I'm a homeschooler

We are officially a couple months into homeschooling preschool.

Even though in the blog world - and the Catholic world - that may seem completely normal and common, it's not something I see a lot in my day-to-day life. I went to public school, as did Ryan (he also attended a Christian school up until the fourth grade) and no one on either side of our family homeschools. In fact, all five of our siblings on both sides are public school teachers, Ryan's dad is a guidance counselor and former teacher, and my mom is a retired elementary school nurse.

Despite all of that, this really was a no-brainer for us this year for a few reasons. For one, Clara is still three and will turn four in December. She isn't old enough for pre-k. I know many people send their three-year-olds to preschool, but that just wasn't an option for us financially. Plus, personally, I don't think she's going to learn anything there that she wouldn't learn at home at this age, even without me teaching her a formal preschool curriculum. So I wasn't at all worried about her missing out on it this year.

But when I started to consider homeschooling for pre-k, kindergarten and beyond (the reasons for which I'll get more into in another post), I realized what an incredible opportunity this could be - a learning year for both of us. I could take this year - when she's not yet old enough to qualify for pre-k - and teach her pre-k. See if we mesh well together in a learning environment. See if I can handle the added stress. See if I can handle it at all (I didn't become a teacher for a reason).

It could be more laid back and she'd even possibly end up ahead if all went well.

And, so far, it's going really well.

She loves it. She asks to do school all the time. I'm learning so much about how she learns and how much she can tolerate.

And the best part? I find myself getting excited when it's time to plan for the week. You have no idea what a great sign that is! I worried that the thought of school would give me a headache, leave me feeling overwhelmed and and burned out and like a burden was always on my shoulders. But it doesn't. I love planning and looking online for lessons and preparing for craft projects at night. And I like teaching. I'm finding teachable moments everywhere, which is probably second-nature to you teacher moms, but it wasn't always for me. I like being in the middle of a lesson and realizing there are things I can teach them that I hadn't even planned on telling them about. And I love seeing them catch on and listening as they, later, excitedly tell others what we're working on.


Yes, "them." It'd be nearly impossible for Luke not to be a part of this. He and Clara have always been attached at the hip and it was just natural to include him in preschool. There's a clear differentiation between their abilities, but we aren't doing anything that can't be geared to both of them. Clara writes her letters while Luke scribbles. It works for us.

And it's not like he's too far behind. He knows all his letters and the sounds they make and can tell me what letter most any word starts with (thanks, LeapPad!).

So what is it that we're actually doing?

Well, I don't follow a specific curriculum just yet. I worked out a schedule that works for us right now and we do that one day a week at our kitchen table. We start with morning prayer (don't forget this or they WILL remind me!), singing a "Days of the Week" song I literally made up on the fly week one and they have since fallen in love with (we also use it to learn opposites - we sing it fast and slow, loud and quiet), we then do the date and the weather on our calendar board. Next, we usually start a lesson on our letter of the week, which includes reading a book that highlights the letter (a book about pirates for "P", apples for "A", caterpillars for "C"), learning what the uppercase and lowercase looks like, tracing it with our fingers in salt, writing it with crayons/markers, and making a craft out of that week's letter.

Best part of homeschooling - my house is filled with a rainbow of kid-art!

We then move into the living room for rug time (they've had their fill of sitting in chairs at this point), where I start by reading to them from this book about Jesus' miracles or a book about the lives of the saints, then reading them one or two library books. They then have quiet reading time (or "time for Mommy to feed the baby") with a book of their choice.

Finally, it's time for closing prayer and we're done. And they are usually D-O-N-E. Clara, especially. She's usually totally into it until our last book, when she's usually laid out flat on the floor,  fake-snoring (I'd stop sooner, and have, if they show me they can tolerate less on a particular day).

Believe it or not (and you'd believe it for sure if you saw how I did homework in high school), I came up with that format for our preschool the night before we first began and it's kind of stuck. The kids really seem to like the formal aspect of "doing school" around the table. They even call me "teacher," which I SWEAR I never told them to say.

So that's our one formal day, but the activities that fall under the "preschool" heading are vast and are, really, things that most toddlers are doing already. I have stepped up our activities, though, in an attempt to really give them as much opportunity for learning as possible (read:less TV). I try to take them to story hour at the library if our schedule permits, we do other crafts here and there (like making their own mosaics after seeing them on a recent visit to the Basilica in DC), we always find opportunities to do some baking, and they're always coloring and working on their letters. Clara also really likes working on work books, so I'll let her do some of that here and there while Luke is napping.


They also go to the gym with us a few times a week where they take part in a kids exercise class (socialization for the win!).

We've also been pleasantly surprised by the reactions of those around us. Our families are supportive and have helped me out with ideas and lessons. And the other day I received an entire preschool and kindergarten curriculum in the mail, out of the blue. It was from an occupational therapist friend of my mom's (who works with my two sisters at their elementary school), who is excited that I'm homeschooling and wants to help. She also sent me this program that she designed for teaching letters to preschoolers. It was so incredibly generous. And just knowing someone like her (someone who devotes her life to education and works in the public school system) supports my decision gives me so much confidence in what I'm doing.

So we're going strong, for now! Yes, it's just preschool. But I figure it's a lot like being a parent - even though I can't imagine parenting older children, each year prepares you for the next. You grow and learn and and change along with them. And we're taking it one year at a time. We don't know what the future holds, we just know this works for us right now. And they're loving it, which is the most important thing. The other day, I listened as Clara and a little friend were each talking all about their respective preschools. It warmed my heart! 

School photo - Fall 2013

I'm sure I'll post about homeschooling from time to time, and I plan on writing about why we chose to do this (beyond the financial reason to do preschool, which I mentioned above). I have so many thoughts! Including, how the very LAST thing I would have thought I'd be doing when I was younger was homeschooling my children as an adult. Funny how life can surprise you.

Surrendering control

Lately, when I have a moment to actually let my mind wander (which isn't often, thankfully, at least in this case), I have been lamenting the fact that I can't conceive at will. And that I may not (probably won't) ever be pregnant again.

Thank God that I don't lose any sleep over this any more, or allow it to send me into a tailspin of despair. I have had enough of that over the years and it's no longer a part of my life, no thanks to me or anything I did or any higher spiritual plane that I am on, of course. I simply have three babies who keep me busy and fill my home and heart with joy.

It's easy to not be sad with the miracles I have been given.

But that control thing. It gets me every time. Despite my blessings, I sometimes do get a tad bit sad, and jealous, and all the emotions that come along with infertility (just much more muted now). I want more kids and I can't just make that happen. I don't want the baby years to be over. I want a big family. I want to be able to decide how many we have. I want a second positive test. In the words of Veruca Salt, I want what I want and I want it now!

Of course, I know there are lessons to be learned. I'm not in control, none of us are. Even the ones who decide how many babies to have, when to stop.. they're not in control either. I know this. And I also know that, if I were fertile, I'd totally be one of those women who would just be so proud of my big, Catholic, NFP-using family. Too proud. I just know I'd be.

Thankfully, God is saving me from myself. So there's that.

This morning I had a little mini-awakening on this very topic. There's this statue of Our Lady in the front yard of a home near us that we pass almost every day. I have the kids trained to say a Hail Mary as we drive by and then pray for any intentions they may have.

Today, on our way from story hour to the gym, we passed it and we were all reminded by Clara that we needed to pray. After the kids asked God to bless their several in-utero cousins, I asked, "what about for another baby for us?" (they've been praying for that almost their whole lives at this point), to which Clara replied, "But Mama, we already have a baby and her name is Essie."

Touche.

Not stopping there, I went on to ask, "But don't you want us to have another?" To which she answered, "We'll have another baby later, Mama."

Not surprisingly, the crazy in me took this to be a sign, like God speaking through my three-year-old. But that's not the point here. The point is that Clara was exactly right. We do have a baby. And her name is Essie.

What am I doing getting all worked up about wanting another so soon?

And I don't just have a baby. I have the most unbelievable little package of sweetness there ever was.

And she's only nine months. She's still technically, medically-speaking, a BABY. (Even if she is eating more than Luke at this point.)

But, that brings me back to my original point. It's really not about a baby. It's about control. (Okay, so it's a little about babies. And the strange [at least in some circles] desire to need a passenger van.) And I need only look at my three little miracles to see what God is capable of when you hand him over the reigns. Not that I actually willingly handed Him anything, let's get that straight. I was forced to have no control by my infertility. It would be a bit of an exaggeration to call it surrendering. I'd say more like it was ripped from my hands as I hung on with all my might. And then, as is bound to happen once you suddenly lose your grip, I was forcefully catupulted backwards. Into a brick wall. Or at least that's what it felt like at the time.

But maybe now, because it's a lot easier this time around with my kids and all, I can work on that surrendering thing. Every time I'm encountered with pregnancy envy, I can say something like this: "Lord, I surrender my fertility to you. You are in control. You know what's best for me and my family and you have showed me that in abundance."

And that's an understatement. I have been given more blessings than should be legal.

So why do I still struggle with this? It's only human, I suppose. We actually have so little control of everything that we grasp where we (think we) can get some. And it'd be nice to plan your family. Convenient. It would make life easier. But I can't. So I won't.

It might happen, "later," like Clara said. And it may not. But right now I'm going to hug my baby (and my two big ones) tight and try my best to work on being okay with the "may not." 

Because, God, you've got this. Just help me to remember that.

Nine months

So Essie turned nine months yesterday. And I'm quickly realizing she's nine months going on two years. 

She's grown up so much in just the past couple of weeks. She decided she wants solid food, and lots of it. I was sort of late starting her on baby food and it seems she's jumped right ahead to wanting whatever we're eating. She loves to feed herself and is pretty great at it. She can also sign "more" when she wants more food. Although her preferred method of letting us know she wants more is still screaming.

We see this face a lot.

She's crawling everywhere, trying to keep up with her brother and sister. Which means she's all over the house in a blink of an eye.

She's just starting to pull up, mainly on us, but wants to do it on everything at every moment. When I go to put her down on the floor she straightens her legs and refuses to sit, like she thinks she can stand. But she can't just yet. Although I'm sure that's right around the corner.

My favorite development is that she calls me "Mama" all the time. It's her only word. Of course, I absolutely love it. But it's just a little heartbreaking when I am trying to cook dinner and I hear, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" How can I resist that? So it just might make me pick her up more often. I also think she's getting a second tooth, so she's a little bit grumpy lately and does need me.

She's not actually grumpy here, just displaying her serious side.

And grumpy for Essie is a sure sign that she's not herself. Because "herself" is totally joyful and just the sweetest little thing you could ever imagine. She's just so darn happy. And her laugh is crazy infectious.

She's still often compared to a baby doll. Which I'm sure has a lot to do with her gorgeous hair (and her round face..and her porcelain skin).

She adores Clara and Luke, and the feeling is mutual. I am constantly asking them to "make Essie smile." They have their go-to methods. Clara's right now is jumping off the couch (whatever works) and Luke's is singing her "Twinkle Twinkle."

I have many more in-depth thoughts about raising this sweet girl and lots of thoughts on adoption, but that'll have to wait. Happy nine months, Essie Grace! How blessed I am that you call me "mama."

A brush with bullying

I've learned lately that there can be some benefits to bullying. Okay, it might be a little much to call what happened to poor Lukie bullying. I'm one who tends to think that word is overused nowadays. But then my kid gets picked on and I'm all about whipping out the B word.

Our kids spend an hour-and-a-half each weekday at the gym daycare while we work out. The older two take part in a kidzercise class and absolutely love it. It's really great. The staff is awesome, it's a really nice facility, and they even get to exercise while they're there. They also get to meet and play with other children. And even though we're just newbie preschool homeschoolers at the moment, it's still nice to be able to say they get that much-sought after "socialization" that everyone worries so much about.

Every day on the ride home we ask the kids what they did in Kidszone that day. They'll sometimes give us quick one-word answers, usually too tired out to say much. Then, a couple weeks ago, Luke became more talkative. He was eating lunch upon returning home from the gym when he, without even having been asked about it, told Ryan, "my boys at the gym called me diaper-butt today."

Broke my heart in two. Or maybe like a billion trillion.
 

My boys. Oh my goodness. These were not just "some boys" or "the mean kids" or "big kids." No, they were his boys.

At first we thought he didn't get it. He told Ryan that he was mad because he actually wanted them to call him "Jake" (from this show). Oh, the innocence. And we thought maybe his use of the phrase "my boys" showed he wasn't mad at them and didn't realize they were antagonizing. It still broke my heart. Maybe even more so because I thought he was being mocked by kids he thought were his buddies and he had absolutely no idea.

I hated to draw attention to it and risk making him feel bad but also couldn't resist asking about it the next day. Did it happen again? According to Clara, it had. And she told the boys not to say it. Clara, just a year older, got it. I asked if the ladies at Kidszone knew about it and they said no. I toyed with mentioning it to the staff the next morning, but it's not in my personality to make a big deal out of something so I stayed quiet.

There wasn't any more talk about it for a few days. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Luke potty-trained himself. Like overnight.

Coincidence?

The same kid who has resisted potty-training at every turn, whose constantly-poopy diapers I feared I would still be changing years from now, just started telling me the pee was coming and running to the (big) potty, whipping his diaper and shorts off, hopping on himself and going. And sometimes he wouldn't even tell me. I'd just hear the noises of the toilet seat and realize what was up.

He's been a dream to potty train. It hasn't been without accidents, but he's also ridden in a car 25 minutes two ways without wetting his pants. I'm a big advocate of not forcing your child and waiting until they are ready - for your own sake. I bang my head against the wall when they aren't willing. So incredibly frustrating. But to have them do it themselves? That's my kind of mothering.

Of course, it helps that he wants to be like his big sister and knows exactly what to do from watching her (she's also played the role of coach in recent days). But I can't help but think that being called "diaper-butt" may have had something to do with this minor miracle. I mean, really. He's sharp as a tack. How could he not have known? And the same child who never has a peep to share about the gym just came out with this story of being picked on over lunch. It had to be weighing on him. Poor thing.

Is it bad to change yourself to avoid bullying? Maybe if it's something that doesn't need to be changed. But in this case saying goodbye to diapers was inevitable and a good thing and maybe Luke used it as motivation. He turned a negative into a positive.

Still breaks my heart though. My sweet little diaper-butt.

Speaking of Lukie growing up, I've stopped nursing him. It's been a couple months now. I let him self-wean and he happened to be just past 2-and-a-half-years when that time came.

I absolutely loved nursing. Loved it. And from the day I began (maybe even during pregnancy) I feared the day I'd stop nursing him because I knew it would likely be my one and only nursing experience. As it turned out, I did get to nurse another baby (to some degree) which was an unexpected blessing. But Luke nursed a few months longer than Essie did, so he turned on the lights and closed up shop. I officially have no milk left.

And you know what? It's really been okay. Of course, I would love to nurse more babies. I'd give anything to be one of those moms who nurses for years and years without a break. What a blessing that would be (I know it's not for everybody but it would be for me). But it's okay. I got to do it. I loved the experience. And, more than anything, our God is full of surprises. Just because I think the odds are leaning one way, doesn't mean it will turn out like that. Or, it may. We just don't know.

And, anyway, I'm too busy with my three rambunctious kids to spend much time being sad about no longer breastfeeding any of them.

So my Lukie is all grown up. Waaaaahhhh! Thankfully he's not ALL about being a big boy just yet. He likes to tell us he's too little to do things all the time, when it works to his advantage. Oh, and he still fights sleep at night and ends up in our bed. Ryan hates it but I (not-so) secretly love it. Luke and I have an agreement. He's not through being my baby boy just yet.

*********

Can I give a shameless plug for my husband's facebook fan page? They're really pushing at his TV station for the reporters and anchors to get more "likes" for their pages and I just couldn't say "no" to him today when he asked me to share it on my blog. So go "like" it if you haven't already. Pretty please??? Because you know you all want the latest news from Central VA.

Celebrate good times

It's been a while! I hate to let so much time pass without checking in here, but there are just no free moments anymore. This blog began to suffer when I took up photography. But it's growing cobwebs now thanks to something I thought I'd never do again - running.

I started about a month ago when we were visiting my parents and couldn't go to the gym. I ran cross-country in high school, but as soon as it was over I swore I'd never run again. Ugh. But here I am, running every day (except for two days in the past month!), including a few 5Ks every week.

Ugh.

I'm still waiting for that runner's high everyone talks about. I guess mine comes when I dive into my frozen yogurt cone I eat every night, thanks to all those extra calories I earned. The weight is coming off at a snail's pace, but I can't complain. Down 23 pounds now and fitting into clothes that had been tucked away in the attic.

Enough about physical fitness.

The dessert party for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary was a blast.

The happy couple even let me take some rare photos of them...

Notice Luke stuck, dangling from the swing behind them.

My nuclear family, all together for a photo..
 

 The desserts were a hit...

 
 Also a hit - the photobooth...

I just had to throw this picture in - my parents on their wedding day, with my dad's parents, including my grandmother Esther. Wasn't she beautiful and completely elegant?

Once back from New York, we had some anniversary celebrating of our own to do. It was nine years on September 4. Just four years ago, I would have never thought we'd have three babies in this photo with us...

I'm so blessed to be married to such a wonderful, hard-working and loving man. The babies and I really hit the jackpot.

The other big news around here is that the girls now officially share a room. This past weekend we finally converted the crib back to an actual crib, but we weren't sure exactly when Essie would be actually sleeping it (she had been in a pack and play in our room).

Clara watched on Sunday as Ryan got the crib all ready. Then, at bedtime, she sweetly and excitedly asked if Essie would be sleeping in her room that night. "No," Ryan told her. "Not just yet. The mattress still needs a sheet." Of course, that was just an excuse while we assessed the situation for a few more days. Ten minutes later, though, when we thought she was sleeping, Clara called us to her room. She proudly showed us she had gently laid a blanket out on the mattress. "See, Daddy? It's all ready for Essie now!"

We couldn't resist, and Essie has slept in "their" room every night since.

I mean, I get it. Who wouldn't want to share a room with this girl???

Oh, and speaking of this sweet thing, her adoption is final! How could I forget that??

I took this to commemorate the day...

This gorgeous dress was on clearance at a consignment shop for $5!!

And this is us out celebrating with my family (we heard while in NY so my parents treated the entire family to a dinner in Essie's honor)...

And because I can't not include this... It's Essie on her 8 month birthday...

That FACE!

Well I still write posts in my head every day so hopefully I'll be back here in the next few days. I know, I know. You are all anxiously waiting. If anyone even still checks in here!

Diets and donuts

After a little plateau, my diet is going pretty well. I'm down 22 pounds and I'm working out more than ever. The working out part is HIGHLY unlike me, so I'm very surprised by myself. I think I went about 15 years without stepping foot in a gym. Sometimes I'm really not sure what has come over me, but then I remember that it's all in the name of being able to eat more. Ultimately, it's always about food.

Speaking of food, we have an exciting event coming up in our family - a party to celebrate my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. Isn't that awesome? Forty years. My sisters and I are throwing them a dessert party next week and there will be about a dozen amazing, delectable, carefully-selected-from-Pinterest desserts. And I won't be having any. Well, maybe one.

I'll be making my mother's famous chocolate chip cookies (dipped in chocolate, because, why not?), individual pineapple upside down cakes, and donuts, among other things.

I have to practice, of course, so I started today by making these puppies...

I know the calories. 228. Is it bad if I use ALL 1200 of my calories on desserts that day??

I used this recipe and, as usual, I had a lot of help making them. Clara loves to bake. And cook. But, most especially, play in the sink.

I always let her help in the kitchen in the name of education. I figure if I don't work with her on anything else that day, at least she learned something through baking. And then there's less guilt for that episode of Sophia the First she watched that morning.

We had another helper, too.

And when he woke up from his nap, Luke was happy to help with the eating. Doing his part to keep his mommy on her diet.

I think he was actually sleep-eating, and woke up at the end wondering what had hit him.

 Clara, meanwhile, had three. 

 

I had half of one. And it was amazing. 

Next up - my own creation that I've yet to actually try out - German chocolate cake moon pies. I found a never-been-used moon pie maker at Goodwill (my new obsession) for $5! 

And how do I resist eating them all, you may wonder? Ummm.... the grace of God?? I really don't know. All I know is that I have incredible will power when I diet. And for that I am very grateful.

It also doesn't hurt that I have a lot of takers. Nothing lasts too long around here.

When the questions begin

The other day I was talking with Clara about where babies come from (you know...tummies), and we began discussing, as we do at times, how she was adopted.
 

She has all the answers down - that Luke came from mommy's tummy, but that she came from another mommy's tummy. She likes to name everyone in her life who is adopted (her friend E, his brother and sister, her uncle Joe, Essie). I even once overheard her telling her Nana how she was really, really small when she was born (we've told her about being a preemie and her hospital stay).

We talk openly about adoption when it comes up and don't shy away from age-appropriate discussions.

But this time, she didn't just accept that she came from another mommy's tummy. Which shouldn't surprise me, with how grown-up she has become.

"What's her name?" she asked.

My heart sank.

After my mind did momentary cartwheels, I told her that we don't know her name but that we can call her Tummy Mommy (first thing I could think of, which I must have read on other blogs. Why wasn't I prepared for this?).

"No, I don't want to call her that," she said.

My heart sank again. She can see right through me, I thought.

"I want to call her Big Tummy Mommy!"

Phew. She's still three-years-old and was only being silly. Or, actually, she was probably being literal. After all, a pregnant tummy is big.

Clara wasn't finished though. As she climbed up to cuddle in the chair with me, her sweet little-kid voice asked a very big-kid question: "Can I meet her some day?"

I honestly can't even tell you what I answered. I probably said something along the lines of "maybe..." or "I don't know..." And she was fine with whatever it was. Like I said, she's still three.

But some day she won't be three and she won't be fine with Tummy Mommy's and I-don't-know's. She'll want more information than I'll probably be able to provide her. At least, not until she's of an age when she can legally search for it herself.

Of course, it's not the searching and the wondering I have a problem with; it's my little girl's heart. We don't want our kids to ever suffer, you know? As parents, we tear up over shots and skinned knees and God forbid someone doesn't want to play with them on the playground. You might as well rip my heart right out and stomp on it. So I sort of dread the day when she, or Essie, will want more details than I have to give, or will want to really know her birth parents, and will be sad.

Realistically, I know all of my children will experience suffering in their lives. But a mom can hope to minimize that, right? So I tell myself I'll do my best to comfort them and use it as an opportunity to teach them about the value in suffering and turning to God. I'll be able to put my years of infertility to good use - not that I mastered suffering during that time, but I definitely learned what doesn't work (i.e.  fighting it with every fiber of my being despite it being something I have zero control over, just in case you're curious).

I absolutely love that we have two daughters whose stories include adoption, and I hope they will be a support to each other when emotions may become confusing in the future. One of the closest people to them in their lives will share a part of their story and will understand, at least on some level, what they may be feeling.

But it's also the differences that worry me. We know so much about Essie's amazing birth family, so much I'm excited to share with her one day. We were blessed with the opportunity to meet her beautiful birth mother and I treasure those moments we had with her. We know where she gets her blue eyes, and her dark, curly hair.

But we know next to nothing about Clara's birth family, and it tears me up inside for her. I can just picture, years from now, her sad pre-teen face, not understanding why I can't fill in more of the blanks.

Although it hasn't even yet happened, I can't do anything to change that it may. But what I can do is teach all of my children that everyone's story is different and special. That everyone has hardships. And that life isn't fair.

And that, also, life is wonderful and beautiful and a gift from God that is to be cherished and relished.

It may not help her avoid the sadness, but I can only hope it helps it to pass more quickly.

I also know how one processes something like this depends a lot on their individual personality. Being adopted could be the defining moment of her life, or it could be just one of many things that makes her Clara, depending on her temperament. I hope I can do whatever I can to help it be the latter, for her own sake. It is important, don't get me wrong. But I hope with any negativity it may one day bring, that she can see beauty in it too. That it can teach her, firsthand, that God can make all things new.

For now, I will try to preserve the carefree, silly nature of childhood for as long as possible.

I will take her questions as they come and try to do my best as her mama. I may not have been her Tummy Mommy, but I was put on earth to protect her, care for her, and love her. And that I can handle.