Saturday, August 2, 2014

Who knew?

The go cart racing went just fine. He only nearly ran over an attendant once. And he only almost threw up once. And it all worked out. WHO KNEW?!

But I had a really weird high school dream this afternoon. But more later. Headache...

Thursday, July 31, 2014

Baby Steps and Stomping

So I've been trying to baby-step my way into the fall semester. Every day this week -- with varying success -- I have gotten up at 7:00, drunk coffee until 7:30 while watching Wild Kratts, taken a shower, made breakfast at 8:00, and been semi-ready to do battle by 8:30. I haven't had as much luck with getting to bed by 10:30 pm, so today, I got all dressed and breakfasted, and took a two hour nap on the couch. Baby steps.

The Boy was invited to a birthday party at the go-kart track for this evening. This is the boy who never, ever wants to learn to drive, so I was intrigued. Then he asked if it was dangerous, so I described it in a non-Mario-and-Luigi-style. He decided he had to wear long sleeves and long pants so he looks like a race car driver. *facepalm* He's making Plans. Weird Plans.

Just when I thought he was starting to become a cool teenager, he pulls this spit. I have given him the "You are not the center of attention here" speech along with the "please just try to blend in" speech, but he's sticking with it. I had The Husband casually drop by the track with him while they were were out buying a small present, just to see that it wasn't the Daytona Speedway, but no. So, in 90-degree heat, this child is wearing black warm up pants and a long-sleeved Montreal Canadiens t-shirt. I guess it could be worse, but it's not boding well...

You should see some of his "This is NOT how it is supposed to happen!" meltdowns, complete with stomping, screaming, and lying on the floor an doing both. They're legendary. There was the explosive nosebleed in the car meltdown after his sister threw his rock out of the window. (Apparently, he had made life plans involving that rock that we could not possibly have anticipated.) There are others -- about one every three or four weeks, but you get the picture. We try not to let him see us sweat, but you know we do it.

I see a meltdown in his near future over his lack of mad skills and some serious mortification on my part. Maybe I'll send The Husband. Nah, that would just be mean-spirited. On the other hand, I'm letting him sleep as long as he wants, and maybe he'll surprise me.

Wish us luck!!

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Creatures of Habit (and other small woodland beings)

Well, The Girl puked a stomachfull of Mirilax just after I posted yesterday. *sigh* So we went on to other nasty concoctions to drink, and I think "things" are moving right along now. I'm actually a little afraid to leave the house with her just yet! 

So, I'm returning to the essential question of the week: Is it possible to consciously become a creature of habit?  

I know perfectly nice people (like The Husband) who are happy as ducks to get up at the same time every day, make coffee, get a shower, dress, make a lunch, pack up the coffee, and head out the door on the exact same schedule every day. They find it reduces the stress in their lives by eliminating just a little uncertainty from their day. They find it comforting. 

I find ritual and routine intolerably confining and tedious -- and that's where the problem lies. I NEED to be a creature of habit for this homeschool year to be a success. The Girl's work must be done every day and on schedule, or it won't get done at all. God knows when The Boy's work will get done, but I guarantee it won't be at midnight, since I have to be up at 7am to get on my morning routine. 

So, it comes back to this. Can I become a creature of habit? Probably not.

Can I behave like a creature of habit? I just don't know... I guess I have to, but don't know how. I get cranky just thinking about it. 

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Yikes!

Our lovely pediatric gastroenterologist has ordered me to clear The Girl's colon. I'm supposed to give her a full dose of Mirilax every half hour until, well, she only has liquids in her colon. Yikes.

So far, she's had SEVEN doses in three hours, and nada. The suspense is killing me...

Monday, July 28, 2014

Stand by...

We're having something of a mid-life crisis, a bout of existential angst with homeschooling.

The Boy is starting an online high school with Calvert. He refuses to take Spanish.

The Girl still reads at a second-grade level. Her vocabulary, spelling, and grammar are at least sixth grade, and she reads with inflection. Without any comprehension at all. Not sure if she's just being stubborn, doesn't have the verbal skills to form her answer, or if she simply doesn't make movies from words. Either way, reading and being read to are equally difficult for her.

So, I'm back. Back to square one this year.

I'm looking at Charlotte Mason for The Girl, which means short bursts of work and having her re-tell what she learned. I've set up one big messy event for each day of the week -- art on Monday, weird science on Tuesday, etc. But botany, Africa, decimals/percents, reading, etc. come in quick bursts all morning.

The first real question that MUST be answered is, "What makes me think that this year will be any different from the other times you tried to get her butt working?"

And the second question is, "When is The Boy going to get any work done?"

And the third is, "Can we become a family school that runs on a schedule?"

And finally, "Why couldn't I have been  born a creature of habit?!" Man, would that make this easier...

Stand by for details.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Sometimes, I just need a Bat Cave of my own

So, apparently, The Boy thinks he doesn't think he needs to go to bed until I do. The problem is that, while I may stay up late, I'll be up in the morning, gettin er done. He sleeps 10 hours. And that's a problem for all of us, especially if he's up until 3:00. (I'll give you a minute to do the math.)

Since I apparently still have to model appropriate behavior, now I have to set up a TV/reading nook in the bedroom where he can't see me. (Hey, sometimes a girl just needs to watch Bones!)

We just don't have one of those family dynamics where I can say, "Do as I say, not as I do," and get away with it. Because of my kids tenuous grasp of social skills and self-care skills, it all has to be taught. And modeled.

So, that walk-in closet? May become my Bat Cave. How freakin' weird is that? Probably too weird. Other ideas? (Ones that don't involve my going to sleep at 9:30 at night?)

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

A stranger in a strange land

Yet another epiphany dawns. The reason I feel so alone is that I'm a stranger in a strange land.

I was raised by a liberal-minded, college educated, professional working woman in the 60's and 70's -- by a true feminist. In 1968, she became all that and a divorcee. Whatever the men had, that was what we were supposed to want. Junior high summer  school: shop class or home ec? Puhleez! She put us in shop class. How I watched those sweet girls chatting over sandwiches while I was stuck with stupid boys. Story of my life.

So there I am, caught between the two worlds, neither fish nor fowl. My mother was the same, which is kind of ironic in a way.

But we gained some serious skills. And we learned how to talk to boys. And we went on to marry men we don't need for home repair. I guess.

Still, it's kind of lonely.