Bumps on the Road

     Any parent who seriously contemplates homeschooling and then decides to take the leap is well aware that there will be critics.  I read stacks and stacks of books on the subject, compiled the information, and shared it with my husband before we decided to teach our three children at home.  All of that information prepared me for an adjustment period (especially for my oldest child), a messy house, and strangers in the grocery store questioning why my children were not in school.  I fully expected resistance from the county, teachers we knew, or acquaintances.  What I was not prepared for was a confrontation by close family members six months into our first school year at home.

     Oh, I knew one of them was reticent when we made our decision known.  I tried to help by recommending books on the topic, inviting her to convention, and sharing the children's work once we started.  So far, she has not examined a single book and did not attend convention.  Another family member at least shows an interest in the kid's education and looks through their work with them.  As for the third . . . I am not really sure were they are even getting their wild ideas about our house and home.

     At first, I was truly hurt. I have poured so much of my heart and soul into this endeavor, and I did not make the decision lightly.  I know that I am doing what is right for my children at this time.  Does that mean we will homeschool forever?  I do not know.  We are taking this one year at a time, based upon what is best for our children and our family.

     As I thought about my own family's reaction, I came to a very important conclusion.  It is okay for them not to agree with or even like what we are doing.  I have even come to the realization that I can handle them sharing their negativity with me.  They are most certainly entitled to their opinion.  At the end of the day, what really matters is my faith in God and that I pray for strength every day to be a good mother and help my children along a moral path.  In those things, I believe I am succeeding.

     I am sharing this with you because I know there are others out their facing similar battles.  It may not be over homeschooling.  People seem way to eager to judge our homes, our children, and our choices without really understanding how our lives are being led.  The lesson I have learned is to not immediately react; rather, examine your heart, and if you truly believe your decision is helping your children, then stick to your chosen path.

Nautical Experiment

One of the things I love the most about homeschooling is how often the children use their imaginations. On a Saturday (a non-school day, mind you) the kids asked if they could try to build boats that would really float.  

We all thought the pencil one would work.

Instead, my son's creation - aluminum foil and ROCKS of all things - was the winner!

Just goes to show . . . you can always learn something from an experiment :)

New Year's Day, southern style

Happy 2013 to ya'll!!

    We just finished our very southern traditional New Year's Day meal, and it was so delicious, I just had to share some stories with ya'll.

     My family has always had a meal of pork, greens, and black-eyed peas on the first of January.  After all, those are the ingredients that are supposed to bring you good fortune and prosperity throughout the year. My mother always prepared the food according to the way my father's grandmother had . . . baked pork loin or tenderloin (sometimes marinated), steamed curly kale, and black-eyed peas that had been soaked, cooked, and then slightly mashed.  The crowning glory was my great-grandmother's bread-and-butter pickles, supposedly chopped up and added to the peas, but I always preferred mine on the side.

     I did not fully appreciate this meal as a child.  Oh, I liked all the items, just not necessarily in the same meal.  If the slightest bit of grit still resided in the kale, I would not take another bite.  Also, I never fully understood the need to mash the peas - were they not suitable as is?

     Now that I run my own household, I have made a few changes.  I always use a marinated pork tenderloin - the only change is whether I bake it or my husband cooks it on the grill.  I started out insisting on kale, but since my children will actually eat wilted spinach, I have switched.  I simply sautee some garlic and oil, add the spinach and kosher salt until wilted.  DELICIOUS!  Some years I soak the peas and then cook, others I cheat and buy canned (yes, I know, my female ancestors are rolling over in their graves.)  What I never do is mash the peas, but please do not tell my mother.  The only thing I truly miss is those pickles.  My grandmother is gone, and while my mother still makes them some years, I have yet to have a kitchen large enough to undertake that process.  (For those of you not from the south, it takes over a week to make those delectable green slivers.)

    We've all eaten our share to guarantee us good luck in the new year.  I wish you and yours many blessings and days of happiness in 2013!

  

The Great Christmas Debate . . .

. . . you know, the one about when to take down the decorations.  If you think Republicans and Democrats are having a hard time solving the fiscal cliff crisis, just try this one on for size!

     My mother had steadfast rules for decorating when I was growing up.  We were not allowed to be the tree up until two weeks for Christmas (always live, NEVER artificial) and everything was to come back down New Year's Day.  I hated waiting so long to begin decking the halls, but I really abhorred packing it all away.  As the oldest child, it often seemed that I was left to handle it all by myself, except for getting the boxes back in the attic.  That was Daddy's job, and he enjoyed his part even less than I did mine.  I made up my mind that when I became a "grup," I would tinsel and light by my own rules.

     We usually put our tree up (yes, a live one) the first week of Christmas.  It takes so much work that I want to have at least a full month to enjoy it.  Of course, there all those lucky years when Thanksgiving falls early and you get an extra week!  Since I know people who start with all the red and green on Turkey Day, I do not catch much flack for being too early.  The debate comes in on when to take all that finery down.

     Some people insist on starting the day after Christmas.  They definitely don't have a large southern family that is still busy celebrating until the 29th.  There are also those who follow my mother's tradition of pulling it all down on New Year's Day, but I'm still young enough that I want to enjoy the night before and not burden myself too much on the first day of January.  Lastly, I heard a local so-called civility expert claim that all decorations should be gone by January 6th "because your neighbors will be tired of them."

     I beg to differ.  No, I'm not one of those people who wants to see your Christmas lights at Easter.  I am, however, both southern and Episcopalian.  I'm not sure if it is one, or both, of these characteristics that makes me keep my house Yuletide ready until the second week in January . . . but any good Christian knows about Three Kings Day.  If the wise men did not arrive in Bethlehem until January 6th, then my house is going to be shining with tiny lights and bedecked with evergreens to welcome them in.  I do not think my neighbors are bothered by this, but if they are, my deepest apologies (and just look the other way for a few days.)

     Whenever you decide to pack it all away, my hope for you is this:  neither broken glass nor needles stuck in your vacuum, and wonderful memories to tide you over until the time to do it all again.

     

A Dying Art . . .

     I have always loved writing letters.  It may be because I tend to be old-fashioned or because I'm academically trained as an historian.  Perhaps it was my grandmother's insistence that I be reared with a deep appreciation from whence I came.  Regardless of the reason, I try to pen several letters a month, and I insist on signing and addressing some seventy-odd Christmas cards every year.  No photo cards or pre-printed labels in this house!

     When my grandparents were removed from their house this past summer, my letter writing became more diligent.  I was unsure how to reach them, but my grandmother especially loved receiving mail from me.  I started writing to both of them more frequently, and after my grandmother passed away, I have kept up my efforts to communicate with my grandfather.

     A few months later, a friend of mine was lamenting on Facebook about how no one takes the time to actually write to anyone these days.  I completely agree.  An actual written letter is very different from an email or Facebook post.  People tend to think how their comments will affect others (for good or for bad) when they take a pen to paper.  I also miss real letters from an historical point of view.  How many people take the time to print out their emails, posts, or tweets?  What will future generations have left of us to study?

     I made the decision to start a personal campaign.  I did not want this to be a New Year's resolution, because then it seemed doomed to fail.  Instead, I started during one of the busiest times of year:  December.  I decided, starting December 1st, to write one letter, every day, for a year.

     So far things are going well.  Some of my letters are long, some are just short thank-you notes, others are birthday wishes.  I plan on sharing some of these with you as my journey progresses.  If I do not get around to doing so until 2013 . . . Merry Christmas to you all!

The Goodbye Not Said

     Today has been filled with weepy moments, and I decided it was finally time to allow some emotion to escape.  You see, my grandmother passed away in August, but due to certain family members who do not even know how to remotely act like good Christians, I have been unable to properly mourn her passing.  I could not afford to have a weak moment as I needed all my strength to deal with their ugliness.  So I built a wall around my grief and soldiered on.

    Over the past few weeks, I have felt small cracks in that wall, but I have tried my best to dam them up.  Apparently today was the day all repairs failed.  First, I unpacked my Christmas stocking which my grandmother (mostly) made - her first and last attempt at knitting.  Then I made the mistake of watching a recorded episode of General Hospital . . . the one in which Edward Quartermaine passes away.  Seeing certain family members being kept from his bedside was the last blow my wall could stand.

     After allowing myself a short crying jag, I decided it would perhaps be cathartic to write what I would have said to my grandmother if I had been given the chance.  So here you are, Nene:

     I would have reminded you of the things of which we spoke the last time I was allowed to see you:  how much I love you, that I will make sure my children remember both you and my grandfather, and that I will keep the family Bible updated and safe.  There are other things I want to say, such as how much it means to me that I was raised on Lee Farm and that you took the time to share the history of the land and our family with me.  Thank you for all the trips to the movies and for making sure that my sister, my two daughters, and I all received our first dolls from you.  Thank you for the beach memories and for extending that opportunity to my three children.  Thank you for allowing me to acknowledge your faults and shortcomings and find a way to love you regardless.

     Most importantly, I want to promise that I will try to be better than our previous generations.  I will try my best not to hold grudges and to forgive family that has treated me badly.  In turn, I will strive every day not to hurt them, regardless of their actions.  I promise to love my cousins unconditionally.  Finally, I promise that your namesake, my sweet little Bess, will be taught to embrace the best of you.

     Thank you for loving me, and I will never stop missing you.

                                                     Love Always,
                                                         Ginny

The Decision

                                             


     It is finally official . . . we are a homeschooling family!


     This definitely was not a decision that came out of thin air.       In 2006, our oldest child had a horrible kindergarten experience with a teacher who was inept academically and scarring emotionally.  I began my homeschooling research then, as well as visiting area schools.


     I was intrigued by the possibility of teaching my own child (I already had experience as an instructor of college undergraduates.)  Homeschooling was a definite consideration until we fell in love after a visit to a local private Christian school.


     That school was all we could have hoped for (and more) for the first two years.  As Grace began third grade, some concerns arose, but we did not immediately feel the need for change.  As the year progressed, it became clear that the school was not meeting our needs, and we once again started the research process.


    As soon as I revisited the idea of homeschooling, I found answers to my troubling questions.  Teaching Grace myself would of course mean that I could fill in the academic gaps, but other areas were much more important.  I saw the opportunity to help restore her flagging self-esteem, and I prayed for the return of my happy-go-lucky, willing-to-try-anything little girl.


     The affirmation came when we told our daughter our plans for the next school year.  Her smile was so big and wide  that I am surprised her face did not ache!  She has embraced the change with so much enthusiasm, and within a few short weeks, the sweet child I knew has reappeared.


     I am not naive.  I know there will be bumps in the road.  After all, I will be teaching a fourth grader and a kindergartner with a busy eighteen-month-old at home.  There will be days they will drive me to drink.  And there will be days when they take all their frustration out on their mother/teacher.  I am willing to hold on to all those times in between, when I get to witness their faces light up with excitement over a new discovery.  In the end, their happiness, both through academic success and emotional encouragement, is what led our family to this adventure.