Fall Reading

There's something about fall (even the pretend Florida version of fall) that makes me want to curl up under a blanket with a good book and a large mug of something hot. I also don't turn down snuggling with children and reading out loud to them. In case you are on a similar wavelength, I thought I'd provide a few of our latest and greatest.

Just returned to the library this morning, Brendan Wenzel's A Stone Sat Still is first on our list. Honestly, I didn't want to give it back. The illustrations were beautiful, and I wanted more time to talk with the kids about the meaning and depth that Wenzel provides. In a nutshell: some things change and some things remain the same, but perspective is everything.

My other favorite picture book choice for the month was not at all deep or moving, but was definitely hilarious. Neck & Neck by Elise Parsley had me laughing hard, and it'll crack you up too. This is what happens when a giraffe gets jealous of a balloon.

Twinkle doesn't look entertained in this photo,
but that was because she was ready for her nap.

My favorite middle grade series this month were The Doldrums by Nicholas Gannon (those illustrations! that story line! those fantastic characters!) and Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes and its sequel Sophie Quire and the Story Guard by Jonathan Auxier (because all the things!). I neglected to get good pictures for either of these, so basically, I'm the worst. Love me anyway. I will say, as a tease, that I just picked up another Jonathan Auxier book from the library today, Sweep, because I liked Peter Nimble and Sophie Quire so much. Beautiful writing, thoughtful and creative. The kind of book I wish I could write. Although I thought that reading The Doldrums too (and listening to The Benedict Society with the kids--but I wasn't planning to write about that tonight).

But here I am with my copy of book 2 of the Doldrums
that I talked the Man into buying while we were in Maine.
Our suitcase was much heavier going home.
Bookstores, man...

Next up, two excellent non-fiction reads to add to your list. First, War of Words by Paul David Tripp. I don't know how many quotes I sent the Man from this, but it was a doozy. So much to learn. So much to think about. So much to try to implement. I have never been more conscious of the many ways I fail when I communicate with others (and I don't just mean yelling at my kids or being passive aggressive with my husband). But it wasn't just a kick in the rear. It was a kick in the rear that gave me hope that I could change.

My other favorite non-fiction book this month was Christopher McDougall's Born to Run. An absolutely fascinating look at the history of running chock full of fascinating stories and mind boggling characters. I loved learning about the Tarahumara and getting to hear McDougall's own story. But it really stunk to read it when I'm not currently running myself. So read it, and then go for a run in my honor.

Twinkle is posing with Mr Popper's Penguins here,
but it was too cute not to include.

Finally, on the fiction front, I ran across a Madeleine L'Engle book I hadn't read yet, The Other Side of the Sun. It was one of those books that desperately cried out for discussion, and the Man unfortunately had to put up with my persistent need to bring up race relations in the post-Civil War South while we were trying to have romantic dinners together while flying sans kids in New England. If you happen to read it, send me an email letting me know what you thought. I'm still mulling it over even though it's been a week since I finished it.

But what about you? What are you reading? And if you're not reading, you now have multiple options to choose from, so what's stopping you? Hit up your local library (or fill up your suitcase with books the next time you have a fun trip) and then cocoon yourself in a blanket for a good read. Don't worry. The kids will fend for themselves just fine. And when they stop fending for themselves, you have read aloud options for them.

Taking a Break

I used to think that, as a stay at home mom, there wasn't much difference between a regular day and a weekend. The same messes were made; the same messes were cleaned up. The early mornings continued, regardless of any attempts for late night fun. The same meals had to be cooked; the same laundry thrown in; the same discipline issues worked on. And then I started homeschooling.

She wanted a cross between a moth and a bat
in front of a full moon...
because of course.

Orange polka dot butterfly happiness.

At first, I didn't really notice that there was a difference. But there was. Suddenly, on Saturday's, instead of slogging through reading and math, I could get alone time and quiet (while the Man handled the kids like the boss he is). Saturdays and Sundays, while still full of the every day work every parent encounters, suddenly became regroup time: those few precious hours where I could take deep breaths and convince myself I could do it all over again the next week. Sure, they were also about family time and enjoying having the Man home and the regular challenges of having children, but really, they were mostly centered on trying to catch my second wind.

Toothless Bat Boy

Tennessee football is serious business
and also incredibly saddening.

Channeling his inner Harry "Pottern"
before he goes to tackle the "Basilack".

Then, this last Saturday, somehow I found myself actually wanting to--gasp!--play with my kids instead of recover from their company. I sat down on the floor and voluntarily colored with my oldest daughter for an hour that day. Somehow, it felt like being a real mom, who was actually taking a sabbath from being a homeschool mom for once. And I loved it.

My coloring buddy/mini-me.

So, I think I'm going to try it again this weekend. Except this time maybe I'll play a legit game with my kids that isn't trying to teach them their times tables. Or bake macaroons and not count it as a home economics course mixed with fraction review time. Or take them to the beach and not have an impromptu natural science lesson on manta rays. But who am I kidding? Let's not get too crazy here. If you see a manta ray in its natural habitat, you have to discuss camouflage and survival skills and the differences between it and a sting ray.

I will make myself sick eating these,
and I will feel twice the regret
thanks to Bee's skip counting.

I guess what I'm discovering is that I want to make sure that every now and then, I press pause on teaching my children while I still have enough energy to enjoy them, because otherwise? What's the point. Also, somehow, they still end up finding ways to squeeze in school when I'm taking a break on the weekends...like skip counting their twos while I stuff my face with cookies. Funny about that.

Parenting and Pencils

I have always said that parenting five children is typically ends up along the lines of survival of the fittest. I have grown very good at being flexible and letting things go and knowing which things I should prioritize. But today, I faced the homeschool mom's worst fear: I was stabbed by a pencil. And suddenly, I realized that my parenting philosophies have shifted in the last few months.

Twinkles is pretty sure there's enough counter space
for her AND the cookie dough.

Let me back track to honesty. It wasn't the worst version of the homeschool mom's worst fear. I didn't get stabbed in the hand while giving an over achieving homeschool child a high five. But I did get a nice slice across my left shoulder thanks to an unnamed child who decided to stop drawing and give cuddles. There will be worse things. Like Latin noun declensions. And the constant waking terror of wondering if my children are being properly socialized.

But continuing on: changing parenting philosophies (which don't actually have anything to do with being punctured by a pencil). Although, it may be more parenting survival techniques than parenting philosophies... The Little Man made a comment just the other day about how organized and scheduled I was getting. I rolled my eyes at him, but then I realized...it was kind of true. Which caused me to immediately panic. Who am I?!? What is happening to me?!?! All those existential questions. Have I turned into a Pinterest mom with my adorable Pinterest chore chart and my adorable Pinterest lesson plans and my adorable Pinterest home? (No, on all fronts...)

Blanket Fort Round One

Still, I came to the realization that things can be more organized and scheduled now because...drumroll, please...I no longer have a baby. And I'm also...drumroll, part deux...not pregnant. If you can believe it, this is the longest I've gone without being pregnant for my entire marriage. And the amazing thing about not having a baby (and not working to produce yet another baby), is that you're no longer exhausted and overwhelmed all the time. And you're also not rearranging your schedule every three weeks when baby's nap/nurse schedule shifts.

Right before Twinkles lost her mind because I wouldn't
let her light the oven for her pretend cake baking game.

So yes, I have a bullet journal that I actually use. And I wash sheets on a schedule. And every Monday night all the water bottles get a good scrub. My children take showers and do chores every day (though getting their fingernails trimmed is another story). I put in my groceries on the same day every week and pick them up the next day. And it's like my inner J is finally getting a chance to thrive after letting my P run the show for all these years (that sounds gross--don't read into it too much).

Blanket Fort Round Two.
None of us realized just how much space we actually
had until it was taken up by blanket forts.

The funny thing I'm noticing, though, is that having things better organized frees me up to let the kids turn the entire living room into a blanket fort, and not freak out when Littles decides to put marshmallows in the chocolate chip cookies (even though the results were somewhat more exciting than he anticipated), and accept that my daughters are going to trade clothes with each other while simultaneously throwing a dance party and trashing the RV, and not worry so much when I'm washing dishes and there's a nerf gun battle going on over my sink, and wake up early so that I can write something just for myself, and so much more.

Dance party wearing each other's dresses.

It's also given me space to laugh more because I've already survived ten and a half years of unscheduled insanity so not much really fazes me any more.

Nothing fazes Blythe anymore either.
Not even Yucky Baby.
There is only terrified endurance.

It's nice being in a new season. But I recognize too, that it's just that. A season. And some moms might really rock the season of new mom with an exploding house full of children. But I'm not going to lie: I think I'm liking this version that comes with a little bit more of a routine. Even if it comes with the occasional pencil stabbing.

Shared Bounty

I thought I'd come back and give you guys proof of our gardening labor this year. Some aspects of our garden turned out heartier than others. For example, our lavender plant is going stronger than any of us ever expected. Especially Littles, who was convinced that I'd already killed it before we even transplanted it over to the raised beds. Pessimist.

Lavender in a glass in the background.

I did kill the zucchini and squash (root rot, although they produced a lot of blooms and a couple small vegetables that disintegrated on the vine before they finally died for good) and the bell pepper plants (our trip in May did them in). But the tomato plants are hanging in there--and even produced one beautiful tomato. Maybe we'll get more, but I'm grateful for the one we did get. And I ate the whole thing myself because the kids are philistines, and my neighbor was too sick for tomatoes the day it reached perfect ripeness.

Proof of life.
Before I ate that sucker.

Our jalapeño plant has been absolutely prolific--producing way more jalapeños than I could ever eat and of varying levels of spice, so you never quite know how exciting your meal is about to get until you bite into it. The strawberry plants gave us more than a few tiny and brightly sweet strawberries, though only ever one or two at a time, and are still alive and will hopefully make more adorable strawberries for us before we move next summer if I can manage to keep them alive through the winter. This is a big if.

Those jalapeños like to get artsy on me.

I suppose it's been mostly a mixed bag of results, but the fact that my kids can now say they've harvested jalapeños and a tomato (singular), lavender and strawberries, is kind of huge to me. And while we lived in a trailer park, no less. Also, they've seen that sometimes we give things our best shot but that still doesn't always guarantee the results we want. Still, we keep trying and tweaking and teaching ourselves new things. And that's not necessarily a bad lesson to learn.

It's not always the most well-weeded garden, and some days the plants look better than other days (my mint and basil seem to wax and wane with the moon), but I'm glad that we pushed ourselves to take a risk and try something new. Even if the fruit of our labor has been primarily jalapeños, we've also harvested some curiosity, a little bit of hard work, a smidge of beauty, and the belief that dirt under your fingernails is not something to shy away from.

So many jalapeños,
so little time.

We've also seen that everything looks better in certain lights, and sunrise is a forgiving time. But only for plants because they don't need coffee.

The mint plant only agrees to be photographed at sunrise.

But our biggest discovery is that gardens, like most things, are more fun when they can be shared. Twinkle enjoyed taking solitary strawberries to our neighbor and small bouquets of lavender next door. There are daily deposits of jalapeños across the field to the neighbor who went in with us on garden stuff. And maybe one day we'll get more than one tomato so that we can share those too. In the meantime, we know now that sharing a garden, and the work that comes with it, and the beauty and bounty that came from it (even if it was mostly jalapeños) has just been good.

Lavender makes everyone happy.
Except for the strawberries that wish it would
get out of their space.

End Goals

Three months ago, I had the honor of getting to watch my brother-in-law graduate from high school. My in-laws have molded and taught him, shepherded him and sacrificed for him, and now, as he heads off to college, they can do so knowing that--while they may wish they had more time--they have prepared him well.

As he walked across the stage to receive his diploma, I thought nine years ahead to my own son, eight if he keeps going at the rate he's attempting these days (but don't worry, I can intentionally fail him in a few classes to keep him home longer--joys of homeschooling). And suddenly I got the blessing of a bird's eye view of what's coming next, like I was using binoculars to view the finish line.

Photo cred to other amazing brother-in-law

It's so easy to get for all of us to get bogged down by the day to day. To make the next easy choice because we're tired or distracted or overwhelmed by other things. We've all been there. We all get that. But the truth is that in our relationships (whether that be with God, our spouse, our children, or our friends... or even ourselves), we have to keep the long term goals in mind. In an argument between spouses, perhaps the question shouldn't be who is right or what is fair but whether or not we want our marriages to succeed. In our friendship with the neighbor next door, perhaps we need to worry less about being inconvenienced and more about how we can be community. In our parenting, perhaps we need to focus our energies not on perfect behavior but rather on modeling for them the heart attitudes that we hope to see in them as adults.

I think often the problem is that I want my days to be easy. I want school to finish up quickly. I want my kids to behave appropriately. I want my neighbor to like me, my husband and I never to fight, my mother to still think I'm the apple of her eye (except she ruins it by persistently not playing favorites--thanks for nothing, Mom). And none of those things are bad. But they don't keep the end goals in sight.

To put it another way, if I want to be a fast runner, I don't just run sprints. I run distance as well. I do tempo runs, I do intervals, I do yoga, I stretch. I take days off to rest. I take weeks off when I'm injured. And I get up on the mornings that I have to and get those runs in even when I don't want to. Because I have a long term end goal in sight. My goals change my actions but most importantly, they change my attitude.

Still, sometimes we forget what this looks like for our relationships. We begin to trick ourselves into thinking that self care is all bubble baths and eating chocolate, and forget that it is the hard work of putting ourselves to bed on time and prioritizing healthy eating and making space for the things that help us to breathe. We think that if our marriage is happy, we no longer have to put the time in to grow and learn together. We change diapers and run through spelling lists and throw food towards the gaping mouths of our hungry children without keeping at the forefront of our mind that these are not just future adults but also eternal souls.

May I just ask you to pause for a few minutes and look at your relationships and ask yourselves: what is the end goal?

The relationships that define your life matter.  So fight for your marriage. Prioritize your children. Make time for your friendships. Remind yourself over and over again what matters and why you are doing what you are doing (and if what you're doing isn't helping you meet those relational goals, change what you're doing). When you catch yourself just going through the motions (or slacking off completely), stop yourself and remember that you have a purpose--not just for yourself but for your relationships.

You want to not just celebrate that anniversary, but do so knowing that you love your spouse more in that moment than you did when you married them, and vice versa. You want to not just watch your child graduate and achieve big things, but to do so knowing that he or she is someone you can trust and be proud of. You don't want to just small talk across the fence with your neighbor, neatly avoiding stepping on each other's toes, but be true community for each other.

You want to not just get a spiritual check mark, eternal fire insurance, or moral superiority--you want to know God intimately, if such a thing is even possible. You don't want to just skate through each day, surviving by doing the bare minimum. Remember who you are. Remember what your end goal is. And work towards it so that one day you can walk away knowing that, no matter what happened, you gave your best. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to.

Frizz Family Homeschool: RV Edition

Our first week of school happened to coincide with a lovely head cold, but you know what they say about homeschool moms: can't stop, won't stop! Except I totally have stopped more than a couple times and pretended that the kids were at a real school instead of just rampaging on the other side of the RV while I took a cat nap. Still, it's Thursday, and by tomorrow we will have completed our first week of Frizz Family Homeschool: RV Edition! during which time we will be teaching 5th grade (ish), 3rd grade (ish), and kindergarten (times two!).

I bribed them with first day of school cinnamon rolls so
they would think I was a cool homeschool mom.
It only partially worked.

I don't have any cutesy first day of school pictures with All the Information on personalized chalk boards (or white boards or maps, like we've done in the past). Mostly because since we started RVing it, our fridge is the whiteboard, and that doesn't show up super well in pictures. Also, there's just something about saying, "Let's go pose with the fridge for first day of school pictures!" to get your kids really excited about the school year.

Not sure what subject this was, but
obviously, it was enthralling.
Never mind. I just remembered that this was the picture the Man
took while he was letting the kids watch a movie to recover from
their first day of school while I went to a meeting.

I did try to get some pictures. For posterity. Of course. And Littles got some really artsy black and whites while I was distracted by blowing my nose. Kid has phone stealing skills. His dad's a cop: figures. But you will see just how energetic and accomplished we were this week. Still: everything got done. For the most part.

Here was my attempt at a first day of school shot.
Everyone squinted.
I gave up.
Story of our school year.
Kidding.

It's been pretty much what you'd expect from a first week of homeschooling my kids. Lots of excitement, lots of books, and lots of unexpected derailments.  Although props to Tiny for not allowing himself to be derailed by Twinkle this morning while making blueberry muffins (pretty sure that counts as a life skills class). She was putting on the full court press to crack the eggs (debate club), but he didn't buy it. Being a smart kid and all. Because he's homeschooled. Those public school kids would've let the two year old crack the eggs. {This is a joke.}

This is me pondering the deep questions of life so that I can teach my children
all the important things.
Kidding: I was thinking about whether or not there was
green snot on my nose ring.

For those of you who are wondering about our schooling plans for the year: we're sticking with Classical Conversations, and I'm upping my game and tutoring this year because if I can live in an RV with five kids, I can do anything! Also, I'm curing cancer and helping the UN achieve world peace. Other than that it's nothing but work, work, work all the time (name that quote!), by which I mean the actual nose-to-the-grindstone nitty gritty of homeschooling which generally means making sure your kids aren't illiterate...among other things.

Artsy shot number one.
See how much we are accomplishing with our school day.

For now, I'll settle for making sure the kids aren't illiterate: we're still trying to get the twins reading. Since they're only five, I feel like the word "still" was unnecessary in the previous sentence, but Twinkle is now joining us for reading lessons and may end up giving them a run for their money because that kid is precocious. And terrifying. But that does kind of make me feel like I should be speeding the twins up, if only to keep from having Twinkle shame them for the rest of their lives. Other than reading, Bruiser has decided that he wants to ask me to teach him all the material he's not ready for yet, so we're totally doing that too, and Bee has decided to follow in her Aki's footsteps and become an artist so...we're doing all the drawing, all the time. With a strong emphasis on butterflies because she's a five year old girl.

He did manage to get his brothers to look like they love each other.
So, I guess that's impressive.

Tiny and Littles, meanwhile, are continuing on their path of world domination and continual sibling rivalry while also attempting to help me forget that we were actually supposed to be doing school work by reading quietly in their beds so as to not attract attention. It's surprisingly successful most days but only because I get sucked into my own books (Ayesha at Last today--nothing like a good novel to make yourself forget that your head wants to explode). On the days I do remember that I have children I'm supposed to be teaching, there is cursive, math, vocabulary, literature, Latin, Spanish, Bible, history, geography, science, music, art--one big giant jumble of learning that will hopefully turn them into legitimate adults capable of cool things.

These girls.
Such cuteness.

So we begin another school year. A bit more minimalist than usual maybe, and always more chaotic than I wish, but hopefully enough for our purposes, which are always to strengthen the kids' minds, souls, hearts, and muscles so that they can more fully love God and their neighbor. And (fingers crossed) at the end of it, still love me and know that I love them. Even if I make them do cursive and long division.

Best first day of school shot.
Plus Bruiser's flower.
Eyes are mostly open and kids are mostly in frame.
We'll take it.
Standards are lowered.
If no boogers are showing, it's a win.

At any rate, happy new school year! May our textbooks smell clean, our pencils stay sharp, and all of our children's dramatic eye rolls be put to good use. Also, may there be coffee. And lots of it.

Trying to post this video clip Littles' took,

that really shows the essence of our schooling.

If it doesn't work, blame my lack of tech savvy.

Still Hot

Those of you who know me, know I love Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are. So much so that this year I bought a pencil case of Max in his wolf suit with the iconic words "I'll eat you up!" written on it. (Incidentally, the Man, who is not a Sendak fan, asked me, "Who bought this weird pencil case? That kid has something coming out of his butt!")

This morning, I pulled out my pencil case to have my quiet time and found myself thinking about how Sendak's editors had tried (and failed) to get him to change the last line from "And it was still hot" to "And it was still warm." Max, the protagonist, has been sent to bed without any supper for misbehaving. He has gone on an adventure to the land of the wild things (sailing off through night and day and in and out of weeks and over a year) where he can be king. A wild rumpus progresses until he realizes that what he wants more than to be king is to be where someone loves him best of all. He returns home to find his dinner waiting for him...still hot. Not warm, and that is significant.

Sometimes, when we have been gone from the one who loves us best of all--pursuing our own power, setting our mark on the world, letting our desires devour those we think we love, attempting to exert control over the wild things about us--we realize that in our escape from discipline, we have left behind what really matters. And we want to return. But we are afraid of what is waiting for us.

I'm here to tell you that I think Sendak got it right (not all the time, some of his work is incredibly macabre, but in this instance). The one who loves you best of all has left dinner waiting for you--and it's not just warm, it's hot.

We think that we have forfeited that. That we will return to another empty room of discipline, or a meal that's been waiting for so long it has grown tepid or slimy. At best, we expect a bowl of warmed over soup and the chance to slip in unnoticed. But no, God has more for us than this. He loves us best of all, and his desire for us doesn't devour, it nourishes.

A hot meal indicates the presence of someone who cares. It is not a sandwich, left to be eaten alone. It is not a meal cooling to warmth that was left some time before by someone who isn't sure if or when we will be ready for it. It is a meal prepared specifically for us by one who knows our going out and our coming in and chooses to bless us with the very best out of his love for us.

Then again, maybe I'm just reading too much into this, and Max's meal was still hot because all of his adventures with the wild things happened only in his head. But I prefer the hope of the former interpretation. And I wondered if you would too.