Book shortage

Some of our library books were due yesterday so I packed them up and then, because we had read all the other books we'd checked out multiple times, I packed up the rest to return as well. I wanted to get in one last trip to the library before things locked down, as things seemed to be trending that way.

Thursday was a particularly difficult day, however, schoolwork-wise (mostly Benjamin-wise; he just couldn't focus but I did finally get him to finish his report on Harriet Tubman so...yay) so by the time I packed the kids up to go to the library I was already feeling frustrated. And then the entire road surprised us by being blocked off, so I quickly turned into the parking lot of the church next door and pondered what to do.

We had to turn in our books because a few of the chapter books had been renewed the maximum number of times and we absolutely couldn't keep them longer, so I decided that we'd hike through the little wooded area between the library and the church. So, with four children and four library bags in tow, we shlepped off through the urban woods to the library, but when we got there we found that it was closed.

A hastily scrawled sign proclaimed, "CLOSED DUE TO POWER OUTAGE," so we left with our books because even though there's a book drop outside I didn't want my books to just sit there in the bin not being checked in all day long (and then all night long, making them overdue). In theory they'd just override that (considering they were in the book drop) but I wasn't sure that they'd actually count them as having been returned on time. Late fees are "only" 20¢ per item per day, but (1) that's kind of a hefty fee since (2) I had a lot of items checked out (and always do...except for today).

So we went home. There were a bunch of utility trucks around but we also noticed that there'd been an accident in the area as well, so I don't really know what happened. But we didn't return our books and we didn't get new books either.

Shrapnel in the bathroom

Only—what are we?—nearly three years after my little falling-off-a-stool-while-pregnant-and-catching-my-balance-so-I-didn't-land-flat-on-my-back-but-did-kick-a-hole-in-the-wall-breaking-my-toe-and-ripping-the-nail-nearly-clean-off incident and I finally got around to really trimming my new toenail. And that's not because I'm lazy. It's because it's taken it that long to really actually grow long enough to cut. And it's growing in way funky (it's all thick and weird and I really don't like it).

If only I knew a really good podiatrist...that I haven't accused of being an idiot while in the midst of offering me free medical advice. Meh. I'm sure I'll get around to asking a doctor about it sometime. It's really not too big of a concern except...that I was trimming my toenails the other day and decided that it was time to conquer this super gnarly nail. 

I positioned the clippers and pressed down on the levers and they exploded in my hands. Bits of nail clipper went everywhere (and it did no damage to my nail so...that's neat). It was very shocking. 

The lever had snapped in half, the pin went flying across the bathroom and landed on the shower rug. I still had the blades in my hand, as well as half the lever, but I couldn't find the rest of the lever anywhere (though I did eventually find half of the rest of the lever so the last bit of nail clipper shrapnel is still somewhere in our bathroom).

When I showed Andrew the shattered remains of our nail clippers he asked why I didn't just use the ginormous set of toenail clippers that we've owned for a billion years and have never used. I told him that, honestly, I didn't know where we'd put them since moving. 

He helped me find them (he likes to keep track of nail clippers) and I managed to clip my hideous toenail and that is your TMI story for the day. You're welcome.

In school and out of school

It's possible I've been pushing the kids a little hard this school year. It's possible Miriam has finished nearly 1.5 years of math and that Benjamin is a few short pages away from being finished with his curriculum as well. It's possible we finished our science textbook this week. It's possible to fit a lot of information (and work) into 4.5 hours every day and I've come to the conclusion that I've definitely pushed my children a little too hard. I just reviewed Georgia's AKS (Academic Knowledge and Skills—why, oh, why didn't they just call it Academic Skills and Knowledge?) booklets and although they seemed intimidating when we began this endeavor, I found myself nodding my head as I read through them. Yes, yes, yes. We've done that.

Admittedly there were a few things in the sciences that we didn't cover, but I think we went a lot farther in depth with life science this year and so didn't get to earth science at all. The kids have asked to do earth science next year, so we'll be hitting all of those milestones then. I'm not really worried about that part.

But I've learned that I can definitely chill a little bit as a homeschool administrator. I think next year will be easier for me to split my curriculum up so I can parcel it out throughout the year because I will be working with the full school year (rather than just...some of it). I'm considering doing a 4-day work week for the kids, and giving them Friday to just explore things on their own a little bit, which will mean extending hours a bit Monday through Thursday, but that shouldn't be too terrible (since I think we typically do more than the required 4.5 hours per day anyway, just because we get sucked into doing things like reading and identifying geodes and things like that). I'm also going to make more of a conscious effort to include physical education and music and art in our school days.

This school year I've been insisting that first we get our work done and then we can do whatever—play basketball or have a ukulele jam session or paint a picture. But really those things are part of a public school day, right? And an important part, too, I believe! I've just been so concerned with doing the academic portion "correctly" that I forgot about...pacing...and well-roundedness...a little bit.

To that end, we spent some time at the park this afternoon playing frisbee and painting and walking by the river...after we'd finished with our school work...because I'm a stickler.

Benjamin wanted to play frisbee when we got to the park. That the kids call Paradise Island even though it's not an island; they just like it because it's felt rather secluded when we've gone because no one else is ever there, though today we did have some curious walkers stop by to see what we were doing. The other kids all wanted to paint right away so I set them up with our paintings supplies before chucking the frisbee around with Benjamin.

Brilliance

I had the children write another response to one of the poems in Brown Girl Dreaming called 'the selfish giant' and where Jackie, the author, first discovers her talent for writing. Earlier in the book she uncovered her siblings' talents, so easy for her to see, and has been wondering if/when she'll discover her own talents. I think that's fairly normal (at least it is something that feels normal to me)—to see and acknowledge the talents of others while overlooking your own talents because they feel too natural, too ordinary (to you) to be commendable.

Jacqueline has a breakthrough with her storytelling and she says, "And I know now / words are my Tingalayo. Words are my brilliance" (p. 248).

So I asked the kids what their brilliance is—and what brilliance they see in each other.

Geodes

Miriam got a geode exploration kit for Christmas and decided today was the day to—quite literally—break into it. She invited her siblings to join in (and even shared the geodes once they were broken open). Things were a little bit damp from it having rained all day, but we were glad for at least a little break in the weather ad all rushed outside to enjoy the fresh air.

The boringest

Just before FHE this evening we were talking about Andrew's upcoming conference in Hawaii, a trip we had decided would be a solo one for him even before COVID-19, and which we're not even sure that Andrew will be making (so I'm feeling pretty good about not going to Hawaii with him at this point). Anyway, he thought the conference was a week sooner than it actually is so was thrilled today to learn that he didn't have to submit his paper by this Thursday. He had until next Thursday.

"So that's a week of my life back!" Andrew said, relieved.

"Your job is pretty boring," Benjamin surmised. "I want a more adventurous job."

"What?!" I said, getting a little offended for Andrew who is living the dream. "Remember how excited you are about your next math unit?"

"Yeah," Benjamin shrugged. "Because it's graphs!"

"That's what I do!" Andrew said, excited to bond with his boy over x-axes. "I make graphs and then I write about them!"

"WOW!" Benjamin said with genuine awe. "That is boring!"

And I just...

Let's take a moment to remember 2014 when ickle-PhD-student Andrew was taking his comprehensive exams and his sweet daughters greeted him with cards saying:

"Congratulations Daddy. I'm glad you are out of work"

and

"I'm so glad you passed the test, Dad. You defintly will be a person who works for the government!"

It's perfectly normal for kids to not have any sort of concept of what their parents do for a living, right?

Walk-sicles and peppers

Yesterday was warmish and sunny-ish so the kids decided we should take a family walk after dinner—with popsicles! This is something they call a "walk-sicle" because they're nothing if not neologists (because why use an actual word when you can make up one word to do the job of many?). Unfortunately, Zoë wasn't a fan of dinner and refused to eat anything. 

Now, I know that the current advice is that you shouldn't force your child to eat because it'll cause obesity and so forth. But the thing is that if you're hungry enough for dessert you're hungry enough for dinner. And if you don't touch your dinner then there's no way you should get dessert, right?

So she agreed to eat her dinner and sat at the table crying to herself about her fate while her siblings did their after-dinner jobs and headed outside to wait for her. Eventually she grew tired of crying at the table but instead of taking just four bites of her dinner she tiptoed over to the garbage can and emptied her plate. 

News flash: Her parents were not born yesterday.

Sunny day, sweeping the clouds away

We stopped by the park on the way home from orchestra and we stayed for a long time because...

Honestly, I don't know when we'll ever see the sun again. But don't worry. Benjamin at least got his "maff wort" (as Alexander would say) finished while Miriam was rehearsing so the day wasn't a complete waste (and Miriam did her math work after we got home, and we did LA/SS before we left in the morning). 

Here's Alexander doing his "maff wort" (Benjamin's involved more (ie. actual) numbers and stuff)

Springtime music

I've recently spent some time looking at music to freshen up our ukulele binders, specifically focusing on springtime songs. I found a lovely version of Robin In the Rain by Raffi and Zoë and Alexander fell in love with it so we've been singing it a lot since...yesterday...when I found it.

This afternoon Zoë and I recorded it and I didn't even mess up until the very end when Benjamin started dancing around me with his notebook, silently pleading for me to drop everything and read what he'd written right then. You can see him briefly in the frame, but then his bouncing continued just behind the camera, so that was a fun distraction!



I've been meaning to start up a little ukulele/choir group the whole time we've lived here and looking for music always gets me feeling motivated to finally do it...but now's probably not the best time (given the global pandemic) to actually start something. Still, I think I'll try to do more singing with my own kids in my own house because music is so, so important.

So I will probably spend some more time looking for new music for us to learn. If you know of any lovely springtime songs, let me know!

Fuzzy Memories

We've been reading Brown Girl Dreaming, which has led us to some very interesting conversations—about civil rights, naturally, but also about life in general. It's a book of poems that tell about her growing up years, a format which Woodson says felt very natural for her to do because "that’s how memory comes to me, in these small moments with all of this white space around it.” I love that explanation about memories and poetry being so connected. Of course there's room to fill in all the blank space, but a lot of that is conjecture, isn't it? It's what you are piecing together from what you remember because we simply can't remember everything—even the biggest most poignant moments in our lives end up a little fuzzy in our memories.

That said, Woodson seems to recall a lot about her childhood, perhaps because she's a natural storyteller. I, too, find myself constantly telling stories and as I've been reading more and more books about writing I find myself identifying more and more as a writer. It's easy to miss the very obvious things about you, I think. At least, it is for me.

Miriam and I were out walking a while ago and she said to me, "I think I want to devote my life to music. I just love music so much. I love listening, I love practicing, I love playing, I love writing music. It's just what I love. And I can study music at college and teach music lessons and perform and..."

And I don't think I had any such solid plan for myself when I was ten years old.

I don't know that I have such solid plans for myself now, going on 35.