Three non-negotiable essentials for the first week of school:
Duh
That's essentials for Mom, in case it wasn't obvious.
For years I've chuckled quietly at the computer screen or told my family over dinner, “You won't believe the hysterical thing someone said in that homeschool group.”
For years I've spent every November/December nearly paralyzed by the volume of FB notifications that would flood my in-box: Wake up to 35 unread messages, 80 by dinner time, 143 by bed. Why? Because of a Secret Sister ornament exchange and prayer partnering through a support group for homeschooling moms who use a certain curriculum. I'd done the exchange once back in 2007ish, then took a few years away from homeschooling, and was shocked and delighted...
In honor of the last week of our homeschool co-op, I'm going to give you an inside peek at what we do all day. Like the reason I don't answer the phone, respond to emails, keep my house clean (enough), and say "No" to (almost) every invitation. Because when I answer the phone, respond to emails, clean the house, or volunteer for whatever-the-h@ll-someone-thinks-I-ought-to-have-time-to-do-since-I'm-just-a-stay-at-home-mom...
A couple days ago I had to Google, “What do middle aged women wear to indie rock concerts?” I came up with lots of pics of denim and leather and high-heeled boots. Not much different than what I expected young women to wear, except fewer backless shirts.
When I picked up my also-middle-aged friend (ok, not really, we're still young! Middle age means, like 79, right?) she was wearing the requisite jeans, tank top, jacket. I'd opted for...
Sure, my sanity is always questionable. But somehow she talked me into it. I may have even suggested it myself. A tenth birthday shindig with none other than a Murder Mystery theme.
This year has not been easy. Every moment is packed with more than I can do...
At least once in any lifetime we'll meet someone who instantaneously irritates every nerve in our bodies...
The beginning is always the same. Middle of the night, a child cries, I listen and hope. Perhaps sleep will return. A fool's hope, I know.
Today was a first. The first Turkey day in which all the kids ATE some of everything, the first time each kiddo had his/her own dish to make, and it was, of course, Rowdy's first ever Thanksgiving.
Quite a while ago, Dr. D and I watched the documentary, Sick, Fat and Nearly Dead. Not long after, we bought a juicer with the plan...
We've heard of racism and ageism, sexism and more, but over the weekend we experienced yet another "ism." It could be seen as a sort of reverse ageism, I suppose. It's nothing less than: "Kidism."
