The Middle

It's my birthday! Again!

I was talking to my middle brother last night and he said that he barely notices his birthdays anymore. TO HECK WITH THAT, I say. Any day that gets me presents and cake and extra attention is MY SORT OF DAY.

My husband got me up at FIVE THIRTY to give me my present, which was a red camera. I will try my best not to break this one, unlike our past two cameras, which I dropped over and over again. Nicely done, self.

I'm 38 today!
Note my spiffy new glasses and that I am a bit sunburned.

I got some other nice presents, too - my parents gave me a big stack of cookbooks and some mixing bowls, the Girl gave me some non-latex kitchen gloves (God bless her practical little soul) and a beautiful card and The Boy built me what he describes as "a steampunk pirate ship" from Lego, with instructions that I am to give it back when he needs the pieces. The Baby gave me nothing. "You get to spend all your time with me," she crabbed. "Isn't that ENOUGH?"

HA HA! That kid.

Whatever gross black misery dog was haunting me all spring/summer seems to have passed by my house. My birthday finds me happy and content again, which is a nice present itself, which is enough. Here I am in the middle - God willing and the creeks don't rise - of my life. It feels surprisingly prefect. It feels surprisingly like where I should be.

I Am Going To Post Again One Of These Days

... but I just wanted to draw your attention to two reviews I've done this week:
1. I reviewed one of those cracker/chip hybrids
and
2. I reviewed a children's book store AND I'm giving away a $25 gift certificate!
xo

Big Old Yarn Ball

One of the big problems about not really posting for ages is that I have too much to write about and then when I do sit down to write - which I have done, several times - I find myself staring blankly at the screen, unsure of where to even possibly start.

So I'll start here.

Hey, I got glasses last week! It's been kind of funky. I wasn't AWARE that I needed glasses - I mean, I'd noticed that my remembrances of what things used to look like were sharper and finer, but I'd just credited that to The Cruel Wages Of Time. Then I went to see the optometrist for the first time in YEARS and she kind of freaked out. Glasses ahoy!

What else is new? Well.

A dear friend's son was nightmarishly injured last week, the poor kid. The Baby is wearing a holter monitor for the next couple of days, horribly enough. She had a scheduled appointment with her pediatrician and then a little unscheduled appointment with the holter monitor lady and welcome to Hell, me!

We also went to a family reunion on the weekend, a reunion of my mother-in-law's mother's people. It was held at a lodge that some of my mother-in-law's cousins have owned since the 1940s, and we were given a cabin for the weekend. The Boy and The Baby came with me but The Girl was left behind with my parents because she suddenly got very sick, and so we get there and OF COURSE there was another sole 11 year old girl cousin. That's the way these things work.

The property was gorgeous and rambling and full of winding streams and weeping willows and beds of shale and I was so totally disoriented, thanks to my new glasses. A few months ago, I'd looked through an old stereoscope and was baffled - what were they trying to accomplish with everything all lined up like that? - and now I realize that I've been seeing the world oddly flat for YEARS. So now I suddenly have to carefully pick my way through this bizarrely 3-D environment, with the ground looming up menacingly at me.

I managed not to break my neck.

The Boy showed me his new rock skipping skills and then we discovered that practically everyone of my husband's first cousins once removed had very thoughtfully ALSO had eight year old sons, so he took off in an enormous pack of young cousins, much like lions.

The next day, the Boy and the Baby and I walked out to a very miniature peninsula, this small thread of land stretching out into the massive lake, and everything was vividly in front of me, the trees and the fish silver in the water and everything suddenly so shockingly, dizzyingly clear. I could barely make my way and meanwhile the kids ran up ahead, ran over the bridges and past the spot where the woolen mill once stood and were gone from sight.

The Winner Of The Nursing Top Is....

Julie - who JUST had her brand new baby boy, so why not go congratulate her! - from And They Never Slept Again. Thanks again to BumbleWee Nursing Wear!

This Is A Post About Homeschool Curriculum

... and I cannot believe I am writing it. But several people have asked me to, unfathomably enough, and so HERE I AM.

My homeschooled kids are in grade three and senior kindergarten this year. My other kid is in grade six, but her edu-ma-cation is the responsibility of the public school system and not me (and they are doing a fine job, too). Here's what we're doing for the other two, but nothing I say should be taken as an endorsement - we haven't USED this stuff yet, for the most part:

Language Arts:
The Baby and I are halfway through Teach Your Child To Read in 100 Easy Lessons. I'm not wildly in love with the book, but it's working: The Baby IS reading. She's going to move into the Pathway Readers grade one book, since nothing says rockin' good times like an Amish reader with no blasphemous illustrations of human beings. But the kids LOVE the books and their low-key stories (WILL Levi tell his dad he left the calf barn gate open?). The Boy uses them too, and we're also doing some novel studies - I believe we're going to do the Chronicles of Narnia before Christmas, and we'll see what happens from there.

I don't use spelling programs. I think that spelling is largely a skill picked up from writing and reading. I DO have the Boy put any misspelled words in a little homemade dictionary, but that's it - and he's a fairly solid speller. We also use the Explode the Code books and they focus on how words are put together. The poor kid will also be using a workbook called Funny Fairy Tale Grammar, and we're going to be reading a big pile of funny books about punctuation. We're starting using the WriteShop books this year, having HATED HATED HATED the big homeschool writing program last year (flimsy! boring!). And we use the Handwriting Without Tears books - The Baby is in the grade one printing and The Boy is starting cursive. Moving on.

Math
We like the American edition of the Singapore Math books - first, because they're logically structured (one subject moves briskly to the next) and secondly because topics are introduced without much review - this probably wouldn't work well for most kids, but they were highly recommended to us as being the ideal curriculum for kids who are gifted in math. I was scandalized when experienced teachers of my acquaintance told me that I could SKIP WHOLE SECTIONS of the math books as soon as he mastered the ideas - but the wisdom of the idea soon became apparent to me - instead of being complacent/bored, he's constantly being challenged. Because the editions we use are American, we skip the bits on measurement and money and substitute appropriate worksheets.

We also play store a lot. My husband is actually building a five-year-old-sized shop counter in the schoolroom today, and it's going to hold her cash register and toy food and such. We frequently play store in french quite a bit, which is funny.

And my kids really love to play math games on the computer - they're big fans of Cool Math and we use the Nelson math site a lot (Nelson math is the math curriculum the Girl's school uses.).

French/Other Languages
We're using the Rosetta Stone software. We also play bingo in french, sing french songs and as mentioned, play store in French. We also print little books off Enchanted Learning as required.
My kids like languages a lot, so we have other other language materials around for their use and we're starting Song School Latin this year.

Geography
I think that geography is really poorly taught by the school system and what is actually a very interesting topic has all the fun and interest sucked out of it. This year, we're using a combination of Hands-On Geography, Learning Geography Through Art and Eat Your Way Around The World, as well as storybooks from various countries and using the atlas, globe and working their way through simple, but effective, Canadian map workbooks.

History
I LOVE OUR HISTORY PROGRAM SO MUCH. We're working through Pandia Press's History Odyssey - this year, they're in Level One/The Middle Ages, and they are REALLY excited about it. We're using a ton of stuff with it and I can't even list it all.

"But what about your belief in the importance of Canadian history for Canadian kids?" my imaginary reader asks. Well.
1) It does have a month-long focus on the peoples of North America during the Middle Ages so we're good, thanks.
and
2) As part of what we're doing in Geography, we're going to be reading Canadian-based books throughout the year.

Science
I also love our science program so much - and again, it's from Pandia Press. This year, we're using R.E.A.L. Science Odyssey Earth And Space. I like this science program very, very much - not only is it a scientifically-sound, experiment-based program, but it's FUN to do.

We're also going to be working our way through Simple Machines before Christmas and a book of plant experiments after, and we'll be going on nature walks - oh GOODY - several times a week. The Boy also has a bridge kit that he'll be playing with and I also read the kids piles of science books because they like them. And The Boy has a table set up in the basement where he is allowed to take electronics apart and make his weird little experiments.

Art And Music
I cobble together my own art program, but they do a LOT of art projects during the rest of the school day as well - their history program focuses a lot on historically-based crafts and looking at art and obviously their geography program is very art-focused, too. Beyond that, we're going to be using Drawing With Children and some of the zillions of art project and art books we have laying around the house. I love Deep Space Sparkle Art - there are such GREAT GREAT art projects on that site. Oh, and our kiln will be up and running! There's nothing tidier than working with clay with kids.

As far as music goes: we're going to be listening to medieval music, naturally enough. I also really, REALLY love the Classics For Kids website - what a great site! - and The Boy is going to learn how to play the recorder this year, which will probably lead to me getting a lot of headaches and feeling sorry for myself. And we sing a lot.

That's not all that we're going to do, but it's the main chunk of it. And now I am tired.

I wrote a post yesterday!

It is - warning! - about spiders. And spooky woods.

If you're a breastfeeding mom, I'm having a nice clothing giveaway.

It's EARLY! I am never awake this early! It's all foggy early morning outside. Weirdness. I'm going to go drink my coffee on the porch all by myself.

I Interrupt Me Moping Around

...to give away a nice nursing top. So if you're nursing, hurry on over to enter.

EPIC EPIC EPIC

I was weeding a box of books that my mom dropped off - leftovers from my teenage days - and lo and behold: there was my favorite book of quotations from my late teens! Complete with circling, underlining and margin notes! Yes, it was like I was given a MAGICAL ticket back to the most PRETENTIOUS TIME IN MY LIFE!

For example:

Some rainy winter Sundays when there's a little boredom, you should always carry a gun. Not to shoot yourself, but to know exactly that you're always making a choice.
Lina Wertmuller

HAHAHAHAH. Picture me underlining this. I am seventeen. I am really, really thin. I wear mostly black turtlenecks and a lot of dark eye makeup. I am NO FUN AT ALL.

The flesh is weary, alas, and I've read all the books.
Stephane Mallarme

The HECK I HAD. And also "the flesh is weary"? I was 17. My "flesh" was the OPPOSITE of "weary."

But when I don't smoke I scarcely feel as if I'm living. I don't feel as if I'm living unless I'm killing myself.
Russell Hoban, the guy who wrote the Frances books

I am so, so glad that Twitter wasn't around in 1989. I'd have had an account - no doubt with a gloomy, Edward Scissorhands-ish avatar - from which I'd do nothing but repeat depressing quotes all day. And also: I HAVE NEVER SMOKED, NOT EVEN CASUALLY. What the HECK, olden-days self?

It used to be a good hotel, but this proves nothing - I used to be a good boy.
Mark Twain

HAHAHAH! STILL funny! World-weary cynicism now makes me roll my eyes, things that I used to think where SUPER deep now strike me as goofy - but smart-assery? Age cannot wither it nor custom stale.

Today, I got to sit in our gazebo in the backyard all by myself and read a detective book in the cheerful midday while my kids all had fun elsewhere and I felt quite contented, even in the midst of a rough time. And tonight I have the cheering knowledge that I am not THAT girl anymore, that I am wry and relaxed and if not quite happy at the moment, I know that I am working my way back there. End quote.

Social Disease

So I watched The Bachelor Pad last night, where THE WORST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD - like Machiavelli, but with bikinis and endless booze and apparently really severe head injuries - all crowded together into a house to win luv/a pile of money. And now my eyes have herpes*, which serves me right for letting my boredom and lethargy lull me into watching such z-grade Bread and Circus crap.

*Okay, no they don't. I was EXAGGERATING for COMIC EFFECT.

"Hey Beck," you might be asking (you're not, but let's pretend), "You're not writing much these days. What's up? Have you wearied of the glamour of blogging?" And no, no I have not. But I am kind of really depressed these days, which is less fun than it sounds and also not worth writing about. My feeeeeelings! It's being dealt with, but it would be totally self-indulgent to write about it (all grim, heavy adjectives) and then I'd want to kick my own butt when I get feeling better.

This means I'm not writing a lot these days. But what with all the not writing and everything, I have a lot of new time for other low-key, depressed person hobbies, like genealogy. I'm mostly trying to track down my father's German-American grandmother - with no luck - because she's the only dead-end I have, and my father is unenthusiastic about the whole thing since she was a dour, unlikeable, hard-luck woman, so much so that my grandfather ran away at 13 and joined the actual, literal circus.

Character is a funny thing, isn't it? My lost German-American great-great-grandmother had a lot of kids, was rural poor and lost her husband young (he was HIT BY A TRAIN) and was nasty-tempered and sour. My mother's great-grandmother ALSO had a lot of kids, was rural poor, lost her husband young - and was a lovely, high-spirited, funny woman who is still missed now, half a century later. And that haunts me, the idea that similar experiences can end in such different people, the idea that the world breaks some people and not others. And now, of course, we can watch fame-hungry dimbulbs break themselves for our entertainment. I'd feel sympathy, but I'm all lazy and stuff, so I'm just going to point and laugh. Haw haw!

If You Don't Like Conversations You Might Want To Skip This Chapter

Understood Betsy is one of those slightly forgotten childrens' books - forgotten not because it's dated or unreadable but simply because it's in a slightly crowded literary area. It concerns the adventures of a young orphan girl who goes to live with relatives on a farm and if this sounds familiar to you, it's probably because of a certain red-haired orphan who I like but honestly not quite as much as I like ol' Elizabeth Ann.

So anyhow. At the beginning of the book, Elizabeth Ann is living with her maiden aunts in a small city and her Aunt Frances is HILARIOUSLY fussy and over-protective and fear-coddling and as a result, Elizabeth Ann is small and pale and neurotic and terrified. Aunt Frances has learned from parenting books that Talking About Feelings Is Good and so Elizabeth Ann is now a master of talking about her feelings in great, excruciating detail, and Aunt Frances thinks this is proof that she has done a dandy job raising the young fussbudget.

Here I pause to laugh hysterically. I LOVE this book.

Mild disaster ensues, and Elizabeth Ann ends up being shipped to Vermont to live with the dreaded Putney cousins who live on a farm and make children WORK. The Putney cousins promptly rechristen her Betsy, give her a kitten, send her to a one-room schoolhouse and through wholesome activity and gentle work and independence and learning her own strengths, Betsy stops being such a neurotic mess and instead becomes a self-reliant, brave and loving girl. It's a wonderful book and also a bracing tonic to certain parenting ideas.

I have to fight what I privately call "Aunt Frances Tendencies" in myself ALL the time. Yes, I am a loving, imaginative mother, but I am also an overcautious, overprotective mother, too. And while I live in an area where children are given a TERRIFYING amount of freedom - seriously, it's shocking for me to live here with my ideas of what's appropriate and to see what kids are allowed to do - I constantly have to remind myself that wrapping my kids in bubblewrap won't exactly result in the desired adults, EITHER.

The Girl is in 4H this year. 4H is a rural youth group (in case you don't know) that has classes (so far, The Girl has taken Cooking With Chocolate, Weaving and my personal favorite, Tractor Safety) and also teaches the kids how to handle livestock. The Girl has been assigned her own personal calf - appointed to her shortly after birth and now several months old and FEISTY - and she is going to show her calf at the end of the month and be JUDGED on her animal handling abilities.

We dropped her off at a calf day on a local farm this past weekend and when we came to get her that night, her arm was covered in lurid bruises. "The dumb calf kicked me!" she said, outraged, and I felt sick. I had put my child in harm's way. But she did not want to go home - she had WORK to do - and leapt - all 55 pounds of her - into the calf pen full of running calves and made her way to the back where her own grumpy calf was dashing around. And I stood there squeaking and making Aunt Frances noises ("Look out! Maybe you'd better get out of there!") until I realized that I wasn't HELPING and went OUT, leaving my child.

Being a parent can be very hard.

I read - and rolled my eyes at - someone today who wrote, outraged, about big families making their kids "co-parent" their siblings and help with housework. Yeah, God forbid our kids feel like they have some responsibility within their families, that part of being a family means WORKING within that family (although let me limit that with saying that I don't think children should RAISE their siblings.). I've met one too many kids raised up to feel that the world owes them stuff, that other people are just here for their use and their pleasure. The ultimate job as parents is to raise kids who will one day be good at being adults, and part of adulthood is being able to work, to balance our desires with our responsibilities and to know which risks are worth taking. Helping a small sibling get ready for church is not an unbearable burden. Leaping back into the calf pen was - oh, I HOPED - a worthwhile risk.

My own Girl triumphantly led her calf out of the calf barn, having caught it, harnessed it and marched it out WITHOUT help. She led it around the path, and she was COVERED in mud but her head was high and her back was straight and the calf sulked behind her and she patted its grumpy head with her bruised arm and it nuzzled against her, trusting her. She stood, small for 11, a person who could take something hard and scary and master it and I was proud of her, searingly proud - and proud of myself, too, proud that I had walked out of that barn, that I had let her have this moment.

Betsy ends her book happy. My Girl ended her day happy, too, the bruises fading to nothingness on her arm, her muddy boots hosed off on the porch and she fell asleep with her lamp on and her calf's harness next to her bed. I stood and felt like waking her up to talk over her feelings about the day, Aunt Frances-style, and instead I pulled her blanket up and turned off her light and walked down the hallway, happy myself.