Picnics and Poetry

We are jumping off of the conveyor belt. I've been studying about Leadership Education and specifically the Thomas Jefferson Education learning style and I am in love. To quote Robert Frost, this educational philosophy "makes [me] remember what [I] didn't know [I] knew."

Basically, it is about letting children be children while they are young. It is about loving life and learning to love learning, studying the classics for hours at a time when we feel inspired and taking time to enjoy the beauty of simple pleasures in all their abundance.

So this afternoon the kids and I seized the opportunity to enjoy the sunshine on a winter day. We put the math and English and science books away for the day. We brought a blanket outside to the front yard and they enjoyed a picnic while I read some beautiful poetry to them and we discussed it. We learned about rhythm and rhyme as we clapped out the stanzas. We discussed some background history of Robert Frost, William Shakespeare, Elinor Wylie and Walter de la Mare. Then the children finished their lunch, laid back on their pillows and learned to enjoy the cadence of "musical rhythms and liquid phrasing" (Poetry for Young People) as I read several poems about winter. This afternoon we all learned to love and live in the moment.

This is what love of learning looks like to me.

Message in the Sand

Anyone who has talked with me recently knows of the struggles I've had with the public school system this year and trying to get help for my daughter who may have dyslexia. It has been an uphill battle month after month trying to communicate with teachers, counsellors, principals, special education directors--I've even been in contact with state education officials trying to advocate for my daughter.

And it has been hard. Emotionally gruelling. Trying to stay as involved in her education at school as possible I have tried to work with the teacher in volunteering in the classroom and participating in class activities and field trips. Even that has not been an easy door to gain access to. Sometimes I would ask myself if all the work and struggles were ever going to be worth it.

Finally, I invited myself to her class "Winter Party" in December. It was a quiet affair (eating nachos and silently watching a movie) and since the parents weren't actually invited, I was the only one in there besides the teacher's own mom. Since we didn't get much interaction during the 'party' I decided to stay for recess afterwards.

It was cold and I hadn't planned on being outside so I didn't have a coat with me. Most of the kids were too frozen to play anything so Leah and I huddled together near the slides in the sandbox until I suggested some of the kids draw hopscotch patterns in the dirt so we could play. But instead of drawing hopscotch squares Leah proudly presented me with a gift I will never forget.

Right there in the middle of the playground on a cold, blustery day I remembered why I had been fighting the fight for this little girl all year long and the reason why I will never stop. Her words may have been written in the sand but they will be etched in my heart forever. I love my sweet girl and she loves me. What more reason does a Momma Bear need?

I'm gonna miss this...

Being a parent is tough stuff. Some days I thought toddlerhood was going to be the death of me with potty training, constant messes, temper tantrums and sleepless nights. I used to secretly scoff at the older, seasoned parents who promised me I would miss those days. I was certain I would not. But there was a tiny bit of rationality left in my brain that whispered they might not be all that wrong.

Of course they were right. I only have one toddler left and half the time I forget she is only two. I've learned to let go of the need to have a spotless house and perfectly manicured children. Heck, sometimes they run around the house with pudding on their hands and faces sporting their favorite princess dress they have been wearing since the day before.

And when that little someone crawls up onto my lap and wants me to read her a story or watch her dance or whispers, "Mommy. I need to tell you a secret!" my whole world can stop for a little while and revolve around her because--I know I'm going to miss this.

Glenn Beck and homeschooling

Monsters in My House!

We had a birthday boy at our house last week. I cannot believe how much my little man has grown up. Once a chubby, hyper, mischevious toddler he has matured into a tall, intelligent, sensitive young man. I'm so glad I chose to homeschool him this year. I appreciate having the opportunity to watch his progress as he flies through his work and is becoming such a competent reader and a lover of learning.

For his birthday all the cousins were invited over for a Monster Bash. The Aunties and I helped the kids with a couple of crafts (monster pillows and magnets) and the kids ran around the house being, well...

...little monsters!

Thankful

It's November. The month where we count our blessings and remind ourselves that we have so much more than we even realized. And while I am grateful for things like a warm home, a running vehicle and hot chocolate, I have come to realize that people and relationships are what matter most of all. The hard times I've been through this year have led me to make an inventory of the relationships in my life. Some of them, like evergreens, stay true no matter the season. You can count on them to always be there.

People are what help you through the difficult times and make the good times even better. So right now I am thankful for the friends and family who have said, "let me know if there is anything you need" but I truly appreciate the ones who actually figured it out themselves and did it whether it was a phone call, a prayer, a dinner, or a hug. It really, truly makes a difference and that type of genuine kindness and compassion will make an impact on this grateful heart forever.

I'm thankful for a husband who is, quite frankly, amazing. He has more faith, love, strength and kindness than any other person I've ever known. I am thankful he has been by my side during my darkest and weakest moments.

I'm thankful for my children. I came home from the hospital yesterday after losing our second baby this year to the beautiful faces of my children who greeted me with such love and compassion and concern that it filled my heart with those sweet swellings of tender mother-love. Jimmy spoke to the family last night about our latest loss and explained that even though we prayed for a miracle and asked that our baby be allowed to come, the Lord had other plans we don't know about. Roman gently stroked my arm as he sat curled up beside me. His sweet little face looked up at mine and he softly said, "At least you still have us, mama." So true, my son. And I'm so thankful.

Yes, it's been a tough year. One that, frankly, I'll be glad to see go next month and hope that another like it will not come again. But even if it does--and chances are more challenges will arise--I hope I can hold on to all that I have instead of looking back at what I lost.

October 18

Dear River,

While due dates are theoretical, yours is cemented in my heart forever. October 18. I should be holding you in my arms right now. But instead of smelling your newborn breath and stroking your soft, fuzzy head I am left alone with the haunting memories of your short-lived life, with the joy that was plucked from my womb too soon and a life that was robbed of you. Yes. I am missing you tonight.

Exactly five months have passed since I delivered your still little body and looked in horrified awe at your perfectly formed features. For one small moment to me it seemed you were just asleep. A tiny babe still sleeping. And for the past couple of months it seemed my bottomless grief and loss--my emptiness--had finally grown quiet as well. But as the weeks and days of this date have drawn near I have felt their stirrings within me. The sadness has not died. It was only sleeping.

I do not grieve because I am afraid I will never see you again. I know I will. I do not cry because I don't understand why you had to go away. And I do not think Heavenly Father will count it against me that my mother-heart still aches to hold and know you. I know about hope and faith and The Resurrection. I know about love and trust and patience. But I also know about heartache and emptiness and healing.

My tiny son, you might have been laid to rest five short months ago, but clearly you have not been forgotten. Thank you for teaching me that life is precious, painful, short, sacred. You were my gift that no one can take away.

Love Always,
Your Mother