7 More Homeschool Takes, No We Still Haven’t Started

One
The children have started asking if we can start school. I am more than a little irritated by this. We are days and days and days away from starting school. Whole days of sanding the school room walls, painting them, and then me digging through all our school boxes to find the stuff we need. Plus a dreaded library trip to offer up all the money I have to restore library privileges. No I can’t find Timmy Failure. Yes I know it’s in a box in my attic. No I can’t keep looking any more. Please just take my money and let me die this small death.

Two
Instead of starting school I’ve been trying to finish All The Work that needs doing that I won’t be able to do once we do start school. So many things. So many piddling little things that need twenty minutes of attention but when you add them all together they equal all the hours in the days that lead up to when I do actually have to start school. The children have nothing to do. They stand around watching me type miserably away and wonder why life is turning out to be so boring. So Matt made them clean the kitchen and that made everything even worse.
Three
Regular Chores for children, that they know and understand and have to do in the same way over and over and over, is the only way. I’ve tried over the last few weeks to just tell children to do various jobs. ‘You, go scoop the kitty litter. You, go unload the dishwasher. You, go sweep the porch stairs.’ Immediately that I speak there is a chorus of, ‘But I scooped the litter yesterday. I unloaded from breakfast. I can’t find a broom.’ The cacophony of wounded disobedience is driving me nuts. I can’t keep straight whose turn it is to do anything. So I’ve added to my pile of up work Make A New Chore List. Sigh.
Four
The great thing about having so many children in so many different grades is that I’ve reached the tipping point of being able to say no to everything else. When your kids are little and you have the foul idea that you should do things with them, like take them to the library and the museum and the park, which is a lie, you should never have to take small infant destructive toddlers anywhere in public, who are the people who think this is a fun thing, where was I? Oh yes, when your kids are little and you’re laboring away through first grade, second grade, and preschool, and someone says, “let’s go apple picking” or, “can you meet me at church to sort through all the cupboards for an hour” you can say, like the blithering idiot you are, “sure”. And then you do math and reading and pack everyone in the car and go. And it’s fine.
Five
But when you have grades 8,7,5,4,2 and K almost to 1 you can’t do that insanity. You just can’t. So if someone is suggesting a church meeting on a week day, during normal working hours, or even a fun outing, you can only blink and blink and shake your head and say, “um, no” and wander off in a confused stupor. Sometimes no one will even know that you spoke or that you were there. They will furrow their brows and then go back to whatever they were doing before. You, in other words, pass out of the view of visible life. It’s actually the best thing ever.
Six
Because our academic life is going to be pretty intense this fall, I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around my stupid crockpot, which, in theory, I like, but in reality makes me unsettled and anxious. Tried it out on Tuesday to mixed and mediocre results, and on Wednesday shoved it back in the cupboard and tried brazing a chicken in the oven. Oh my word, so delicious. Matt split it down the spine for me and then I laid it on a bed of onions and garlic and then poured two cans of crushed tomato and a large glass of wine over it, and some water, because Jesus. And then blasted it at 500 for half an hour and then turned it down to 350, covered it, and let it go for the morning. About 45 minutes out I took off the cover and turned it back up to 400 so the skin could crisp. Then I took the chicken out of the pan and piled mushrooms and large chunked zucchini in to mellow away while the chicken rested. Over couscous it was lyrically good. And now back to the crockpot, sniff. Why can’t a crock pot be a beautiful oven? Why? Why? Why?
Seven
The other charm of the week was being cosmically rewarded at the end of my long morning walk with a rocking chair. Matt drags me out of bed and marches me up and down (not really, that’s what it feels like) all cheery and bright. I have to walk, and have said that I want to, and so he’s rearranged his entire morning schedule to walk with me, so that I do it…jerk. Anyway. We walked along towards downtown instead of the other way we usually go, whichever way that is, I can see that I’m boring you. And as we came up the last hill, on our very own street, there was a gorgeous rocking chair, sitting there to be picked up for garbage day. Matt sauntered across the street and took it and then we looked it over carefully on our porch. So amazing. The main thing about it is that is very short–very very short. So if you come to my house ordinarily, and sit in my living room, I either sit in the children’s rocking chair, or I sit on a low stool, because of being short. But now I can sit in this actual chair. It’s amazing. Not sure why God is being so nice. Expect I’ll find out when we finally do start school. He’s buttering me up in preparation to whack me. That’s what Homeschooling Means. Have a lovely day! Go check out more takes!