Life Nurturing Education

Our thoughtful neighbor gave Sweet Pea three baby bears for her third birthday. How appropriate!

Wordless Wednesday

One thing I learned about always wishing for snow is, if a storm actually visits, you are unprepared. Sunshine bounded into our room Friday morning proclaiming,

There’s stuff in the sky! It’s snowing!

Because I’m Supermom, I rolled over muttering, “No, it isn’t.” She insisted. Of course, little early bird was telling the truth, and seconds later the house jumped with children.

Last week we ran around in sandals; this week we scrambled to find warm coats and hats. We don’t own any mittens, and only one person has snow boots, so the excitement of playing in the evanescent white didn’t last long. However, the moments before my children froze are etched in my mind. Pure joy. Pure excitement. The wonder of childhood.

My daughter received a doll house for Christmas complete with family and furniture. I wish she received a time machine instead, so the hours this toy has scattered across the house could be retrieved. Grandpa hides in a vase. Grandma faints under the couch. Sister peeks from the bookshelf. Mommy and Daddy search for Baby in the laundry basket. And lamps roll around the bathroom.

I didn’t get into this pick-up game completely clueless. While inserting screws for hours, I glimpsed a hint of the minutes this house would consume. It was worth it though. The finished product was perfect, the highlight of all the toys.

Two months later, the abandoned house sits in a corner. The furniture constantly gathered to make “soup” or “presents.” Will this nemesis of housekeeping be missed? Can I sneak it out during the night?

Maybe it’s an issue of perspective. Webster’s 1828 Dictionary defines perspective as “a glass through which objects are viewed.” Sometimes, the glass needs a good cleaning.

Gazing through the mist of life, requires imagination and hope. I clearly see the tasks of the day, but there is an unseen picture, of utmost importance, easier to forget. Sally Clarkson, author of Educating the Wholehearted Child, encourages me to continue overcoming my myopia.

Often, I find that in the absence of a clear enough vision for their children and homes, mothers replace conviction and vision with lots of activities and distractions for their children. This hyper-activity and rushing around to an endless list of expensive lessons and experiences and the buying of the newest expensive curriculum and technological options make moms feel like they are accomplishing something. However, when the home-life of children is rich with excellent, classic literature, passionate Biblical devotions, rousing dinner-table discussions around sumptuous, tasty meals, lots of love and affection given and household chores attended to—a child will become committed to all that is good and excellent and develop a moral and compassionate soul for all the divinely important values.

Moving the classic toy on top of the dresser brings everything into focus. My girls are now eye-level with the miniature world. Complaints turn into delight as Polly Pocket visits Sister Laura. Grandmother uses the stove to cook soup, instead of the kitchen table and chairs being stirred in a pan. The family and furniture often stay home now. Peace to us all.

A gorgeous, spring-like day evokes the desire to fly kites. Our single kite has yet to be unearthed from rubble in the garage, so we created our own kites, or wind bags, depending who you ask. Simply, tie a piece of yarn around the handles of a plastic bag for one hour of backyard entertainment.

Wordless Wednesday

Yes, it’s Sunshine again. She fell off her bike. Ouch!

Thankfully, lips heal quickly.

Chatting with a neighbor befuddled me. As our children climbed on the swing set, this capable lady remarked,

“I don’t have the patience to homeschool.”

I whispered, “I don’t either.”

She chuckled, “Really? Well, I think you are Supermom.“

Thoughts crashed in my head. How should I respond to such a statement? I know that Supermom doesn’t exist. She is an imaginary hero, an idol contrived in our own mind. This idol was discussed at Principled Discovery, and I’ve written about it, too. Dana confessed a desire to expose all her shortcomings to combat the lie. I relate. I wanted to reveal my faults one by one.

I am not perfect because I homeschool. Rather, being surrounded by constant commotion and disaster sometimes awakens the Mommy Monster in me. We try to laugh her away, but when green eyes flare, I long for Supermom to swoop down with scissors, glue, and confetti for a crafting extravaganza melting bad attitudes with a flash of wit. Supermom has yet to appear. External weapons will not conquer Mommy Monster anyway. She is an internal beast who can only be won by sharp stabs of truth.

The truth is there is no Supermom; just me praying for wisdom, hoping for a good day.

Before even a sip of coffee passes my lips, I stumble to the bathroom counter for a small infinity-shaped box. The world is blurry until something corrects my vision. I have eyeglasses, but they are missing a nose piece, they are two prescriptions from current, and they are dangerous when children smash me in the face. So contacts are my preferred method for sharpening the view.

Yesterday morning, when I opened the left side of the distinct container only a few drops of water remained. Contacts don’t disintegrate over night, so I wondered what happened to it.

This morning I found out. My four year old, Sunshine, followed me into the bathroom after our cuddle. She stared intently while I placed the plastic orbs in my eyes. Then the confession came,

Mommy, I ate your contact.

I’m glad I didn’t spend much time trying to find it. I never would have looked there.