My Nine Year Old is NOT Taking the SAT

Because she's 9. Ella is 9 years old. She's in 4th grade. Why am I even listening to completely unnecessary and stress inducing "guidance" about college? She's 9!!!

I'm not normally like this. Really. I know I can be a bit high strung and I have a slightly off-beat sense of humor, but I'm not a mom who stresses about every little detail of life. Usually. I didn't have my kids on wait lists for preschools that cost more than my car. I didn't hire a tutor for my 6 month old to make sure she could read in both English and Spanish before she could contain her own baby drool. I'm really not neurotic...but I'm starting to encounter some icky "your daughter's entire future rests solely upon whether or not you choose this curriculum" pressure and I don't like it.

Here's the sitch (see, in addition to being non-neurotic I'm also hip and happening), I've started looking for next year's curriculum for our homeschooling adventures. I'm in love with our math and language programs, but I am no longer pleased with history. So I have started searching and sifting and comparing different history curricula for both kids. And some of the sites are freaking me out.

Because Ella will be in 5th grade in the fall, there's this strange, and I think made up, timeline confronting me with all the stuff she needs to know or be exposed to or have memorized before she starts high school...in four years. So the helpful helpers have laid out these master 4-5 year plans to cover everything she "needs" to know for high school in order to be properly prepared for college...in eight years! And since I've only got four years left until HS-day I'm apparently already behind the curve and now my daughter will be doomed to an unforgiving string of rejection letters all because I didn't cover the shifting political and religious ties of Reformation Europe. Seriously?

I can't plan eight years in advance. I can only deal with one year at a time. And even that is a minor miracle. I'd say I'm about an 8 on the "organized and plan-ahead" scale, but plan my curriculum four years ahead? Eight years? There's no way. See, I also register pretty high on the "let's try something new and dangerous" scale. Yep, organized adventure...that's me. And you'd be glad to have me on an adventure because I'm the one who remembers to pack toilet paper and bug spray. Just sayin'.

Anyway, I'm not trying to be an iconoclast here or a boat rocker or a trouble maker or anything else, but can't we ease up on the parent stress just a wee bit? Isn't one of the joys of homechooling being able to think outside the box a bit and do things a little differently? I'm not saying there's anything wrong with setting your kids up for success, we should all be doing that, but can't we plan for the future without sacrificing the joys of the present? And can we please stop raising the imaginary good parent bar? No one likes it, no one needs it and I'm pretty sure it was made up by someone who never had kids.

And thus ends my rant for the day.

So, who has a homeschool history curriculum they really love?

The Invisible Monkey Solution

Winter is not my friend. I despise being cold. And I'm not that fond of rain unless it's a thunderstorm and I'm inside under an electric blanket sipping hot chocolate while the power stays on. And I don't like ice. Which is weird since I spent most of my formative years as a figure skater and I now spend 2-3 days a week at an ice rink watching my kids skate. Maybe it's long suppressed emotional scarring. Or maybe it all goes back to the first thought...I just despise being cold.

Anyway, I've also discovered another drawback to winter. My kids go completely bonkers with cabin fever. If there was lots of fluffy white snow on the ground I could at least let them run around outside until their runny noses were officially frozen to their faces. But today it's just icy and cold and drizzly and yucky. I can't in good conscience let them go play in the frozen wasteland but to them even a thin layer of dirty cracked ice should qualify as a snow day.

So now we're all in the house, schoolwork is done and the bickering has begun. Here's the scenario....Ella & Jack are playing zoo. It's an invisible zoo, which is awesome & full of imagination, but keep in mind it's invisible. After building all the invisible cages and filling them with invisible animals, Ella decides to take the invisible monkey on a walk. At which point Jack declares that he is the official invisible monkey wrangler.

Ella: "But he's my monkey."

Jack: "It's my zoo too!"

Ella: "Why don't you go walk the elephant."

Jack: "I don't want to walk an elephant. I want to walk the monkey."

Ella: "Go get a lion. Lions are cool."

Jack: "Elllllllllllaaaaaaaa."

At which point my head threatened to explode. So Mommy the ultimate arbitrator stepped in.

Me: "Here, I just bought another invisible monkey for your zoo. Now you have two."

Ella & Jack: (after a moment of stunned, wide eyed blinking silence) "Oh, ok."

And off they went with their invisible monkeys.

So, what time is Spring?

Scary Banshee Mom

My darling Ella is a figure skater and she loves it. In my long ago youthful days, I was also a figure skater and I still love it. Now figure skating, like most sports, has its fair share of stage mom syndrome. You know what I mean...the well meaning mom that yells a little too much "encouragement" and takes everything way too seriously. The one that turns every practice session into one long awkward moment. When this mom sits down all the other moms quietly slide a little further down the bleachers to avoid being sucked into her banshee mom vortex of terror. Yeah, that one. Well, I've seen it from both sides of the ice...and it isn't pretty.

So I work really hard to avoid being "that mom." And while I personally have a *slightly* overly developed competitive nature, I always tell Ella that the only thing that counts is doing her best, having fun and all that other stuff they write about in the "How To Not Emotionally Damage Your Children" articles.

And I think I'm doing a pretty good job. But today...today I feel my inner banshee mom trying to break out of the tiny box I keep her locked in. Ella just finished a session of group lessons and she didn't pass the test to move on to the next level. She was so disappointed. She handled it with great maturity and I was really proud of her, but it just stinks. She only missed one skill. Actually only half of a skill because it's a turn she has to do on both feet. She can do one but not the other. And now she has to repeat the entire level...for one skill. One skill! Wait, deep breath, count to 5, go to a happy place where little elves make cookies. Ok, better now.

Even though I know Ella didn't do the turn well enough to pass, my protective mommy instinct is revving into the red zone. Especially when she turns her big blue eyes up at me and says, "Mommy, everyone passed but me. Am I not good at skating?" Yep, that cracking sound you hear is my heart breaking.

I know that failure is a part of life and that sometimes it's the best teacher. But it hurts so much to see my children sad. And as much as I want to jump in and try to fix it, I know that I can't. Ella didn't pass. It wasn't unfair, it wasn't a conspiracy, it's just a disappointment. And I know that she'll pass next time and that in 10 years it won't matter at all.

But it matters now.

And it still stinks.

I'm a Boring Mom

I know, you were thinking that my un-updated blog meant that I had packed up and left for Tahiti. Alas, not this time. Just a few computer glitches and frustrations (nothing a sledgehammer couldn't fix). But, here I am. No swimsuit, no tropical beach, just my picky laptop and a Double Chocolate Chip Cookie. Add a crushing realization about myself to the mix and it's been an interesting day.

Here's what I figured out on this grey and drizzly day...I'm no fun. Yep, that's me, a non-fun Mom. And I feel bad for my kids. Especially when they're homeschooled and it's cold and rainy outside and they're trapped indoors with a mother who's idea of big fun is listening to classical music and reading a book. Which apparently is not fun when you're 7 and even less fun when you're 3.

Here's the thing, I don't come up with creative uses for macaroni, pipe cleaners and glitter. I don't invent games involving pillows and Matchbox cars and I don't know how to make cool shadow puppets. I'm not completely hopeless. I can build an awesome campsite out of Lincoln Logs and Legos and I can make a mean bead bracelet. But today, I was feeling pretty boring.

None of my curriculum books have a chapter devoted to rainy day fun. I need a homeschool guide that tells you what to do when your kids finish all of their school work by lunch time and my creativity tank is empty.

To Hover or Not To Hover

Ah, that is the question. To hover over Ella's shoulder and watch her work or to step away and let her do the work in her own way. Can you feel the pensive tide pulling us out to the deep end of the philosophical ocean? Don't worry I'm typing during Jack's nap time so it will be a short ride in the profound thoughts boat and then right back to shore.

During Ella's math lesson today she was completing her workbook pages and I caught myself standing over her shoulder stopping her every time she made a mistake. When she'd make a miscalculation, I'd immediately stop her and point out that contrary to what I think as a parent 1 (child) + 1 (child) does not equal 11 (even though it feels that way some days). Ok, her problems were more advanced than that, but you get my drift.

But after a few minutes of hover-mom, she started checking with me before she wrote down her answers. And that's not the way I want this to work. So I stepped away and let her finish the whole lesson before I checked her answers. And it got me thinking....where else have I been hovering in my kids' lives? Where else have I been so focused on them getting things right that I haven't left any room for them to make a mistake?

I know part of my job as their mom is to protect them and guide them and help them make the right choices, but eventually I have to let them actually make the choice. And...gulp...they may make the wrong one sometimes. I suddenly had a flash of insight that maybe, just maybe I have been trying too hard to make sure they always and only make the right choice or get the right answer. Because maybe, oh here it comes, maybe I am too worried about what their answers say about me.

Bam! That's a bright flash of light shining on an ugly truth. Here's the math on it: Ella's right answer = good mom = I'm a success. And conversely Ella's wrong answer = bad mom = I'm a failure. Is this making sense or is it just me?

So today I decided not to hover. I let Ella do the work. She got some of the answers right, she got some of them wrong. And the ones she got wrong, we sat down and fixed together.

You may now disembark the deep thoughts row boat and enjoy your weekend.