Homeschool At Last

We are homeschoolers. Did you all know that?

In some ways--the most important ways--all literate homes are homeschooling homes, regardless of whether the kids go "off to school" at some point. And literate homes don't start at a certain cut-off date. Generally, it's a from-the-cradle kind of atmosphere, or else it's not really a literate home.

All of which is to say that I've thought of my family as a homeschooling family since Gemma was born.

And I've been a homeschooler at heart for 13 years now. Seriously. I met my first home school family when I was in grad school in Ohio and had a pretty good idea then that this is what I'd want to do.

On our second date, as Bryan and I sat in the ice cream shop in Lebanon, Ohio, talking seriously about what we were looking for in a marriage (Yes, we actually had that conversation on Date #2, and yes, I know that this puts us into a certain class of Dorks), I told him that if I ever had children, I'd want to homeschool them.

He thought it was a great idea. Specifically, he recounted how his chief memory from childhood was a general sense that his mother spent copious amounts of time with him and his siblings, and that he figured homeschooling was a version of this.

So, last Spring, as I looked forward to this Fall, whence Gemma would officially be a "kindergartner," I was trembling with anticipation. I hadn't let myself start "early" with her in any formal way because it didn't seem fair to impede upon her pre-school time just because I couldn't wait to get started.

In June, with the diagnosis, came less than a nanosecond of reconsideration.

My Mom expressed surprise: "You're still going to homeschool?!?"

I'm pretty sure she said it in concern, picturing some great effort that would be exhausting during a time when I would be easily exhausted.

But, come on. We're talking about kindergarten here. And we're also talking about Gemma, who seems to be a very traditional learner. This was a very low-pressure situation.

On the other hand, enrolling her in a school would have invited some seriously mid-grade pressure into our home.

• Getting a kid to school at 8 AM 5 days a week?
• Helping her complete homework each day? (Yes! Kindergartners get homework around here!!! It's madness.)
• Remembering which day to bring a snack for the whole class?
• Bathing her every night?

Forget about it.

I sleep late when I need to. I nap when I need to. I cuddle up with the kids and read books with them all day long and we spend all of 10 minutes each day on her math lesson. Heck. I recommend homeschooling your kindergartner to every chemo patient out there!

We sallied forth as planned. Part of the plan was to meet with a co-op of other homeschoolers. Last Spring, I got a group of families together and over the summer we firmed up our schedule. We meet twice a month--7 mothers, 14 kids--rotating houses. Whoever hosts also presents the lesson/activity. All the others bring the food for the potluck.

The kids range in age from 11 down to 2. Gemma has 2 girls and one boy her age, and it's healthy for all of them to have a lot of big kids around. I was careful to invite terrific women, and we all love our co-op as much as the kids do. It's a wonderful social time for everyone, and I am so thankful that God put it together back in the Spring, to be in place for such a season as this.

I could go on for a long time about how much I love homeschooling and why it is so great for our family. And there will likely be more posts that mention our homeschooling as I am, after all, chronicling the times of our family.

But for now, here is the one unexpected blessing of homeschooling that I've seen now that we are 10 weeks or so into it:

I do not know what memories Gemma and Joshua will have of the time their mother had breast cancer. They've seen me naked, bald and tired. So there's reason to think it will be an odd collection. . .

But I do know that they will remember the following from this time as well: most days, sitting on the floor of our cozy room playing with math manipulatives; reading to each other on the couch; doing projects together and then telling Daddy all about them while we eat dinner.

We are having precious, peaceful, joyful moments together and Gemma and Josh both get that Mommy is not too tired to learn with them.

Tidbits

Lots of little things to report.

1. I've heard from many of you via comments and e-mails that Dr. Science is wrong about this one. That, regardless of the reason for the mild anemia, the treatment--e.g. eating foods high in iron--would be the same.

And as for foods high in iron, I forgot to mention that I've also been eating the heck out of Cheerios, which have 100% dv in just one cup!

Also on the recommended food list is spinach. But my problem is that fresh vegetables are very hard for me to think about, let alone eat right now. And I don't really like cooked spinach. There IS a salad at Applebee's that comes with a bacon vinaigrette dressing that is AMAZING! Anyone have a good recipe for that?

And, of course, I shall not be shying away from red meat.

2. Speaking of which, I ate a piece of steak, leftover from my last broiling adventure, for breakfast yesterday.

Gemma asked, "What are you eating?"

I said, "Steak."

Joshua asked, with much apprehension, "Why are you eating snake?"

And so leads into a few kid-isms I've been meaning to tell you about:

When the weather is nice, the kids and their friends often end up in the backyard, which is awesome, because they don't require much supervision there. So one day, they played for a long time, unsupervised.

Then I went outside myself to pick up the yard a little, and I found myself saying, "No, Josh, don't do that," or, "Josh, you can't throw that," or, "Hey, Josh, put that down."

And he finally said, "Mommy, you need to go inside!"

As for his sweetness:

We have a little game where I hug him and hug him and hug him and say, "I'm going to fill your heart up with love. Tell me when you're all filled up!"

And eventually he says, "All filled up!"

Most recently, he then said, "Now I'll fill YOU up," and he hugged me back and back and back again. Then he said, "Now we're both all filled! You and me!"


We recently enrolled Gemma in a tumbling class. I had promised her last summer that she could do this worship dance class held by a family in our church. But they cancelled it. And I'd been avoiding the topic ever since. After all, we don't have the easiest schedule right now for adding a weekly activity.

But there's a place just up the street that does a really terrific job with the kids AND they offer a class for her at the exact one time of the entire week we knew we'd always be able to take her! So she's pretty excited.

And half the excitement is due to getting a new leotard. She calls it a "leotart."

"Do you know what's fun about a leotart?" she asked. "I can lift up my skirt and you still can't see my underwear!"

Other words she says in such a great way, we don't correct her:

That fantastical animal that looks like a horse with a spike coming out of its forehead?
It's a uni-horn

And the place where you stay on vacations that usually has a swimming pool downstairs?
A hoo-tel.

The animal with all the quills?
That's a poky-pine.

And Betsy's son, who is named TJ?
She has always called him PJ. And we all think it's so cute, that when she's around, we call him PJ too, lest she catch on.

3. Well, went out with a friend yesterday afternoon and it felt great to be out and about. I was pretty tired the rest of the time, but managed to make it to a proper bedtime before going to sleep.

Another friend is coming this morning to take me out. How nice to have so many dates lined up!

Skywards

For us, the hardest part of parenting is enjoying our children. Not that Gemma and Joshua are hard to enjoy. But it's hard to clear out a little room from all the other important stuff--the focus on their characters, the discipline, the training in the admonition of the Lord, not to mention the running of a household and the bringing home of the bacon. When all of that is going on, it's easy to forget that these are two terrific little people who delight us. And who delight in us, too.

Since the diagnosis, it's been a lot easier for me to enjoy these kids.

One such moment:

Bryan brought home a lot of SWAG from Alabama. (Laura guessed it. Alabama??? Why would missile war fighters gather in Alabama? Aren't the country's principle military space programs concentrated here in the Springs? But, yes, we do have some stuff going on in Huntsville.)

SWAG is Stuff We All Get. I don't know if this is a real term, or just one that Michael invented on The Office, which is where I heard it. But I like it. And I'm going with it.

He was without shame in collecting it. Hit every table every day, and as the tables were hosted by various military hardware manufacturers hoping to get the next rocket booster contract, there was a lot of nice SWAG. Laser pointers. Mini flashlights. A lot of calculators. Pens, pens, pens! One of which is in the shape of a rocket and the body of it has a light-up lava lamp thing going on. Canvass tote bags. Stuff, stuff, stuff.

I asked Bryan if anyone was looking at him askance as he "collected." He said, "Everybody was 'collecting'!"

The best of the SWAG were foam rockets with rubber bands on their tips. We took them outside last night and started launching them. They got some serious air. Gemma loved chasing after them and bringing them back to launch again. Joshua held on to one and was determined to fire it. He couldn't do it because the rubber band is heavy duty, but he tried and tried and tried. Then he switched to a different model of rocket that did not have rubber bands and started throwing them, making explosion noises every time one landed. He's 3. I think I'm proud. . .

After a while, it wasn't enough simply to send them skyward. We started launching the same time to see whose went the highest. Then, yes, you saw this coming, we started launching them at each other. Specifically, Bryan fired at me and Gemma swooped in to pick them up. I told her, "Here, Gemma, it's Mommy's turn."

And she said, "No, I'm on Daddy's side!"

Side? There are sides? And you picked him? Where's the love, Gemma?

I was fired upon many times.

Then I cut her fun short and got to the rockets first. Picked them all up and stowed them in my cargo capri's pockets. I had 4 rounds and a target smiling back at me.

"Give something to shoot at!" I told him, thinking he might assume a spread-eagle kind of pose.

Instead, he turned his back to me, canted his hips, looked over his shoulder, then kissed his fingers before using them to pat his butt.

I lost it. Could hardly fire, I was laughing so hard.

This eventually gave way to simply lying on the grass, the 4 of us, watching Bryan launch the rockets above us.

One of the kids on our cul-de-sac drove by in the midst of our activity. "Drove," even though she's 9, in a plastic, battery operated Cadillac Escalade. Gemma and Josh love to drive with her, too, usually. That evening, Gemma looked at her friend, then looked back to me and said, "This is a lot more fun than driving in a plastic car."

Amen.

The time finally came yesterday to show Gemma what was different about Mommy. She asked a few questions about the "why" and "how," was pretty satisfied when I told her that it was this or death, and now Mommy wasn't going to die from cancer.

It was a brief discussion. She's moved on. Couldn't care about what Mommy's shirt looks like.
And the whole life and death discussion is not what my post is about.

My post is about how Gemma is so dang pink. I had wondered if she'd be bothered to see me, because she is all girl all the time, and I wasn't sure how that translated, for her, into body image. Now I see that, for her, it's irrelevant.

She did ask if I would wear headbands once I'm bald so that "People will know you are a girl."

No. A hat, probably, when I'm outside. "And I'll be wearing make-up," I assured her, and this, truly, seemed to comfort her concern.

When my ankle was broken, I wore dresses because they were easier to put on. One day, as I hobbled down the stairs, she asked with great eagerness, "Once your leg is all better, will you still wear dresses???"

When she learns that we're going out to eat, she seizes the opportunity to get dressed up. Bryan often buys her random pieces of costume jewelry from estate sales and she wears them. Not just in play. She wears them out.

On one level, I am mystified: Where did this child come from?

On another level, I am very happy for her. That she can enjoy these girlie things so freely. That it comes so naturally to her whereas, what little girliness I've come into came kind of late and not all that easily.

And on a new level--one just recently discovered--I find her kind of inspiring: a reminder that femininity, which she has reveled in since before her second birthday, is about the heart and not the body. What a perfect little girl for me to have around.

* The photo on the left was taken during our May trip back to IL. Gemma had a "dress up night" with my sister, Aunt Leslie, that was, for Gemma, the highlight of her whole trip. The big difference between what you see here and what you'd see in our home is not just that the woman holding her has a tan, but that the stuff they are wearing is all real.

And, of course, this photo also demonstrates that while the "Girl" gene may not be amplified in me, it is elsewhere in the bloodline.

Not Always So Sweet

How are Gemma and Joshua doing?

Really well. The thing they have going for them is that, like all children, they are extremely self-centered. As long as they feel secure that all is right with their parents, they are all about themselves. They must be pretty secure, then, because they are as self-interested as ever.

It helps that it's summer, and that's the season of friends! They love being outside with the neighborhood children and Gemma's solitary goal these past 3 weeks has been to play with someone. And my neighbors have been so kind and helpful to have her over often for playdates while I've rested at home. Joshua has taken a lot of naps lately, which is his contribution to my recovery. (And probably his way of registering and managing the stress.)

But as for the title of the post. My 2 Gemma and Josh entries thus far portray the sweet side. Here's a little picture of the cherubs when they're not at their best:

2 days before the surgery, we got home in the afternoon following our consult, with the pressure of the srugery vs. chemo first decision newly upon us. Plus, I was about 2 hours away from the start of my sugar reaction to the glucose, and so was already feeling icky.

Mom had suggested we go out to dinner as a family--you know, before the surgery while I was feeling great. We expected a long and painful recovery from what was supposed to be a very severe procedure, so we figured we'd have our fun early.

This is why, when Gemma's next-door-neighbor friend, Kate, invited her over to prance in the sprinkler, Grandma told her "no." That is, we would be heading for the restaurant in less than an hour, soon after Mom and Dad returned.

Plus, Gemma had told her that morning that she had a sore throat. Mom didn't want it to get worse given that she was going to stay at Miss Betsy's the next night for several days. Why not send a healthy kid instead?

Bryan and I, a little stressed out, walked into the scene of Gemma having just been denied a sprinkler dance with her friend.

And she was ticked.

I got the scoop from Mom and figured
a) Got to back Grandma's play--especially since she'll be in charge of the kids for the next 2 weeks and
b) Gemma had developed the habit, back in October when I broke my ankle, of complaining of fake maladies, often imitating whatever pain I was having. Man, it was going to be a long year if she was going to keep doing that. I knew the sore throat thing was not real, so this would teach her to pretend!

When I told Gemma that Grandma was right, there would be no sprinkler action, she freaked out. Started yelling and stomping her foot as she--to her exquisite frustration--searched for the right words to convince me: "But I want to play with Kate SO BAD!"

There's no reasoning with a child in this state. And I felt her frustration. And I felt amused at her foot-stomping. And I remembered being the child throwing the fit.

And in the midst of this, Joshua, the little brother who daily puts up with mothering from Gemma got right up in her face and said, in his older-wiser-too-bad-for-you-voice "No, no, Gemma. You cannot play outside. You cannot play with Kate!"

Gemma stopped her yelling. Stuck her hands on her hips. Pursed her lips and narrowed her eyebrows at him.

He continued with the lecture, "Mommy says you have to stay inside. You cannot play outside, Gemma!"

She reached out and pinched his cheeks in one hand. Pinched his mouth shut. He has big cheeks and his lips looked like a fish and he seemed not to mind his sister's hand on him.

Silence.

Then she let go.

Then he said, "No, no, Gemma. You cannot play with Kate. You cannot play outside. . ."

Then I burst out laughing.

And that really ticked her off.

It ended with her in her room until she could calm down. And my call to Kate's mom to assure that, yes, tomorrow, if it was hot and sunny, they'd do the sprinkler again. And our decision to opt out of the restaraunt because by then no one was in the mood. And then my sugar reaction started, to I was glad not to have wasted the meal.

Betsy' Report

This one came the morning of my MRI and biopsy"


Dear Amy,

Just to let you know, we are having a wonderful time with the kiddos!

I wanted to share a beautiful response from Josh tonight, just in case you check your e-mails and want to carry something heartwarming with you tomorrow. Josh was gleefully eating his brownie tonight. What a happy munchkin.

I asked him if brownies made him happy. He replied, "No". I asked him what made him happy. "Jesus", he replied matter of factly. This was COMPLETELY on his own. What a beautiful response from such a young little boy.

You are an excellent teacher and mom.

Love, Betsy

Betsy's Report

Our dear friend, Betsy, is like a grandmother to our kids. Gemma and Josh love her (and Mr. Terry and their two teens, Amy and PJ) and they love to have long visits at their house. Thank You, Jesus for this family!

Betsy wrote in with a few reports while I was in the hospital:


Dear Amy,

Tonight, PJ was tapping underneath the kitchen table during the bedtime snack.

Gemma said, "I know that is you PJ, because my ears pick up a signal and send a picture to my brain so that I know it is you."

PJ thinks she has been sneaking out to Harvard in her spare time.

Josh hit his head on the table trying to get down after snack. PJ ran to his rescue (rats- missed my chance to cuddle!) and held him. He did not want me to cuddle him!

PJ asked him if he was a tough little boy. "No, I am not, but I will rescue myself first!", he replied. Such little cuties.

Thank you for letting us take them for a few days. We are praying for you LOTS and LOTS! You have a whole lotta' love going up for you!

Love, Betsy