Homeschool plans (Hide the torches and pitchforks!)

I've been thinking about homeschool again. And planning. 'Cause God knows I love planning!! (Seriously, I do!)

We're about 15 weeks into a school year, and will probably follow The Husband's university schedule. That means another 15 weeks of school starting Monday. The Husband is taking vacation during Summer A (May to mid-June) and working during Summer B (late June to mid-August), so we'll take May off with him. Then we'll work the June, July, and part of August until he goes on vacation again. If that makes sense, it means about 40 weeks of school, which is about right. (15 + 15 + 10 = 40)

Whew! Too much math-iness!

Anyway, I've been waiting for The Boy's "natural curiousity" to set in and for him to demand that I start on the nice meteorology curriculum I bought from Beyond the Page. But I'm still waiting. So we're going all institutional-y and teaching him that what-every-fifth-grader-should-know stuff. I even found the Florida edition!

I've picked out 25 weeks of science from the 5th grade McGraw-Hill science book and have laid out enough Story of The World, Ancient Greek History Pockets, and Ancient Rome History Pockets to make up 25 weeks. (Yes, I'm skipping the food web -- if I have to teach that again, I'll scream!!)

The only thing left to decipher is the whole Excellence in Writing curriculum. We finished the Student Intensive A and I think we have to buy another $240 in "continuation course" now. Not sure. All I know is that I don't have time to be a "good" homeschool mom and make up my own lessons. And The Boy really loved the DVD lessons -- that guy is hilarious!

We'll go on with Life of Fred: Decimals and Percents. We'll probably get more serious about the Michael Clay Thomas stuff again, too. Blah, blah. Makes me bored thinking about it.

Well, not bored exactly, but weary. That early-afternoon slump feeling is building behind my brain, and I'm remembering that I have to brush The Girl five times a day, apparently for the rest of my life. Plus do her OT exercises and ballet practice. I swear, that girl is a full-time job. On the other hand, so is The Boy. *sigh* There is no way in Hell that I can succeed against those odds. Maybe lengthening the school year to 40 weeks will help ease the pressure a little.

Fall: 16 weeks (includes a one-week break)

Christmas: 2 weeks

Spring: 18 weeks (includes a two-week break)

Vacation: 4 weeks (the month of May)

Summer: 10 weeks

Vacation: 2 weeks (August)

Yeah, as long as I hide the torches and pitchforks, we'll be juuuust fine.

Still only 40 weeks of school, but doable. Must go lie down now...

Apocalypse Weekend, part tres: The Anticlimax (yay!)

Well, I have to say that this has been one of the best Christmases I can remember. Yeah. I was surprised too.

We got "Santa's" gifts wrapped and were unconscious by 11:30. We stayed that way until, oh, 3:00 when The Girl realized that her favorite PBS station had been dropped by the cable company. Once we put that fire out, I slept until about 6:30, when...

All I could hear was The Boy cautiously exploring the loot with The Husband. "Hey, Santa used our wrapping paper!" Yup. "Hey, I didn't ask for this! That's wrong!" It's okay, boy. Really. "What's in all these boxes?" Dunno, boy. "Can I wake Mom up?" No, boy, not until it's light out. "Hey, I LOVE this." "When's mom getting up?" Not till it's light out. "Mom? Can you get up?" No, hon. Not 'till it's light out.

It was so sweet, listening to them work out how "Santa" did this or that, how this or that got in the house, what we were going to with the new fire pit. I was just laying low, waiting for the volcano. Which never came!

We got people up and opening stuff. The Wii was a big hit. The Girl didn't care about much, but we have photographic evidence of her opening a few things. My dad came over, and I made him bacon and eggs and coffee. The pecan pie was good, as were the other sweets. The tortiere hasn't killed anyone yet. (We left it out overnight! Shh, don't tell anyone!) And I got a nap.

The strange part is that every muscle in my body hurts, especially anything that connects to my shoulders or neck. If you've ever shepherded an asperger's child through the Season of Anticipation and Surprises, you'll know what I mean. If you haven't, just try to imagine someone with the self-control of a three-year-old and the brain of a 10-year-old trying to cover all the possible outcomes of every moment of a day for which you have waited and planned for three months. No pressure.

Anyway, presents were opened. Everyone was appropriately grateful to the ancestors and occasionally genuinely excited about gifts. Pie was eaten. Candy was snarfed. The chicken and potatoes are in the oven with the apple crisp. And all's well with the world. The Lord has been merciful to us, indeed.

Apocalypse Weekend, part dos: Christmas Eve

Well, everyone got dressed and went to 5:00 lessons and carols. The Girl sat in the bell tower alcove with The Husband. He says it was nice to at least be indoors this year. The Boy actually read one of the tiny lessons without complaining. He did make atrocious faces when I tried to take his picture. He's an absolute hoot -- but he's also a loose canon. ;) Pictures to come as soon as I can figure out how to load the camera software again.

The Chinese food was good, hot, and eaten. Dessert was scoffed at and skipped. We're watching The PBS News Hour, and laying low. The Boy swears he's going to bed at 7:30 because the cheap-ass plastic Christmas train says Santa will be here at 8:30. Heh? Oh well. Hopefully it'll be okay.

I have to oversee The Girl's screaming fit/shower, and then I'm pretty much off the clock. That doesn't mean that the kids will bark at me from their beds for two hours, but technically, I'm off the clock.

I may have a few presents to wrap, but I'm not sure, really. The Husband will let me know, I'm sure...

Tomorrow, I have to put out goodies, make some breakfast (eggs, bacon, etc.), and let the kids open stuff. That shouldn't sound ominous, right?

Apocalypse Weekend, part uno: Birthday

Well, we've kicked off Apocalypse Weekend with a bang.

Naturally, The Royal Birthdays are today, so we started on our usual pilgrimage: beach, lunch at Grandmother's, and home. Sounds easy, right?

We told the kids that it was too cold to swim at the beach this year, and The Boy reluctantly agreed. We decided to go walking on the beach in shorts and take some pictures. Apparently, The Girl really didn't grasp our meaning until we were set to leave. Then she started the screaming for a swim suit. We loaded everyone up in the car and the screaming died down -- until we got to the beach when it started again full volume.

Remember that trip to the Pioneer Village? Yup, only this time, it was The Girl who tried to claw her eyes out until we removed her from the living hell that we call a gorgeous fall day at the beach. Really, it was beautiful -- sunny, breezy, brisk -- all the things you could ask from Christmas Eve at the beach. And The Girl couldn't get back into the car fast enough. I'll try to post some pictures of her torment.

Lunch went pretty well. I'm assuming that the children won't go bow-legged before the holidays are over, so eating potato chips for lunch probably won't kill them. Right? The home-made ice cream cake with crushed Oreo filling was delicious. The presents were all met with approval, even exultation in some cases. The adults went and talked in the living room while the kids hung out in the back bedroom. All was well. The Holiday Gods were smiling on us again. Until The Boy threw it all up. Most of it made it to the bathroom. The Husband and I scrubbed the rest of it out of the carpet. What do they dye those Oreos with anyway?

So, we're home and that grating sound is our shifting gears from Birthday into Christmas Eve. The husband mysteriously disappeared immediately after we got home to go to Target. I'm not sure what it means, but I'm too tired to care. Hopefully it won't be too expensive. And there's an outside chance that he's buying something for moi. A girl can dream, right?

We'll be heading to chapel around 4:30 for more eye-gouging from The Girl, then for Chinese take-out, which The Boy will only pick at. He won't part with the tradition, but he won't eat it either. I think it's like falling in love with love. Not sure. Wish us luck!!

It's ALIVE!

Aah, the sweet smell of a laptop! It's back and I'm LOVING it!

The Day of Doom is almost upon us, and the birthdays are tomorrow. I am about as ready as I'm going to get. I have to stack ice cream cakes for the birthdays and umm, something else I can't remember, but mostly, I'm about as ready as I'm going to get. Which may not be as ready as I need to be.

I bailed on the playgroup/cookie exchange this year. It's only supposed to be regular Wednesday playgroup, but the last one before Christmas always turns into a cookie swap. Which I'm never prepared for. So for me, it's more like a cookie grab. Tacky yes. It was a gorgeous day, but I couldn't get anyone to go with me to playgroup, and it seemed pitiful to go alone. If you know what I mean. "I have no children or gifts. Can you give me some? Cookies, not kids?"

The Boy is frantic with anticipation. He is preparing for The Day with a red-hot fervor. His head may spontaneously explode at any moment. He informed me half an hour ago that he can't sleep -- he needs a haircut. I told him to get the heck back in bed before I do something desperate. I swear.

The Girl is taking this all with her usual equanimity. Which translates into, "She doesn't have a clue that she's supposed to be breathlessly anticipating presents and/or the Magic of Christmas." Sad, but helpful. I'm keeping her up to date on what is happening on what day, but she's not in full-on Christmas-present mode, like some people I could name. Boychild.

Funny thing happened today. True story. I got a present/package in the mail that said it was from "PA Shelton". Now, assume that my maiden name is Shelton. What would you think? I thought that was pretty weird, considering my father would never call himself "PA" Shelton. I also thought it was strange because my father had already gotten me to buy the kids' Christmas presents for him. Strange. Hmm. Maybe he's losing his mind and sending me Hickory Farms for no apparent reason. OR. Yeah, or it's from my brother in Pennsylvania -- PA Shelton, as opposed to my father who is FL Shelton. Ooooohhh. The Sheltons in Pennsylvania. My brother.

Now, there's a good chance that you don't find this funny, but when I read the package label to my mother, she was as baffled as I was. My usually-dignified father had started calling himself "PA"? When I finally explained it, she almost peed herself laughing. It was worth the phone call. It may not, however, be worth the summer sausages... For what it's worth, my brother and his wife didn't think it was funny at all. Whatevah.

So I hope everyone has a good, umm, day. I'll be trying to keep the birthday presents in a separate bin from the Christmas ones and trying to manage expectations. Wish me luck.

And just for fun, I'm passing on a really great post that Suburban Correspondent had posted. Enjoy!

Christmas is indeed coming...

Well, it's about time to update my profile again -- the twins are turning 11 on Friday. I should be panicked over their impending teenage years, but frankly, I'm just too drained over their 'tween years right now to really care. I guess we'll see.

The Girl sprained her ankle on Friday, tromping around the yard in a pre-bicycle-riding happydance. Poor little thing. She still couldn't walk on it by the next morning, so I took her to the pediatric urgent care center. It's not broken, and just as I was hoping that it would slow her down a little for the holidays, it's not. She's up hobbling around, wrecking the place. She discovered the two Christmas presents under the tree that The Boy made me wrap early. Man, was she pissed when I wouldn't let her keep the one she opened. At least it was hers, though. Very thoughtful of her.

We're on Christmas break right now, along with The Husband whose semester ends tomorrow with graduation. This means, of course, it's time for mom to get out and have some fun. My mammogram is Tuesday. I would go get more teeth ground down, but the dentist is on vacation until January 10. I hope the temporary crowns hold out that long. I also have a strange cyst on my wrist that has to go -- it's starting to affect my blogging. Maybe I can slip it in after the other appointment.

So. A week to go before It's All Over. I feel a strange sense of suspension. The gifts are bought, except my mom's. Some are wrapped. I even bought my dad's presents for the kids, and have to wrap them as well. The tree is (finally) up, but I need four C batteries for the God-awful train. I'm making mostly candies this year, but I won't be making them until Thursday. I'm making a vain attempt on a small present for the sisters-in-law, but I'm not sure it'll come together. I usually send the Christmas cards out between Christmas and New Years, with a Christmas photo at the beach. But, aside from cleaning the house, there's nothing urgent going on.

We'll do the usual Christmas crazy dance. Here's how it goes:

Friday morning, we'll pack up The Birthday, put on our swimsuits, and go to the beach. (As usual, it'll be high tide again this year! What are the odds?!) We'll take the usual photos, play in much-too-cold salt water for a while, then go to my mom's. After a quick shower in the back yard (brr!) we'll have hot dogs and birthday cake with birthday presents. Mid-afternoon, we'll head home, change clothes, and go back out for the 5:00 children's chapel service. After chapel, we'll call in our Chinese food order and pick it up on the way home. After eating too much garlic, the kids'll get pajamas on, watch a DVD, and go to bed. Sometime around midnight, The Husband and I will pack it in and go to bed. And that's just the Christmas Eve dance. If you hear a grinding noise around 4:00 pm Friday, it'll be us, shifting gears.

Christmas morning, we just open presents, eat, and lie around. My parents come to hang out and eat quiche, fruit salad, pie, cookies, and candy throughout the morning. My dad comes around 9:00 and leaves as my mom shows up around 11:00. Once everyone leaves, I go back to bed because I feel like vomiting.

This is where I usually put in the "oh well, life is good" line, so give me a minute. We're indoors, well-fed, secure in our income, and happy. Life is truly good. This Christmas, too, will pass.

Ooh. Time for a "real" field trip!

Brr. Cold here. The solar hot water heater froze up last night. Seriously, we had to disconnect it from the hot water heater in order to bathe this morning. They had melted by 8:00, and nothing looks broken. All's well that ends well. Tomorrow morning is supposed to be in the 40's. Better.

Ooh. Today was our big field trip today. We went to the old Pioneer Village today for a Christmas craft day. I personally love the place. The old buildings, the school, the barns, the animals -- they all transport me back to the 1800's. (Yes, "pioneer" only goes back about 150 years here, at least in terms of Protestant, English-speaking, American people.) I always get a sense of real history under my feet there.

It's a surreal experience to be in a place (or book) and become so engrossed that you suddenly realize that you're still where you started and not somewhere else. I like it. Most people like it. Sadly, places and books that transport a person really scare the piss out of The Boy. He started the trip by getting carsick in the parking lot. Then the complaining started, along with the rude, defiant comments. He initially refused to go in the building with the group. Assuming that he was just being difficult and controlling, and that he'd enjoy it once he got inside, I made him go. When he burst into tears in the classroom, I figured it was time to make a break for it. Seriously, I was pretty sure he'd get over it and have a good time. But no.

Happily, the farm part was outdoors, so The Girl and I went and visited the chickens, sheep, goats, peacocks etc. The dude that was doing the outdoors presentation was really cool. His oldest kid is about 45, so he's about my mom's age. He's been a farmer or rancher most of his life, part of it in Colorado. Cool. We got to hear about all the animals. All the sheep had twins last spring, and one is expecting now. He says she'll lamb on the coldest full moon of the winter. I don't know how they know, but I'm betting he's right. We couldn't get too slobbery because all the water pipes for washing up were frozen. Yayy. The Boy wasn't going anywhere near the animals, but he was content to hang around long enough for The Girl to check them all out.

The day had turned nice by 10:45, so after visiting the vegetable gardens, we all headed home. At least I got to see the farm, The Girl enjoyed the animals, no one threw up in the car. I'm not sure it was really a $15 petting zoo, but I've done worse.