For those of you who have been sitting here with bated breath, checking this blog every 10 mins for any word, and couldn't sleep last night wondering if I was still alive after the sewing class...I did survive. In fact, I am excited to be back into it. It has motivated me to delve into it again. The woman who is teaching us is so gifted and can make all kinds of things, without patterns (audible gasp inserted here). She has me dreaming of no end of possibilities. She used R as a model to show how easy it was to make a dress. She literally held the material up to R and started cutting out the skirt, bodice and sleeves (another unbelievable gasp). All four of my older children and I are involved in this class. So yesterday they all had a turn at the machine, getting the hang of straight stitching. My friend has all kind of incentives to gain points to win prizes, which include scripture memory and Bible reading. So, it has the children motivated to take part in each of the activities. My two littles are staying with a dear woman from church who has such a heart for little children. Hers are all grown now and she really has a servants heart. So, D and H were full of news of the fun activities that they did while we were gone. Their theme yesterday? Pigs.
Today we are having a nice day at home, doing the normal Saturday kind of things. I went in to town to get groceries. In a little while we are going to go ride horses. No, not me, S won't let me get up on a horse right now with my back as touchy as it has been. But, the children are really enjoying learning how to ride. Our landlord has two horses and has been letting the children ride, right here on the property. It is a wonderful blessing. The older three are really able to ride on their own now, and even trot. E prefers to still be led by "Mr Randy", and even D and H get up and ride while being led.
I will close with the quote of the day. No, not from my children this time, but from a cashier at the grocery store. "Are you doing a monthly shopping?" "No, this will last us about a week". I love the shock value. Then the other cashier hands me my receipt that is five feet long...ok, I am exaggerating a little, but it was alot of food.
Welcome to Days At SpringMeadows!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
A fresh start
It's time to try again with our relationship. Surely we can make this work. I mean, just because all we have done is get in knots time and time again, doesn't mean it will always be that way. Come on now, let's put the past behind us. We can make some progress, I just know it. It's been over a decade since we were first introduced. You have caused me much frustration over the fabric of our lives, I have had no notion what you were doing to me. And finally, I have just walked away. To put it bluntly I just felt hemmed in. I have felt like I could not measure up. The way you have needled me has been more than I could bear. And then I have come back, to be frustrated once again by my own inaptness to fulfill this goal. I have just been ready to quilt, I mean quit. But, I am ready to try again. I want to change this pattern of ours. We have to laugh at ourself...you know, be in stitches over our mistakes. With the help of a dispassionate third party...to face the challenge. To brace for the trials that lie ahead. It will be good to thread our way through this journey. I am ready, sewing machine...to conquer you.
P.S Sewing lessons start tomorrow :)
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Live participation at GPC
I am very excited to announce that we now have the capability of offering anyone interested to join us live during our worship services each Lord's Day. See my sidebar for details...
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Picture
Sitting here huffing and puffing after P.E class. IE: Mommy getting her workout in with all the children joining in. We did a pilates dvd and then followed it up with a Paul Eugine youtube workout called Cardio Bootcamp. I must say it gets the endorphines going.
I thought you would enjoy this precious picture of the children. I took it with my cell phone. You are supposed to be able to send the pics from your phone to your account online. Well, after not being able to for many weeks, I finally decided to make a quick call yesterday to T-Mobile to find out why. After hours on the phone and still being unsure of what the problem is, the moral of the story is...don't ever call for technical support on anything, unless you have all day that is.
The children are cleaning up their rooms now and heading outside to play a bit before it gets dark and Daddy gets home. I am heading off to the shower...
Monday, January 26, 2009
Expectations....
This person came to visit me this morning, after a very busy, tiring week and weekend. Has he ever been to you house?
Escaping the Homeschool Matrix
The room was brightly lit and cold. She was sitting at a table, across from an empty chair. She knew the questioning would begin any minute. The door opened and a man bearing a remarkable resemblance to Hugo Weaving walked in and sat down in the empty chair.
“Mrs. Anderson,” he began, “we’ve been monitoring your homeschool. Apparently, you have been living two lives. In one life, you’re Katherine A. Anderson, homeschooling mother and wife in a respectable community. You have a homeschool curriculum. You have a schoolroom. You volunteer . . . to help out with your homeschool support group. The other life, Mrs. Anderson, is lived in your pajamas. Your kids are unable to complete their assignments, and if you can get them bathed and dressed before your husband returns from work, you consider it a good day. One of these lives has a future, Mrs. Anderson. The other does not.”
She just stared across the table at this man. “Who was he?” she wondered. Why was he accusing her of these things?
The man opened up a folder and began leafing through it. “As you can see, we’ve had our eyes on you for some time, Mrs. Anderson. I think that you should look long and hard at how you are failing in your role.” He pulled out a single sheet of paper. “Your son is 6 years old and yet he cannot read. Your 11-year-old daughter spends half her time daydreaming and staring off into space. She hasn’t scored better than a D on her spelling quizzes all year. Your teen, this . . . Melissa, I believe her name is . . . she hasn’t prepared for the SAT test. If you really loved your children, Mrs. Anderson, you would have your children at their desks and hard at work by 7:30 each morning.”
Tears started to well up in Katherine’s eyes. Was she really that bad at homeschooling?
“As far as your curriculum goes, you’ve switched back and forth from A Beka to Saxon to Bob Jones and back to Saxon again in just two semesters. I have to wonder, Mrs. Anderson, if you are teaching them correctly. How can you jump from curriculum to curriculum without causing your children to become hopeless, blathering idiots?”
Mrs. Anderson made no effort to wipe away the tears that were now flowing down her cheeks. She knew all these accusations were true. There was nothing she could say to refute them.
“Tell me, Mrs. Anderson. What’s it like, living in your pajamas? Do you enjoy being a slob?” His words began to cut deep, and somewhere deep inside her soul, a wave began to form.
“How many times did you yell at your kids yesterday, Mrs. Anderson? Can you really say you love them if you treat them this way?”
The wave began to build, quickly becoming a surge. Mrs. Anderson’s anger was rising above and beyond the shame and fears this man was exploiting.
“Your best friend, Laurie, doesn't have any trouble getting her six children ready to go to eight different activities each week, yet you always manage to run late . . .”
“That’s enough!” Her waves of anger burst over the dam and began to pour from her lips. “I don't have to listen to these accusations. I am a loving wife and mother, and I care deeply about my children. We may not get to every activity on time or complete every assignment, but we are trying. My children are well fed and clothed, and they are learning so much more than they would learn anywhere else. My son is a gifted engineer. He dismantled three phones last week to understand how the buttons work . . .”
“You consider that school?”
“Absolutely! He is learning mechanics and science. If I can get him to put things back together so that I can answer the phone, I’ll be all set. By the way, Melissa doesn’t need to study for her SAT test right now. She’s 14! We will prepare for it when the time is right.
“Another thing. My daughter may not always study with perfect concentration, but she draws the most beautiful pictures. She understands forms and shapes so much better than her brothers or sisters do. She is a very bright girl, no matter what your files say.”
These bold statements took the man aback. Mrs. Anderson’s outburst, though somewhat controlled, was clearly not what he had expected to hear in response to his accusations.
“You say I yell at my kids, and that’s true. I do lose my temper when I clean a room and come back in thirty minutes to find it in worse shape than it was before I cleaned it. But your files don’t show the breakfast we had yesterday when we sat around and talked about three things we like about each other. I enjoy my children so much more than you could imagine. And we truly love each other.
“I stay in my pajamas some days, that’s true. But we are at home and like to be comfortable while we do our work. Learning is more important than appearances.”
“But are your children really learning, Mrs. Anderson? I show that you have lost ground every time you’ve tried to set a schedule. How effective are you if you can't even maintain a schedule?”
“We may struggle sometimes. I admit, we don’t hit the mark with schedules, but we do a good job setting goals. We know what direction we’re going, and we do a good job, even if we don’t end up completing our workbooks. If anything is out of line, it’s my own expectations.” An idea began to form in her mind.
“What? We are not to blame, Mrs. Anderson!”
“Of course,” she thought, “it all makes sense now.”
Katherine looked straight into her accuser’s eyes as she spoke calmly and deliberately. “I know who you are! You’re my own expectations. You’ve been trying to trap me.”
“Nonsense. We don’t need to trap what we already own.”
“You don’t? Then you would have no problem if I made pajamas the standard school uniform?”
“Uh . . .” Suddenly, the man became quite anxious.
“And you wouldn’t mind my going to thrift stores to buy more phones and other things for my son to dismantle?”
“Wait . . . this isn't what we wanted. Stop!”
“Why? Don’t you want to hear about how we’re going to stop going to so many activities and start spending more time together as a family? I've got some great ideas, including a bug collecting expedition and a board game night.”
“Board games don’t constitute an education! They . . .”
“Oh, yes they do. Colors, numbers, counting, reading, and strategy all work together to educate my children. And the best part is that they don’t even realize it’s school.”
The man was becoming transparent, and he was quickly fading from view. “But what about your curriculum? You can’t change in the middle of the year! It’s . . . ”
“I can change our curriculum whenever I think we need to. If something isn’t working, we can try something else. That’s one benefit of running your own school. I would rather find something that works than have my children suffer through an entire year of work that doesn ’t meet their needs.”
She could see that the man was livid and shouting angrily, but now, along with his appearance, his voice had faded. He was almost gone from view when she said, “Oh, by the way, school starts at 10 a.m. from now on.”
With that, he disappeared.
Mrs. Anderson was about to scoot away from the table when she awoke with a start. Rolling across the screen on the television in front of her were credits for a fantasy film about people fighting the forces of artificial intelligence. She quickly pushed the “off” button and headed upstairs to bed. After all, she had a bug hunt to plan tomorrow.
Steve Walden lives in Colorado with his wife, and together they homeschool their three children (ages 12, 9, and 5). Steve is a freelance writer and editor. When he’s not blogging at www.HomeschoolBlogger.com/SteveWalden, he’s searching for new opportunities to write about a variety of topics, including homeschooling, coping with disabilities, and connecting with God. Steve’s desire is to help others rediscover God as their first love and the source of their strength.
If you enjoyed this article, then you should consider subscribing to The Old Schoolhouse® Magazine. You will find each issue to be jam-packed with articles of particular interest to homeschoolers.
Special Offer! Purchase a NEW, U.S., one-year subscription at normal price ($25), and receive the Summer 2006 issue which actually has this story in it. Your new subscription will begin with the Fall 2008 issue.
Be watching for details of an upcoming writing contest sponsored by TOS. Get those writing gears turning in your head because you will definitely want to take part in this contest – not only will the winners receive some fabulous prizes by some awesome homeschool vendors, but their work will also be published in an upcoming E-Book and a future issue of The Old Schoolhouse® Magazine.
Copyright 2006, Old Schoolhouse® Magazine. This article may be reprinted along with the following credit: ©2006 The Old Schoolhouse® Magazine. Reprinted with permission from the publisher. Visit http://www.thehomeschoolmagazine.com/
Escaping the Homeschool Matrix
The room was brightly lit and cold. She was sitting at a table, across from an empty chair. She knew the questioning would begin any minute. The door opened and a man bearing a remarkable resemblance to Hugo Weaving walked in and sat down in the empty chair.
“Mrs. Anderson,” he began, “we’ve been monitoring your homeschool. Apparently, you have been living two lives. In one life, you’re Katherine A. Anderson, homeschooling mother and wife in a respectable community. You have a homeschool curriculum. You have a schoolroom. You volunteer . . . to help out with your homeschool support group. The other life, Mrs. Anderson, is lived in your pajamas. Your kids are unable to complete their assignments, and if you can get them bathed and dressed before your husband returns from work, you consider it a good day. One of these lives has a future, Mrs. Anderson. The other does not.”
She just stared across the table at this man. “Who was he?” she wondered. Why was he accusing her of these things?
The man opened up a folder and began leafing through it. “As you can see, we’ve had our eyes on you for some time, Mrs. Anderson. I think that you should look long and hard at how you are failing in your role.” He pulled out a single sheet of paper. “Your son is 6 years old and yet he cannot read. Your 11-year-old daughter spends half her time daydreaming and staring off into space. She hasn’t scored better than a D on her spelling quizzes all year. Your teen, this . . . Melissa, I believe her name is . . . she hasn’t prepared for the SAT test. If you really loved your children, Mrs. Anderson, you would have your children at their desks and hard at work by 7:30 each morning.”
Tears started to well up in Katherine’s eyes. Was she really that bad at homeschooling?
“As far as your curriculum goes, you’ve switched back and forth from A Beka to Saxon to Bob Jones and back to Saxon again in just two semesters. I have to wonder, Mrs. Anderson, if you are teaching them correctly. How can you jump from curriculum to curriculum without causing your children to become hopeless, blathering idiots?”
Mrs. Anderson made no effort to wipe away the tears that were now flowing down her cheeks. She knew all these accusations were true. There was nothing she could say to refute them.
“Tell me, Mrs. Anderson. What’s it like, living in your pajamas? Do you enjoy being a slob?” His words began to cut deep, and somewhere deep inside her soul, a wave began to form.
“How many times did you yell at your kids yesterday, Mrs. Anderson? Can you really say you love them if you treat them this way?”
The wave began to build, quickly becoming a surge. Mrs. Anderson’s anger was rising above and beyond the shame and fears this man was exploiting.
“Your best friend, Laurie, doesn't have any trouble getting her six children ready to go to eight different activities each week, yet you always manage to run late . . .”
“That’s enough!” Her waves of anger burst over the dam and began to pour from her lips. “I don't have to listen to these accusations. I am a loving wife and mother, and I care deeply about my children. We may not get to every activity on time or complete every assignment, but we are trying. My children are well fed and clothed, and they are learning so much more than they would learn anywhere else. My son is a gifted engineer. He dismantled three phones last week to understand how the buttons work . . .”
“You consider that school?”
“Absolutely! He is learning mechanics and science. If I can get him to put things back together so that I can answer the phone, I’ll be all set. By the way, Melissa doesn’t need to study for her SAT test right now. She’s 14! We will prepare for it when the time is right.
“Another thing. My daughter may not always study with perfect concentration, but she draws the most beautiful pictures. She understands forms and shapes so much better than her brothers or sisters do. She is a very bright girl, no matter what your files say.”
These bold statements took the man aback. Mrs. Anderson’s outburst, though somewhat controlled, was clearly not what he had expected to hear in response to his accusations.
“You say I yell at my kids, and that’s true. I do lose my temper when I clean a room and come back in thirty minutes to find it in worse shape than it was before I cleaned it. But your files don’t show the breakfast we had yesterday when we sat around and talked about three things we like about each other. I enjoy my children so much more than you could imagine. And we truly love each other.
“I stay in my pajamas some days, that’s true. But we are at home and like to be comfortable while we do our work. Learning is more important than appearances.”
“But are your children really learning, Mrs. Anderson? I show that you have lost ground every time you’ve tried to set a schedule. How effective are you if you can't even maintain a schedule?”
“We may struggle sometimes. I admit, we don’t hit the mark with schedules, but we do a good job setting goals. We know what direction we’re going, and we do a good job, even if we don’t end up completing our workbooks. If anything is out of line, it’s my own expectations.” An idea began to form in her mind.
“What? We are not to blame, Mrs. Anderson!”
“Of course,” she thought, “it all makes sense now.”
Katherine looked straight into her accuser’s eyes as she spoke calmly and deliberately. “I know who you are! You’re my own expectations. You’ve been trying to trap me.”
“Nonsense. We don’t need to trap what we already own.”
“You don’t? Then you would have no problem if I made pajamas the standard school uniform?”
“Uh . . .” Suddenly, the man became quite anxious.
“And you wouldn’t mind my going to thrift stores to buy more phones and other things for my son to dismantle?”
“Wait . . . this isn't what we wanted. Stop!”
“Why? Don’t you want to hear about how we’re going to stop going to so many activities and start spending more time together as a family? I've got some great ideas, including a bug collecting expedition and a board game night.”
“Board games don’t constitute an education! They . . .”
“Oh, yes they do. Colors, numbers, counting, reading, and strategy all work together to educate my children. And the best part is that they don’t even realize it’s school.”
The man was becoming transparent, and he was quickly fading from view. “But what about your curriculum? You can’t change in the middle of the year! It’s . . . ”
“I can change our curriculum whenever I think we need to. If something isn’t working, we can try something else. That’s one benefit of running your own school. I would rather find something that works than have my children suffer through an entire year of work that doesn ’t meet their needs.”
She could see that the man was livid and shouting angrily, but now, along with his appearance, his voice had faded. He was almost gone from view when she said, “Oh, by the way, school starts at 10 a.m. from now on.”
With that, he disappeared.
Mrs. Anderson was about to scoot away from the table when she awoke with a start. Rolling across the screen on the television in front of her were credits for a fantasy film about people fighting the forces of artificial intelligence. She quickly pushed the “off” button and headed upstairs to bed. After all, she had a bug hunt to plan tomorrow.
Steve Walden lives in Colorado with his wife, and together they homeschool their three children (ages 12, 9, and 5). Steve is a freelance writer and editor. When he’s not blogging at www.HomeschoolBlogger.com/SteveWalden, he’s searching for new opportunities to write about a variety of topics, including homeschooling, coping with disabilities, and connecting with God. Steve’s desire is to help others rediscover God as their first love and the source of their strength.
If you enjoyed this article, then you should consider subscribing to The Old Schoolhouse® Magazine. You will find each issue to be jam-packed with articles of particular interest to homeschoolers.
Special Offer! Purchase a NEW, U.S., one-year subscription at normal price ($25), and receive the Summer 2006 issue which actually has this story in it. Your new subscription will begin with the Fall 2008 issue.
Be watching for details of an upcoming writing contest sponsored by TOS. Get those writing gears turning in your head because you will definitely want to take part in this contest – not only will the winners receive some fabulous prizes by some awesome homeschool vendors, but their work will also be published in an upcoming E-Book and a future issue of The Old Schoolhouse® Magazine.
Copyright 2006, Old Schoolhouse® Magazine. This article may be reprinted along with the following credit: ©2006 The Old Schoolhouse® Magazine. Reprinted with permission from the publisher. Visit http://www.thehomeschoolmagazine.com/
The Davis Family
Some of you remember a year ago I posted a prayer request for the Davis family, as their Husband and Daddy was so suddenly taken to be with the Lord. I have followed Heather through the last year on her blog and been encouraged by her honesty and strength of faith in Christ through this past year. She has been an example of heavily leaning upon her Saviour in the midst of deep grief. Here is her post from today...
1:13 AM
Legacy
from Lazy D Ranch by Lazy D Ranch
Exactly one year ago today I slept in till 10:00. A rare occurrence. Eric let me sleep in because the nights had been rough; waking up a couple of times to pound him on the back so that he could breathe. I missed a coffee date with Kendra and almost missed the annual library sale. Exactly one year ago today I had a wonderful conversation with Eric while at the library sale. He called to ask if I was having any luck finding what I needed for our bookshelves. He also talked about the sweet lady that he had just dropped off for her kidney dialysis. Exactly one year ago today I gave my husband one last hug and he gave me one last kiss. I watched him walk out the door and get into his truck....like I did just about every time he left for work. I had no idea that my life was going to change so drastically. I had no idea that within an hour of his leaving our home I would get a call from Daisy saying that her daddy was having trouble breathing. Within the next half hour I talked to a mother who decided to stay with Daisy until the authorities got there. I also talked to a Fire Chief, a Paramedic, the Detective that took care of Daisy, a Chaplain, and a very compassionate Emergency Doctor. I remember squatting next to him in the ER kissing his hand, completely amazed at the circumstances that I was finding myself in. When they rushed me out of the ER room I remember standing in the hall, actually crumbling in the hall, when it hit me that my husband was possibly dead.Today I took the kids to the cemetery. As we were standing there I explained to the kids that the stone marker just signifies that Eric lived on this planet. Eric's legacy was an eternal investment. He invested his time in his family, his church, and the people that God brought into his life. While the stock market has had its ups and downs and the economy is taking a turn for the worse, maybe we as believers need to be reminded that loving the unlovely and using our resources (time and money) to spread the Gospel is by far the greatest investment we can make. It is a legacy that speaks louder than anything that can be carved into a grave stone. On January 29th of 2008 we said a final good-bye to Eric: husband, daddy, son, brother, friend. We are taking a break from normal life this next week. I am even taking a break from my computer. I plan on spending a week away just relaxing and enjoying what the Lord has given me...six incredible blessings. So, in a week I will post some fun pics and get back to blogging. Until then, I appreciate your prayers for our family. ~Heather
1:13 AM
Legacy
from Lazy D Ranch by Lazy D Ranch
Exactly one year ago today I slept in till 10:00. A rare occurrence. Eric let me sleep in because the nights had been rough; waking up a couple of times to pound him on the back so that he could breathe. I missed a coffee date with Kendra and almost missed the annual library sale. Exactly one year ago today I had a wonderful conversation with Eric while at the library sale. He called to ask if I was having any luck finding what I needed for our bookshelves. He also talked about the sweet lady that he had just dropped off for her kidney dialysis. Exactly one year ago today I gave my husband one last hug and he gave me one last kiss. I watched him walk out the door and get into his truck....like I did just about every time he left for work. I had no idea that my life was going to change so drastically. I had no idea that within an hour of his leaving our home I would get a call from Daisy saying that her daddy was having trouble breathing. Within the next half hour I talked to a mother who decided to stay with Daisy until the authorities got there. I also talked to a Fire Chief, a Paramedic, the Detective that took care of Daisy, a Chaplain, and a very compassionate Emergency Doctor. I remember squatting next to him in the ER kissing his hand, completely amazed at the circumstances that I was finding myself in. When they rushed me out of the ER room I remember standing in the hall, actually crumbling in the hall, when it hit me that my husband was possibly dead.Today I took the kids to the cemetery. As we were standing there I explained to the kids that the stone marker just signifies that Eric lived on this planet. Eric's legacy was an eternal investment. He invested his time in his family, his church, and the people that God brought into his life. While the stock market has had its ups and downs and the economy is taking a turn for the worse, maybe we as believers need to be reminded that loving the unlovely and using our resources (time and money) to spread the Gospel is by far the greatest investment we can make. It is a legacy that speaks louder than anything that can be carved into a grave stone. On January 29th of 2008 we said a final good-bye to Eric: husband, daddy, son, brother, friend. We are taking a break from normal life this next week. I am even taking a break from my computer. I plan on spending a week away just relaxing and enjoying what the Lord has given me...six incredible blessings. So, in a week I will post some fun pics and get back to blogging. Until then, I appreciate your prayers for our family. ~Heather
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)