i began my 11th year of homeschooling 9 days ago. 7 days in, i lost my shit. my class roster read 2, but those 2 are filled to the brim with wiliness. like it's a spiritual gifting or something. you can only hear such things as, "let's play chiropractor" a few times when you should be hearing nothing before that metaphorical kettle boils over. and boy, mine did. it was bad. we had tears (mostly mine). we had slammed doors (only mine). and we had hair pulling (see a pattern?) and then i decided. "i'm done."
the next day the boys woke like sprites completely unfazed by the previous day's antics. but not me. i was worn weary wondering how the hee-haw i was supposed to get through the next 172 days with these raconteurs. but i've been taught to set an intention through the practice of yoga so that's what i did. for that day i set an intention to remember that this process of do-it-yourself educating is a slow and often arduous trail that takes you off the paved roads and sometimes into the brambles. and boy, were we feeling the stickers. so after 7 hard days, i cried uncle. and we blew off school. and went to the pool.
we stayed basking in the vacant waters through two swim breaks and two sunscreen applications. and then we packed up and came home to read and rest for the rest of the day.
the mood was lighter and sweeter and more gentle which is the tone i'm trying to strike with this business of raising men specifically schooling them.
so after a 24 hour break and a change in prospective, we began afresh. we each agreed where we were wrong. we each took the blame. we each accepted forgiveness. and just like that we launched back into those testy waters of school. at home.
but yesterday as i swam with my beloved boys, the silly stress of unreachable expectations washed away. i let the chlorinated water clear away much of my shit. you know the shit i thought i had lost the day before. after 7 days of maddening cat herding? yep. nothing like a jump in calm waters to calm me. and them.
so here i am. sitting before you with laptop in lap hoping that you'll continue to point me to the true north which is not the land of santa and other fairy tales and other unreasonable expectations. it's a place where truth hangs out and little boys are enjoyed and disciplined and loved and laughed with and encouraged and held accountable.
and speaking of second chances and being held accountable, i am reminded of how many millioneth chances are reigned down on me and how i stand in awe of all that ridiculous grace from my Mister, my boys and my creator. so let's just keep on lavishing grace shall we? play nice. laugh more. and try to keep our shit together shall we?
|no, the irony of our read aloud is not lost on this girl|
yours in truth and much weakness,