heat. Whisk in egg yolks in very small amounts, about a tablespoon or so at a time. Dump, whisk, dump, whisk, until all egg yolks are combined. Return to very low heat and whisk constantly until slightly thickened. You don't want it to clump because the egg yolk is what holds it all together. If the egg starts cooking and clumping, you'll end up with egg clumps and oil, instead of a smooth beautiful sauce. Serve immediately, garnished with a light sprinkling of red pepper flakes. This sauce is great on eggs of course, the traditional steamed asparagus, and just about any other vegetable.

Through my internet wanderings yesterday, I stumbled upon The Science of Cooking, where the process of emulsification is explained with this sauce. This website also has lots of other great experiments with food to explain other scientific concepts. I can see this being a great resource for us in the future.