Moms, acting and vocation

Willa has an excellent post this morning about answering the call to one's vocation, and the connection to the ways in which we mother our children.

Willa says:

For some reason, this thought that vocation comes calling, so to speak, is a reassuring one to me. Weigel says that Karol Wojtyla, living in post-WWII Poland, did not choose to become a priest and devote his life to God. He had planned to become an actor/scholar. Rather, he felt strongly that the priesthood chose him, that he had received a call.

This touches on how I try to teach the idea of vocation to my children: that we have no idea what we'll be called to do. Oh, yes -- we have our interests, our ideas and goals, our ambitions and our predictions, but we still really don't know what God has in mind for us.

I didn't set out to become a Catholic, homeschooling mom. I originally majored in theater in college. (Not that I don't do plenty of acting as a mom ....) God has a funny way of sideswiping us, knocking us down with His plans and then helping us up. And, while we regain our balance and refocus our vision, we finally begin to see that His way, really, is oh-so-much better.

Confessions of Bloggers

Valerie at Barefoot and Pregnant recently had a commenter suggest to her that she should "blog less and pray more." Yikes. Amazing that someone who has time to surf and read blogs could also find the time to spiritually direct others.

Valerie, for what it's worth, keep the balance you've found. You seem to have it figured out, even without the wisdom of that particular reader.

The Authentic Catholic Woman

Last week I sent a review of this book off to Canticle magazine. Since it won't be published until November, I can't reproduce the review in its entirety here. But, let me just say that this book is worth every penny. I loved it, thought it was beautifully done, and recommend it to anyone wanting a clear and concise explanation of why "woman's work" is important. This is authentic feminism.

Why we were up as early as we were

Ramona: Mommy, Mr. Putter was on my bed. And I was petting him.

Me: Oh, is that what woke you up?

Ramona: No, he didn't wake me up. He was just purring really loudly so I woke up to pet him.

Something tells me it's all happening at the zoo

That's why we were there twice in four days.

And we visited some friends, swam with them, walked with them, talked with them, drank wine with them (well, not all of us), shopped, ate, and became positively punchy by the time we were finished with the Children's Museum.

That's why I haven't been here.

But I'm back.

And now I'm going to bed.

Saints, family and Toy Story

Check out Barry Michaels' new blog, Cloud of Witnesses. It's about saints -- both those who have been canonized by the Church and the little ones Barry is raising at home.

It's a really lovely blog that combines great information on the saints with a loving dad's pictures of his kids.

The Toy Story reference? Apparently someone at Barry's house watched it recently.

Busy, busy, busy here ...

... so won't be bloggin', bloggin' bloggin' much the next few days.

Enjoy all those links over there in the sidebar.

Ever have one of those days ...

... wherein four people and a cat all want to talk to you at the same time and you haven't even brushed your teeth yet?

... wherein three people (the cat seems to have given up and the husband really just wanted to be sweet and say good morning) are clamoring for your attention and you haven't even stepped into the shower yet?

... wherein once you do step into the shower, three people come in to the bathroom and talk to you?

... wherein one of those people (the four-year-old one who shall remain nameless) steps into the shower with you, because -- really, now -- why on earth would you want to be alone in the shower? And then while you're lathering the nameless one's hair, two other people come in to ask if we're going swimming today and will our friends be there and what's for dinner tonight?

Ever have one of those?

Want one?

I know just the people to provide you with it.

The Schoolhouse Rocks

Visit Lissa at The Lilting House for The Carnival of Homeschooling, Week 30. It's a rockin' theme from a Schoolhouse Rock fan of a mom.

There's plenty for non-homeschoolers to savor as well ... many of these posts go to the heart of parenting, no matter how your children are educated.

Enjoy!

CM today

From today's Charlotte Mason excerpt, found at AmyAble's new blog, A Full Life: The Works of Charlotte Mason

"One thesis, which is, perhaps, new, that Education is the Science of Relations, appears to me to solve the question of curricula, as showing that the object of education is to put a child in living touch as much as may be of the life of Nature and of thought. Add to this one or two keys to self knowledge, and the educated youth goes forth with some idea of self management, with some pursuits, and many vital interests."

One of the first things that attracted me to Charlotte Mason's ideas was this "Science of Relations" business. It matched up so perfectly with my (admittedly limited at the time) observations about how my own child learned. Anne was constantly making connections about things in her world, in our world.

Reading a book about ducks would lead to talking about baby ducks, which would lead to talking about baby people, which in turn led to playing with our own baby person, her little sister, and that led to counting said person's fingers and toes. Amidst satisfied giggles from baby-person-Betsy, Anne would ask about how God made babies, and how did God make dirt, for that matter? And did God have sisters? And speaking of dirt, could we go outside and play in some?

I could have said, "Now, now, hold your horses. One thing at a time. We can either talk about science (ducks and human reproduction), or math (counting those scrumptious little toes), or about theology, or we can go do P.E., but we can't jumble it all up like that. One subject at a time, please."

No, no, no. Anne didn't break the world into "subjects" ... that would have been absurd. All the "subjects" are connected. So, why should I attempt to divide the whole world into subjects? Learning seemed to happen more quickly, more completely, and in a more integrated way when I allowed the Science of Relations to influence our "studies."

One might argue that it's all well and good for a toddler to follow connections in an
If You Give a Mouse a Cookie sort of way, (and, of course, one of the reasons I love Laura Numeroff's books is that she understands how children's minds work) but continuing to do so as they get older will just lead to ADD. Hmmm. Maybe. But, my personal experience has been that following connections and looking for the ways in which the "subjects" are interconnected has paved the way for a greater appreciation for what a real education is. For example, when we read about Archimedes were we covering history or math or science?

The kids, ahem, didn't really care which category it fell into.

I remember the first time another child asked my kids what their favorite subject was. Anne and Betsy were about 8 and 6 years old, and they looked at the child as if she were a Klingon. "What do you mean?" they asked.

I explained the whole school-and-subjects thing. I told them that since they loved books of historical fiction, they could honestly say that two of their favorite subjects were "reading" and "history." Or, because they loved to draw and paint, they could say "art." Or, because they loved to swim and ride horses, they could say, "P.E." But, really, I assured them it isn't important to break it all down into subjects. It can be helpful, especially where the Dewey decimal system is concerned (and that led to another discussion) but it wasn't necessary.

So.

That's my take on today's bite-sized chunk of Charlotte Mason.

Be a rebel. Don't do subjects.

Tags: Charlotte Mason, home education, curriculum

Discouraged?

Consider today's first Mass reading, from II Cor. 4:7-15:

But we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us. We are troubled on every side, but not distressed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our body. For we who live are constantly being given up to death for the sake of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. We have the same Spirit of faith, according to what is written, "I believed, therefore I have spoken." We also believe and therefore speak, knowing that He who raised up the Lord Jesus will raise us up also by Jesus, and will present us with you. All things are for your sakes, so that, to the glory of God, the abundant grace overflows through the thanksgiving of many.

It's all in the perspective

Debra Murphy of Idylls Press finds some terrific quotes. (You can sign up, by the way, to receive her writing-related quotes here.)

This week, she had this:

One of the great temptations of young writers is to believe that all the people in the subdivision in which he grew up were fools and hypocrites in need of blasting or instruction. As he matures, the writer will come to realize, with luck, that the people he scorned had important virtues, that they had better heads and hearts than he knew. The desire to show people proper beliefs and attitudes is inimical to the noblest impulses of fiction."

--John Gardner, "The Writer's Nature" in On Becoming a Novelist (Harper Colophon Books, 1983)

It reminds me of something Garrison Keillor said a long time ago (and I can't find the actual quote ... arrrghhh .... ) It was along the lines of thinking, when he was young, that old people were always saying stupid things -- but, as he aged and saw beauty in something he had once ridiculed, he said, "Now I see that the stupid people were right."

Ramona is 4

Yes, it's official. My littlest one is now what the world refers to as a "preschooler." But, according to Ramona, she doesn't yet feel four. She still feels three.

"Hmmm," I said. "When do you think you'll feel four?"

"Oh, I think by tomorrow."

"And what will four feel like?"

"Ummm ... tall."

"Well," said I, her short reduced-height mother. "Don't count on it."

Update:

Ramona just came down the stairs alternating feet, rather than doing the toddler-two-step, and was immensely proud of herself.

"Wow!" I said, "Now that's something a four-year-old can do!"

"Yes," she replied, her head coyly tilted. "I feel a little four."

A Bewitching Carnival

The Fifth Carnival of Children's Literature is up and running at Big A little a. So many links ... so much to read ... but kids around here must get to bed before I'll be able to settle in with a cup of tea (yes, I do drink tea. Coffee's not the only hot beverage in the world, y'know ....)

Enjoy Kelly's magic!

Ramona at play

"I'm an angry librarian!"

(Angry about what? I'll get back to you when I get to the bottom of this.)

A deliberate blog

Lissa wrote this:

"Oh! Oh! I just had the best idea. Someone should do a Charlotte Mason blog. Like the Blog of Henry David Thoreau, which offers a selection from Thoreau's journal almost every day. All of Charlotte Mason's works are online*, in the public domain. Some devoted blogger out there could choose a passage every day and post it for the enjoyment and edification of all the rest of us. I am tempted, tempted...but no. Really, very much no. PLATE ALREADY FULL. :::tells self sternly::: Overflowing, even. So: brilliant idea up for grabs.)"

Amy wrote this:

"Lissa had an idea for a Charlotte Mason blogger in the spirit of the Thoreau blogger (hat tip to Willa). I'd much rather do that than post about the mush we eat for dinner, ROFL. So losing one blog may be opening up the door to another?

What does everyone think? If *anyone* would rather be the "Charlotte Mason" blogger, let me know. I would gladly step aside -- but if no one wants to, I think it's a great idea and since I want to go through her works myself, it would be a win-win thing. I couldn't promise daily though.

(Amy sits back and patiently waits, hoping someone else will relieve her of this crazy multi-blog compulsion she has honorable duty to share Charlotte Mason inspiration with the blogosphere)."

I thought this:

"Wow! What a great idea! Wow! How amazing that Amy's thinking of taking that on! Wow! I hope she does it! Because -- wow! -- I know I won't!"

Then, Lissa wrote this:

"The delightful Amyable of Among Women, the Blog of Virtues, and Haiku of a Homeschooler has taken me up on my suggestion. It gives me immense pleasure to announce the launch of a blog called A Full Life: The Works of Charlotte Mason."

Because Amy has just created this:

"Welcome to “A Full Life: The Works of Charlotte Mason.” My goal here is to share the wisdom of Charlotte Mason as seen in her writings, in manageable, “muse-able” sized pieces. For my own sense of order and sanity, I’ll be going through her six volume “Home Education” series, in order. The whole text of that series can be found HERE.

From now on, the words will not be mine, but Miss Mason’s. If I have something to say, it will be in the comments (or clearly noted)."

And I thought this:

"I went to the woods ... no, no ... I went to Charlotte Mason ... because I wished to live deliberately."

Thank you, Lissa. Thank you, Amy.

The Absorption Principle

Yesterday I referred to Elizabeth's post about her preschooler, and the similar (if still vague for me) goal I have for mine: to relish this age, and to not relegate Ramona to the back burner, leaving her to feel that she's merely a tagalong to the activities of "her girls" (as she calls them.)

(An aside: you must visit Elizabeth again today, as she has a wonderful bookmark-worthy post full of delicious -- literally, in some cases -- art ideas. And you get a peek into her art supply shelves.)

One of the things that got me thinking about this was the American Girl club that we participated in last school year. My friend, Linda, Organizer Extraordinaire and Super Craft Mom, started the club as a fun way to survey American History with her daughter, who is Betsy's age. Since I already had some history plans of my own for my girls, I viewed the club as just a fun supplement. We were already familiar with all-things-American-Girl, so instead of re-reading the books before each meeting, I was a bit lackadaisical about it, looking forward mainly to the creative and delightful craft projects with which Linda would wow us.

And, overall, my approach worked out just fine. But I realized something a character or two into the school year. Somewhere after Kaya and before Addy I discovered that while I was familiar with all-things-American-Girl, and Anne was steeped in AG-ishness ... Betsy's familiarity with all the stories? Not so much.

Our first year or two of homeschooling revolved around American history by way of American Girls and pioneers (Laura Ingalls Wilder, and her ancestors Martha and Charlotte, to be exact.) Anne remembers it all, too, as she had immersed herself in all of those series for an extended time. But Betsy? She was four years old the first year we homeschooled. She was five our second year (See? I can teach math.) So, although she loved making butter and yarn dolls and being read to outside under the oak tree, after putting the AG series aside for a few years, she didn't really remember every detail of every book, as Anne did.

And it struck me: I was so focused on homeschooling Anne back then, and I reasoned that whatever Betsy absorbed was just icing on the cake. But here I was, a few years later, expecting that the icing had stuck. But we all know how hungry we get after some sugar. Much of our AG and Little House study had been delightful sugar for Betsy, but now she needed to be fed again, with more substance. And I hadn't been doing it, because I assumed she "already knew all this stuff."

Guilt. Oh, the guilt. So, I wallowed for awhile ... not very long (I think some chocolate may have helped me get over it) and decided that I should be grateful for the wake-up call. How many other things had I assumed Betsy had merely absorbed? In what other areas had I cheated her a bit? Where did I need to play some catch-up?

It was a great wake-up call, and it woke me up to Ramona's age and stage, too. When Ramona was born, I knew that we just needed to find ways to get through the tougher stages to keep our homeschooling plans in place: the sleeplessness of the newborn days, the high-maintenance and mischief of an 18-month-old, and so on. But now ... oh, my goodness ... she's almost four! It's time to think of her as another one who needs her own kind of nourishment.

Not that there's anything wrong with the "they'll absorb so much from the older ones" philosophy. I firmly believe it's true. They can and do learn a lot from their older siblings' studies. I'll continue to include Ramona in read-alouds for the older girls, as I always have and I'll adapt things Anne and Betsy do for Ramona's little hands. But, it's good to be reminded every now and then that some adjustments might be in order, to make sure everyone is getting what she needs.

Sometimes, perhaps the absorption principle (or the "trickle down" as Elizabeth called it) needs to move in reverse: take something that a younger or middle child needs to learn, (or would love to do) and adapt it for the older children, too.

Could just be that Anne and Betsy will be giddy over the prospect of more painting, too.

Ramona Moments

I was in the bathroom, putting on some make-up. Ramona walked in and said, "Why are you doing that? Why are you making yourself pretty?"

"I want to look nice for my date with Daddy."

"No," she said emphatically. "It's not a date. It's just dinner."

"Oh, well, yes, you're right. It's dinner. But, then what exactly would a date be?"

"Well," she replied, "going for a long walk. Basically that's it. That's a date. Basically."

Hear, hear

Elizabeth has a wonderful post this morning about not letting the early ages and stages of our youngest children slip by unnoticed and uncelebrated.

It's a thought I've often had myself, and I have only three children. I know how much harder it must be when there are that many more sets of needs to be met. But, I've been particularly aware of it recently, for some reason. I've been spending time this summer on book-decluttering (part of The Plan) and organizing our homeschool resources and as I've done so, I've had an eye to "Ramona's space" -- creating some shelves and areas just for her "preschool" stuff. (As Elizabeth says, it feels silly to call it "preschool" when there's no school looming in her future, but you know what I mean ....)

I'll keep you posted on "Ramona's Plan" as it develops.

Overheard here

"Hey, do you think that's blog-worthy? Hey, Mom!"

(Yikes, what am I doing to these kids?)

Books to nourish the mind and the spirit

An interesting and sometimes maddening article by Josephine Nobisso, author and publisher of children's books, can be found here. (Thanks to Lisa Mladinich, on the Catholic Writers Online group, for directing me to it.) My favorite (it's a "you've gotta laugh or you'll cry" instance) case of ignorance cited was the editor who asked for the biblical references to St. Francis. I laughed at that one. The other examples, though, of changing actual quotes and revising history, do make me cry.

I feel compelled to add that not all public schools are as awful as it one might think after reading this article (and Josephine Nobisso does refer to "most" public schools -- she is accurate in not saying "all" but obviously I would not deny her firsthand experience. And she's had some outrageous experiences.) Being in the sometimes strange position of "homeschooling family in which the father makes his living teaching in public schools" I have the opportunity to live in a couple of different worlds. The word "God" is not forbidden in Atticus's school. If the literature he is teaching refers to God, Atticus refers to God. Many of his students know that he is Catholic. (Sometimes he sees them at Mass.) All of this is dealt with in a straightforward way, though he does not proselytize (though a Christian must always hope to live St. Francis's exhortation: "Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words") because that's not what he's there for. He's there to teach about gerunds, dangling modifiers and how not to brazenly split an infinitive, and about Chaucer and how to express one's thoughts on paper. But then, maybe we're insulated, living in a small town as we do.

Back to the matter at hand. We love Josephine's book, The Weight of a Mass, A Tale of Faith, around here. Check out her publishing company, Gingerbread House. The world needs quality and excellence in children's books, and publishers like Gingerbread House are out to provide it.

And I'm looking so forward to Take it to the Queen, A Tale of Hope. It promises to be as lovely and as inspiring as The Weight of a Mass.

Camping, Mass and memories

A great article from the National Catholic Register is here.

(H/T: Danielle Bean)

Stuff I thought was true

"When I'm a mom, I'll never talk to my children that way."

"I'll just keep the TV off. That way, they won't get hooked on the junk in the first place."

"Nursing into toddlerhood? I don't think so. Not me."

"I'll just keep exercising. I don't have to be one of those women who puts on a little weight as she grows older. It's just a matter of discipline."

Go congratulate Cay

on her book contract.

Personally, I am of the opinion that a little more Little House always makes the world a better place.

Congratulations, Cay! How's that morning and nighttime writing schedule going?

So many blogs, so little time

For lovers of children's literature:

Big A little a always makes me think, "I should add a sidebar for all these great kidlit blogs and sites," and then I think, "Why should I do that? Just direct traffic to Kelly's links. They're all there."

Book Buds is smart, funny and always worth the visit.



For moms:
Read this post at Here in the Bonny Glen, in which Lissa will make you laugh, and instruct you on the cultivation of good habits in your children.

And don't miss the latest in her series of planner reviews at The Lilting House. How does she find all these treasures?


Danielle Daily ... nothing more need be said here. She's just such a real mom. Don't you wish she lived next door?


For movie lovers:

Church of the Masses. Not your typical movie reviews.

Decent Films

For writers:

People of the Book is "a blog about book publishing from a Catholic perspective."

Writers' Weekly

Family movie night

Dreamer is a sweet movie about a little girl, her father, her horse and big dreams. My girls thoroughly enjoyed it (though they did "tsk-tsk" a couple times at the characters' use of mild language, taking God's name in vain, and the mother's dress -- "That thing is too low-cut, Mommy!")

They also liked the references to God's leading in dreams and the crossing of himself before a race by a jockey. They loved the drama, the suspense, the subtle bad guy, the ending. And the ice cream and popcorn in which we indulged completed their satisfaction with this movie.

They give it two sundaes up.

Aaahh ... Sundays ....

Pope Benedict at the piano.

(H/T: People of the Book, by way of Amy Welborn)

Cleaning up the schoolroom

Thanks to Melissa Wiley, I discovered Small Meadow Press awhile back.

It's a beautiful, peaceful website full of beautiful, peaceful things. Just clicking over there calms me down and makes me rethink my pace.

And, thanks to Lissa again, I recently found Lesley's blog, The Bower. Go ahead -- click over.

Are you back? Don't you feel peaceful? Don't you long for beauty? Don't you want to incorporate just a little bit of that detailed and deliberate strewing of all things lovely through your own home?

Now, click on this post and read the quote on the handmade piece shown there.

I'll repeat it for you here: "The mother's heart is the child's schoolroom."

I've loved this quote since I first heard it -- where? I'm sure it was through Real Learning and Catholic Charlotte Mason -- and I love it still. It summarizes the reason I homeschool.

I want to pass on to my children, to the best of my ability, all that I hold dear: my faith, the joy I find in family life, the profound responsibility and blessing of motherhood.

But, the quote acts as a wise warning as well. If what's in my heart is less than the true, the good and the beautiful ("Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." -- Philippians, 4:8) then what am I teaching my children?

Beecher's short quotation packs a powerful punch.

It reminds me that I want to embody the true, the good and the beautiful for my children. But I have to confess that some days I think, "Who am I kidding? I'm not the right type ... I'm not the teatime type, not the Ma Ingalls type, not the Marmee type ... I'm not gentle enough, not Victorian enough, not anything-enough to pull this off."

But then gently, always gently (through friends, books, the Bible, Mass, or through my own children's love) God reminds me that there is not simply one particular "type" of mother capable of passing on truth and beauty to her children. Because, you see, He fills in the spaces I leave blank. His truth, beauty and goodness are at work in me, helping me to become the vessel through which He will shine for my children.

I'm not there yet. This vessel still needs a lot of polishing. But I'm not giving up. This work-in-progress will continue to rely on the Source of All Things to bring all that is true, and good and beautiful into my children's lives. That includes indulging the part of me that is Ma Ingalls/Marmee/teatime/Victorian and many other things of beauty that I may not yet be, but admire and aspire to, the things that will help to make my heart the schoolroom I want it to be.

(above painting is Renoir's Girls at the Piano, 1892)

Uh-oh

My daughters have mastered independent chocolate-chip cookie baking.

And they really, really like it.

Get thee behind me, cookies.

I mean it.

How's The Plan going?

Waaaay back in June, I talked about The Plan. In preparation for the coming school year, I want to sort through and declutter our book collection, to see how many resources we already actually own that will help us achieve our goals.

So far, I am happy to announce -- Ta Da! -- that I've gotten through Science, History, Art, and the Arts and Crafts categories. All the science related books are on one shelf (err, well, most of them. I could never actually pull all the books out of my kids' rooms just for the sake of organization. That would border on being abusive, wouldn't it?)

The same is true for the other "subjects", though I'm loathe to divide life into subjects. Life and learning are simply too integrated to break them down that way. But, generally, I have been able to group like-minded books together (do books have minds? Yeah, I think they do ....) and begin a little planning. Here's what has been decided.

Scientifically speaking, the girls want to learn more about:

Genetics, cells, and DNA
Taxonomy
Food chains and Ecosystems
Solar System
Plants and birds

Check.
We can cover all of this with books we own or can get from the library.

Historically speaking, they want to head back in time to:

World War I
World War II
Medieval times

(Ummm, yes, this is pretty broad, and more planning and narrowing is needed here. We have some resources that will cover this, but the library will also be heavily used. I may have to purchase a few books.)

Mathematically speaking:

They'd like to skip it. They won't be doing that.

Linguistically speaking:

I haven't reviewed this area yet, but it's one area I don't stress a lot about. I'll do some planning, but reading and writing happen fairly naturally around here.

Artistically speaking:

I'll get back to you. The books are in one place, but plans haven't been discussed.


The Plan marches on.

Just a couple more ....

I can't leave out a book Ramona keeps going back to. Luck, by Jean Craighead George, is about a sandhill crane named Luck (so named by a little girl who helped him escape from a plastic six-pack holder.) Poor Luck hasn't learned all the ways of migration, and so memorizes the wrong things as he flies north ("Hey! That baby carriage won't be there when he flies back," said Betsy last night as she sat in on Ramona's reading time.)

It's a sweet story that's worth a look.

One other new discovery: Arlene Alda's Morning Glory Monday is a really lovely book, perfectly illustrated by Maryann Kovalski. The story is based on true incidents of tenement residents planting morning glories to cheer their surroundings. Here's an excerpt from an article in American Heritage magazine:

Adolpho and Rosaria (“Sadie”) Baldizzi, natives of Sicily, lived here with their two children. Adolpho had been a carpenter in Palermo, but America in the early 1930s proved a poor place to find steady work. Adolpho prowled the streets with a toolbox all day, searching for odd jobs. Rosaria worked in a garment factory, but only on the sly, since the family was on Home Relief, a welfare project of the New Deal that handed out food and clothing to the unemployed. The big boxes with their giant letters yelling HOME RELIEF used to shame Adolpho as he carried them back to 97 Orchard, but they also left him grateful enough to hang a portrait of President Roosevelt alongside the gold-painted religious icons on the walls. The flowers on the windowsill add to the apartment’s brightness; frustrated and embarrassed without work and determined to make the best of things, Adolpho Baldizzi used the wooden cheese boxes from Home Relief as planters for morning glories for his family.

(Read the entire article by Dara Horn here. American Heritage, by the way, is one of Atticus's favorites, and is unbelievably cheap for such a great magazine.)

Morning Glory Monday led to a short but sweet discussion about how surrounding ourselves with simple beauty can change our attitudes and cheer our hearts. I have a feeling it will lead us down some other winding paths as well. While writing this post, I found this virtual tour of 97 Orchard Street, which I plan to preview and share with the girls.

Ramona's books

All Things Bright and Beautiful, illustrated by Anna Vojtech, is a short but lovely
book. The text is simply the hymn of the same name, by Cecil Frances Alexander. The illustrations wind us beautifully through the four seasons, through morning, noon and night, through the inhabitants of creation, with lots of rich visual detail to explore along the way.

In the Garden: Who's Been Here?, by Lindsay Barrett George is a fun tour through the backyard garden. Who's been nibbling the carrot tops? Who's been feasting on sunflower seeds? Why are there holes in the tomato plant leaves? (Ramona, by the way, was fine with the large, two-page illustration of a tomato hornworm, but it actually made Anne and Betsy jump.)



Seymour Simon's Cats is great for lots of ooohs and aaahs from Ramona as she looks at the photographs, and Betsy and Anne like to dig deeper into the text to learn more about friends of Mr. Putter.




The Book of ZZZs, by Arlene Alda, is also full of terrific photographs of all things sleeping. A really lovely little bedtime book.

Good Night, Sleep Tight, Little Bunnies, by Dawn Apperley, is another current bedtime favorite. Animals around the world say goodnight to their little ones; in the end, we see all those animals snuggled into a little girl's bed, as her mommy tucks her in. This one brought out Ramona's sense of humor (as if that needs coaxing.) When we turned to the last page, she said, "Oh, they're all stuffed!" And, with a sly grin, she added, "And there's a stuffed girl and a stuffed Mommy."

Missing the frigate

I found these statistics on reading (thanks to Ron and Andrea, and O'DonnellWeb), which came from a larger group of stats found here, at ParaPublishing.

If these are accurate, then:

58% of the US adult population never reads another book after high school.

42% of college graduates never read another book.

80% of US families did not buy or read a book last year.

70% of US adults have not been in a bookstore in the last five years.

If you give a girl some lunch

(with apologies to Laura Numeroff, whose books I love, and with deepest affection for my Betsy.)

If you give a girl some lunch, she's going to ask for a book to go with it.

You'll read to her: stories about days of old, of pioneer girls and simpler times.

She'll push her empty plate aside and ask if she can get the Play-doh, just to keep her hands busy while you read. She'll pretend she's making bread from scratch and putting a cake in the oven. When she uses a certain cookie cutter on the Play-doh, she'll be reminded of a doll. She'll get her bean doll out (the one she made at the history club meeting) and decide that it needs a new dress.

She'll get your sewing box, some fabric scraps, and scissors and will start working on a dress. Her older sister will be reminded of how much she used to enjoy doing samplers, and she'll go to find an embroidery hoop. The littlest listener will not be reminded of anything but will want to get in on this action anyway. She'll ask for a needle, and you'll stop reading just long enough to consider this request. You'll reject it and promise to help her with a dress in a minute. She'll ask for scissors, too, the "not-sharp ones, Mommy." You get them and promise that you'll help her cut out a dress for her bean doll as soon as you finish this chapter.

As you continue reading, you'll see that the beans from the littlest listener's doll are falling out on the kitchen table. You'll finish the chapter, raid the sewing box, and patch up the bean doll. You'll cut out a dress for the doll and tie it on with a shiny ribbon. Then you'll put away Play-doh, plastic knives, fabric scraps, a sewing kit, stray beans, extra embroidery hoops, three pieces of felt, two bean dolls, a piece of yellow ribbon, a book and the lunch dishes.

The children will scatter and you'll be left alone in the kitchen.

But you'll sigh with contentment when you consider that the next time you make lunch, chances are, they'll want a book to go with it.

It's not easy being Ramona

Betsy (to Ramona): I'm sorry, but you can't always get everything you want, Sweetie.

Ramona (heaving a sigh): I know, but I'm just overwhelmed when I can't get everything I want.

It's the combination that gets me

Visit Left of the Dial for an incredibly cute portrayal of the proper use of adverbs while tears are falling.

Limited woman, know thyself

Atticus and I have begun helping out with our parish's Baptism preparation program. Over the long haul, it will be a minimal time commitment, as we are one of several facilitator couples, and we'll teach only every 2-4 months, depending on the rotation. A deacon handles the sacramental prep, and we couples handle the "how to keep loving each other and your children through these major life changes" portion of the evening.

But, I'm the kind of person who stresses a bit over preparation, "first times" and things like that. As we prepared our material this week, I was reminded of a couple of things.

First, because I do stress over these things, and am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to presentation (though this week's presentation was anything but perfect) I tend to spend more time than is necessary getting things ready. What should reasonably be a "minimal time commitment" before a talk can stretch out into marathon prep if I let it. So, this week it was good to follow Atticus-the-Teacher's lead and try to adopt his, "Sometimes you just have to let it happen" attitude. He was right. I didn't need to spend any more time reviewing, memorizing or preparing material. I had reached the stage in which I simply had to experience it, and we'll tweak from there.

Second, this whole thing reminds me of the reasons I must be careful not to take on too many commitments outside the home. It's true that once Atticus and I are settled into this, there will be no prep of material, no stressing over giving a talk, no need for extra time to review or memorize. And that's a good thing. Because this week, as we sat at the table reading over our material, Ramona came to me, wanting my attention. I'm sorry to report that I was an impatient mommy. I was fretting about not being prepared (because, really, Atticus and I should have had these little meetings a month ago ... would I allow such procrastinating from my children? Horrors!) and Ramona sensed that she was not welcome at this conclave.

I immediately felt awful (you would too, at the sight of Dejected Ramona ... it's a truly pitiful thing) and said to Atticus, "You see? This is why I can't take on too much of this stuff. Because this is the kind of person I become -- someone who might as well have just said to her child, 'Go away -- I'm teaching people how to be loving parents.'"

He scoffed and said I wasn't really quite that horrible. He reminded me that it won't be like this once we know what we're doing. And he's right. But so am I (she is quick to point out.)

It's true that our prep time won't be stressful once I'm comfortable with what we're doing. But it's also true that I can't regularly take on commitments that require a lot of prep, new talks, new teachings, etc., at this season of my life, because it just takes too much out of me. I know my limitations and I'm trying to live with them and not make my family miserable.

There will be a season in my life for a greater amount of parish work, for teaching or talks. But, right now, as a homeschooling mom, I have to maintain a different balance. I remind myself that "no" can be a good thing. And that a Dejected Ramona (or Dejected Betsy or Anne, for that matter) is not part of my vocation. The best way to teach young couples "how to be loving parents" is to try to live the part myself.

Ramona Moments

You know you've allowed entirely too much technology into your lives when your three-year-old says:

"Mommy, I'm rewinding you now."

Filed under: Organizational stuff

Lissa is "embracing her inner-geek" and reviewing the best planners for moms. See here for squeals of delight over the Mom Agenda Planner.

She'll soon weigh in on the Family-Centered Press planners, which I love and think I'm going to go back to.

One year I made my own, using the weekly calendar template found here, but do I really want to do all that printing and assembling when I could just point, click and pay?

And speaking of education

Here's a post, found through the aforementioned carnival, that gets right to the heart of the issue.

It's carnival time again

But, no, sorry, kids-o-mine, that doesn't mean you'll be on a Tilt-A-
Whirl tonight.

This week, the Carnival of Education, #74, is going on at NYCEducator. There's a lot of reading to do ....

How to lose your children

1. Visit relatives over the holiday weekend.

2. Allow children to venture into the hills and woods into which they always venture, and in which they have never gotten lost.

3. After several minutes, realize the children did not apply bug repellent.

4. Agree with sisters-in-law that children need bug repellent.

5. Head outside and call for children.

6. Feel annoyed when they don't answer.

7. Tell Atticus that his voice is needed in order for the kids to hear the summons.

8. Watch Atticus return to the house with a worried look, saying he hasn't heard or seen the children.

9. Panic a little, but silently, because Ramona is listening. Fan out. Search, call, lose your voice. Pray. Keep Ramona calm. Imagine the worst, imagine the best. Imagine yelling at your children because you are so frightened. Wonder how many ticks Ramona might have on her at this moment. Realize that only 10 seconds have passed. Pray.

10. Continue searching and yelling and getting reports of "nothing" from husband and sisters-in-law for the next 30 or 45 minutes (who knows how long? Time has been standing still although at the same time, it feels as if half your life has passed.)

11. Suddenly hear sister-in-law say, "We found them!" and hear small voices saying, "We're found! We're here!" and allow tears of relief to spring to your eyes. Realize you have no control over the angry tone coming out of your mouth before the children are even in sight, as you say, "Where were you? We've been looking for over half an hour! We were so worried!" And then realize you never really felt angry, but anguished, because you knew they were lost and not hiding.

12. See your husband leading your sobbing children toward you. Fall into a mass of arms, hair, kisses, sweat, tears and hugs. Take children inside and then hug your niece and nephew too, and reassure them that you were not angry with them, only frightened and worried. Tell them you just recently explained to your own children how fear sometimes sounds like anger.

13. When next you pray, realize that your regular nightly prayers of gratitude for your husband and children may sometimes sound rote. Know that they are not. You really mean this. You are grateful beyond all imagining for these people and you hope to never again feel the fear and panic of what life could be like without them.

14. Hug them. Repeatedly.

15. Even though you weren't really angry, remind yourself to tell the kids that if they ever again leave the trail you will have to ground them until they are of legal age.

Betsy's take

Atticus likes to make the most of the 4th of July without spending a ton of money on fireworks. And since our kids are generally easily pleased, that's not hard to do. He sets up a few exposive-thingies and then runs away, cartoon-style, to get the girls laughing.

And laughing, hard, is what Betsy was doing when she said:

"Oh, Daddy! I love your holiday spirit!"

Happy Fourth

And here's one of my favorite posts from today, at Left of the Dial.

Here's another, from Theresa at Lapaz Farm.

Have a loud and happy Fourth!

Unschooling Voices

Thanks to Willa for reminding me that Unschooling Voices, #1 is out and ready to be devoured.

Show, don't tell

It's a rule of writing: don't explain everything. Show the reader ... paint a word picture so vivid that the reader will be immersed in your world.

Sometimes, when it comes to homeschooling, the best thing is to let my kids "show."

We were at a gathering last night to watch our local (huge, huge, huge) fireworks display. [Editor's note: I'm telling, with my lame "huge, huge, huge" description ... sorry. I've had only one cup of coffee so far.] There were some people there I don't really know, and one of the women asked about our homeschooling. Her questions to Anne betrayed her assumptions:

"Do you know any other girls your age?" (Oh, yes, replied Anne. Lots!)

"Well, how do you meet them?" (Through all the different activities we do. We do a lot.)

"Oh. But, what about high school?" (Well, I'm not worried. Mom says we'll deal with that when we get to it.)

She asked me about annual testing (not required in our state) and about how I would handle Algebra and said she just didn't know if she was smart enough to teach all those things ....

She was very kind, and mostly just curious and just a bit worried that this weird lifestyle might not afford my sweet and sociable girls all the opportunities they should have (she didn't put it that way, but that was clearly her concern.) And when I thought about it later, I realized that the reason I don't mind these kinds of questions about and challenges to our decision is that they are a chance to educate. And I love education.

I view these encounters as opportunities to "evangelize" about homeschooling. I explained that we've always taken things "one year at a time" and that whenever I've had a concern that's grown into a worry, God has provided, and shown me that we can continue down this not-so-beaten path. She seemed to mull that over.

By the end of the evening, she was so enchanted with my kids (what can I say? I find them to be pretty enchanting, too*) that she thought a camp-out in her backyard with her granddaughter (who was also there and had made fast friends with all my girls) would be just the ticket.

I did some telling, to be sure, but Anne, Betsy and Ramona did the showing. They painted a vivid picture of homeschooling as a viable lifestyle that can produce normal, capable, happy -- and yes, even enchanting -- people.


Now, I'll get to work on how to describe those fireworks. On second thought, that's what the photo's for. I'm off to get another cup of coffee.

* Except at times such as yesterday afternoon, when they were playing baseball in the basement and the stuffed fish that was their ball was lobbed into my coffee cup, which was sitting next to the computer (it didn't spill, thank you) and I had to yell and then explain to them that, like Martha in the Little House prequel books, I tend to sound angry when something frightens me and the idea of coffee in the hard drive frightens me a lot. You know how it is. Times like that. They're not so enchanting.

A Rosary by any other name

There are so many ways to pray the Rosary, and lots of resources to help you pray.

You can use an actual rosary, of course, but there are other ways to approach it, too. There are tapes (this one by Dana and Fr. Scallon has long been a favorite of mine, and CDs (and be sure to read Elizabeth's inspiring post here about this one), and a couple of online helps. Or, you might want to use a book or two. One can always count on one's fingers, and no link is necessary there.

Or you can color.

A big thanks to my friend, Johnna, for showing me the coloring sheets she uses with her children. Or, did she use this? Either way, you get the idea. At the time, I filed it away in my crowded brain and that was the end of it. But, recently, in attempting to revitalize our family's evening prayer time, the idea came up again.

After an online search, I printed out these sheets that I found at CatholicMom.com (a site, by the way, which I haven't explored enough, but which is absolutely beautiful and packed so full of information and resources that I want an afternoon and a pot of coffee with it.)

Betsy and Ramona love the coloring sheets. They give Anne the opportunity to feel too grown-up for them; she opts for her beads instead. I love the way the physical activity keeps the younger two focused. It's a simple idea, but so helpful. The kids often color or do something with their hands while I read aloud ... why not during prayers, too, if it helps them to keep their minds on what we're saying?

A couple more free, online sources for kids: Picture Beads are lovely. My Friend magazine offers this help and here's another lovely site.

A couple more for purchase are here and here, here, and here.