Eileen on Him . . . at least, I try!

Packing

Getting ready to travel, for my sister's (ugh) funeral.

For the kids:  Two sets of good clothes, socks, underwear, belts, Sunday shoes; coupla extra playclothes, extra socks & unders "just in case."  Don't forget the PJs.

I lay them neatly in a laundry basket, since that's such an easy way to transport them; plus, when we're done, we've already got everything that needs washing right there in the laundry basket, right?

I pick up the laundry basket and carry it to my bedroom ("packing central.")  As I place it down on the floor, I suddenly realize:  The laundry basket?  That was Nonie's idea.

I wonder what else I do as a matter of course, because of Noreen?

My Favorite Facebook Remembrance of Nonie

It was from a friend who remembered Nonie from early gradeschool (we only lived in that town until Nonie was half-way through 3rd grade, and I would guess this must've happened in either K or 1st).

The little girl was upset, because she'd spilled ice cream on her dress.

Nonie ran home, grabbed one of her own dresses, and brought it back for her friend to wear.

How sweet is that?  And how typical.

Sufficiently Radical

My sister Nonie's blog.

She stopped posting some time ago, but it's an awesome archive.  A treasure trove of wisdom and grace.  And a testimony to a life well-lived.

Read the whole thing.  You won't be sorry.

Miss you, No'n.

Lyly

When you want to pray but you can't think of anything to say ...

... it's great to have beloved, memorized prayers to fall back on.

That's what I told my children, as we all tried to catch our breath, gasping, shaking and crying over the news of my dear sister Nonie's passing, just yesterday.

(She's gotta be gratified by just how miserable we are.  And we truly are miserable, No'n.)

Our family's favorite prayer, handed down from my dad, is known as the "Power Pack."  It's our go-to prayer in time of crisis.  It's where I'm going today.

Here's another of my sisters, Trisha, recalling the prayer's origin, from a family website post 13 years ago:

I am so excited because I actually can submit a Dad story.  Mom and Dad visited here today because they always liked me best and Dad told me the PP story. [Ed.:  whatever you say, Trish :) ]

He was at a funeral for a cousin of Mom's (Leo Leary, perhaps) and three young freshly-ordained Franciscan priests were there (one of whom was Leo's son).  Dad overheard the three whispering in the back of the vestibule.  One asked the others, 'What do we do now?'  and the response was, 'Well, I guess we should say one Our Father, three Hail Marys and a Glory Be.'  Dad thought, "WOW!  That must be a powerful combination!" and he has called it his Power Pack ever since.

I said a Power Pack for Nonie this morning.  And I swear, she was right here saying it with me.

Miss you, Nonie.  More than I can say.

Love you and I like you ... and I'll see you in the morning. :)

 

 

I think I just decided to homeschool for high school.

New science on high school's corrosive, traumatizing effects.

Truth:  "High school is the metaphor for shame."  Seriously, what prom, or role in the high school play, or "official" transcript, is worth that?  Sure, most kids survive.  But why should you have to?  Is being bullied and shamed and endlessly judged while desperately trying to figure out how you fit in really what high school should be all about?

How about if high school is about preparing for college, or a career, and maybe a spouse and family? 

How about if the time is spent learning interesting new things, and developing personal interests that might be the basis for other life choices -- instead of navigating the nasty world of peer pressure, in a milleu where most of the adults in your life are trying to get you to like them as a "friend," rather than trying to support and guide you toward maturity (if they take any notice of you at all, that is)? (Let alone teach you anything.)

And don't even get me started on the genuine abuse that happens in schools ... by both kids and adults.  Scary.

I've been worried I can't handle teaching high school subjects.  I keep forgetting two things:  One, I've been there, done that myself, so how hard can it be?  And two, even as a 7th grader, my 13 yo already does most of her learning "independent study" style, with me acting more as guide and facilitator than lecturer.  Of course, I'm there to help her find her way through any areas of struggle, but at this point it seems to be more about establishing the parameters of the curriculum, finding interesting, engaging books and resources, assigning and grading written work, having great discussions about the material (and how fun it is to watch her light up when she finds something especially interesting!) and setting the overall pace.  Why should high school be any different?

I remember reading an article in Newsweek or Time many years ago on homeschooling, in which some representative of a teacher's union declared that "homeschooling is a form of child abuse."  (I wish I could find it! I don't think I'd even started homeschooling yet myself, and it infuriated me.)  Funny, that:  Seems like the opposite may be true.

Food for thought, anyway.

 

Refugees

Last night there was a strong wind that blew over three of our porch nativity statues.

Obviously, the Holy Family needed protection, so we brought them inside. :)

SB thought the Baby Jesus needed extra attention.

And Taz thought He would enjoy a good book.

(Personally, I think He was just fact-checking.)

But it's still Christmas Time (all the way until next Sunday!), so, with a few paint touch-ups and weather notwithstanding, they'll be back on duty today.

Merry Christmas!

A Little Morning Homeschool Gratitude

I'd call this "Reason No. X Why I Love Homeschooling," but I've long since lost count.

It's nearly 8:30 in the morning. The other kids in this town are already in school. Yet here I am, calmly perusing the internet, savoring one more cuppa, while my children are still asleep. It's time to wake them up, though; this morning we have horseback riding lessons and library time, followed by a picnic lunch at a nearby playground.

Do we get a lot done academically around here? Sure. I'm actually pretty proud of the results we get in our little corner of the home school world. But it's on our own terms, at times we choose, in a manner that causes us as little stress as possible.

What's not to love?

Never Fear the Laundry

I want to get back to my 2011 resolutions list eventually. (Heh, heh, heh. Resolutions are obviously not my strong suit.) But before I do that, I thought I’d give an update on a resolution from three years ago – that actually stuck!

I had such difficulty getting laundry under control. I loved a post that I came across during that time period that said something like, “The trouble with laundry is the clothes.” :) (I wish I could find it – it came from a beautiful mother/ adult daughters blog that I thought sure I’d bookmarked, but can’t seem to find!) [Update: Here it is! And I still love it!]

It made me laugh, of course, but that author's right: We have way too much “stuff,” and while that allows us to get by when the laundry is behind, it invariably leads to unmanageable piles of dirty laundry spilling over into every room of the house … and then, when the laundry finally IS done, it also causes such a storage problem that you could end up living out of the laundry baskets!

You can’t win for losing, as they say.

One thing I’ve never done that I would like to try (someday!) is using seasonal storage – you know, putting sweaters and heavier clothing in, say, an under the bed box at the end of cooler weather, and storing away lighter clothing during the winter months.

Storage is at a premium in this old house, though – we don’t have an attic, the basement is damp, and most of the bedrooms don’t even have closets. So that goal may actually involve a level of organization and dedication that is beyond my ability to attain. :)

It’d be smart to cull everyone’s clothes for stuff no one really wears or that no longer fit, though. That happens often enough with the kids’ clothes, of course; but mine and the Chief’s? Not so much. Plus it’s just harder for me to get rid of stuff that “no longer fits,” out of the hope that someday … not that anybody out there knows anything about that, though, right? :)

But the day-to-day conquering of the laundry mountain? I actually really do have that under control! It’s not that I get the laundry done with clockwork precision – but it rarely gets overwhelming at all anymore, and when I get behind it’s really not difficult for me to get back on track.

And this, of course, qualifies as a miracle! :)

I actually have discovered a few "tricks" that have helped me along the way. I'll pull those together soon, in an upcoming post.

Stay tuned!

Thirteen on the Thirteenth

Thirteen years ago today, The Chief made me an offer I couldn't (and didn't want to!) refuse.

Even though it was on the eve of Valentine's Day -- a Friday the 13th, no less -- his proposal was completely unexpected! 

I was never a big one for celebrating "Hallmark Holidays," but we had a chance for a kids-free date (his girls were 10 and 6 at the time), and had agreed to exchange simple gifts before going out to dinner.   I had gotten him a plaque that would look good on the wall of his dining room, and he got me a single red rose, and a mug.  The mug was decorated with a rainbow, and the saying, "When God closes a door, He opens a window."  The Chief had loaded it up with my favorite sugar-free peanut butter cups. 

He gave me his gift, first.

"Aw, how sweet," I said, putting the mug down on the table, and reaching for my gift for him.

"Wait a minute," says he, picking up the mug.  "What's this, under all these chocolates?"  I eyed him curiously as he dumped the candy into his hand ...  uncovering a small, black velvet box.

I gasped.  He opened the box, revealing a beautiful ring composed of three diamonds (one for him, and one each for Step 1 & Step  2!) and got down on one knee.

Of course, I said "YES!" 

And I've never, ever regretted it.

Happy Engagement Anniversary to my Chief! :)

Hope Springs "Internal"

Seven year old Taz has struggled with reading.  I haven't been sure if it was a question of readiness on his part, or a poor fit between his style and the programs I'd been using, or some combination of the two; but we've valiantly stuck it out together, coming at it from a variety of angles, and he is finally, really reading. 

Not struggling; not guessing:  Reading. 

He's not ready for chapter books by any stretch of the imagination, and he needs lots and lots of practice; but his confidence is booming, and it's such a delight to see!

Taz and I were chatting last night, and -- I don't remember the context, but it wasn't this -- I threw the word "perseverant" out at him.  "Do you know what that means?" I asked him.

He nodded enthusiastically.  "Sure.  'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.'  Like with my reading.  I have to be perseverant.  Right, Mom?"

It really surprised me.  Reading time has often been hard, even almost unpleasant at times.  (Switching to games has helped.  And focusing on sight words, since he's quick to pick them up; and that got him started reading when he couldn't see the patterns and the "rules" weren't making any sense.)  For him to have such a philosophical take on it seems surprisingly ... mature.

A priest once told the Chief, "Don't ask God for patience with your children.  Ask Him to let you know their hearts."  

Last night I learned a little something of the Hope that is in my little boy's heart.  And yes, Taz.  You are so right!