Different Seasons Require Different Days

 I'm sitting in my nightgown on the couch looking at two needy kids.  

Beowulf, lying in the oversized armchair, doesn't feel well.  He's got no appetite; he's lethargic; he says his head hurts and that he's dizzy.

The last two are actually less concerning than the first two for this endlessly hungry, endlessly energetic boy of mine.

He's got no fever, but he says he's cold.

And he just looks . . . ill.

Mister Man lies stretched out on the couch with his foot propped up.  

It might be broken.

He certainly can't walk on it.

It's just about 24 hours since he fell off the fallen tree in our backyard.  We thought it was just scrapes and bruises and treated his injuries accordingly.  Since then, he's been achy, throbby, sore, and swollen.  We've used ibuprofen, ice, and elevation, but he hasn't improved.

We found an orthopedic urgent care that opens in an hour and a half or so.  Sir Walter Scott will take him there.

I will stay home with Beowulf--keeping an eye on his condition until Mister Man gets back home.  If he's still looking/acting as badly as he does now, he'll get a turn at the children's hospital urgent care.

I found a substitute to teach my primary class of 6 and 7-year-olds at church.

Nature Angel hasn't appeared yet.  I may have to go find her to ask if she wants to drive herself and any siblings who want to join her at church.

It's not the day we planned for.

But it's the day we've got.

I worked for several hours yesterday preparing meals ahead of time, and now I'm extra grateful for how I spent that time.

There are two beautiful lasagna casseroles in the fridge (one regular; one gf/df) that need only to be slid into a warm oven for a little while, and we will have a body-and-soul nourishing Sunday dinner.

(I hope Beowulf will be able to enjoy a good dinner today.)

The season of "Binder School" feels over now.  

It was really good for the three months it lasted!

But it's time to shift gears to being outside more and more, so school for the youngest 6 is going to feel less and less formal.

We began to make that transition this week, reducing the time we spent on spelling, written narrations, and copywork in favor of increasing the time we spent reading, talking, and working outside.

We finished Ocean Anatomy.

We finished Carry On, Mr. Bowditch.

We read The Girl Who Built an Ocean.

We continued to read The Burgess Seashore Book for Children.

We started DK Eye Witness Weather.

We read East o' the Sun, West o' the Moon.

We continued to read The Story of the Treasure Seekers.

I transplanted some of my seed starts from their tiny peat moss pellets to plastic cups with soil.  They're practicing handling outdoor weather for a few hours each day, and I think the cabbages will be ready to live outside full-time starting tomorrow or the next day.

The tomatoes will have to live indoors for at least another month or two.

Our bare-root strawberries were supposed to be delivered this week, but they've been delayed for unstated reasons.

I planted sugar snap peas directly into their outdoor bed.  There's no visible sign of life yet, but I'm hopeful.

I've dithered over spinach and lettuce for too long, but I think I'll go ahead and start them both indoors and transplant them.  In past years I've direct-sowed, but I think we'll get a more controlled and usable harvest by transplanting.

All of this to say, I am more focused on physical work than mental.

So our homeschool is, too.

I've upped the kids from an hour or two outside a day to 4-6.  They're riding bikes, roller-blading, playing football, climbing trees, playing basketball, drawing with sidewalk chalk, reading on the deck swing, playing games on the table they've installed on the front porch, crocheting in the sunshine, and playing all kinds of sword-fighting, dragon-y, imaginative, role-playing games through the woods.

We were part of the 50-degree drop in temperature that affected the middle of the country this week.  But the sun shone, and I took this picture of Ladybug through the living room window.

Beowulf finished Math 3 and started Math 4!

We had a show this week.

Let's Get Together

Git Up

Teen Queen

We're finally at the stage where dance is just fun instead of stressful.  We're by no means a perfect group of performers, but the music is of the hand-clapping, toe-tapping variety, and the kids are fun to watch, even in their imperfection.

It is very clear to me this year that I am not a good choreographer.  I'm adequate for littles, but the large group numbers that I worked so hard on are flat and uninspired. 

C'est la vie.

My talents lie elsewhere. :)

Nature Angel and Little Princess showed me excellent essay outlines.  We talked a bit about citation formats.  I told them to use MLA on this report (and bookmarked a website for reference) with promises to have them use other formats next school year.  

They are writing their first drafts this week.

They are flying through their other subjects with dedicated, focused work.  

I've begun to read aloud with them after their history lesson each morning.  We're slogging through The Customs House part of The Scarlet Letter for now.  I so look forward to getting to the main story.

I did a little bit of research about CLEP exams for these two.  Nature Angel could easily choose an academic path that would make CLEP worthwhile, but not one of Little Princess's hopes and dreams will accept CLEP.  

I'm kind of disappointed because it would be so fun to study and prepare together.

(And such a good way to get college credit at home.)

The younger kids and I had a powerful poetry study experience this week.  We read Devotion by Robert Frost.  I intended to read it, define a few words, explain the symbolism, and move on.

But Brother freaked out.

He got really angry over the idea of the shore being devoted to the ocean because the shore can't think or feel or make decisions.

Now, my kids have had lots of experience with symbolism, so it was not unreasonable for me to expect them to understand this simple comparison, and his anger took me aback.

I am quite pleased to report, though, that I kept my head and talked him to a point where he promised to open his mind.

Then I started drawing and teaching.

After a few minutes, in a moment that I can only call inspired of God, I suddenly asked the kids, "Can you even imagine me leaving you all?  Would I ever walk out the door, drive away, and never come back?"

They all looked shocked and said, "NO!"

I stood in front of my drawing.  

"I'm the shore."

I pointed to my drawn ocean waves.

"You are the ocean.  The ocean pulls some sand from the shore.  The ocean throws seaweed up on the shore.  Sometimes the waves are huge.  Sometimes the tide goes out.  If you are the ocean waves, then you come at me with waves of anger.  You come at me with waves of sadness.  You come at me with waves of joy.  You come at me with waves of talking.  You come at me with waves of questions. Sometimes you literally beat on me like the waves beat the shore.  Sometimes you pull away from me like the tide goes out.  Do I ever leave?  Or am I always here?"

Brother started to cry.

"You're always here, Mom,"  they said.

"Am I devoted to you?" 

"Yes," they all said quietly.

"[Brother], can you understand the symbol of the shore being devoted to the ocean?  Even though the shore doesn't think or feel or make choices, is it possible that the shore works as a symbol of devoted love and attention and patience?"

He wiped his face and quietly responded in the affirmative.

The room was so filled with love.  

There's power in poetry.

There's power in homeschooling.

There's power in love.