We had a faily boring day.
The two oldest ZooBoys had check ups today. J is off the charts and M is 95 percentile. We grow 'em big here at the zoo.They get it honest though. ZooDad is a giant.
Then it was a quick trip down to the cemetary to check out my Dad's new stones and make sure everything was as my Mom wanted it. It is. Headstone is nice, footstone is in place and the flower holders have been placed. My grandparents' headstone was lifted and cleaned. The brickwork is all done. Once it gets warmer, I'll have the sod put in. Once everything was checked out, the zooboys and I ate out McDonald's take out amongst the old stones.
This is the cemetery I played in as a child. I would help clean of my grandfather's grave. I'd pull weeds and plant flowers. Now my sons get to do the same for their grandfather.
Then it was off to speech and therapy, a quick stop at the scout shop to pick up acheivements for tomorrow's pack meeting, and over to my mom's to show her the pictures from the cemetery and visit for a while.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Here there be dragons....
And knights, and wizards, and really big cats.
Pictures of what my kids do when left to their own devices before breakfast. This morning they decided to put on their Halloween costumes. Please try to ignore the unhealthy breakfast I have provided...waxy chocolate donuts. I figure it is one step up from Bill Cosby's Chocolate Cake.
We'll start with the youngest two.
S and A and modeling the latest in dragon wear. These lovely ensembles came from that bastion of bargains...Wal-mart. The hoods were once adorned with heavy, ugly, dragon faces complete with eyeballs and mouths. I cut those off, repaired the holes, and made a much lovelier costume...which I say without bragging.
Here's the littlest one enjoying his donuts.
This is my three year old, with no pants. We don't need no stinkin' pants!!!!
Here's M. He still has a bit of red eye from surgery. He is not wearing the really cool kinght's cape that I made for him. He said he didn't want to get chocolate on it.
This is J...the oldest of the ZooBoys. I made his cosutme out of some spare fabric and an old bed sheet. The hat was the hardest part. I had to feed wire into the brim and the pointy part so it would keep some kind of shape. J made it clear that he wanted to be a Gandalf type of wizard and not a Harry Potter wizards. Hence the floppy brim. He also has a silver staff but chose to eat donuts off his magician's wand instead.
Behind him is Super Max: cat extraordinaire. Max is quite large. When he stands up, he is as tall as my three year old. Don't let the pink heart name tag fool you. That cat is bad to the bone.
J just turned 9 on Sunday. Tomorrow I'll upload his birhtday party pictures and the really awesome magician's hat cake.
Pictures of what my kids do when left to their own devices before breakfast. This morning they decided to put on their Halloween costumes. Please try to ignore the unhealthy breakfast I have provided...waxy chocolate donuts. I figure it is one step up from Bill Cosby's Chocolate Cake.
We'll start with the youngest two.
S and A and modeling the latest in dragon wear. These lovely ensembles came from that bastion of bargains...Wal-mart. The hoods were once adorned with heavy, ugly, dragon faces complete with eyeballs and mouths. I cut those off, repaired the holes, and made a much lovelier costume...which I say without bragging.
Here's the littlest one enjoying his donuts.
This is my three year old, with no pants. We don't need no stinkin' pants!!!!
Here's M. He still has a bit of red eye from surgery. He is not wearing the really cool kinght's cape that I made for him. He said he didn't want to get chocolate on it.
This is J...the oldest of the ZooBoys. I made his cosutme out of some spare fabric and an old bed sheet. The hat was the hardest part. I had to feed wire into the brim and the pointy part so it would keep some kind of shape. J made it clear that he wanted to be a Gandalf type of wizard and not a Harry Potter wizards. Hence the floppy brim. He also has a silver staff but chose to eat donuts off his magician's wand instead.
Behind him is Super Max: cat extraordinaire. Max is quite large. When he stands up, he is as tall as my three year old. Don't let the pink heart name tag fool you. That cat is bad to the bone.
J just turned 9 on Sunday. Tomorrow I'll upload his birhtday party pictures and the really awesome magician's hat cake.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
It's not quite "two steps forward-one step back"
It's more like one step forward, slide sideways and slip backwards a bit. It's not exactly where we started but it isn't where we want to be.
My little guy A is day time potty trained. No accidents. But the 13 day emphasis on toileting skills has caused him to loose some language.
I kind of expected it but didn't want to think about it. I had noticed it, but was in steep denial that it was actually happening.
Yesterday, he saw his speech therapist in over a week and she pointed out what I already knew. He had lost some sounds and clarity. "It's expected in children with apraxia. They just can't work on several motor planning issues at one time. Sometimes he will make great progress, sometimes he'll plateau, and sometimes he'll regress. But we'll keep working." That was supposed to make me feel better. It didn't. Neither did meeting up with a normal 3.5 year old.
That just slapped me hard. This bright, coordinated, well-spoken little boy who just ran circles around my little guy. And for the first time ever in his short life, A may have gotten the feeling that he might not be normal. I could see the hurt on his face when he heard this same sized fellow speak.
I came home and cried.
Then visited the Talking page to remind me of how far A has come in the past 15 months. When Andrew was first diagnosed I found The talking page and I was so discouraged. At 28 months, A was no where near any of the youngest entries. He could say Momma and Daddy, uh-oh, bubba, and bye. The rest of his language was grunting and stuttering uh-uh-uh-uh.
I thought he would never get to the point where he could even say his name. Or say Daddy clear enough for others to understand. We bought a name tag from escopes for his shoe in case if got separated form us because we feared it would be years before he could communicate. It was our greatest fear.
But he has made amazing progress.
We'll just keep working.
For as long as it takes.
My little guy A is day time potty trained. No accidents. But the 13 day emphasis on toileting skills has caused him to loose some language.
I kind of expected it but didn't want to think about it. I had noticed it, but was in steep denial that it was actually happening.
Yesterday, he saw his speech therapist in over a week and she pointed out what I already knew. He had lost some sounds and clarity. "It's expected in children with apraxia. They just can't work on several motor planning issues at one time. Sometimes he will make great progress, sometimes he'll plateau, and sometimes he'll regress. But we'll keep working." That was supposed to make me feel better. It didn't. Neither did meeting up with a normal 3.5 year old.
That just slapped me hard. This bright, coordinated, well-spoken little boy who just ran circles around my little guy. And for the first time ever in his short life, A may have gotten the feeling that he might not be normal. I could see the hurt on his face when he heard this same sized fellow speak.
I came home and cried.
Then visited the Talking page to remind me of how far A has come in the past 15 months. When Andrew was first diagnosed I found The talking page and I was so discouraged. At 28 months, A was no where near any of the youngest entries. He could say Momma and Daddy, uh-oh, bubba, and bye. The rest of his language was grunting and stuttering uh-uh-uh-uh.
I thought he would never get to the point where he could even say his name. Or say Daddy clear enough for others to understand. We bought a name tag from escopes for his shoe in case if got separated form us because we feared it would be years before he could communicate. It was our greatest fear.
But he has made amazing progress.
We'll just keep working.
For as long as it takes.
Friday, January 21, 2005
Donna's Friday Five
1. We called my paternal Grandmother "Booba" though we spelled it Buba. Here name was Ruby somewhere along the line a grandchild mispronounced it and it stuck.
2. I never named any of my dolls or stuffed animals when I was a child. However I did name a bear I was given when I was 15. His name is London. I still have him.
3. The women in my family have extra teeth and blood vessels. Weird, huh?
4. When I was 5, I had my stomach pumped after eating a pound of m&m's in a hour.
That left me with a chocolate allergy for years. I could only eat white chocolate when it was available at Easter.
5. My family has been in a 200 mile area since 1770. Both sides. The only exceptions were due to military service.
2. I never named any of my dolls or stuffed animals when I was a child. However I did name a bear I was given when I was 15. His name is London. I still have him.
3. The women in my family have extra teeth and blood vessels. Weird, huh?
4. When I was 5, I had my stomach pumped after eating a pound of m&m's in a hour.
That left me with a chocolate allergy for years. I could only eat white chocolate when it was available at Easter.
5. My family has been in a 200 mile area since 1770. Both sides. The only exceptions were due to military service.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Amazing A! The Potty trained maestro
My third son is developmentally delayed. He's about a year behind in fine motor skills and about 6 months or so in gross motor skills. He also has a speech disability called Apraxia.
Mainly it is a motor planning disorder that affects a lot of stuff besides speech.
So he managed to get through 3 years and 7 months without learning to use the potty. He just couldn't figure it out. His body just wouldn't let him.
Last Thursday, I stuck him in some plastic covered training pants. He wet them three times and got REALLY mad each time. Then it clicked.
Friday, he wore plain old training pants. He had no accidents. WooHoo!
Saturday, we tempted fate and got away with it. We were at the church rec court from 8:30 am to 1:30 pm. Four boys, three in underwear and one change of clothes. Again, A proved he had the right stuff and even managed to use the great big huge toilets in the handicapped stall.
Staying dry at night will prove to be an issue. I've got him in Pull-ups, just in case. But overall, I am amazed. The Wednesday before we started, his occupational therapist said that he might be 4 or even 5 before he had control of those muscles and had the awareness.
I love her..but I'm glad she was wrong.
Funniest part of the whole thing:
I bought Nemo underwear...which he loves! When I told him that he could not put on the previous day's underwear he started wailing, "Dey no dirrrree." I told him that they were dirty but I would wash them and could wear them again when they were clean. He stared at me. I could see the gear whirring in that head of his but could not fathom what he was processing. Then he looked at me suspiciously..."You ach em? Den dey keen?" I said yes, that I could wash them and they would be clean. It then occurred to me that he hadn't had any experience in washing and reusing undergarments. I guess he though that dirty Nemo underwear were thrown away just like dirty diapers. Maybe we should have used cloth.
Mainly it is a motor planning disorder that affects a lot of stuff besides speech.
So he managed to get through 3 years and 7 months without learning to use the potty. He just couldn't figure it out. His body just wouldn't let him.
Last Thursday, I stuck him in some plastic covered training pants. He wet them three times and got REALLY mad each time. Then it clicked.
Friday, he wore plain old training pants. He had no accidents. WooHoo!
Saturday, we tempted fate and got away with it. We were at the church rec court from 8:30 am to 1:30 pm. Four boys, three in underwear and one change of clothes. Again, A proved he had the right stuff and even managed to use the great big huge toilets in the handicapped stall.
Staying dry at night will prove to be an issue. I've got him in Pull-ups, just in case. But overall, I am amazed. The Wednesday before we started, his occupational therapist said that he might be 4 or even 5 before he had control of those muscles and had the awareness.
I love her..but I'm glad she was wrong.
Funniest part of the whole thing:
I bought Nemo underwear...which he loves! When I told him that he could not put on the previous day's underwear he started wailing, "Dey no dirrrree." I told him that they were dirty but I would wash them and could wear them again when they were clean. He stared at me. I could see the gear whirring in that head of his but could not fathom what he was processing. Then he looked at me suspiciously..."You ach em? Den dey keen?" I said yes, that I could wash them and they would be clean. It then occurred to me that he hadn't had any experience in washing and reusing undergarments. I guess he though that dirty Nemo underwear were thrown away just like dirty diapers. Maybe we should have used cloth.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Sorry, I've been busy potty training
I'll post about it next time. It was amazing. The little guy is the fastest and the latest I've every known. He's already in regular big boy undies.
He certainly is testimonial for waiting for readiness and then making them do it.
So now I'm down to one in diapers. I don't know what to do with all my free time.
Oh yeah, I'm spending twice as much time observing the potty master, inspecting his accomplishments, and handing out m&m's. Yes, I unabashedly admit...I bribe my children.
I'm also going to move all my old post over from blog city. I don't want to loose them and I don't want to post there. They have no spell check.
He certainly is testimonial for waiting for readiness and then making them do it.
So now I'm down to one in diapers. I don't know what to do with all my free time.
Oh yeah, I'm spending twice as much time observing the potty master, inspecting his accomplishments, and handing out m&m's. Yes, I unabashedly admit...I bribe my children.
I'm also going to move all my old post over from blog city. I don't want to loose them and I don't want to post there. They have no spell check.
Friday, January 14, 2005
The girl in the gun shop
For Christmas, I bought ZooDad a new gun. A 9mm pistol to be specific. He picked it out and printed off all the relevant information. Then I went to the gun store to buy it.
It's fun to watch the guys respond to women in a gun store. It even more fun to watch them respond to women shopping by themselves in a gun store.
The men in this particular gun store were especially fun.
I had to fill out the paperwork for the background check. Of course, I messed up right at the start by giving my hubby's Social security number instead of my own. Hee, hee,hee. The Army wife thing dies hard. I never use my number. I only use his.
Then came the hard question. Do you have any current warrants for your arrest? Well, not that I know of. Once you stick my name in there, I guess we'll find out. The gun store guys didn't find that funny. at. all.
I also had to buy ammo...also called bullets. What sort of ammo did I want? I assumed ammo that fit. But alas...there are different grades of ammo. What kind of shooting did the new owner want to do. I had to answer that quite honestly the new owner and his brother were most likely going to shoot old cans off a log. (I assumed correctly.) Well that meant I wanted target grade. Cool, give me three boxes. I figured it was like batteries: you want to make sure you have enough to play with.
Next, I had to find a new holster for this new toy. Well, this particular store didn't have one exactly like ZooDad wanted to fit his new toy.
So I had to go to a different store.
I took the new pistol in with me. I guess it never really occurred to me that I couldn't. I figured was like buying a dress for a formal event. You carry the shoes you plan on wearing with you, to make sure the length is right.
The different store was a large hunting supply store. Very large...lots of hunting stuff. Many, many, many dead, deer heads all over and a unique mounted fish coffee table. It's in a old K-mart store to give you an idea of the sheer mass of hunting supplies.
I walked in with the new gun in it's case and announced to the first salesperson I saw that I had a gun and that I needed a holster for it. After a brief lookover, this employee decided I wasn't a terror threat, and opened the case so we could find the appropriate holster.
We found one, I bought it and went on my merry way.
I spent the next two weeks teasing ZooDad about the pistol that I may or may not have bought for him and chastising him for asking questions at Christmas time.
At least now I know for sure that there are no warrants for my arrest.
It's fun to watch the guys respond to women in a gun store. It even more fun to watch them respond to women shopping by themselves in a gun store.
The men in this particular gun store were especially fun.
I had to fill out the paperwork for the background check. Of course, I messed up right at the start by giving my hubby's Social security number instead of my own. Hee, hee,hee. The Army wife thing dies hard. I never use my number. I only use his.
Then came the hard question. Do you have any current warrants for your arrest? Well, not that I know of. Once you stick my name in there, I guess we'll find out. The gun store guys didn't find that funny. at. all.
I also had to buy ammo...also called bullets. What sort of ammo did I want? I assumed ammo that fit. But alas...there are different grades of ammo. What kind of shooting did the new owner want to do. I had to answer that quite honestly the new owner and his brother were most likely going to shoot old cans off a log. (I assumed correctly.) Well that meant I wanted target grade. Cool, give me three boxes. I figured it was like batteries: you want to make sure you have enough to play with.
Next, I had to find a new holster for this new toy. Well, this particular store didn't have one exactly like ZooDad wanted to fit his new toy.
So I had to go to a different store.
I took the new pistol in with me. I guess it never really occurred to me that I couldn't. I figured was like buying a dress for a formal event. You carry the shoes you plan on wearing with you, to make sure the length is right.
The different store was a large hunting supply store. Very large...lots of hunting stuff. Many, many, many dead, deer heads all over and a unique mounted fish coffee table. It's in a old K-mart store to give you an idea of the sheer mass of hunting supplies.
I walked in with the new gun in it's case and announced to the first salesperson I saw that I had a gun and that I needed a holster for it. After a brief lookover, this employee decided I wasn't a terror threat, and opened the case so we could find the appropriate holster.
We found one, I bought it and went on my merry way.
I spent the next two weeks teasing ZooDad about the pistol that I may or may not have bought for him and chastising him for asking questions at Christmas time.
At least now I know for sure that there are no warrants for my arrest.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Better Days with some General Grumpiness
Well Tuesday was better, Wednesday was a good as it could be.
Tuesday we played, did some work, played, did some work. Worked out on the deck in the sun. It went quickly and before we knew it, it was time for dinner, baths, and bedtimes. With ZooDad out of town, I get to be a single parent. When he is gone, I tend to roll into bed the same time the kids do.
Yesterday, was as productive as it could be. Wednesday is appointment day. M had his check up with the eye doctor. She didn't do any assessments. Mainly she needed to make sure there was no infection and that the eye muscles hadn't slipped.
All is well on the eye front.
Then is was a quick lunch at Micky D's and we were off to A's appointments. He has Occupational therapy and speech therapy every Wednesday. (And speech again on Monday.) That gives us two hours in the waiting room to work on school stuff. That depends on how distracting the waiting room is. I am amazed at how many people just do not control their kid at all. Yesterday, as the boys attempted to work on their SOTW worksheets, two children kept asking them their paper and colored pencils. I repeatedly and kindly (and loud enough for the parent to hear) said that the boys were working on school work and that they were using those supplies to finish their work. When I gave these children a sheet of blank paper found in my book, they pretty much pushed my kids away from the pencils and took over the area. They threw pencils. They pushed and shoved. They even attempted to tear other paper out of the boys' notebooks.
The parent said nothing the whole time. Oh, and her baby child took my baby child's pacifier out of his mouth and put it in her own. (ARRRGGGGGG!) And then pushed my stroller all over the waiting room.
I'm hoping that these kids are associated with a child just doing eval during our time slot and are not going to be weekly visitors when we are visiting. If they are, we'll have to hang out in the hallway because that is valuable school time for us. I know that sounds horribly ugly. But we've been doing school in the waiting room for 14 months. I make sure all of my children are quiet and well behaved. Baby S learned to walk in the waiting room and he even knows how to behave.
I don't expect quiet in a children's waiting area but I sure don't expect to be babysitting other people's kids either.
So FWIW the smiling mom in the waiting room who is humoring your children as they climb all over her and throw school supplies around the room...she is not happy with you and your lack of parenting skills. She thinks your kids are brats and would tell you so if she weren't trying to be a civilized person. If you'd stop watching soaps n the waiting room TV long enough to look over you'd realize that.
Tuesday we played, did some work, played, did some work. Worked out on the deck in the sun. It went quickly and before we knew it, it was time for dinner, baths, and bedtimes. With ZooDad out of town, I get to be a single parent. When he is gone, I tend to roll into bed the same time the kids do.
Yesterday, was as productive as it could be. Wednesday is appointment day. M had his check up with the eye doctor. She didn't do any assessments. Mainly she needed to make sure there was no infection and that the eye muscles hadn't slipped.
All is well on the eye front.
Then is was a quick lunch at Micky D's and we were off to A's appointments. He has Occupational therapy and speech therapy every Wednesday. (And speech again on Monday.) That gives us two hours in the waiting room to work on school stuff. That depends on how distracting the waiting room is. I am amazed at how many people just do not control their kid at all. Yesterday, as the boys attempted to work on their SOTW worksheets, two children kept asking them their paper and colored pencils. I repeatedly and kindly (and loud enough for the parent to hear) said that the boys were working on school work and that they were using those supplies to finish their work. When I gave these children a sheet of blank paper found in my book, they pretty much pushed my kids away from the pencils and took over the area. They threw pencils. They pushed and shoved. They even attempted to tear other paper out of the boys' notebooks.
I'm hoping that these kids are associated with a child just doing eval during our time slot and are not going to be weekly visitors when we are visiting. If they are, we'll have to hang out in the hallway because that is valuable school time for us. I know that sounds horribly ugly. But we've been doing school in the waiting room for 14 months. I make sure all of my children are quiet and well behaved. Baby S learned to walk in the waiting room and he even knows how to behave.
I don't expect quiet in a children's waiting area but I sure don't expect to be babysitting other people's kids either.
So FWIW the smiling mom in the waiting room who is humoring your children as they climb all over her and throw school supplies around the room...she is not happy with you and your lack of parenting skills. She thinks your kids are brats and would tell you so if she weren't trying to be a civilized person. If you'd stop watching soaps n the waiting room TV long enough to look over you'd realize that.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
First Day "Back to School"
Yesterday was our first day of the new year. We took an extended vacation due to M's eye surgery. My MIL was going to be here for three days and I knew there was no way to get anything done with that distraction plus our general chaos.
I would like to say that the day went smoothly with no tears or problems. That we all had a grand time and we loving and creative. That all the boys in the Zoo were cooperative and willing to work hard.
But that would be a big...fat...lie!
ZooDad took off for a week-long trip. I should have known that would set the boys off a little. Plus we had speech today, so we had a timetable that had to be adhered too. Then basketball practice. I just should have realized that I was setting up a tough situation.
Almost all the planned work was finished...with some prodding, forcing, and tears. We skipped history...again. It is the one subject that just gets swept under the rug.
I'm hoping today will be better. I hate being the task master. Days like yesterday really make me give second thoughts to homeschooling. Not because I think I can't provide the boys with a good education but because I feel the teacher/child relationship sometimes interferes with the mom/son relationship.
But I know sending them to school wouldn't fix anything. My sons just don't have that school mentality. J's gentle spirit would be broken immediately. He would either change to fit in or he would be miserable. M would find the lack of rule enforcement unbearable. He would also face teasing for his eye issues, become more self conscious and withdraw. A....well, I don't know if he would ever be in a regular classroom. He would be in a self-contained classroom for at least 3 years. Our local school system has a self contained 3 year old speech special ed class. We have already been pushed to enroll him.
Yeah...that's what I want to do. Send him to special-ed at 3. Put that label on him for the rest of his life.
So I know in my heart that homeschooling IS the best thing for them. I know that the education I give them is superior to what a school could provide them. I just need the strength of spirit to make that happen. I'm hoping today is much better.
So far it seems to be. Math is done and verbs are conjugated. No major wars have broken out and nobody's cried.
I would like to say that the day went smoothly with no tears or problems. That we all had a grand time and we loving and creative. That all the boys in the Zoo were cooperative and willing to work hard.
But that would be a big...fat...lie!
ZooDad took off for a week-long trip. I should have known that would set the boys off a little. Plus we had speech today, so we had a timetable that had to be adhered too. Then basketball practice. I just should have realized that I was setting up a tough situation.
Almost all the planned work was finished...with some prodding, forcing, and tears. We skipped history...again. It is the one subject that just gets swept under the rug.
I'm hoping today will be better. I hate being the task master. Days like yesterday really make me give second thoughts to homeschooling. Not because I think I can't provide the boys with a good education but because I feel the teacher/child relationship sometimes interferes with the mom/son relationship.
But I know sending them to school wouldn't fix anything. My sons just don't have that school mentality. J's gentle spirit would be broken immediately. He would either change to fit in or he would be miserable. M would find the lack of rule enforcement unbearable. He would also face teasing for his eye issues, become more self conscious and withdraw. A....well, I don't know if he would ever be in a regular classroom. He would be in a self-contained classroom for at least 3 years. Our local school system has a self contained 3 year old speech special ed class. We have already been pushed to enroll him.
Yeah...that's what I want to do. Send him to special-ed at 3. Put that label on him for the rest of his life.
So I know in my heart that homeschooling IS the best thing for them. I know that the education I give them is superior to what a school could provide them. I just need the strength of spirit to make that happen. I'm hoping today is much better.
So far it seems to be. Math is done and verbs are conjugated. No major wars have broken out and nobody's cried.
Monday, January 10, 2005
Ode to my dying computer
Well technically it's not my computer. It's my hubby's. My computer, which had died and then rose from the ashes like a phoenix, is now the boys' computer. After the death of my not-so-trusty HP, and before it's miraculous resurrection, I was forced to install my hard drive on the upstairs monstrosity that my computer geek husband calls a desktop. Well, it does fit on the desk. The problem is that with three hard drives and numerous add-ons, it requires several fans to keep everything nice and cool. The end results of all these fans is that you power up the computer and it sounds like you're standing on an air craft carrier.
So, that computer is dying. I know I will be blamed for it. I seem to have the PC death touch. You know that AOL commercial where the guy says, "I'd like my computer to make a noise like a Yeti." The monstrous PC did that very thing.
I'm sure that it is not a good sign.
unfortunately, ZooDad is off to DC for the week so he can't fix it.
So that's where it stands. I have a computer to use. I have internet access. I just don't have access to any of my files and all my junk.
So, that computer is dying. I know I will be blamed for it. I seem to have the PC death touch. You know that AOL commercial where the guy says, "I'd like my computer to make a noise like a Yeti." The monstrous PC did that very thing.
I'm sure that it is not a good sign.
unfortunately, ZooDad is off to DC for the week so he can't fix it.
So that's where it stands. I have a computer to use. I have internet access. I just don't have access to any of my files and all my junk.
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Boy Moms, Boys, and Basketball
Today was my first scrimmage as a Basketball coach. I won't even tell you that I knew what I was doing. Amazingly though, the boys played wonderfully, showed all their amazing talent, and the parents of these awesome boys were happy with what we had done so far.
Whew...big sign of relief. One of my biggest concerns is that I wouldn't do right by these boys. That I wouldn't be able to help them learn and grow. And I was afraid that I would let the parents' down.
We have one more practice before the first game and I know what we need to work on. We need to learn two plays, work on defense, and practice making those shots. My co-coach is incredible and I have faith that he can come up with a couple of plays for the boys. I can't. I've ordered "Basketball for Dummies" because I can't tell the difference between a "pick" and a "screen." Plus I have no clue what the positions are. That is sad for the coach to admit.
We had fun. The boys felt good about what they were doing. They worked hard.
I was darn proud of them and relieved with myself.
While there, I dropped off two bags of clothes for a friend of mine's daughter. My friend has 2 boys and a girl. She has successfully mastered that whole boy/girl mom thing. I am in awe of her most days. Heck....I'll admit it. I'm in awe of her everytime time I see her. She's one of those homeschool Mom's that really has her stuff together. She is comfortable being a girl mom and a boy mom. She can talk cub scouts and American heritage girls.
Me...I'm not so "all-together." I manage though. But I am most definitely a boy mom. I can't get the girl thing at all. I can deal with boys of all ages. I can deal with lots and lots of boys. But I can deal with one or two girls for a limited time. More than that and I'm seeking an alcoholic beverage to dull my throbbing head. I'm not sure why that is. After all, I was a girl. I should understand girls.
Maybe that is the problem. I was a girl. I know about that whole "queen bee" thing and hated it as a girl and hate it now as a woman. I guess now I've gotten to a point where I can chose not to deal with that stuff anymore...so I don't.
I chose to shoot baskets. I chose to help dig up worms. I chose to whittle soap bars and build pinewood derby cars. I chose to play with train sets and legos. I chose all that boy stuff.
Most nights I check up on my pack of boys after they have all gone to sleep. I am amazed at what I have brought into the world: these future husbands and fathers. And I hope that I am doing a good job as a boy mom. I pray that I am doing right by them in all things and not just in basketball.
And I am thankful for the opportunity to be their mom.
Whew...big sign of relief. One of my biggest concerns is that I wouldn't do right by these boys. That I wouldn't be able to help them learn and grow. And I was afraid that I would let the parents' down.
We have one more practice before the first game and I know what we need to work on. We need to learn two plays, work on defense, and practice making those shots. My co-coach is incredible and I have faith that he can come up with a couple of plays for the boys. I can't. I've ordered "Basketball for Dummies" because I can't tell the difference between a "pick" and a "screen." Plus I have no clue what the positions are. That is sad for the coach to admit.
We had fun. The boys felt good about what they were doing. They worked hard.
I was darn proud of them and relieved with myself.
While there, I dropped off two bags of clothes for a friend of mine's daughter. My friend has 2 boys and a girl. She has successfully mastered that whole boy/girl mom thing. I am in awe of her most days. Heck....I'll admit it. I'm in awe of her everytime time I see her. She's one of those homeschool Mom's that really has her stuff together. She is comfortable being a girl mom and a boy mom. She can talk cub scouts and American heritage girls.
Me...I'm not so "all-together." I manage though. But I am most definitely a boy mom. I can't get the girl thing at all. I can deal with boys of all ages. I can deal with lots and lots of boys. But I can deal with one or two girls for a limited time. More than that and I'm seeking an alcoholic beverage to dull my throbbing head. I'm not sure why that is. After all, I was a girl. I should understand girls.
Maybe that is the problem. I was a girl. I know about that whole "queen bee" thing and hated it as a girl and hate it now as a woman. I guess now I've gotten to a point where I can chose not to deal with that stuff anymore...so I don't.
I chose to shoot baskets. I chose to help dig up worms. I chose to whittle soap bars and build pinewood derby cars. I chose to play with train sets and legos. I chose all that boy stuff.
Most nights I check up on my pack of boys after they have all gone to sleep. I am amazed at what I have brought into the world: these future husbands and fathers. And I hope that I am doing a good job as a boy mom. I pray that I am doing right by them in all things and not just in basketball.
And I am thankful for the opportunity to be their mom.
Friday, January 07, 2005
Just reading through old posts
First I want to give a "howdy" shout to Nerni.
A Berkeley Republican. That one gave me a giggle. You might not want your Alma Mater to find out or they may revoke your diploma. A big thumbs up on GI Joe too. My sons wear camo at least once a week. They also have laser guns and play with RC tanks. ZooDad is a former soldier and the boys are taught that the military are special people who deserve respect for making that decision.
While I was reading my posts I discovered that I am a bit gloomy here. My online persona is so very different from my real world self. I am very quiet online and apparently quite grumpy.
In real life I am a smiling big-mouth. No really...I don't shut up. Don't call me unless you've got a half hour to spare...at least. I can talk about anything too. I tend to read a lot of magazines on some very strange topics and I'm a news junkie.
I'm also extremely overcommitted. I am a Cub Scout leader and a basketball coach though I know nothing about basketball. (hasn't slowed me down though.)
I go "Martha" when it comes to the kids' birthday parties. This year J wants a Magician party and I plan to make a rabbit in a hat cake. I've already found the magic kits to give as party favors. The invitations are a black hat where you can pull out the rabbit with all the information on it.
I scrapbook. I rubberstamp. I love to play the Sims2. And since I brought that up, I have to confess that one of my Sims guys married a woman with a teenager. The teen was surly and impossible to please....so I drowned him. I'm not sure what that says about my personality or morality.
I collect frogs. I used to have real live frogs, and lizards, and newts, and rabbits, and hamsters, and guinea pigs, and birds. But then I had kids and the critters died or found other non-kid houses.
I love Monty Python, CSI, and Boston Legal.
I'm funny.
I smile and laugh most of the time. I'm also extremely sarcastic and downright snarky sometimes. I do derive great humor from other people's tackiness...though I am quite tacky myself.
I have no idea why I am so different online. Maybe if I was as reserved in real life, I wouldn't come home regretful after parties thinking, "Girl, you ran your mouth too much tonight. Those people's ears will be hurting for days."
Oh well.
A Berkeley Republican. That one gave me a giggle. You might not want your Alma Mater to find out or they may revoke your diploma.
While I was reading my posts I discovered that I am a bit gloomy here. My online persona is so very different from my real world self. I am very quiet online and apparently quite grumpy.
In real life I am a smiling big-mouth. No really...I don't shut up. Don't call me unless you've got a half hour to spare...at least. I can talk about anything too. I tend to read a lot of magazines on some very strange topics and I'm a news junkie.
I'm also extremely overcommitted. I am a Cub Scout leader and a basketball coach though I know nothing about basketball. (hasn't slowed me down though.)
I go "Martha" when it comes to the kids' birthday parties. This year J wants a Magician party and I plan to make a rabbit in a hat cake. I've already found the magic kits to give as party favors. The invitations are a black hat where you can pull out the rabbit with all the information on it.
I scrapbook. I rubberstamp. I love to play the Sims2. And since I brought that up, I have to confess that one of my Sims guys married a woman with a teenager. The teen was surly and impossible to please....so I drowned him. I'm not sure what that says about my personality or morality.
I collect frogs. I used to have real live frogs, and lizards, and newts, and rabbits, and hamsters, and guinea pigs, and birds. But then I had kids and the critters died or found other non-kid houses.
I love Monty Python, CSI, and Boston Legal.
I'm funny.
I smile and laugh most of the time. I'm also extremely sarcastic and downright snarky sometimes. I do derive great humor from other people's tackiness...though I am quite tacky myself.
I have no idea why I am so different online. Maybe if I was as reserved in real life, I wouldn't come home regretful after parties thinking, "Girl, you ran your mouth too much tonight. Those people's ears will be hurting for days."
Oh well.
A Late Resolution
So I'm 6 days late on the whole Resolution thing...but I've decided that from this day on...I will blog 5 days out of 7. I can do that. I think
Oh yeah...and lose some weight too. If I can remember to blog and then hop on the treadmill, I might achieve that.
So I am 6 days behind.
Yesterday I had an excuse though.
My little dictator, M, had eye surgery yesterday. He has a variety of eye issues: amblyopia, congenital esotropia, accommodative esotropia, exotropia after his last surgery, and 4th nerve palsy.
We was diagnosed when he was three. He wore glasses for a years, then stronger glasses. At age 4 he started wear a patch for 8 to 10 hours a day to get his weak eye stronger. At that time he was 20/80 in that eye. He is now 20/30. Then at age 5, he had surgery to try to keep his eyes from turning inward...since the optics and patching had not totally succeeded.
The surgery was not entirely successful either. He was left with an intermittent exotropia. (eyes wandering outward every now and then.) Yesterday was his second surgery. The hope was to bring his wandering eye back inward.
We suspect that now his eyes will turn slightly inwards, which...hopefully...can be fixed with glasses.
And our final hope is that will help align his up and down problem caused by the fourth nerve palsy, avoiding yet another surgery.
Being a parent is hard. You become quite educated on things you never wanted to or expected. I have learned about eye issues, hernias, heart defects, gastro-intestinal issues, speech deficits, sensory disorders, and developmental delays...plus all the 'normal' childhood issues like hand, foot, and mouth, croup, ear infections, and chicken pox.
My pediatrician once joked that I should write a book on "How to know when something is wrong with your child." I'm hoping that someone else does so I can read it.
BTW, M is going just fine. He's playing Age of Mythology with his older brother. Amazing.
Oh yeah...and lose some weight too. If I can remember to blog and then hop on the treadmill, I might achieve that.
So I am 6 days behind.
Yesterday I had an excuse though.
My little dictator, M, had eye surgery yesterday. He has a variety of eye issues: amblyopia, congenital esotropia, accommodative esotropia, exotropia after his last surgery, and 4th nerve palsy.
We was diagnosed when he was three. He wore glasses for a years, then stronger glasses. At age 4 he started wear a patch for 8 to 10 hours a day to get his weak eye stronger. At that time he was 20/80 in that eye. He is now 20/30. Then at age 5, he had surgery to try to keep his eyes from turning inward...since the optics and patching had not totally succeeded.
The surgery was not entirely successful either. He was left with an intermittent exotropia. (eyes wandering outward every now and then.) Yesterday was his second surgery. The hope was to bring his wandering eye back inward.
We suspect that now his eyes will turn slightly inwards, which...hopefully...can be fixed with glasses.
And our final hope is that will help align his up and down problem caused by the fourth nerve palsy, avoiding yet another surgery.
Being a parent is hard. You become quite educated on things you never wanted to or expected. I have learned about eye issues, hernias, heart defects, gastro-intestinal issues, speech deficits, sensory disorders, and developmental delays...plus all the 'normal' childhood issues like hand, foot, and mouth, croup, ear infections, and chicken pox.
My pediatrician once joked that I should write a book on "How to know when something is wrong with your child." I'm hoping that someone else does so I can read it.
BTW, M is going just fine. He's playing Age of Mythology with his older brother. Amazing.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
What I'm doing besides ranting
Christmas is coming.
It will be here before I figure out Photoshop.
Since losing her husband of almost 54 years, my mom has been a little depressed. I can't blame her. I miss my Daddy so much that I can't put it into words.
She doesn't want anything for Christmas this year. At least nothing anyone here on earth could give her. So I thought I would just do something for her. At my Daddy's funeral I was asked to bring some pictures the funeral home so we could remember what he was like before cancer. I searched through a box of photographs my father gave me and I found what I am sad to say....is the last professional photograph of my parents together. It was taken when I was 3 or so. I remember having it done. It was a photo shoot for the church directory. There is a shot of the three of us and then one of my mom and dad.
As you can see, the photo is in need of repair.
And I am attempting to do that.
So I'm doing some crash courses on Adobe Photoshop. It is very frustrating.
Thankfully, I have a photo printer so I can just print that puppy when I finally get it done.
Mom requested that I do something about her horn-rims and to make her look younger. I love the horn rims and think she looks wonderful. In this picture she's a little older that I am now.
I especially love that 43 year old man who is healthy and grinning. I remember that grin so well. That was the grin that said "come on...let's get some ice cream. But don't tell your Mom this time." That was the grin that followed, "Hey Pumpkin!"
I miss that grin.
I miss that man.
Cancer is cruel. It robs you of the most wonderful people. It tortures them and wears them down. You watch them suffer for so long that you forget the joy, and happiness, and sweetness that their faces once held.
But I was blessed.
Right before we found out that the cancer was back, I took my Daddy to get new glasses. He was right proud of them. You could see it in his face, the way he held himself, the way he smiled. They made him feel good. About 2 weeks before he died, we were sitting in the hospital, watching the Olympics together. He had on his nice new glasses. ("You just wouldn't believe the compliments I've gotten on these glasses, Pumpkin.") He had just gotten his hair cut and was looking rather spiffy. We sat and watched the athletes and talked about politics and the kids. We talked about everything but the cancer that had been the topic of discussion for 5 years.
He looked just like that happy man in the picture and I wouldn't trade that moment for the world.
It will be here before I figure out Photoshop.
Since losing her husband of almost 54 years, my mom has been a little depressed. I can't blame her. I miss my Daddy so much that I can't put it into words.
She doesn't want anything for Christmas this year. At least nothing anyone here on earth could give her. So I thought I would just do something for her. At my Daddy's funeral I was asked to bring some pictures the funeral home so we could remember what he was like before cancer. I searched through a box of photographs my father gave me and I found what I am sad to say....is the last professional photograph of my parents together. It was taken when I was 3 or so. I remember having it done. It was a photo shoot for the church directory. There is a shot of the three of us and then one of my mom and dad.
As you can see, the photo is in need of repair.
And I am attempting to do that.
So I'm doing some crash courses on Adobe Photoshop. It is very frustrating.
Thankfully, I have a photo printer so I can just print that puppy when I finally get it done.
Mom requested that I do something about her horn-rims and to make her look younger. I love the horn rims and think she looks wonderful. In this picture she's a little older that I am now.
I especially love that 43 year old man who is healthy and grinning. I remember that grin so well. That was the grin that said "come on...let's get some ice cream. But don't tell your Mom this time." That was the grin that followed, "Hey Pumpkin!"
I miss that grin.
I miss that man.
Cancer is cruel. It robs you of the most wonderful people. It tortures them and wears them down. You watch them suffer for so long that you forget the joy, and happiness, and sweetness that their faces once held.
But I was blessed.
Right before we found out that the cancer was back, I took my Daddy to get new glasses. He was right proud of them. You could see it in his face, the way he held himself, the way he smiled. They made him feel good. About 2 weeks before he died, we were sitting in the hospital, watching the Olympics together. He had on his nice new glasses. ("You just wouldn't believe the compliments I've gotten on these glasses, Pumpkin.") He had just gotten his hair cut and was looking rather spiffy. We sat and watched the athletes and talked about politics and the kids. We talked about everything but the cancer that had been the topic of discussion for 5 years.
He looked just like that happy man in the picture and I wouldn't trade that moment for the world.
Out of the blue...A discussion on charity
On the WTM board there is a discussion of door to door soliciting. I must admit, that I hate the constant barrage of school kids selling gift wrap and candles. But I look through their catalogs if I have money and if they have something I want, I buy it. If I'm not interested or have no money to spend, I tell them so with no guilt at all. It's not that hard to say no.
But I was saddened by one poster's admonishment of people collecting food door to door. I know she probably didn't meant it that way and I'm sure she's not heartless. And I can agree with these posters on most door-to-door issues...except the food collections.
You see, I am the captain of my neighborhood's annual food drive. It is part of a larger food drive in 9 counties in 2 states. This past year 158 neighborhoods collected donations for our local food bank. This is an all volunteer program and 100% of all donations go straight to our local food bank.
We don't show up unannounced. Fliers are sent to every house (all 22,000 this year), the newspaper prints daily reminders, and most neighborhoods, including mine, have large signs for all residents to see. So no one can say that they didn't know we were coming.
While I know that every one has their pet charities that they feel are the most important to give to (and this one is mine), I just can't understand the indignation over giving up a single can of food. One can per house in a 150 house neighborhood, would fill 5 barrels. Just one can.
This past October, my 130 house neighborhood filled the 5 barrels I had and every box I could find. We collected 1350 pounds of food and $200. This was warmly welcomed by the food bank. So much so that I am looking forward to doing more next year. I was so proud of my volunteers (21 of them, mostly children), my neighbors, and even myself. I felt privileged to have had the honor of serving such a good and worthwhile organization. It was such an easy thing to do. Make some calls, put out some fliers, highlight maps and weigh all that food. So simple with such great rewards.
I guess it hurt to see that what I viewed and such a godsend, someone else "loathed."
I'm glad she doesn't live in my neighborhood. She'd "loathe" me every year because I happily do all I can to help our food bank. But she would know ahead of time to not answer the door.
I'm also glad that the Golden harvest Food bank exists. Last year they provided over 2 million meals. (MILLION!!!!!) Over a million of those meals went to children. They also provided food pantries to 165,000 families. This does not include to boxes of food delivered to homebound senior citizens (723 a month), supplemental food for at risk seniors ( 3427 bags of food each month), an afterschool food programs for underprivileged children (22,600 meals served) and a daily soup kitchen for our homeless. ( Over 72,000 meals served.) It also doesn't include the 700 boxes of food sent monthly to families in rural communities.
I can't change the world and I can't make miracles. But I can provide a meal to just one hungry person.
But I was saddened by one poster's admonishment of people collecting food door to door. I know she probably didn't meant it that way and I'm sure she's not heartless. And I can agree with these posters on most door-to-door issues...except the food collections.
You see, I am the captain of my neighborhood's annual food drive. It is part of a larger food drive in 9 counties in 2 states. This past year 158 neighborhoods collected donations for our local food bank. This is an all volunteer program and 100% of all donations go straight to our local food bank.
We don't show up unannounced. Fliers are sent to every house (all 22,000 this year), the newspaper prints daily reminders, and most neighborhoods, including mine, have large signs for all residents to see. So no one can say that they didn't know we were coming.
While I know that every one has their pet charities that they feel are the most important to give to (and this one is mine), I just can't understand the indignation over giving up a single can of food. One can per house in a 150 house neighborhood, would fill 5 barrels. Just one can.
This past October, my 130 house neighborhood filled the 5 barrels I had and every box I could find. We collected 1350 pounds of food and $200. This was warmly welcomed by the food bank. So much so that I am looking forward to doing more next year. I was so proud of my volunteers (21 of them, mostly children), my neighbors, and even myself. I felt privileged to have had the honor of serving such a good and worthwhile organization. It was such an easy thing to do. Make some calls, put out some fliers, highlight maps and weigh all that food. So simple with such great rewards.
I guess it hurt to see that what I viewed and such a godsend, someone else "loathed."
I'm glad she doesn't live in my neighborhood. She'd "loathe" me every year because I happily do all I can to help our food bank. But she would know ahead of time to not answer the door.
I'm also glad that the Golden harvest Food bank exists. Last year they provided over 2 million meals. (MILLION!!!!!) Over a million of those meals went to children. They also provided food pantries to 165,000 families. This does not include to boxes of food delivered to homebound senior citizens (723 a month), supplemental food for at risk seniors ( 3427 bags of food each month), an afterschool food programs for underprivileged children (22,600 meals served) and a daily soup kitchen for our homeless. ( Over 72,000 meals served.) It also doesn't include the 700 boxes of food sent monthly to families in rural communities.
I can't change the world and I can't make miracles. But I can provide a meal to just one hungry person.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Can you guess what happened?
The good news is that everyone is just about over the stomach bug. The bad news is that I now have a cold. Just in time to head down to the farm for Thanksgiving. Oh well.
The boys love the farm though. Uncle C will be there. He takes the boys fishing. He also prompts my hubby to take the boys out target shooting. The the older uncles also let the boys help feed the goats and cows.
Lots of boy fun on the farm.
Happy Thanksgiving!
The boys love the farm though. Uncle C will be there. He takes the boys fishing. He also prompts my hubby to take the boys out target shooting. The the older uncles also let the boys help feed the goats and cows.
Lots of boy fun on the farm.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Still Sick and it is interfering with plans
What's that quote about best laid plans? Ours have definitely gone astray. Sick children fill my house. Well, moderately sick children. Sick enough to stay home. Not sick enough to warrant a trip to the doctor.
Poor M is bearing the brunt of it and he's not even sick. While all the others have had the chance to lounge around and veg out all for days, he's had no one to play with and no fun things to do. And he's had to clean up all by himself.
He missed out on his trip to the newspaper yesterday. Today he will miss Cub Scouts. (So will his other brother but at least he feels poorly and didn't want to go.) He's even had to endure the limited food options.
He hasn't complained though. He's such a good kid. I think I might reward him with some new Pokemon cards just for being such a good brother. He's like the little mouse. Only this momet touches him.
Poor M is bearing the brunt of it and he's not even sick. While all the others have had the chance to lounge around and veg out all for days, he's had no one to play with and no fun things to do. And he's had to clean up all by himself.
He missed out on his trip to the newspaper yesterday. Today he will miss Cub Scouts. (So will his other brother but at least he feels poorly and didn't want to go.) He's even had to endure the limited food options.
He hasn't complained though. He's such a good kid. I think I might reward him with some new Pokemon cards just for being such a good brother. He's like the little mouse. Only this momet touches him.
Monday, November 15, 2004
Today's lesson
Science: Viral containment and how viruses affect our bodies
History: Famous plagues, including the ZooHouse pandemic of 2004
Home economics: The suggested diet of sick stomachs and techniques for carpet cleaning.
Preschool letters of the day: B R A T
Math: Determining time between "incidents"
Reading: closed captioned cartoons (it is hard not to read that stuff)
Latin vocabulary: vomitus, dormus, regurgitare, defaecare
Read alouds:
Everybody Poops
Germs make me sick
Rick is Sick
You wouldn't want to be sick in the 16th century
Who's sick to today?
Well, back to the pestilence. The natives are awake, restless, and demanding chicken soup.
History: Famous plagues, including the ZooHouse pandemic of 2004
Home economics: The suggested diet of sick stomachs and techniques for carpet cleaning.
Preschool letters of the day: B R A T
Math: Determining time between "incidents"
Reading: closed captioned cartoons (it is hard not to read that stuff)
Latin vocabulary: vomitus, dormus, regurgitare, defaecare
Read alouds:
Everybody Poops
Germs make me sick
Rick is Sick
You wouldn't want to be sick in the 16th century
Who's sick to today?
Well, back to the pestilence. The natives are awake, restless, and demanding chicken soup.
I'm such an odd bird!
I know I can't be the only one of my species. (Well, I know I'm not because I married a guy just like me.) But I want a friend like me. Just like me. I want somebody to hang with. I don't want to be alone anymore.
Sure being a homeschooler puts me automatically in the minority. And being a Happy Little Republican allows me to fit in with 51% of the voting population and about 75% of homeschoolers, at least that is how it seems.
But even among homeschooling republicans, I am the odd bird. You see, I am an evolutionist. In fact, I'm a Political Conservative, Christian, Secular Homeschooling evolutionist who 'does" Santa, the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy.
And that just doesn't fit in anywhere.
When I meet a group of evolution minded homeschoolers, they inevitably start bashing Christians and/or Republicans. Though why they think evolution and Christianity must be mutually exclusive is beyond me.
Conservative groups are way too religious for me. When I evitably hear some child say that the Earth is only 6 or 7 THOUSAND years old, I balk and stare and say something...Which I know has caused some people to think I am a plague to be avoided at all costs. And yet, they ask me to teach science co-ops. (figure that one out!)
So I just float between the two worlds: the Christian Conservatives Creationists and the Anti-Christian Liberal Evolutionists. And I never really ever fit in. In both groups I have learned to keep my mouth shut.
The CCC's must never learn that I think Darwin was cool, I let my kids trick-or-treat, and that I hate all those forwarded prayer requests and religious emails. The A-CLE would be aghast if they found out that I am jumping for joy that Bush won re-election, that I am opposed to gay marriage, and that I think that God does have a plan for all of us, even if we aren't privy to it.
So here's my personal ad for a homeschool buddy. I need someone to hang out. Yes, I know it's snobby to want someone just like me. But it's human nature to not want to be alone.
Friend wanted.
Must be a homeschooler, preferably with a lot of boy children. Curriculum not important but if you are a pseudo-classical homeschooler who doesn't use religious materials...It would be a plus.
Conservative politics is a must but I have no problems with domestic liberals. I have some liberal ideas on domestic policies. If you didn't vote for either Bush's, don't bother to apply. (edited to add: If you didn't vote for Bushes I or II, it isn't a deal breaker. As long as you don't tell me how wrong I am for doing so. I don't berate anyone for voting their heart. I do berate them for not voting at all.)
You must believe the Earth is at least 3 Billion years old. However, use of the terms BC and AD is encouraged. I would also love it if you didn't find Genesis and "The origin of the species" to be mutually exclusive.
I would also like someone who has faith (any faith) but doesn't feel the need to talk about it, enjoy reading but realizes that there are also other things to do, and enjoys being with family but still sees the need to do things with friends.
You must also decorate for Halloween, hide Easter eggs, and leave cookies for Santa. (Bonus if you also have an Advent Wreath)
You must also be spontaneous, love music of all kinds, and have a good sense of humor and an understanding husband.
Having a special needs child and a disorganized home are major positive points! Living around the corner from would seal the deal.
I offer, to the person filling the above requirements, lots of distraction, a partner in crime, a place to hang out, kids to play with, curriculum to peruse, and someone to call and chat with.
I also pledge to support you in any way, loan you whatever I have, laugh and cry with you, and be your loyal friend.
I hope you write soon.
Sure being a homeschooler puts me automatically in the minority. And being a Happy Little Republican allows me to fit in with 51% of the voting population and about 75% of homeschoolers, at least that is how it seems.
But even among homeschooling republicans, I am the odd bird. You see, I am an evolutionist. In fact, I'm a Political Conservative, Christian, Secular Homeschooling evolutionist who 'does" Santa, the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy.
And that just doesn't fit in anywhere.
When I meet a group of evolution minded homeschoolers, they inevitably start bashing Christians and/or Republicans. Though why they think evolution and Christianity must be mutually exclusive is beyond me.
Conservative groups are way too religious for me. When I evitably hear some child say that the Earth is only 6 or 7 THOUSAND years old, I balk and stare and say something...Which I know has caused some people to think I am a plague to be avoided at all costs. And yet, they ask me to teach science co-ops. (figure that one out!)
So I just float between the two worlds: the Christian Conservatives Creationists and the Anti-Christian Liberal Evolutionists. And I never really ever fit in. In both groups I have learned to keep my mouth shut.
The CCC's must never learn that I think Darwin was cool, I let my kids trick-or-treat, and that I hate all those forwarded prayer requests and religious emails. The A-CLE would be aghast if they found out that I am jumping for joy that Bush won re-election, that I am opposed to gay marriage, and that I think that God does have a plan for all of us, even if we aren't privy to it.
So here's my personal ad for a homeschool buddy. I need someone to hang out. Yes, I know it's snobby to want someone just like me. But it's human nature to not want to be alone.
Friend wanted.
Must be a homeschooler, preferably with a lot of boy children. Curriculum not important but if you are a pseudo-classical homeschooler who doesn't use religious materials...It would be a plus.
Conservative politics is a must but I have no problems with domestic liberals. I have some liberal ideas on domestic policies. If you didn't vote for either Bush's, don't bother to apply. (edited to add: If you didn't vote for Bushes I or II, it isn't a deal breaker. As long as you don't tell me how wrong I am for doing so. I don't berate anyone for voting their heart. I do berate them for not voting at all.)
You must believe the Earth is at least 3 Billion years old. However, use of the terms BC and AD is encouraged. I would also love it if you didn't find Genesis and "The origin of the species" to be mutually exclusive.
I would also like someone who has faith (any faith) but doesn't feel the need to talk about it, enjoy reading but realizes that there are also other things to do, and enjoys being with family but still sees the need to do things with friends.
You must also decorate for Halloween, hide Easter eggs, and leave cookies for Santa. (Bonus if you also have an Advent Wreath)
You must also be spontaneous, love music of all kinds, and have a good sense of humor and an understanding husband.
Having a special needs child and a disorganized home are major positive points! Living around the corner from would seal the deal.
I offer, to the person filling the above requirements, lots of distraction, a partner in crime, a place to hang out, kids to play with, curriculum to peruse, and someone to call and chat with.
I also pledge to support you in any way, loan you whatever I have, laugh and cry with you, and be your loyal friend.
I hope you write soon.
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