a litany (as in, "a tedious repetitive series," not as in "a series of petitions for use in church services or processions")

I can't believe it has been over a week since I posted last.  What, exactly, is happening to my weeks, my time, my life?  Wow. 

Last week wasn't easy.  I have this crazy drive to do everything WELL (as my mother-in-law ever-so-gently reminded me today), but while that trait seems noble and good, it definitely has its downside...like, for example, the fact that I live in a state of feeling constantly overwhelmed, out of control, and incompetent.  I could go on.  It's rather annoying. 

Anyway, we are in our 6th week into homeschooling, and it's really going well.  It really is.  Amélie is learning like a little sponge, and it's such a joy to teach her (usually).  She loves history and science and reading, and she is even enjoying math this year, thanks to the absence of worksheets and the introduction of math as facilitated by a wonderful and brilliant friend (who also happened to teach 2nd grade before adopting two Down Syndrome babies).  However, our curriculum is very labor-intensive, and I feel like I have to do it all and do it right.  I (like many homeschooling parents, I think) am so worried that Amélie is going to get behind or something.  The last thing I want to do is make her stupid, you know?  :)  I'm pretty sure that's not happening, but just in case, I make sure we do everything.  And some days.........that's just hard. 

Plus, I have a little boy who feels a little left out sometimes, I think, and I don't have the time or energy for him that I think I should have.

Plus, I have a little girl who also wants me to play with her, not just teach her.

Plus, I have a husband with whom I like to spend time that involves both quality and quantity.

Plus, I'm a doula, and I love my clients and look forward to meeting with them and then assisting them in birth.

Plus, I have a house to keep halfway clean and organized.

Plus, I am reviewing homeschooling materials.

Plus, I have laundry.

Plus, I cook.

Plus, I need to exercise.

Plus, I like to write.

Plus, I like to see my friends.

Plus, if I don't get enough sleep I get cranky (this blog entry is a case in point).

Plus, I need to spend some time ALONE.

You know what I need?
I need a doula.
a life doula.

and a hug.  I could use one of those today, too.

perspective

Last week, I had a sinus infection.  That virus invaded my body and wiped me out.  I didn't feel good.  I had no energy.  I felt like I was moving and thinking in a mire of sludge.  It wasn't fun.

I have this other virus, though, that just doesn't go away.  I can't take a pill for it.  I can't keep it at bay by eating plenty of fruits and vegetables and drinking plenty of water.  It's an ugly virus.  It's a chronic one.  It sucks the life right out of me.

It goes by several different names: discontent, jealously, envy, and a myriad of other synonyms and symptoms. 

Some days, I wish I had a different house, a bigger one with a large backyard, a jacuzzi tub big enough to fit the whole family, and enough space that all of us could have a room of our own.

Some days, I wish I had a nicer car, one that wasn't beige and normally driven by people twice my age.

Some days, I wish I could go to the grocery store without calculating the items I am putting in my cart against the reality of our budget.  And I wish I could buy every book I wanted.  And I wish I could update my wardrobe and my house and.........................

Some days, I wish I had a sexier job.  I love my jobs as mom, homeschool teacher, and doula, but there's nothing particularly sexy about changing a diaper, giving a spelling test, or being regularly splashed with amniotic fluid (although, oddly, I don't really mind any of those things too much, now that I really think about it). 

Some days (actually, every day), I wish I were sexier.  Thankfully, I have a husband who has the polar opposite version of the body dysmorphic disorder that I have, and he actually likes how I look.  I, on the other hand, spend a lot of time cringing at my body and wishing it were a whole lot different. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But then there are days like today, when all of those discontents seem so minor. 

This afternoon, I was sitting on the floor reading the newspaper when someone rang our doorbell.  I tend to panic when the doorbell rings (partly due to the fact that my house never lives up to the immaculate standards I set in my mind, and partly due to the fact that I am an introvert who loves people coming over but who still, for whatever reason, abhors the doorbell).  Thankfully, Matt has no such odd aversion and quickly answered the door.  A man was at the door with his daughter.  The kids and Matt had met this family a couple of weeks ago when they were out bike-riding.  They are new to the neighborhood.  They are living with the girl's grandma right now.  Apparently they came home one day, and their landlord had changed the locks and thrown every last one of their belongings out onto their lawn.  S asked Amélie if she could play.  Immediately, I  panicked a little.  I don't really know this family.  Was I going to let my daughter walk down the street and into the house of a family whom I had never met?  What was I going to do?  I didn't have to worry or think about this situation long, however, because by the time I got to the door the dad was gone.  S was to play at our house with Amélie. 

Oh!  What a relief, really.

She's a sweet little girl.  She is eight.  While making her and Amélie a snack I checked on her food allergy situation (you never know these days--I didn't want to kill the poor child), and she informed me that the only thing she is allergic to is pie.  It makes her throw up, apparently.  Good to know.  She also has four brothers and three sisters.  I am not sure how many of them are living in that little house on the corner with her grandma.  I do know that one of those brothers is allergic to shellfish.  His tongue swells up, and the allergy could kill him.  Another of her older brothers punched her in the mouth one time and knocked out eight of her teeth.  Those teeth are coming back in now, so it must have been awhile ago.  That older brother is ten now.  As soon as they get money from their landlord for treating them so badly they are going to be "crazy rich."  Her eyes lit up when she told me that. 

The things you find out just by asking.  And listening.

Here's the point of this story, the point that still, as I sit here and type this, makes me cry.

Amelie sneaked out of her bedroom later and whispered to Matt and me,

"I would like to have S over for a sleepover sometime.  She has to sleep on her bathroom floor."

Her bathroom floor. 

Really?

How heart-breaking. I just want to go hug her. I just want to ask her to move in.


Later, Amélie followed me into the bathroom and told me that she thinks we should buy her some clothes and toys, because she doesn't have very many.

Suddenly, I saw things differently.  Suddenly, I saw all that I have.  I have enough.  I have too much.  I have enough to give.  And keep giving. 

Some things are more important than granite countertops and trendy cars and sexy jobs and tight bodies. 

My soul needs some work, apparently.
My soul needs people like S to remind me to love. 
   and to give.
          and to be content.
                 and to love and to give some more. 

Jesus appeared to me today.  She had on pink shorts, a pink t-shirt, and had the cutest lisp.

Thanks, S. 
Thanks for reminding me what's important, what's essential, what's eternal.

sick 'n tired of being sick 'n tired

i have nothing profound to say tonight. 
except that i'm sick 'n tired of being sick 'n tired.
ugh.

i think i am getting over this mess.  i had no idea that a sinus infection could just knock a person out cold.  the frustrating thing is that i have been sick since wednesday.  wednesday.  it is now tuesday night.  i didn't start really believing i was sick until monday.  monday.  do you have any idea how upset i am at myself?  why can't i listen to myself?  why can't i listen to my body?  why can't i trust my body when it says, "jill, if walking up your stairs is an effort, and if you wake up in the morning and your eyes are glued shut, if your head feels like it's going to explode, and if you feel like you are walking through a pit of sludge, something is wrong.  lie down.  be quiet.  cancel your appointments.  rest."  why didn't i listen to myself?  that's the frustrating thing.  i don't like being sick, of course--but the thing i really hate is that i didn't listen to myself.  i thought i was doing better with that.
apparently not.

it is now 10:13 p.m.  that little voice in my head is now yelling quite loudly, "GO TO BED!!!" 

i think i might listen to her tonight.  she seems to know what she is talking about.

good night, friends, and stay tuned for a post on how the month of journaling went...and what next month's mindfulness project will be. 

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Blog Walk

Here's a new week of TOS Homeschool Crew blog walkin'....

1. Creative Learners
2. The Homeschool Desk
3. Ramblin' Roads
4. The Stewards Steno
5. Mama Manuscripts
6. Train Up a Child
7. We Love to Homeschool
8. Day by Day in Our World
9. Acorns - or Homeschooling Nuggets of Gold
10. The Berry Patch

TOS Homeschool Crew Review--Peterson-Directed Handwriting

Amélie has been begging me to learn cursive since we pulled her out of public school last January.  When she learned how to write her name in cursive she was so incredibly proud of herself that she showed everyone--and I mean everyone!--how she could write her name.  We pulled back from her previous handwriting program to give Peterson Directed Handwriting a try, and we both certainly learned some valuable knowledge about cursive writing along the way.

Peterson Directed Handwriting is a unique handwriting program whose motto is "The difference is rhythm!"  Instead of sitting right down with a pencil and paper, this program focuses on the entire process of writing and utilizes finger-tracing rather than pencil-tracing in order to imprint the letters in the student's muscle memory.  There are four steps in this process:

1. Demonstrate First--Illustrate and Describe
   This foundational step helps the student learn how to make the strokes.  To make this step even more helpful, Peterson offers animated letter cards.
2. Make the Voice-to-Movement Connection--Air Writing
   By connecting a word or phrase with the correct letter movement, the child is better able to remember how to make the letter.  The animated letter cards are also useful in this step.
3. Help the Child Do the Finger-Tracing
   This is a critical step which helps the child connect his brain skills with his motor skills.  I was a little leery of the idea of completely abandoning pencil-tracing and only doing finger-tracing, but this presentation helped me better understand the science behind the concept.
4. Write and Say
   After steps 1-3 are mastered, the student is finally ready to put lead to paper as she vocalizes the strokes and forms the letters. 

There are definitely several things I like about this program.  Even though the website is a bit confusing, the customer service is exceptional, and any questions a customer may have are answered thoroughly and courteously.  I also really like it that customers can view the product before deciding to purchase it.  You can go here to check out the different handwriting levels and decide which one would be the right fit for you.  Then, if you decide you want to use the program you can go here to buy!  Each workbook is reasonably priced at $19.95.

I also really like the way that the program is research-based.  Many handwriting programs provide colorful worksheets and "look" like they will be useful in teaching children how to write, but Peterson explains the science behind their method and offers plenty of convincing evidence to back it up.  You can go here to check out some of that evidence.  I know I was impressed!

Although the perks to this program are many, I had several concerns when using this product.  As a busy homeschooling mom, I want to be able to open a book, clearly see what the lesson is going to be for the day/week, and then jump right in.  It took me a long time of flipping pages back and forth and a good deal of trial and error and confusion before I started to figure out how we were going to pursue this handwriting method. 

I also have a hard time with the concept of e-books for textbooks. I printed everything off, and then I had to 3-hole-punch the pages and put them in notebooks. I prefer to have all of that done for me ahead of time. ;) However, one advantage to the product being downloadable is that you can buy it and then instantly begin using the program. You can also print off additional sheets for extra practice, and since the book is non-consumable, you can easily use this product with additional children, thus saving you a considerable sum of money.

I think the main difficulty we had with this program, though, is that Amélie had already begun learning her letters with a different handwriting curriculum, and taking a break from her usual program to try to teach her both a new way to learn her letters and a different cursive style was frustrating for her.  I think that Peterson Handwriting would work best for those families who are just starting to teach their students print and/or cursive. 

While the Peterson Handwriting Program may not be the best fit for us, I was impressed with the product and would definitely recommend that other homeschooling parents consider this company for their handwriting curriculum.

Some of my fellow Crew members have also used this program.  If you want to see their reviews and see how the program worked for them, you can do so here.

Disclaimer: As a member of the TOS Homeschool Crew I was provided a free copy of this product for my honest evaluation. I was given no other compensation for this review.

a mixed-up post on dying and living and buying hamburgers for hungry people

This has been a...................week.

Last Friday, my brother-in-law, sister-in-law, and two of my nieces were in a wreck.  An icky wreck.  A scary wreck.  A wreck that involved broken bones and concussions and a life flight helicopter ride to Wesley Hospital in Wichita.  We are ever-so-thankful that, though they are battered and bruised (both physically and emotionally), they are all going to be OK. 

The thing is--I love my family, and I would like to have them around me for a long, long time.

It seems like death and near-death have been hovering over us a bit too closely lately.  A couple of weeks ago my aunt died, and while I hadn't seen her in several years, she was my grandma's older sister, and she looked a little too much like my grandma lying there in that casket. 

I can't even go to that place..........
I love my grandparents so much.  They can't ever die.
Ever.
So there.

And then that same week I had two friends whose grandmothers passed away.

And another friend lost her mom.

And then the scary wreck was last week.

And then two days ago two of my grandparents' best friends died in a car crash. 

I don't like to be reminded of death.  Sometimes Jack freaks me out when he talks about death.  Here's a conversation we had yesterday (when, it should be noted, I was smitten with a sinus headache, was lying on the couch with a blanket over my head, and there is a small chance I could have muttered that I thought I was dying.  I can't exactly remember):

Jack: Mama, are you died?
Me: No.
Jack: Are you dying Mama?
Me (this is when I start to worry that he has some sort of 6th sense about things): No.
Jack: Is Daddy dying you, Mama?
Me: No (although, now that I think about it, was there a bit of a medicinal taste in my blueberry smoothie?  Did my coffee wash down with a bitter aftertaste?  I don't think so.  I'm pretty sure Matt doesn't want to kill me).
Jack: Am I dying, Mama?
Me: No.

Then, he went over to a toy of his sister's, promptly ruined it, and the words that (I kid you not) came out of my mouth were, "Your sister is going to kill you."

Oops.

Inside I was cringing.  And laughing a tiny bit.  And perhaps crying a bit, too.

Dying scares me.  I know I'm not supposed to be afraid of death.  On a technical, theological level, I'm not.  But in real life, I'm scared to death....of death.  I don't want to die, and I don't want anyone else I love to die either.  I get so scared sometimes that my kids or husband or other family member is going to be taken away from me, or that I am going to be taken away from them.  Sometimes, I really start to obsess about this.  Sometimes, I make myself nearly crazy.  It doesn't help that I still have flashbacks from the day that Jack fell backwards off of our porch, which knocked him out and fractured his skull.  As he lay on the ground staring blankly up at the sky, I thought he was dead.  And as I sit here writing this, I still start to cry.  I will never, ever get over that moment.  And I will forever follow him around with outstretched arms to catch him...just in case he falls again.  But always, in the back of my fearful mind, I know that my arms may not be there to catch him the next time he falls.  Or the next time Amelie hangs upside down on the monkey bars.  Or the next time Matt drives his motorcycle.  Or the next time I strap my kids in and merge onto the highway.

I used to not care so much.  It used to be that eros and thanatos, the death instinct and the life instinct, kind of fought for dominance inside of me.  I remember weighing 95 lbs, struggling with an eating disorder, and having my therapist ask me rather incredulously, "You do know you are killing yourself, don't you?"  Well yes, in fact, I did know that.  And somehow I didn't care.  And then there were some really difficult grad school days, and there was a hospital stay, and it was at that time that that scrappy life instinct, eros, start fighting a little bit harder than that destructive instinct, thanatos. 

And today I hang onto that life instinct for dear life.  I don't want to let it go.  Sometimes I want to lock my family into a giant bubble where I can keep an eye on them with 24-hour surveillance.  I would feed them only the best, purest foods.  I would train them in self-defense.  If they left the bubble I would outfit them in protective gear worthy of a riot, a flood, a war, and any other natural or man-made disaster. 

I should probably stop now, huh?  ;)

I am going to end with something happy and positive and worthy of whipped cream and sprinkles: Matt just went out to buy me some sinus medicine, and when he came back he said, "Honey, I'm home!  But I'm kind of late.  I sort of met a guy."  I stopped typing, looked up at him, and waited for the story.  I wasn't surprised, really. He's always "meeting a guy."  So he had met this guy.  His house had been broken into.  He had no food.  He wanted cash.  Matt had none.  So he took him out and bought a meal for him, his wife, and his daughter, with enough leftover for his daughter to take to school tomorrow.  There are those of you who think that this guy just asked Matt for money because he wanted money for cigarettes or beer.  And you know what?  You could be right.  But Jesus, talking about dividing up his true followers from the false ones, said, "I was hungry, and you fed me.  I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink. I was naked, and you clothed me."  He didn't say, "I was hungry, but you made sure you checked my tax form before you fed me.  I was thirsty, but you made sure I didn't have beer-breath first.  I was naked, but you checked first to see how long I had been living on a government stipend." 
Tonight, I'm going to hang onto this story.  This example of the life-instinct, this example of love for a fellow human being, which, when it comes down to it, is all that really matters anyway.