Archive for » September, 2009 «

A (Home School) Teacher Work Day

Yes, we need them too.

The following are good reasons for a home school teacher/mom to take a work day…

  • The house is a mess.
  • Mountains of laundry are cropping up.  It’s particularly bad if you can hardly reach the knobs on the washer.
  • You threw a party celebrating your daughter’s 13th birthday over the weekend where you entertained and fed about 20 of her friends.
  • Four of the friends spent the night at your house on Saturday.
  • Your son played in a baseball tournament on the same weekend in a town over an hour away.
  • On Sunday your baby screamed in the car all the way to said town because it was just the two of you.  Usually he has someone in the back seat to entertain him.  You pull over on the side of a country road three times to stick his pacifier in his mouth.  He waits until you’ve just pulled back out on the road before he continues his lament.  You try handing him everything within arm’s reach:  a diaper, a plastic spoon, a hat, the cigarette lighter.  Nothing works.  You’ve never been so envious of the dead opossum you passed on the side of the road, and you vow to never be alone with him in the car again….even if it means picking up a hitchhiker.
  • It’s September.  The ragweed counts are high.  You’re highly allergic to ragweed.  You’re dying.
  • The Bears play their season opener on Sunday night.  They lose.  To the Packers.  You cry yourself to sleep and wake up groggy.

Just one or two of the above reasons would make a good case for canceling school today to focus on your house, your lesson plans, your sinuses, on why your life is so lame that you cry over an NFL game.  I, however, have ALL of those reasons.

It is 9:10 AM on Monday.  All of my children are still in their beds.  And I don’t care.

Today I’m Zombie Mom.

I had something completely different in mind to post today, but it was actually going to take a bit more of my brain than I have access to this morning.  I think I’m running on about 30% right now, although I’m halfway through with my coffee, so I may be reaching 35% shortly.

Last night Cap’n Jack Henry woke up at about 10:30, when I was heading to bed and decided to stay up until almost 1:00 for no other reason than to chew on my pajama shirt and watch the last episode of “Lost”, season 4.  It was a brutal two hours….both here in my house and on that island.

I think he was a tad wound up from having watched President Obama’s address earlier in the evening.  He could hardly take his eyes off the television, and every time the crowd clapped, he clapped too.  I would firmly try to hold his excited hands and say, “No, no Jack Henry.  We do not clap about universal health care.”  But it was to no avail.  He still clapped.  He still watched.  And then later he had night terrors.

Poor baby.  Poor me.

So, my picture thought for the day is this….

…how can someone so cute be so mean at 12:30 in the morning?

I Like Museums.

But when Bonny Annie told me that her tutorial’s history club was planning a trip to the Bethesda Museum, I was like, “Huh?!”  The unincorporated area of Bethesda is approximately six miles from our house, we’ve lived here for almost eight years, and I was unaware that Bethesda had anything more than grass, cows, beautiful country homes, a gas station and an elementary school. 

Well, apparently they also have a museum.

Our arrival in the parking lot and view of the building did nothing to bump up my enthusiasm.

Neither did the sign that greeted us at the front door.

The little man who served as our tour guide began his speech by telling us that he had a chronic cough and that if he had one of his coughing fits to not worry, that he was not spreading germs.  I’m still trying to figure that one out, but I still kept Jack Henry, who was strapped to me in the Ergo carrier, at least ten feet or so away from him.

Despite my initial skepticism and suspicions of our coughing guide, I enjoyed the thirty minutes or so that I spent browsing the roughly 2,000 square feet of the Bethesda Museum.

They actually have a pretty interesting array of things there.

Who remembers Diet Rite?  And why is it so difficult to find soda in glass bottles nowadays anyway?  It always tastes better in glass bottles.

Harrison wanted to know what this was…

And I told him it was what parents thunked their kids with when they made too much noise in tiny, dusty museums.

Just kidding.  I told him it was an iron, and that we had an electric one at home.  He said he’d never seen it.  And then I thunked him.

I liked their quilt display.  I like to think about the women who hand-stitched them, about who they were, what they were like, and if they too needed to thunk their children.

I love old books, especially ones like this.

Picnic fun from the tree-top house?  I have to find a copy of this.

Mow-pram rides?  Charming.  Dangerous, but charming.

I would not have wanted the job of running this scoreboard.

Leave it to Harrison to find the Lego predecessors.

They also had several shelves of more modern specimens.  I think we had a camera just like this.

And I remember this…

We had the Atari, which I think came a little after the Odyssey.  I’m a little concerned about the packaging…

The mind of a compute…?  I’m hoping it was the archaic technology of the early 80s that caused the makers to miscalculate how much room they needed on their box to finish their sentence.  Well, actually it’s a dependent clause masquerading as a sentence, but we don’t need to get technical here.

And, of course, no museum collection is complete without a Commodore 64.

Annaleigh browsed around a little more with her friends, but at this point, I had to go wait in the car because Cap’n Jack Henry was tired of trying to stuff my necklace in his mouth and was starting to grunt and bounce a lot.

So, what’s your take-home from my Tuesday afternoon experience?  Find the smallest, most obscure area on your surrounding map and find out if they have a museum with a coughing guide.  You’ll enjoy it.

You know, I don’t think that little man coughed one time, now that I think about it.

A Letter to My Teenaged Daughter

Dear Bonny Annie (on the day after your 13th birthday),

Wow!  You’re a teenager.  What a milestone!

The teen years can be tricky.  I know…I’ve been there.  As your mother, I think it’s important to share with you some tips and tricks for maneuvering these coming choppy waters.  Since I’m a pirate, you should listen to me and heed carefully.  I know what I’m talking about.

  • First of all, boys are overrated.  Someday, probably when you’re about 33,  God will send a boy into your life who is just like your father.  But until then, just leave them alone.  Don’t look at them.  Don’t talk to them.  Definitely don’t touch them.  You know what?  Don’t even think about them.
  • Driving is overrated.  Don’t worry about it.  I will take you anywhere you need to go, unless where you need to go involves boys, until you’re about 33, and then your husband, who is just like your father, can take you.
  • Leaving home is overrated.  I know many parents expect their kids to leave around age 18.  21 at the latest.  Your Dad and I don’t expect this.  I need you here to pour Dirty Harry’s cereal and hold Jack Henry so that I can shower.  Also, if you leave, I will be alone with all of these dirty boys.  You can stay until you’re about 33….rent free.
  • Purple hair, eyeliner, belly-button piercings, loud music, mood swings…..all overrated.  Trust me.  Leave these things alone.  They will kill you.
  • Stop rolling your eyes.  They WILL get stuck one day in the back of your head.  I believe this happens at approximately 4,231 times.  I have lost track at the number you’re on, but it has to be getting close.  Your eyes are too pretty to get stuck like that.
  • Contrary to popular belief, your dad and I do remember what being a teenager is like, and things haven’t changed that much sense the 80s.  Well, except for computers, and cell phones, and the President, and Michael Jackson is deceased.  Never mind….we know nothing about being teenagers.
  • No, you can’t borrow my car, my money, my perfume, or my make-up.  Ever.
  • I know where you are, what you’re doing and what you’re thinking at all times.  I can’t tell you how I can do this, or I’d have to lock you away in a tower for the rest of your life.  Wait a minute….come here….I need to tell you something….
  • I’m kidding about all of this.  Except for the boys.
  • I’m proud of you.
  • I love you.

Love,

Your Pirate Mom

Category: Bonny Annie  Tags: , ,  7 Comments
I Like Rain.

And while I’m at it, I also like peanut M&Ms, strong coffee, sunburns, the smell of gasoline, baby feet, hot showers, pumpkin pie, Yankee candles, avocados, back rubs, Christmas Eve, puppy breath, Jane Austen, hard rock, Big D’s tattoos, leather journals, Sawyer on “Lost”, karaoke, baseball, Bonny Annie’s and Dirty Harry’s freckles,  chili in the crockpot, fresh tomato on my pizza, Jeep Collin’s jewelry, Juicy Couture parfume, autumn, facebook, Scrabble, funny movies, Jack Sparrow, poetry, painted toe nails, Diet Coke, blogging, getting the mail, LL Bean, Snoopy, black toile, scrapbook paper, bonfires, turtles, American history, skulls, Beth Moore, good inky pens, sage green, fairs, the Chicago Bears, sweaters, salsa, Cracker Barrel, the library, hardwood floors, my watch, blueberries with my cereal, and bubblebath.

I like Sawyer because he makes me laugh.  That’s all.

What do you like?

Why You Might NOT Want to Wait Until Your Baby Is 9 Months-Old to Have Him Dedicated in Church

  1. The baby may kick his legs constantly, making him difficult to hold.
  2. This may prove distracting for those in attendance who are trying to listen to what the pastor is saying.

     3.  The baby may become bored and eventually rip your glasses from your face and wave them around in the air.

     4.  This may prove distracting for those in attendance who are trying to listen to what the pastor is saying.

     5.  The baby may smile, laugh and coo a lot.

     6.  This may prove distracting for those in attendance who are trying to listen to what the pastor is saying.

     7.  Your baby may try to unloose the blue pen you have clipped to your shirt, and when he fails, he may try to just chew on it where it is, which may look like he’s trying to nurse.

     8.  This may also prove distracting for those in attendance who are trying to listen to what the pastor is saying….especially since you’re Big D and can’t nurse.

The good news is, when all is said and done, your baby will be so worn out from all of his shenanigans, that he will  pass out cold.

…and ultimately, he WILL be dedicated to the Lord.

Amen.

The Pluto Dilemma

Pluto was demoted from planet status a little over three years ago in August 2006.  I don’t know why exactly, but this made me a little sad at the time.  But I moved on and, honestly, have thought very little about Pluto ever since.

Until yesterday…

The curriculum, Considering God’s Creation,  I’m using for Harrison this year for science is outdated, at least where planets are concerned.  They still teach that our solar system has nine planets, and that Pluto is full-fledged and not a dwarf planet.  That’s fine.  I just reminded Harrison of the media events of three years ago and moved on.  But when I was teaching him my tried and true acrostic to learn the planets’ names, I was stumped.  This is the same acrostic that I cut my planetary teeth on a few decades ago.  It’s the same one that I taught Bonny Annie just four years ago.  It works.  Teach them the above, and kids will learn the planets and their order.

Now that Pluto has been stripped, how would you alter the saying?  My very eager mother just served us noodles?  Now that just doesn’t work.  What is eager about serving noodles?  How about My very eager mother just served us nothing?  How bland.  No, she has to serve us something.  My very eager mother just served us naked?  Wrong on so many levels.  My very eager mother just served us nectarines?  Oh brother.  We need pizza!  We need Pluto!

You know, now that I’m pondering this whole situation, I think Uranus would have been the planet to boot.  I mean you can’t mention that planet without getting  snickers….not even to the solitary nine year-old fourth grader at your dining room table.  Without Uranus, the acrostic still works:  My very eager mother just served nine pizzas.  See?  She doesn’t have to serve them to us.  She just has to serve pizzas, otherwise the whole sentence just falls flat.

Okay, who’s with me?  Keep Pluto.  Boot Uranus.

Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I have a petition to write….

Category: homeschooling  Tags: , ,  7 Comments

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