school daze: silent "e"

last but not least, i give you the fourth installation in a 4 part series on our school choice. perhaps you have not read the other three pieces? you can see them here, here and here.

for some reason i managed to become a good speller without  learning how to articulate the rules to spelling. consider the job of the silent "e", that handy, little, mischievous letter that usually comes at the end of a word. its presence allows the  preceding vowel to say it's name, make the long sound. that is our handy,little,{last}mischievous boy. he may seem silent, but in reality, he is not unlike a few spelling rules. and just like some spelling rules, he can be a rule breaker.

supervised fire

our fourth child is like most youngest children in families. he is indulged, coddled and beat up-on a regular basis. and unfortunately, often overlooked. a few years back, when we had just moved to maryland, i was distracted teaching the older boys. the littlest was off quietly playing by himself. we were moving at a good clip through our school day, when the smell of smoke whispered into the room where we were working. i immediately jumped up and ran out of the room looking for him. he was found under the stairs in the basement, happy and content-with a box of matches. "i was teaching myself how to light matches, mommy." and that day, i realized that our littlest had a proclivity for learning-and adventure. he was 3. from that day on i assigned him a brother buddy as supervisor.

this littlest-of-four-boys can keep up with the best of them{or cries trying}. when we decided to keep him home to school it was in response to what i saw working with the other boys. i will readily admit that it made me a little sad to think that he would miss out on all the sweet aspects of a traditional kindergarten class. you see i taught kindergarten for a few years. it's kind of the best part of school if you ask me. but there was something in me that felt like being at home with his older brothers in our one room schoolhouse would be pretty great too.

and it has been. already his math skills are surprising to me. that is probably because he hears his brothers as they recite their math facts {and has been known to answer for them and work their worksheets when they aren't looking}. he has also picked up some not so cherished habits like fighting or asking, "who wants a round house kick to the butt?" but i suppose that is just par for the course. wouldn't he learn that if he were away? please tell me he would.

i do adore having him home to snuggle for stories. watch him write. teach to read{who am i kidding? i haven't begun to do that!}. he is our last baby. our last little person to hold tight until he pushes away for more independence. and that is beginning to happen. and that is fine.

tracing

when i look back over the last 9 years, i see that homeschooling our four boys has been more about lessons on perseverance, obedience, grace, forgiveness, trust and mercy than that of academics. i know that they have taught me more than i them. the joke has been on me all along thinking it was about what i had to offer them. what can i possibly offer boys who have an insatiable curiosity and the energy to purse it? o, yeah. i can drive. 

i have to say, the winds of change are blowing through our little family. it's rumblings are distant, but growing louder. for the first time i realize that this homeschool adventure has been more about my character development than theirs. and it seems that i have learned a lot. i wonder if i would have the capacity for wonder, enchantment with literature, disdain for all those flippin' spelling rules and authentic self loathing had i never jumped on the road less traveled that led us to choose to school our boys at home. i think about that a lot. and i think about how the future will unfold. you never know what will come of our little one room schoolhouse. this i know, regardless of homeschool, public school or private school, we will never abdicate our role as primary teacher to our boys. the way i see it, all homes are schools. yeah? yikes? 

what is it that we are  learning? what are we teaching? and are the lessons worthwhile? i sure hope so. 

yours,

gf

celibacy has no place in marriage

i love this man who never know what the hell i am going to say next. this is for you, my darling.

i really have nothing more to add to the title of this post, but i suspect you want to know the inspiration so here goes. before we move on though you need to know this.

i write what i know. i write what i live. i give recipes for food not life.

i dabbled with intimacy before marriage both physical and emotional. had i thought that was the best sex and love could be, i would have chosen a habit-the nun variety. 


this post is written to the friend whose youthful indiscretion robbed her of a healthy relationship with her husband. this is for the newlywed who thought that marital boredom is inevitable-a shoe in for longevity in marriage. this is for the girl who longs to be known by her husband. i am all of those girls. 

now shall we move on to address these proverbial elephants in the room? shame and guilt. those are words that i know well. they were my traveling companions for many years. fortunately, when i met my husband, he tenderly unloaded them for me. 

the first night we acknowledged our love for one another, i flung my arms up in confession to this man who confided that he wanted me for his one and only for the rest of his life. once i felt loved and accepted there was an inevitable moment when we felt like there was no turning back in our hearts so we needed to come clean with one another. and we did. and it was gruesome. and it was glorious. shame and guilt were called up. and then they were tossed out. i have never looked back at them. they do not name me or write my story. and for that i am deeply grateful. unworthiness is a different story though. that is something that haunts me daily, and i must breath through most days to get through the weightiness of that one.

my beloved and i have shared the same last name for 17 plus years. and i have to tell you, our delight in one another has never been sweeter. part of what makes sex so great is trust, familiarity, nuance and relationship with a great deal of grace and humor thrown in for good measure. we have bought a big box of junior mint movie lies when we believe otherwise.

here's the thing, we have shared a lot of beds, my mister and me: the marriage bed, the sick bed, the baby bed. things have not always gone well. we have not always gone to bed together or on good terms. we have waned in our purpose and pursuit of one another. but he has remained faithful to me and i to him in every sense of the word. and that is a gift.

my point in writing this incredibly personal piece is because like with anything, i deeply desire truth to prevail. happily ever afters and the good guy wins. but we are living in times when sometimes it looks like evil is winning. i have walked with friends who are not living the same story they did when they spoke their marriage vows. shame and guilt have won out in their marriage. the divorce rate makes marriage seem obsolete. and chosen singleness seems somewhat compelling or inevitable with all this shame and guilt hanging around. "who will want to marry me once they find out what i have done?" let me tell you. that is a lie from hell. i know because i believed it. and i met a mortal man who had the same thought.

but guess what? those premarital indiscretions were not insurmountable. we have managed to find post marital ways to screw up. fortunately for us we are in for the long haul. through thick and thin. in sickness and in health. til death do us part. and until that day comes we plan to have a lot of great, happy sex. so take that, divorce rate!

and on that note, i'll leave you with a catchy line a lovely pastor of mine always said, "sex is like pizza. when it's good, it's really good. and when it's bad, it's still pretty good." and that is one for the cross stitch pillow.

yours ever so truly,

gf

school daze: gorilla in the midst

{herein lies the 3rd of a 4 part series on our schooling experience. if you would like to read the other two, kindly go here and here.}

how the natives best concentrate

studying more about sociology is something i would someday like to pursue. perhaps that is because i took an amazing sociology class as an undergraduate. the professor was compelling and kind. for some reason the most remembered aspect of her class was the story she told of her own daughter's wedding.

this sociology professor at this large midwestern college was quite literally shut out from her daughter's most important day, her wedding. because her daughter had decided to marry a man who was mormon and her mother was not, this sociology professor was not invited to the nuptials of her beloved daughter. the shock and confusion still pierce as i think how hurtful this must've been for this vulnerable mother who felt this part of her life was worth sharing with a classroom of kids who were her students. 

what does this have to do with my third post on homeschooling you might wonder. well, a lot actually. 

that story and that sociology class made me long to understand people. and my deep desire to understand people is another reason why i decided to try to understand my people, my children. the best way i found to understand them is by studying them, learning with them, and occasionally teaching them.

when my sociology professor mentioned the newly adopted religious beliefs of her daughter, i questioned exclusivity. what mores would one have to adopt and accept to make this seem reasonable? my own faith beliefs are of inclusion. including and inviting. this component of the mormon church still mystifies me. 

before i became a mother, i was an elementary school teacher. my third son is not unlike some of the students whom i taught when i was a free{educational}agent only they were female and named jennifer. he is my most emotional child with two settings: off and on. there is really no gray with harry. there is no revving up. he is on full throttle. or he is asleep.

still struggles with reading, but sweets help him persevere

when he turned 7 i realized his reading wasn't advancing like i thought it should so i asked a friend who happens to be a reading specialist to come hear him read. her assessment was that he just needed to have lots of repetition in his reading. "have him read and reread the same book." in addition she suggested, "have him take a new piece of literature and scan it for words that are unfamiliar. then have him decode the word." wow. okay. that is sort of what i have being doing with him all along. repetition, scanning for difficulty and then decoding {him}.

somedays i feel like dian fossey amongst the gorillas-waiting for this particular primate to make advances that can be recorded and examined. "is he making progress?" "does he know how to grasp this concept?" "is it developmental or laziness?" perhaps i am a sociologist{or primatologist} after all. 

this quirky boy of 9 sees and hears and feels things on a different plane than most. he modulates his mood to fit his observation. nothing gentles him like nature. and nothing impassions him like nature. recently we were sitting in our school room which happens to be a sun porch, a room that is literally all windows. how distracting this can be when the squirrels and birds are showing off, but how delightful too. this boy-who-claims-he-needs-glasses noticed the tiniest chrysalis hanging on the branch in our neighbor's yard. he kept trying to point it out, but my failing eyes could not make out the treasure. i strained. i tried, but it would not register in my view. i finally did the most despicable thing a parent can do. i lied. "o, yes. wow. how tiny. how magnificent you were able to spot that!" 

i still don't know if he saw an actual chrysalis. it seems out of season for that kind of metamorphosis. but what he saw or thought he saw is still telling. he saw magic and wanted to share it with me! 
with me! 

that is how i feel most days with this boy. magic. trying to see. trying to hear. trying to communicate with my gorilla in the mist who is in my midst. this boy who can spot the tiny magic in the neighbor's yard, but cannot see the box of cream cheese in our refrigerator. the one right in front of his eyes. he is a mystery to me.

and this mystery is teaching me: to hear, to see, to feel, to touch and enjoy.

truth be told it's my boys who have been schooling me at home. and this boy-our third son's lessons are on patience and laughter and grace. lots and lots of grace with a gracious amount of tomfoolery smeared on for good measure. 


learning to see-the chrysalis in the tree regardless if it's actually there. appreciating the birds of the air. and taking copious notes to keep up. i am still learning. there is so much more to learn.

xo,

gf

{next friday i will be ending this 4 part series on our choice to school in our one room schoolhouse-the place i affectionately refer to as the cottage-on-the-hill. i hope you come back to read the finale.} 

Get-A-Way

ah. i live in the thick of it. all the time. the life of a busy mother with a one track mind. school. 

this past weekend we left the wild ass monkeys in the care of friends: amanda and jeff. very capable, childless couple sets of hands. and in their very capable hands we left keys to the family ride with a full tank of gas, beer money, a pantry of food-and a permission slip in case one of the boys needed open heart surgery whilst we were away.

and then we skipped town. drove up to NYC. a decadent getaway. the perfect place for a man who never sleeps and his haggard bride.

an uneventful drive up {unless you count the fighting followed by a few hours of silence}. remember how i mentioned i have a one track mind? 

but once we saw that amazing skyline, i was able to lighten up, much to the Mister's relief. we parked the car, walked to our hotel to drop off any evidence that we were not locals, then we took to the street. o, the streets of manhattan. i do adore thee. 

first stop. lunch. shake shack did not disappoint. then to another favorite. central park. the gingko trees were showing off. we caught a few live musical performances which as it turned out were more honest than the show we came to see at Radio City Music Hall.

a quick trip down 5th avenue to while away a few laughs. then we readied ourselves for what we thought was going to be a worthwhile music show performed by the newly-relocated-to-nashville boy, Jack White.

not a shining night for us nashville natives as our boy disappointed a sold out crowd by playing a short set.

but our night was not lost. we jumped in a cab with some friends for a long ride uptown. poor Mister sat crowded with girls draped all over him as we serenaded with banana rama {i saw them live back in the day}.

when we finally shuffled into our hotel at 2 am {ah, city life}, the city and the disappointment of a short show took their toll. but we managed to stay up way into the wee hours of the morning talking {what adults who don't have children get to do during normal business hours}. and we had a lot of business to discuss. 

o, i am indeed a lucky girl. i came away from this weekend even more delighted with my imperfect husband who loves me so well. to be perfectly honest he very chivalrously showed all us crazy girls a good time on the town, made us laugh, took care of a few who were over served and happily paid the tab. what a guy! and he showed me, his bride of 17 years, that he still knows how to cut loose and have a good time {responsibly} despite all he does in work and life. 

sunday greeted us, but without the fanfare of children needing breakfast and snuggles, so we took our time waking. the city awaited with more to do than we had time. 

the chelsea market called. and we answered. afterwards, we took a short walk to the high line, a railroad track converted into a garden where we met a woman who is riding her bike across the country with a typewriter-allowing strangers to write their stories which she will later compile into the great american poem. she calls herself the type rider. and that is where our story ends as well.

we hopped in the car {that was gifted with an enormous parking ticket} and headed away from the city back to our little town where our boys were waiting for us.

and they were happy to see us.

xo,

gf

p.s.this weekend was made sweeter with the help of a&j who took such good care of our lads we never felt compelled to check in {we were having such fun we forgot we had kids}. and to my darling friend dana who took our little guitar hero to go see his first live show with phil keaggy. what a blessing!!!

school daze: still learning

some people think that once you have one child, that makes you a pro at being a parent. i am here to tell you that is not the case.

herein lies the second installment of my homeschool series. in case you missed it, you can read the first piece here.

i wanted to call this post there and back again since that is how my second son refers to his favorite book, the hobbit. but since we are still there and haven't left, it would be more appropriate to pen it there and who knows.

so, who knows...

when we decided to homeschool our first child, it only made sense that we would throw in the younger brother. by the time he was 3, our second born was saying those 3 magic syllables: "triv-i-um". i scooped my boys up and put them into the same little learning pod. it didn't take long until i realized that our second born was very different from our first born. and if you have ever met our boys, it would only take you 2 seconds to figure this out. 

like a neon flashing sign, our second child loves attention. he is the first person to volunteer at any given public event. he picked up a guitar when he was 2 and hasn't stopped trying to write his destiny as a rock and roll star since. he is an extra extrovert. this can be exhausting and enchanting. winsome and wild. 

but academically, well, academics is just a means to an end for him. he doesn't savor science or feel compelled to comprehend math. his agreeable personality{need to make peace and be liked}make him a joy to educate. but he is not a strong student and has struggled to grasp concepts like penmanship and concentration {and spelling}. 

he tells me he is going to patent markers for drawing semi permanent tattoos. i ask, "aren't those called 'sharpies'?"

what homeschooling has afforded us is the luxury to go as we wish. speed up or slow down. take two days to cover one math lesson. read aloud the challenging classics to this boy who can comprehend the most complex and esoteric of allusions{or innuendo}. spend extra time working on left brain/right brain exercises to wake up the sensory motor skills. have him sit on a special cushion to help him concentrate or perhaps put on leg weights to help with his sensory processing deficiency. here's the thing, i have worked really hard at trying to understand this complex sometimes angst-y boy who for all intents and purposes is maturing at a much faster rate than his older brother. 

for that reason, i feel a little out of sorts with this boy who has been curious about "real school" since he was in 2nd grade. we have tried a myriad of ways to satiate his curiosity just short of putting him in an 8-3 classroom. 

last week as we drove to his weekly tutorial he broached the subject yet again, "it's just that i am curious to know what it's like." always open with him, i reflected, "you know, there have been a lot of things in life that i have been curious about. some of them turned out to be not so good. but some of them turned out to be just fine."

his father and i will ultimately decide what happens with this lad of 11 years next year as it relates to his education, but i can't help think it is wrong of us to encourage and teach critical thinking only to squelch it when our child makes a valid{and let's face it, fair}assessment of his needs. i sort of feel like there will be hell to pay if we don't indulge this innocent desire. i've seen the movie footloose.

from the time i fell in love with his merry eyes, there has been an overwhelming lesson with this one. a "let go" whisper in my deepest mother's heart. a he's-not-yours blowing wind. maybe it was spurred by watching him crouch down to play, eat, read that so reminded me of the photographs the Mister brought back of the locals living in India. or maybe it's his unquenchable love of people who are not like him. this boy unconsciously seeks out people who are unlike him to befriend. he, like his mother, has an insatiable need to enjoy diversity. it is as though he recognizes that too much homogeneity is bland and that creativity is brought out and enjoyed when there are differences. i would not be surprised if this boy leaves home as a young man for a distant land-not out of rebellion, but out of passion for adventure. his call of the wild.

last night at dinner i asked him to tell me more about why he was ready for a school transfer. he used words like:independence and discipline and responsibility. i couldn't help think: aren't those the things we have been teaching this delightful boy for his whole life?

i am not excited about him leaving his all boys' school. it is not the path that i think is best. what if he's labeled? what if he can't concentrate with all the distractions? what if girls notice him? what if he soars? what if he falls and learns to pick himself up? what if he finds that he really does like it? what if he realizes that i was right? what if i realize he was right? what if we meet somewhere in the middle?

you are never too old to learn something new. and that is something i want my boys to know and glean from me. sometimes the best lessons are ones that we live.

stay tuned! next friday i'll be continuing this exploration on schooling from home. since we have 2 more boys, this series will go on and on. whew!

truly yours,

gf

Pangs

i have been sitting with this one for a while. it goes out to my young friends and to some of my old friends. you are God's guiding light to me.

okay, here goes...

i did not experience natural childbirth with any of my babies. it evaded me all 4 times. the result was 4 healthy babies born via caesaren section. but i like to think that even though i never had a midwife coach me through the most physically painful and triumphant times in my life, i have been coached in my life by friends and the like who have held my hand and cheered me into a sense of my own self's rebirth. we'll call her Epiphany.

now let me stop so that you can digest the last part. read it again. stop reading. unfriend me from facebook. take my number out of your phone. or if you like, continue reading.

it is true. at the age of 41 i finally have a better understanding of myself. i feel reborn. i feel understood. not by others. but by myself. 

for the past 30 something years, as long as i have had a conscious sense of self, i have fought for a desire to be understood by everyone except myself. 

i flirted with the notion that there was an inner friendship that needed to be nudged. i mean, i kind of spend most of my time with myself be it in the company of others or alone. but for whatever reason i never indulged in time to know who i was until recently. 

fighting and clawing it has been an arduous, emotional, painful battle much like the stories i hear from friends who feel the quickening of labor associated with childbirth. the pain becomes almost insurmountable. you look around and wish for an easy way out, but you know that in the end it's just you and your body. fighting to the death to bring forth life. and that life is glorious and beautiful and worth it. then you look on your offspring with love that washes over you. and you forget the pain. and you judge, "it was worth it."

that is very much like the journey to true self discovery. or at least my experience. it has been hard. but like those who have set their mind on birthing a bundle of joy, so did i. and i dug in for the long haul.

along the way, the graciousness of my Creator sent midwives of sort. friends who have walked with me. some literally hand in hand. others figuratively so. looking into my eyes. steadying my gaze as i want to look away and distract myself with anything, but truth. they have sat with me and questioned and listened and challenged and laughed and cried and fought me. o, good glorious Lord. i do have a team of ministering friends. sweet jesus, thank you for them all. many do not know how they have coaxed me along.

i recently emerged a changed soul of sorts. over the course of a few weeks i have had a time of soul searching reflection. some significant training and counseling. and i am deeply, DEEPLY, that soul-abiding-like-a-lasting-hug-that-doesn't-break-away-after-an-awkward-length-of-time grateful. o, dear me. that is the way i feel resting in this moment. 

my path to epiphany will be explored and digested and likely shared with you later because i feel like i am not the only one who is not living the best life i could be. and if i have anything to share that might be helpful to any of my friends, i will give it up with open hands and open heart.  but for right now i am keeping it close to the chest until i have the words to rightly write what best articulates that almost inarticulate-able cognizance.

the good thing about growth is that while it takes root, it also takes upkeep{and pruning}to make it continue so while i would like to think that i have achieved the end {of the pain}, i suspect it's only the beginning. stay tuned. until then...

xo,

gf 

summer reading

this weekend we exchanged our short sleeves for sweaters. the autumnal equinox came in and brought the crisp temperatures. o, i do love this time of year. it made me reflect back on all we did over the summer. i am not sad to see the hot days leave. we had our fill.

we took a lot of field trips {to the shore, to the farm, to the city, to the woods}. we baked a great deal whilst manning our booth rotation at our local farmer's market for our little family business, red apron organic:fresh milled flours.

during the course of our travels as well as our ventures around town, we managed to listen to a few books on audio. hatchet, number the stars, the secret garden. and then i introduced beowulf. 

some of the books were hits some of the books were misses.

an honorable mention

i could hardly wait for the boys to hear the 1,000 year old epic that has monsters and valor to inspire their little adventurous hearts. they did not care for it. at all. that would be beowulf. but the book that most surprised me was the secret garden. they loved that book. not at first. not when they heard the title. but it didn't take long before they were enthralled, reminding me to turn on the cd every time we got back in the car.

i wonder how many boys are missing out on reading this unlikely heroic tale because the protagonist is a girl, and it's about a garden? sometimes heros are the unlikely. this story sneaks up and surprises and made me gasp. the mark of a great book.

but we didn't stop there... 

i read to the littlest all of the e.b. white books as well as dr. doolittle and mr. popper's penguins{we had an animal theme going}. it was delighful. delight-full. the heroism of louis the trumpet swan. the courage of a spider. the adventures of a mouse. the creativity of a man and his penguins. o, so many lessons to glean from these little 1950's classics. so thankful my boys listened to such worthwhile tales.

so last night, as the sun set over the appalachian trail, we snuggled together on the sofa to officially close out our summer reading with a viewing of the 1993 francis ford coppola version of the secret garden. it was illustrious and lovely. the movie managed to stay true to the text (mostly), but in the end we all agreed. we enjoyed the book better than the movie.

xo,

gf