Homeschool, Here We Come!

My family has made a big decision since I last posted.

Danny and I decided to homeschool our oldest daughter this year.  This decision came after much concern, prayer, and anxiety.  We knew this year was going to be a tough one for her.  She is, after all, repeating kindergarten in order to get her on the right track in school.

At age two, E basically entered pre-school one year early, and since her birthday is only one week away from the kindergarten cut-off, she entered kindergarten one year early, as well.  She stuck out kindergarten last year at our neighborhood elementary school.  E's outstanding teacher and loving group of friends made a year that could have been tough, since she was basically a year younger than everyone else, a success.

After last year, we decided to hold her back a year, to get her on track to enter first grade as a six year old, not a young five year old.  It was an extremely difficult choice.  So knowing all that,  this year was going to be a little strange, no matter what.  Our decision to homeschool for this year came as a result of a repeated kindergarten experience, that for whatever reason, just wasn't working.

After much heartache, tears, and restless nights, I had an epiphany one morning of deep prayer.  After multiple friends approached me with the encouragement to homeschool, I felt a weight had been lifted.  Then, my mom called me with information about a local charter school that cropped up this year that is an actual home school academy.  A superstar of a teacher designs lessons, workshops, tutorials, and also guides the kids through tons of hands-on, inquiry-based science projects.  It was a win-win!  I pulled E out of her repeat kindergarten class only hours after the decision had been made.

E has made the transition beautifully.  We are wrapping up our second week of homeschool, and E is blossoming with this new schedule.  I added an art class, children's choir practice, and a dance class to her already "after school" activities.  She now has the opportunity to hang out with her friends three times during the week.

I am so grateful for the help and support of my family and friends throughout this process.  To every person who has maintained a positive voice for me and my family, I so appreciate you!  For the negative voices, I thank you, too, because your input made me think through the negative side of homeschooling. I am sincerely trying my best to not let E fall into a homebody coma.

I have been blessed by wonderful Christian friends who have listened to me, prayed with me, and have let me cry when I've been beside myself with emotion!  The amazing thing about this whole experience is that I have finally felt what it feels like to truly know God's will.  I prayed on this for weeks, and asked God to please show me His will, and He did!  When I said in my prayer that I would follow His will, no matter what it was, the next day, I had my answer, as clear as day.  God had spoken, and oh, what a sense of peace I felt!

Crazy Week

OK, so it has been a crazy week.

It's probably apparent from my lack of blogs, so it's a little redundant to do so, but I'm going to anyway....it was a CRAZY week.

From waking up early, getting four kids dressed and fed, while putting away dishes, making beds, getting myself dressed and ready and fed, to jumping in the car for the trek out to the country school where E is kindergartening, my days start and never end.  I've had meetings to attend, class assignments to finish, play dates to organize, phone calls to make, interviews to do, breakfasts, lunches and dinners to prepare, dishes to wash, laundry to fold, a sick husband to care for, a house to attempt to keep clean (oh, who am I kidding!), and endless amounts of minuscule tasks to complete.

I am worn out.

I am leaving for the mountains tomorrow. This place is my proverbial land of milk and honey.  In fact, it is the land of apple pie and cinnamon ice cream.

Just those words, and I already feel more relaxed.  

Grandpa's Birthday Cake

We celebrated my dad's birthday this last weekend at my house.  It was a small, family party.  We enjoyed delicious Italian food (Grasso's takeout!), my mom's homemade oatmeal cake, and ice cream sundaes.  Needless to say, it was not a Clean eating day for me.  

Cake and ice cream time is always a tense time for my kids.  They feel a huge amount of ownership over dessert.  They crowd the area, make low whining noises, and demand my full attention....which sadly, hardly ever happens.  

This time, J.D., who is a big fan of Grandpa David's, felt a connection with that oatmeal cake.

Grandma D brought out the cake, showed J.D. the blazing candles, and began the "Happy Birthday" march to the big cheese, I mean, birthday boy.

I wish I knew exactly what was going through my dad's mind at this very moment.  

"Are all those candles really necessary?" or "Why is my age there for all to see?"  or "I wanted Texas Sheet Cake!"

Now for the cake blow.....

But the minute the smoke drifted his way, J.D. realized he'd missed his big moment.




And he wasn't happy...

...at all.  There were  tears.  And screaming.  And a time out.  To attempt to pacify her irate grandson, my mom recreated the cake blow by re-lighting the candles.   J.D. saw right though it.  It was the party's low point.

And here was the high point!  Dad with the ladeeez!  Or, my mom's sisters.  Kinda wierd.

Hail!

We lived through a crazy storm yesterday.  We did not have just wind, or just rain.  We experienced  strong, bough bending winds, torrential rain, and golf-ball sized hail pounding onto the roof.  

The storm may have only lasted as long as a re-run episode of Seinfeld, but its effects were incredible. 

Now that I am looking back at the pictures from this thirty minutes of extreme weather, it seems amazing that so much water came down so fast.  To go from extreme heat, humidity and dry, scorched earth to storm clouds and rain was an incredible experience.  The lifelong desert rat that I am can't help but get a little emotional at downpours such as this one. 

At first the girls and I thought it was just rain.

Then the pounding began.  The hailstones covered the front and back yard, pounded on the windows and roof, and basically scared the living daylights out of my oldest daughter.

The rain soon covered the sidewalk, and water filled the gutters.

This may not seem like a big deal, but rain spilling off of the roof of my house is HUGE!

I ran out to the front lawn, umbrella in hand, to collect this monster of a hail stone.  

Cupped in Cubby's hands, the hail stone is clearly one size larger than a golf ball!

A standing water puddle in the desert?!  I've got to get my camera, this is insane!

Once the hail had ceased from rocketing out of the sky, the rain continued to fall.  Lovely, lovely raindrops covered my windows.  

More raindrops dripped from the eaves.

And then the rain stopped.  My backyard hasn't looked this fresh and clean since last April.  

Finally the sun came out.  This summer storm was so brief, that it seemed to appear as if I had just sprayed off the sidewalk with a hose.  But after a closer look, I noted that the ground had turned muddy, the streets were slick with rain, and sadly, some friends' cars still carry the scars of their violent collision with hail stones.

Early Riser

I am not a morning person.  It is, therefore, quite ironic that I married a farmer, who chose his life profession knowing full well that he would have to wake up every morning at 5:20 AM, to be out the door at 5:45 AM.

Most of the time, I don't hear him get up and get ready, so I sleep in until I either feel the first kid snuggling up to me in my bed (usually E) and/or the first baby crying out for, "Mah-Meeeeeee!" or "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaa-dee!"

My oldest daughter, the big girl attending her fifth day of kindergarten today, is an early riser like her dad as well.  I remember from about twelve months to age two (yes, a full year!), E would wake at three in the morning.  She was fully awake, and Danny and I were both zombies.  I would take her back into the playroom, pull out some puzzles, books, or toys, and she would fiddle around while I pretty much passed out on the carpet beside her.  Since I was pregnant part of this time, and subsequently taking care of newborn baby Cubby, it was a tough go for a while.

I have tried to get up when Danny wakes up, but then I have to go to bed right when the kids go to bed to get enough sleep.  If I do that, it feels like I have no "me" time at all during the day!  So I usually slip back into my old habits of sleeping in until 7:00 AM, and going to bed at 10:30 PM or 11:00 PM.  You can imagine how tough this is on Danny, who regardless of my flippant sleeping and waking schedules, still has to wake up at 5:20 AM every single morning.

All this has changed since five days ago when I had to start getting all four kids up, dressed, and fed in time to load up into the car to take E out to school which is a fifteen minute drive out to the country.   I was complaining about how tough it was every morning, and how I never had time to eat my proper Clean breakfast, when Danny shed some light on the situation.

"You need to wake up when I leave," he said simply.  And he was right.  So for the past two mornings, I have made myself roll out of bed at 5:45 AM.  Although I start out cranky and groggy, my mornings have quickly become the greatest part of my day.  My quiet breakfast eaten while reading a daily devotion (Our Daily Bread Daily Devotional), then working on my computer, has quickly become a sweet, mellow, wonderful time I look forward to spending.

To sweet, mellow, and wonderful, I should add that sometimes my quiet morning feels a little short.

You guessed it, my brood is rustling in their beds.  Time to begin the routine.  And this morning, I feel completely ready.

4:00 PM

 Four o'clock is my current favorite time of day.  Over the years, my favorite time has changed, depending on what was going on in my life.  

I hate to admit it, but my very favorite time a day one year ago was when the babies were napping.  I remember feeling like I had a little piece of my old life back.  That old life included cooking more, playing with the girls, and having a tiny bit of "me" time.  

Before the twins were born, I loved breakfast time with the girls.  We ate leisurely, discussed silly or important things, and enjoyed each other's company. 

Times have changed once again, as they always do.  

These days, four o'clock represents an unusually harmonious time in my household.  The babies have just woken up from their naps.  Their ruddy faces and unruly hair and soft bodies always make me smile and make me want to snuggle.  The big girls have lately decided that this time of day is their favorite time to work on art projects.  They sit at their little white table and color and draw, and at times, fuss with each other over crayon ownership.  I, meanwhile, am posted at my new favorite location in the house, the kitchen island.  While stirring up some marinade, or pouring batter for muffins, I overlook my brood and feel a sense of pleasure and encouragement over seeing everyone doing so well.  "We made it!" I think!  Four o'clock is also just ninety minutes away from when Danny comes walking in the door from work.  The late afternoons always feel a little more hopeful to me for that reason.  Not only do I look forward to seeing him because he is such a big help to me, but he comforts and soothes the stress temperature of the house.  

These past two difficult years of shock over being pregnant with, then giving birth to pre-mature twins, then managing a household with four kids under age three has made me appreciate the little moments.  It is in these little moments that I see what blessings I truly have.  It is also in these moments that I see God, in all of His wisdom, for knowing what was best for Danny and I.  Even when we kicked and screamed as we protested, God watched over us and sometimes without even being asked, gave us the strength and courage to continue on another day.

Ok, now for the pictures.  Here is a visual of my 4:00 PM.

My big kindergartner loves art.  At this moment, she has taken a break from singing, but just prior to this, she was belting out princess songs in her fullest vibrato.

Cubby is happily hangin' with her big sis and coloring as well.  She hums along to her big sister's singing, which is a sweet thing in itself.

Little G has become a bookworm in the past few weeks.  She dutifully carries out book after book to the living room, where she plops down and looks through each one.  Actually, if I was completely accurate, I would have to admit that little J.D. does the major amount of book carrying for his sister.  He receives his orders of, "Da-da, moh book-sss!"  And without question, runs into his bedroom to gather more reading material for his twin sis. 

Now, you might be asking yourself, what is a little boy to do amidst all of this estrogen laced peace and harmony? 

J.D. chose to do the most masculine thing possible.  He grabbed this plastic rake, and started banging it down on the tile floor.  He was very pleased with himself after each of these little tirades.  Why did he do this?  No clue.  But I do know that when he would finish with a banging session, he would smile, then look at me, and I would smile back at him to let him know it was o.k. with me, and he would continue.  

Four o'clock is a happy, magical time in my home.  I wonder when my next favorite time will be?  

Twin Language

People are always asking me if the twins have a secret language.  Up until now, I have said no.

Little G has been babbling for at least six months now, and has tons of words and even sentences in her vocabulary (my personal favorite: "I did it!").  Her twin brother, J.D. is a boy and therefore is a little slower in every department.  When asked if he wants something he responds, "eh."  I have become quite adept at translating his seemingly wishy-washy response into yes and no answers.  "Eh" normally means yes, and "Neh" means no.  To be honest, if I get it wrong, I'll be the first to know.

In the last couple weeks of so, the twins have really started communicating.  It began with little babbling discussions across the table from one another.  They would babble and gesture, as if they were really talking, then break into laughter at appropriate moments.  J.D. has a way of getting his sister to laugh like no one else.

They have increased their communication quite a bit, so that they now have nicknames for each other.  The nicknames, coincidentally, are the same for both.  J.D. refers to Little G as "Da-da," and she calls him "Da-da" right back.  It can get a little confusing when Daddy is present, but we've learned to differentiate the two names.

I love to hear them calling to each other or asking for the other's help.  Just the other day, Little G was in her bed just before nap time, and wanted her baby bunny.  She started yelling to her brother, who was not yet in his crib to help her out.  I heard her call out, "Da-da!  Daaaaaa-daaaaa!"  Now J.D., who was sitting on the carpet with me, jumped up and ran in to see what he needed to do for her.  I could hear her say "Da-da, Geecie, baby bunny," which means, "J.D., get me Gracie's baby bunny."  She still refers to herself in the third person.  He promptly ran around, located the bunny, and deposited it in her crib.

Anyway, that little moment of twin cooperation made my day, possibly my week.