Week 4: The Honeymoon Is Over

It started out well and good.  Monday morning.  We can do this week!  Here we go!

Then my friend texted me and reminded me not to take Noah to Mother's Day Out because it was Martin Luther King Jr. Day and all the schools were out.  Oh and do we want to come hang out for the morning with all the other out-of-school kiddos.  My willpower and schoolwork plans left me and desire for female conversation and coffee took over and we packed it up and left for much-appreciated community.

"Oh, we'll just finish up our schoolwork later this afternoon," thought I.

Fast forward to Friday, and we were still playing catch up from Monday's missed day.   Anna had a grumblish week, as it slowly dawned on her that homeschool really truly Mommy-isn't-kidding-around means reading, writing and math everyday.  I had the same grumblish week, as it slowly dawned on me that I really truly had left my former Hey-let's-all-drop-everything-and-spend-the-morning-drinking-coffee-at-Francine's-house life.

It isn't as if I can't still engage in spontaneous socialization every once in awhile.  But now if I do, there is catch-up work that must be done.   It also became obvious to me that the girl... well, she's always with me.  With me.  With me.  With me.  Me to the with.

Truly, on the whole, I have been surprised by how natural most of this homeschool life feels to me.  It feels so much more "normal" now to not have Anna away from home for 8 hours every day.  That was the way of life that felt odd in my bones.  But this week seemed to drive home the sacrifice aspect of our decision to homeschool.  It's going to be long and tedious and mundane and boring sometimes.  There are going to be other things I wish I was doing.  We are going to get off-track at times.  I am going to have to juggle ten things at once most days.  We are going to have some weeks where I am still having to reteach Monday's math on yet again on Friday because my child just cannot figure out why "half past six" is the same as 6:30.

(And then there is the crabby, rebellious part of me who wants to just say WHO CARES and throw the lesson in the trash.  I mean, who really says "half past six" anyway?  We are not living in Mary Poppins' merry ole England.  Really.  I mean, come on already.)

Week 3: The Girliest Girly Girl Treasure Box Ever

Yes, I realize that this treasure box looks like something that Miss Piggy might have barfed up in her Muppet Theater dressing room.  (But that was sort of the point, since we got the idea from my all-time favorite craft book, The Muppet Big Book of Crafts.)

It may be a blinged-out eye sore, but come on... just tell me that you wouldn't have loved this treasure box when you were a 7 year-old girl?

Week 2: Crazy Huge History Timeline

The Adams SynChronological Map of History

Math is not my strong suit.

When I ordered this timeline, I was expecting it to be about 1/4 of this size.  Great Googly Moogly. 

But it is amazing.  Look at those colors!  Look at all that information!  I feel faint.  One of the things that got me excited about homeschooling to begin with, was getting to teach history.  I loooooooooooove history.  Well... that's sorta weird to say, since so many awful events have occurred throughout history.  I guess I looooooooooooove learning about history.

I was an Art major in college, and I almost minored in Art History.  Oh Art History, I love you so.  You little minx, you.  But I couldn't bring myself to do it.  I knew I was already bound to be unemployable with that Art major hanging over me, and adding Art History would have just pushed me over the edge.  Instead, I minored in the the vague Communications, where I took courses like "The Vietnam War Throughout Film" and "The History of Animation."  You know, so much more practical.  Eye roll.  Whatever.  At least I didn't minor in Dramatic Set Design.

Anyway, back to my hot and heavy love affair with history.  Smoochie smooch.  Ironically, my passion was once nearly quenched when I was 20 years old and studying abroad in Florence, Italy, of all places.  First of all, in Italy, the art itself can almost send you into sensory overload.  Sometimes, it is just too. much.  You just want to turn it off and watch a coat rack for awhile.  But even their coat racks are beautiful, so you can't.  That was a small part of my problem.

But the real problem--the ghastly monster who almost destroyed my love of both art and history--was named Helen.  At my art school, the only professor of Art History was a certifiable OCD nutjob.  I've blocked her last name from my memory, but her first name is stuck in there forever... Helen Helen Helllllllllllllen.  Helen, an American expat in Italy, had been at that school for many many years, and it pains me to think of how many art lovers this woman probably destroyed over time.   In class, we flipped through art slides at lightening speed, unable to keep up with the dry and boring facts that Helen flatly rattled off.  On field trips, we literally ran from church to cathedral to museum, barely glancing at monumental works of art, while a trail of spewed facts jabbed into our skulls.  As students, we were constantly scolded for drifting off, not "appreciating" the art enough or trying to listen to other tour guides.  Some students took to sneaking off to drink wine in small Italian villages we visited.  I finally tucked headphones inside my cap, listening to old "Police" songs in an attempt to drown out the pratterings of Helen.  I will forever think of angrily staring at Renaissance paintings in freezing cold churches when I hear "Don't Stand So Close To Me."  When I was actually reprimanded for spending too much time in "awe" in the Sistine Chapel (approximately 15 minutes), I almost snapped.  I went and hid behind some scaffolding to keep from having a professor verbal smackdown in the middle of the Vatican.   I look back and cannot believe that, because of one mentally ill teacher, my love of Art History was almost ruined.

But no, Helen, did not ultimately kill my joy.   It took awhile to recover... but I think I am ready to jump back in and study some great art and some fascinating history.

Week 1: Derailed

Cave Painting

Our first week started lovely.  Anna announced the first day that she loved homeschooling and she loved history and she loved me.  She didn't throw any fits during math and I actually was able to explain it to her.  She made a cave painting.  We read several books.  I felt like I was accomplishing major feats of strength. 

Then, of course, mid-week, Noah got sick and whiny and demanded to be held.  None of us changed out of our pajamas for several days.  There was lots of snot and old "I Love Lucy" episodes and unwashed hair.  I tried to still at least make Anna do her math everyday.  By Friday, though, I succumbed to the virus myself and parked my feverishly pathetic self on the couch while my husband herded children.  Math schmath.

Virus: 1.  Ellen's Perfectly Laid-out Plans: 0.

Oh well, my plans were bound to get obliterated sooner or later, so it's probably good that it all got derailed from the get-go.  Life is going to happen.  God just wants me to try my best at this homeschool thing... He is really the one in charge anyhoo.