Monday, September 14, 2015

these posts don't write themselves

Instead of talking about all the things I haven't posted yet and wanted to, like finishing our summer photos and summer book lists, I'm staying in the present and telling you about now. Or at least what is close to now. As I write, we have a sunny, windy, big blue sky kind of Monday after having two straight days of rain. Unheard of for us, well almost. And by this morning, early this morning, five:thirty this morning, when I was up running to help Laura get to the bathroom to make another stomach bug deposit, I could hear rain still. The forecast last night showed more rain for today. But it looks like the blustery winds came in and swept the rain clouds out the back door just about time I was getting into the shower this morning.

It is our first full week of lessons and this past weekend, I was burning the midnight oil (purely a figure of speech, I don't do anything truly productive usually past eight) of another Ikea JANSJO light bought last week. I have had one on my bedside table for months and enjoyed it's cheering presence, so I wanted one for where I do my planning work. Of course, Seth and Laura both needed one in their rooms for various reasons, so now we can burn the midnight oil together, until eight.
We only had two days of lessons last week between Labor Day, field trip day and dentist appointment-turned-errand day. I knew it was going to be like that, so I kept our plans light as we transitioned back into our Morning Time and lesson routines.

Last week, we noticed a tree growing these enormous green pods out by our parking lot, so we headed out before lunch break one day to investigate and bring back some samples of leaves and pods to examine more closely. After searching through two tree books, Seth found it in the old vintage one. It is called Common Catalpa or Indian Bean. The green pods dry to the dark brown as seen and then split open, allowing a bark-like cylinder inside to be exposed which flakes of seeds are loosely hanging on to. It is all very strange and tropical island like. The leaves are massive, dinner-plate size which only add to the mystique of this tree. Somehow I tricked the kids into drawing it in their nature journals which of course made me feel like the best homeschooling Charlotte Mason mother ever for about two seconds until they asked if I was ever going to make them lunch. How is it that lunch comes every day? I would just love to feed them lunch on Monday and not have to think about that one again until sometime on Saturday, preferably after lunchtime.

In other news, we harvested some of the rainbow carrots this afternoon before naptime, taking advantage of the rain-softened dirt to loosen a few from their underground dwellings. This is technically our second harvest, since I pulled some several weeks ago to roast as a test run.

These are my 'carrot girls', I didn't know I had any until Laura told me. How convenient for me.

It has not been an easy day, a certain middle child spent most of her time this morning going from one disobedient and dangerous activity to another.  I will conceal the actual faults, but it has been emotionally and mentally exhausting. But by God's grace, time spent together after lunch with a puzzle and a must-hold-my-hand walk out to the river bank to throw in sticks and collect acorns periodically whizzing past our ears, I felt my heart soften towards this wayward daughter of mine.
I do not think it will get any easier as she gets older, I believe the easy days were years ago when the girls were both in the toddler stage. That didn't seem easy then, but the compliance issues were virtually nil. If you care to, I would appreciate prayers. I don't have any answers and a few of my ideas have not been able to come to fruition. I know He cares for us and that keeps me going.
I hate to end on a serious note, but supper prep doesn't prep itself.  I assume you knew.


  1. Hugs and prayers, sweet friend.

    1. Thank you, Stacy. That means a lot.

  2. Kathleen6:02 PM

    Ah yes, I remember a more senior mother gently telling me, while I held my crying baby in church, that these were the good years, the easy years. I remember thinking: surely, Carol, you just forget how hard this is. But, no. Those were very easy times on my heart, maybe my body was a bit spent, but I feel the "hard years" upon me, these ones and the ones coming. My prayers are with you, and for us.


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