A Good Day

Today was a really good day.  

Finally!  

I need to document this day, so I won't forget that we do actually get it right from time to time.

I've been reading my book on anger and dedicating a lot of prayer and mental energy to ridding myself of something I really don't want to have.  Like.  Really.  I don't want to be angry.  I'm done.

It's not so much that I want to be a wonderful wife and mother; not so much that I want to be a peaceful presence.  I'm just sick and tired of losing my self-control to whims of anger. I've given in and struggled with it for way too long.  I'm over it.

And so, I am happy to report that we are nearing the end of our fourth week of school (only 32 more!) in the Crazy House, and things have been far from crazy.  There have been hard moments, and I've not been perfectly patient and compassionate by any stretch of the imagination! But it's been better than it's ever been.  And that, my friends, is a good thing.

This morning was shockingly peaceful.  Gizmo and Ladybug were up with the birds, but Li'l Bit, who has the heaviest school-load, slept until 8:45. (She was reading until 11pm...again.)  In the back of my mind, I knew I wanted to get us to the beach midday.  Parking is free, dogs are allowed, and it's not too cold yet.  But we couldn't go unless Gizmo and Li'l Bit both finished ALL of their demanding work.  I.e. reading, handwriting, narration & composition writing, grammar, and math.  (Oh, math!)  Only then could we pack up our history, art, bird book, and memory work to enjoy God's creation whilst learning about it.  So I should have been stressed and rushed and typically crabby.  Be it either fluke or mercy, I was not.  And by 12:45, we were heading to the beach with strawberries, broccoli , and PB&J's.  (I would have killed for some fancy cheese and rosemary crackers!)

The kids had a blast!  How perfect could one day be?!  Sunny and clear with a cool, boisterous breeze that kicked up the waves of the cove so much I had to read our history and science with vigor.  The kids were in heaven digging moats in the sand and building bridges with driftwood.  I threw in our sketchpad and colors so each kid could have some quiet, creating time.  And since it's off-season, Bruiser finally got to tag along for a beach trip!  How happy he was digging in that cool, wet sand!  We left the beach in a jovial mood which must have leant itself to the following topic.

Do not ask me how this started, but Li'l Bit made some nonchalant remark about preferring her belly be cut open to extract future offspring.  I happen to feel pretty strongly about the body's ability to bring forth said offspring on it's own--when given the chance, barring dangerous medical conditions--and somehow we landed on the topic of The Three Holes.  I couldn't believe she didn't know where a vagina was located!

I was that annoying young mother who refused to use pet names for "private parts."  I distinctly remember changing Li'l Bit's diapers and pointing out to her--everyday--all of her "private" body parts by scientific name.  Somewhere along the line I prioritized more important things.  And here I am with an 8-year old who can't find her baby hole?

Holy crap!

So Li'l Bit's nighttime talk-time included the following picture:

I explained all the basic parts and what they're good for.  You know.  Pee, poop, and babies.  She soaked it all in, and Ladybug commented that our bladder looks like a leaf. :)  That girl will keep me in stitches till the day I die.

So there you have it.

A "good day" in this homeschooling home.  We begin with desperate prayers and sleeping in from too much reading, and we end with the birds and the bees.

Call Me Ishmael, or The Doggy Paddle

When I was young my mom provided all four of us girls with swimming lessons.  I actually remember them.  But for whatever reason none of us learned to swim.  We were excellent doggy paddlers!  Without drowning, we swam in Aunt Suzie's pool every Summer--in the deep end! So I never understood why my mom would freak out when I was 16 For Crying Out Loud, going to the lake with a boyfriend.  She'd call after us, "Make her wear a life jacket!  SHE CAN'T SWIM!!!"  Oh, I was so embarrassed.
I understand the Mom Freak Out much better now.  I've had more than one scary water experience with my own babies.  And I also understand wanting to make my 16 year old my baby again.  Dadgum.  I want to do that every day and they're only 4, 6, and 8!

But the doggy paddle works.  I've never drowned. And I've never been afraid of the water, because I knew I wouldn't drown.  I wasn't afraid.  I knew I couldn't tempt the current of the ocean and expect to come out on top.  I knew I couldn't dive gracefully into a pool of water and swim seamlessly from one end to the next.  But I knew I could keep myself up.  Whatever the case, wherever I may be, I would survive.  It would take Moby Dick himself to take me down.  I'd keep my head up where the air is, and I'd survive.

My life is water these days.  I want to be in it.  Oh, it is so much fun to be in it!  No matter the sunscreen and waiting 30 minutes after you eat--I want to be in the water!  You can jump in feet first and feel your body softly plunge to the bottom.  You can stream up, feeling the weight of water releasing you and, at last, air filling your lungs!  You can swim and giggle and be half naked and no one cares--because you're in the water.
In what other circumstance do we allow ourselves to be so bare?  In what other substance are we so weightless?  Only in the water.

I'm swimming a lot these days!  The way we girls swim--I'm doggy paddling.  I do not feel graceful  and skilled.  I feel quite clumsy and vulnerable.  My head is above water, my arms and legs strong, but I need to keep close to the edge most of the time.  I need something to hold on to.  And I have got to stop comparing myself to the ones who can swim the English Channel or dive in the Olympics.  Of course I can't do those things.  I was obviously created for a different purpose.

I guess that's what it boils down to on these crazy, busy days.  What is my purpose?  And gosh-doggit, am I enjoying the fulfillment of it?!