Saturday, November 05, 2011

Intellectual Discussions

Just so nothing gets lost in the translation: Boo-Gah= booger.

One of the benefits of homeschooling is that we don't have to get up at six a.m. and stuff everyone into clothes and shuffle them out the door. Don't get me wrong. We still try to get up by seven or else Daddy comes to grief trying to get the kids to bed at night. But we have the freedom to snuggle (wrestle) in bed a bit before we have to get dressed, fed, and educated. So we were doing this on Friday before getting started with our day when an intellectual discussion broke out between the boys.

Charlie: You're a Boo-Gah!
Abe: I not! I a Ding-Dong! You a Boo-Gah!
Charlie: No, you're a Boo-Gah!
Abe: No, I a Ding-Dong!
(Repeat for about 20 minutes.)

The best part of this was that it wasn't a fight. It was like they were truly having a debate about the relative merits of Boo-Gahism vs. Ding-Dongishness. Finally I said, "Well, I'm a Boo-Dong!"

Both: No! You're a Boo-Gah! I a Ding-Dong!

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Touche

Not long ago, I made the mistake of prescribing hard candy as a hiccup cure. Charlie had hiccups and I gave him a hard candy to suck on, and it actually worked. But, alas, my children are geniuses of unspeakable evil. By the next day, they were tugging on my skirt, "Mo-om! I have the hiccups! Can I have a piece of candy?"My response quickly became, "Prove it."
So a couple of days ago, Abraham comes to me.
Abe: Mommy, I have hiccups! I need piece of candy to feel me better!
Me: No you don't.
Abe: Yes it is! I have a hiccup! It's in my nose!

I have no response for that.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Random Act of Kindness

A while back, someone did me a random act of kindness. An anonymous person in a van in front of me in the drive through line at McDonalds (Sh! Don't tell anyone I eat there occasionally or it will blow my nature-foodie persona!) paid for my meal. On purpose. I'd like to say it brightened my whole day. In a way, it did. Every time I thought of it that day it put a big goofy smile on my face. It was a reminderl that kindness exists. Yet I have to admit that I probably snarked at my kids just as much that day as any other. Probably I was just as cranky about having forgotten my list at Warlmart. Quite likely, I didn't remember to be more thankful. And evidently, I didn't get around to writing this until a long time afterward. Still, it has stuck with me, and made me question whether or not I am always kind. So how much is a random act of kindness worth? I decided to do a randomish act of kindness today. I bought some kids at the library a jug of chocolate milk. I wonder what they'll do. Will they remember that? Behave better in the library? Think about doing something nice themselves? Oh, I doubt it. Yet I don't mind spending a couple bucks to give a couple of kids a dose of calcium and vitamin D. It might have done me some unnamed good to do it. So I think a random act of kindness might actually turn out to be worth something. Not that I expect the world to change in a pay it forward-ish way. But maybe if I try to stay conscious of what kindness can do, I can be the exponent. Maybe I can increase kindness for people in a small area. Or maybe it just amounted to a free smoothie. What do you think?

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

EduHoming

The answer to the question depends on what day of the week you ask me. The question is, "How is home-schooling going?" What I've found out is this: beyond knowing how to add, subtract, read, write, and know phonics rules, a teacher also needs to know how kids learn how to know those things. I suppose anyone can pound phonics into a seven year old's head with a workbook and a mallet, but if I'm going to do that, what exactly was the point of taking him out of school to begin with? Oh, I remember. The point was that I didn't want other kids teaching him incredibly inventive rude phrases for every day use. Or trying to kick him in the privates and then tattling on him when he punched them in retaliation. (All stories other parents have told me happened to their kids, or actually happened to mine.) And I also thought it would be fun to teach him what I actually believe. And to do it outdoors. And to do it without the incredible time waste that seven hours of sitting and lining up and being quiet is for a young kid. In short, yes, I do think I can teach my child better than the public school can. Not because I think America's teachers are worthless or anything. I find that the longer I try to teach my one child, the more respect I have for teachers. No, it's simply this: who knows my child like I do? Who loves him as much? Who has the responsibility to take the time to make his days extraordinary? No one has a stronger calling than I do. I will admit, it is not easy, but here is an example of a way that it is worth it:

The easiest thing we've had to learn so far is science. That is simply because it is easy to learn science by wandering around and talking about how things in the world work and why. We've had spectacular luck in this in the past, before we were homeschoolers. Once we found a rather large caterpillar that looked exactly like a big pile of bird poo. When we poked it (notice our extremely well developed scientific method) it stuck out these two red horns at us. Fascinating! Into the jar he went. It didn't take too long on the Internet to discover that our bird poo caterpillar was a larval Giant Swallowtail, and his red horns were "scent glands" to repel predators. Oops, therein lies the breakdown of evolution. He stuck out his stinky things, and we just thought that made him all the cooler. We must have caught him at just the right time, because within day, he had gone into chrysalis, wherein we promptly forgot about him long enough that I assumed he was dead. The, one morning at breakfast, Abraham shouted, "Buh-er-tie!" And there he was, big and glorious in our jar. Presto, science. If only addition presented itself with such natural panache!

More recently, we took a walk and netted ourselves three "woolly bears" and a yellow and black thing caterpillar off of a rose bush. By the time we got home from our walk, I had four creatures crawling around on my sweater. We put them in our creature habitat, which lives in the laundry room. One of them promptly committed suicide by trying to crawl down between the clear wall the fake sand. The other three seemed to be doing fine, though. Charlie tried to get the dead one out using a Lincoln log. I was in the other room, so I didn't seem his technique. Much later that evening, Joe came home from work and tossed his clothes into the laundry room. He emerged sounding puzzled. "There are caterpillars crawling on the walls in here."For some reason, it didn't immediately click with me.
"Oh, yes," I said, "We brought them home to put them in the Bugitat to see what kind of moth they turn into."
A little later, we were discussing them when it finally dawned on me that Joe had actually said, "crawling on the walls."
"You meant the walls of the bug habitat, right?"
"No, the actual walls."
"Well, why didn't you grab them!?" I said.
"I didn't know," he said. "I thought you guys did it on purpose."
"Wait, you thought I just brought home bugs and set them free in the laundry room?"
"With you, I wouldn't be surprised," he said.
Good grief.
And as I thought about it, the weirdest part was that he was willing to put up with that!

When I think about it, I can't really blame him. I am the woman who found a black widow on my neighbor's drive way and, instead of killing it, said, "Quick! Get me a jar!"

Anyway, the best and the hardest thing about home education is that you can seize the moment to teach. Want to teach fractions? Bake! Want to teach biology? Walk in the wood. Want to teach phonics... Well, I haven't actually figured that one out yet. But we do read a lot of books. And I am willing to bet that if the world of The Hunger Games ever becomes a reality, at least my kids will be able to figure out which mushrooms are edible and which will kill you flatter than dead. Whatever that means.

Just in case you wondered...
Edible:
Small Pear-shaped Puffball (Right)
Icky:
(Probably, although it might also be halucenogenic...)
Dead:
Destroying Angel (Amantia) Family
Classic "LBM" (Little Brown Mushroom)
which might be an Autumn Scullcap
I don't really know:

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Birthday Cake

When I asked Charlie what he wanted on his cake for his birthday, he said, "A hurricane."
I said, "I don't know how to draw that."
He said, "A tornado."
Now, that, I knew how to draw. Problem was, how to balance 7 year old passions for destructive weather phenomena with ********** (censored) year old desires for a cake aesthetic that makes sense.
Thanks for your help, Fujita scale! Of course, there is no F7 on the scale, but that might be an appropriate descriptor of Charlie under the influence of birthday cake...

Friday, July 22, 2011

The Weird

Have you ever noticed... truly noticed how weird the modern world is? I don't say that under the delusion that I am not just as weird as everyone else. I'm simply stating an observation. People walk through public places having incredibly personal and private conversations... on cell phones. That's weird! And we don't even really notice it any more, unless we happen to hear, like I did, way too much about some stranger's cervix. It is like technology has fried all of society's couth. It makes me want to sport a hippie shirt amending the "kill your tv" slogan. "Kill your mobile device," just doesn't have the same ring, though, do it?

Friday, July 08, 2011

Rumination of the Month

I have had ********** (censored) years to figure out how my body handles food and food additives. For example, I know that for me, coffee is like a shot of crank. It produces creativity, undeniable (read sarcasm) brilliance, boundless energy... and an abysmal bottom out a few hours later. I love coffee, so, frankly, that sucks, but I avoid coffee all the same. I'm pretty sure aspartame and MSG give me wicked headaches, not to mention being just plain evil, so I avoid those too. Yet, even knowing myself, I still occasionally like to do something really stupid. Like eat ice cream. At lunch time. I know what ice cream does to me. It puts me in a coma, that's what. Milk doesn't have the same effect, but ice cream = instant coma. I don't know what it is; perhaps the combination of lactose and other sugars with tryptophan that makes my hypoglycemic alter-ego come out to... well, nap... So, on a rainy day at work, when I was feeling somnolent anyway, I thought, "Hey, I'll eat some ice cream and make it really impossible to stay awake! Yay!" Sometimes, I just like to do something really illogical to remind myself I'm not a robot.
This brings me to my current "rumination of the month:" Food: moral issue or nonissue? I was driving home from work with my kids in the car. For some reason, they were really quiet. Either they were content, or someone had drugged them. I don't know. Anyway, I had some peaceful moments to think, and what I was thinking was this, "Why does food feel like a moral issue?" See previous post. It does, though. You hear people say, "I just ate this huge *whatever* and I feel guilty now." I never understood that one, personally. Where I get hit is with things like food additives and health effects. Obviously, since I was just ranting about it not long ago, things like aspartame and sucralose bother me. But so does McDonald's mystery food, which my kids are just as addicted to as most American kids. Then there's the fact that I couldn't get my kids to touch a green vegetable with a fifteen foot stick. And the fact that simply everything, and I mean every-flippin'-thing, is full of sugar. Even if you skip desert, you still run into sugar sugar sugar.
A tiny bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing. I'm pretty sure somebody or other with clout said that. It's true. You see, I know what eating too much sugar does: obesity, diabetes, mood disorders, hyperactivity, hypothyroidism, and/or hypo-immunity. I know what eating too much fat does: heart disease, stroke, liver disease, aneurysm, and/or obesity. I know what eating weird chemicals does: Alzheimer's, mood disorders, headaches, hyperactivity, dementia, and/or cancer. All of it, simply all of it, makes me freak out and feel guilty about the kind of poison I'm feeding my kids. Then I try to correct it with things like honey instead of sugar, and banning soda from my house, and eschewing McDonald's, no matter how much whining happens. I buy "natural" peanut butter, which is just ground peanuts, and "natural" apple sauce with theoretically has no added sugar, and bread made with actual sugar instead of high fructose whatever... I'm doing the best I can, but it gets to the point where I don't want to eat anything at all, and every bite that goes into my kids' mouths makes me cringe. Then, of course, there's the battle with my husband who reminds me when I refuse to buy pop that, "I still have a sweet tooth, you know, " and who would rather take the kids to McDonald's on Monday night than boil spaghetti and dump canned sauce on it for them. ARG! I'm trying to cure the $@%* sweet tooth, thank you! And having an adult whine about my antisugar campaign just makes it harder with my kids. "Do what I say and not what I do. " Swing your partner, do-si-do, where the headache stops, nobody knows!
Still, I had an epiphany the other day, and it was this: what is the point of health, if not to make life more enjoyable? And how can life be enjoyable if one is constantly wigging out about whether or not some foodstuff is going to effect your health? So I take a deep breath, and I decide... Natural peanut butter with sugar-loaded jelly on wheat or rye bread is okay. Ovaltine chocolate milk is okay. Decaf tea with a little sugar is okay. Cheese and dairy are okay a bit at a time. Bacon is probably not okay most of the time. My kids eat fish, so there I'm doing good (except for the mercury... no, wait! Don't get sidetracked!). Charlie eats fruit. Good. Charlie and Abe, with much brow-beating, will eat corn, peas, green beans. Okay. It's a start. We're not macrobiotic or super-food or organic, but we're taking baby steps. Breathe. Institute moderation policy. Breathe. Model good habits. Breathe. And hit husband with a rolling pin when he asks for pop...

Sunday, July 03, 2011

Pictorial Thpbbt!

IO Moth, Automeris IO, Hoskins' barn, 7/3
Grapevine Beetle, Pelignota Punctata, behind Hoskins' barn
Hummingbirds love me.
Red Milkweed Beetle - Tetraopes tetrophthalmus, field behind my house
For you Hunger Games trilogy fans, an official picture of Katniss, also called Arrowhead, pond behind my house
Slate blue damselfly by the pond
Milkweed Leaf Beetle on my leg
Frog that laid eggs in our kiddie pool. Oops.
Bunny-beetle (see prior post) in my Holly Hocks
Lancet Clubtail Dragonfly (?) taking a nap or posing on the tall grass behind my garage
Excellent specimen of Tall Bellflower, McKinneysburg Rd
Little orangey damselfly on the baby cattails in the pond behind my house
Yet unknown white flower, late June, Richland Rd.
Above and below, Charlie build the little guy a fancy house.

Brazillian butterfly of some sort and ferny things at the Krohn's Conservatory
Zigzag Spiderwort (?), Mark Haley Rd
Abraham is in jail, but he doesn't mind.
Abraham loves Garage Toad.
Abraham participates in Operation Froggy Freedom.
Charlie participates in Operation Froggy Freedom.
Loosestrife flower of some sort.
Starry Campion (?)
Dogbane Leaf Beetle
Rainbow in the sky over Mark Haley
My neighbor's Lebollia
Garlic bloom
Funky funky garlic flowers
I'm stumped. Terrestrial Alga?
Yet unknown white flower, late June, Richland Rd.
Yet unidentified pink flower, late June, Richland Rd
Pale Jewelweed, Colvin's Bend Rd
Erect Dayflower, behind the library, Falmouth

Dear Blogger,
I hate your new jpeg up-loader. It keeps putting the pictures where I didn't tell it to. These are all out of order and I got tired of messing with them. Also, what the heck is with only letting me upload five at a time? Just saying.
Hannah P

Just An American Road

No offense to my urbanite readers-- it takes all kinds of people to fill a world, after all-- but I don't ever want to live in the city again. It's not that the city has nothing to offer. Not at all. I can eat sushi and Indian food with the best of them. I like theater, opera, and even ballet. And I do miss the smooth pavement under my Rollerblades. (Rollerblades + chip-n-seal road = stitches.) Yet even with all of those inducements, I wouldn't trade trees, creeks, flowers, insects, reptiles, birds, and most importantly, the freedom and the neighbors.
Freedom. It is what we are hopefully all contemplating this time of year. Before the blowing $#!% up and drinking Bud Lite, the 4th was about declaring our independence as a nation from tyranny and voicelessness. The freedom of the country is different. There are no neighborhood associations to tell me I can't grow a vegetable garden or make noise or sunbathe naked... Just kidding. I don't do that either. The freedom of the country is being able to swim in the creek and photograph bugs and all around be non-cosmopolitan, unfashionable, not politically correct, and also chubby. I'm just not cool enough for the city, and I'm okay with that.
When I started writing this blog, I called myself a 'Tucky Misfit, but it is a misnomer. On this road, just a fairly average American country road, I've stumbled upon a place and people who are a perfect fit. These are people who take pride in their flower and vegetable gardens. They open their homes to their neighbors with doors thrown wide and enough food for fifty. They don't mock each other's idiosyncrasies. Anyone who knows me well knows that I'm awkward in a crowd and bad at making friends, but these people have swept me up and made me take part with such good will that I didn't even have a chance to feel strange and reclusive. These are people with whom you cannot help being friends.
I've talked about some of them in the past: the neighbor who babysits my kids with firm love and won't hear of taking a cent for it; the one whose porch is always open for beer and conversation; the one who will bush hog a hill or permanently loan a trailer. What do they ask in return? Nothing but friendship.

Last night, my "next door" neighbors decided on the fly to entertain all of us with fireworks and food. There aren't a lot of kids on this road. Mine are the youngest, and I guess I'm high strung. I'm always worried that they'll shred somebody's flower bed or break something in someone's house. Certainly they make messes, and noise, and skid marks on the driveway with their bikes. But this road is my village: the people care about each other like family. My neighbor did her best to make me comfortable while my kids terrorized her house. She made me sit and take a break while her teenage son chased the kids for a few minutes. Her husband talked mushroom hunting with me, and knowing my ridiculous love of all things antennaed took me to see the moths that gather around their tree-surrounded barn lights at night. Hospitality has not been forgotten here, and I'm so grateful to be part of it. I'm grateful to be drawn out of my shell, welcomed as I am, and not allowed to feel awkward in my own skin for a while.


I'm getting choked up, and maybe my audience is getting a little nauseated. After my food rant, I should eschew such saccharine musings, but I couldn't help it. These people are inspiring in their openness, their faithfulness, and their acceptance. No praise is too great. Happy Independence Day.


Rob and Dawn's flowersAnd bombs bursting in air...
And, of course, a random beetle.