Come visit me at the parenting post today and see why I’m thinking of hiring a Human Resources director to come live at my house.
Parenting
More on Homeschooling
I’m continuing the homeschooling discussion over at parenting.com and I’m wondering, “Do moms’ heads every explode from all the decisions they have to make about their child’s well-being?”
Tip Tuesday — No Place Like Home?
I went to public school. I liked public school, minus the years of purgatory generally referred to as Junior High. Would someone please tell me next time before I decide to exhibit my keychain collection in the school library in between the guy who collects bugs and the girl who collects miniature plastic unicorns? It won’t turn out well. I will not make new friends. The 13-year-olds who say, “Wow, cool collection!” in a mock-nasal tone are not being sincere. They think I’m a tard-loaf who should pack up my 50-ton plastic glasses and tin-laced smile and head back to the band room. I will cry… every day… for 3 years.
Now I’m getting Laylee ready for preschool which is, in essence, in fact, so-called because it is indeed a “pre” school, if you will. PRE-SCHOOL??? Nu-uh. I am so not ready for this. Many of you have given me great advice about finding a preschool and several have suggested that I consider keeping Laylee home. This is something I think about all the time, not in terms of preschool but as a possible long-term educational solution.
When I was young, homeschool kids were stereotyped as fundamentalist weirdos who stayed home to avoid getting beat up. We thought of them as strange, socially inept and clueless about the world around them. I suspected they were all anarchists or at the very least unfamiliar with or opposed to standard social and hygienic rituals.
I’m not sure I knew a single homeschooled kid because they were probably chained up in a basement somewhere without deodorant, memorizing nuclear equations and weaving baskets with their own ankle-length hair.
In the 15 years since I started high school, things have changed drastically in the homeschool community and in people’s perceptions of homeschooling. I personally know several outstanding women (some even in real life — gasp!) who have made very educated choices to keep their children out of the public system.
At this point, I have a really favorable opinion of homeschooling but I’m not sure what we will do when the time comes.
I know it’s true, as Abby commented on my preschool post, that “there’s no place like home” and honestly that’s what scares me about not putting my kids in school. There is no place like home and if I don’t let my kids experience the world, will they be in for a junior-high-style emotional butt-kicking when they turn 18 and head off to college?
Will it just be delayed reality-shock, aggravated by years of hanging around with their mom, polishing the key chains and learning in an environment tailored specifically to them? As much as it sucked to be tormented for three years in Junior High, I learned a lot about myself through those experiences, only some of it from reading nasty things people wrote about me on the bathroom wall.
On the other hand, I don’t want to thrust my kids into the deep end with the sharks if they can learn quite nicely at home with me in a warm and safe environment and still find a way to adjust well and become fully functioning members of society.
Do you homeschool your kids or send them to public or private schools? What is your reasoning for this? I’d like to know more about why you do what you do to help me make my post preschool decision.
I Washed the Spider Out
When we moved into this house, it was with the understanding that the mangled filthy mini-blinds would vacate immediately, if not sooner.
I could have cleaned them 7 months ago but I knew we would be replacing them AT ANY MOMENT so I didn’t bother.
My solution has been to keep them up at all times so I don’t have to constantly be faced with the previous owner’s dinner splatter from the great spaghetti adventure of 1991.
Consequently, the squirrels in the forest behind our house are constantly faced with me shlepping around in my bathrobe. But dude, they’re naked and I don’t think I’ve ever seen them putting on deodorant. So why don’t they get some blinds and stop yelling at me?
Our heating bill for the last 2 months indicates that any measure we could take to reduce energy consumption would be for the benefit of society and may keep us from losing the farm. So we’ve decided to close the blinds at night to help keep the heat in.
It’s actually working but tonight I closed them too early. I sat at dinner, staring at a flat spider body, pressed perfectly between the metal blinds like a daisy in a poetry book, only spookier and less appetizing. I stared at it for 10 minutes before I got up to get a paper towel. The spider is gone now and I’m even thinking about taking some Pine-sol and a blow-torch to those things.
Considering that we’re now counting all of our expenses in terms of hours of preschool, making do with the blinds we have may be our ticket to Laylee’s pre-K education.
Love and Babies
It’s that time again. February is almost upon us so it’s time to Share the Love. Go on over and nominate someone you love today. I’m excited to find some new reads. (I’m ineligable due to your ridiculous kindness last year.)
I am Four Years Old
Can’t Imagine Where He Gets It
When the giant bottle of Lycopene smashed to the ground 5 minutes ago, I said it.
When Laylee asked if she could lick it up off the floor, I said it again.
I believe there are much worse words I could be using at times like these. At least Magoo doesn’t think “friggin’ crap” is the answer to all of life’s questions, or anything like unto it.
Hertz So Good
Are your kids on a first name basis with your car rental return guy? 12 hours ago I would have said “Neither are mine.” Not anymore, people, not anymore. We are all now intimately acquainted with Brian and he with us.
When he leaves our side, Laylee asks, “Where’s Brian?”
“Oh, he just went to forage for food or check on the road conditions,” I will answer, “He’ll be back in a minute.”
Sometime after the flood and the first freeze and well before the wind storm and subsequent attack of the Ents, our minivan Vinny got rear-ended and went into the shop (this was during the pre-rat era).
We’ve been driving a rental car for the past 3 weeks, a sweet rental car, a rental car exactly like Vinny only 5 years younger and much more pimped out.
Today we got Vinny back.
2:45pm — After determining that the “big storm” was just a “big non-event,” we head out to a doctor’s appointment in the rental van.
3:30pm — The body shop calls to tell us our van is “ready for pickup”, a secret code that means “if you don’t come pick it up today and return your rental car, you’ll have to pay a gazillion dollars because the insurance company won’t be footin’ the bill any more.” I get the hint and we head to Hertz.
3:45 — Crazy hail pelts my skin as I frantically scoop crumbs from the car at a gas station. Have you ever traveled 2500 miles in a borrowed car with 2 kids in tow, only to be suddenly told that you had 15 minutes to get the car back to its meticulous owner?
3:50 — Magoo lays waste to the Hertz office, attempting to use the contents of the water cooler to create a recreational wading pool. Brian’s co-worker distracts the children with a nerf ball while we finish filling out the paperwork.
4:00 — We begin the one mile trip to the body shop in the continuing hail with Brian at the wheel. I am SOOO glad not to be driving. He possibly thinks my children are cute and still considers having a child of his own one day. Tee hee hee.
4:15 — The hail turns to snow and Brian carefully makes his way down a hill as cars are spinning out all around us. Soon no cars are spinning because no cars are moving. Traffic comes to a complete stop and Laylee wants to know why we’re not going anywhere. I call the body shop and the owner agrees to stay open late until I can get there.
4:20 — I ask Brian his name and introduce him to Laylee. It looks like we’re in it for the long haul. Magoo cannot stand being strapped in anymore. The sight of me sitting next to him doing nothing to ease his sadness is too much to bear. He begins to wail. “Brian, do you mind if I move to the front seat with you. I think Magoo will be happier if he can’t see me directly.” Brian would be much obliged to have me ride shotgun while my son screams like a banshee in the backseat. It would be the best thing ever.
4:25 — Magoo calms down and the peasants rejoice.
4:30 —I remember that I can’t remember the last time Laylee’s been to the bathroom. I ask Brian not to mention anything related to the p-o-t-t-y.
4:40 — Laylee urgently calls out that she needs to go POTTY. This means NOW. I ask her to wait. She can’t. I tell her she can go in the snow on the side of the road or I can change her into one of Magoo’s diapers right there in the back seat. “That’s alright, isn’t it Brian? The car’s not going anywhere.” Of course it’s alright.
5:00 — Having convinced the loudly protesting Laylee by brute force that a diaper IS a good idea, I get back in the front seat with Brian. Realizing that this may turn out to be bloggable, I ask Brian if I can take his picture.
5:15 — We still aren’t moving, Laylee and Magoo are starving to death and the only food in the car is emergency protein bars. I walk up and down the cars trying to buy goldfish crackers from the stranded travelers but find no suppliers. Motherhood can make you desperate.
5:20 — I return to the car empty-handed, vowing to keep a Costco pack of animal crackers in my handbag till college do we part. When I suggest to Brian that I may run over to the office building up the hill to see if they have a vending machine, he graciously offers to do it for me. According to Brian, the kids asked for me when I left the last time. I think he’s making it up.
5:25 — Traffic moves 3 inches. Laylee asks where Brian is and begs me not to leave him. I make no promises.
5:30 — Brian returns with chips, Cheetos, a Twix bar and a head covered in snow. Apparently the machine wouldn’t take my $5 so he paid for the snacks himself. I kiss his feet and the children munch away happily.
5:45 — At Laylee’s request I begin singing Kookaburra, Baby Beluga and the 3 Bears song. Our lyrically challenged car rental return worker turns down my offer to join in the singing.
Shortly after 6pm we arrived at the shop, transferred our ten tons of stuff into our beloved van who now looks prettier than when we first met him. After bidding Brian a fond farewell, we drove 2 blocks to a local shopping spot, where we ate dinner, went to the movies and just generally wasted time for 4 hours. At 10pm we headed home across the layer of ice covered in hail covered in snow. It was like driving on ice coated gravel 15 miles per hour. Around 11:30 we arrived home after the scariest drive of my life.
I will say that the conclusion of this weather event is the best we’ve had all season. We still have heat and power, several inches of snow to play in, fresh banana bread to eat and a new friend Brian at the Hertz dealership. Last I heard he was planning to walk back to work and try and find somewhere to sleep in the area. We wish him well. I hope he’s man enough to have kids one day despite the hazing we put him through. They are worth it. I bet Brian had no one to comb their hair with a dinglehopper during dinner last night, no one to wipe cheese dust off of, no one to build an imaginary snow cave and sip hot cocoa with this morning. Poor guy… on so many levels.
No Time
I have a lot to write about in regards to our rodent problem, my car accident on the way to The Nutcracker, why I’m canceling every fun activity from my children’s lives to make them happier and the roofing project going on two inches from Magoo’s bedroom window.
However, I’m too busy cleaning vomit out of people’s eyes, scooping it out of car seats, rinsing out barf bowls and trying to buy a Lysol car bomb online.
I still wish a biohazard suit had come with THE BOOTS.
Free at Last
This person
is finally old enough to attend our church nursery after nearly 18 months of chaos. I want to buy new cars for all of the nursery workers or at the very least wash their current cars’ windshields with my tears of joy.
Seeing Magoo clap his hands and yell “Yay-MEN!” after a prayer in nursery is fun. Not hearing him yell other choice words during the adult meetings anymore is even more funner.
the reasons: spongy bones for children, exterminators










