that one time

The kids and I started our Native People’s Study this morning. This 4-week study is a download I purchased from Jodi Mockabee’s blog. She is another homeschool mom whose Instagram account is one that I check in on every once in a while. I appreciated how she had all the study resources listed in one place, so I was able to order the books I needed to be ready to go.

Two of the kids came down with fevers during the night, so I didn’t know if I should start or not. It wouldn’t look like I’d imagined–all kids feeling bright and energetic. You might scoff to hear me say that so much, to reference how something didn’t go how I’d imagined. I only bring it up, if only for my own reminder, that it doesn’t always matter what we think, imagine, or dream. Reality comes with its own surprises, ones that don’t need the say or spark of imagination. One child slept on the school room guest bed, while the others worked on math and reading. I lit a fire.

We began reading The Birchbark House, which is the first read aloud we’ve started this year, and have done in a while. Read alouds are a big deal in the homeschool world, and I can understand why. Who doesn’t love the thought of school being wrapped up in stories on cozy afternoons? I agree that reading aloud with your kids is simultaneously a bonding and educational experience, but for me it often takes an unavailable mental energy. Boo hoo, I know. We read a lot more in our earliest years, though for reasons I cannot exactly put my finger on, the read alouds have fizzled out over the past year or two. Why won’t some desires, some dreams, leave us alone?

I’m busy, I’m tired, I’m uninspired, you name it. All three of those things would exactly be it, and all that to say, it’s been what it’s been, and what it’s been has been something I’m still thankful for. I’m not going to kick myself over all the books we never read, but neither am I going to give up on the books that we have left to read. So much of homeschooling is simply living out your days. I wanted them to be part of a family, to be intimately acquainted with what it meant to take out the garbage and rake the leaves.

When Friday comes, I’m glad it’s Friday. Not because the week was bad, but because we’ve got other things to do, like clean our rooms and catch up on laundry. The washing machine hums and the dryer works. When it’s my turn to host, I buy the food for Sunday dinner, sigh at another meal needing cooked, and then look forward to the fellowship, which is always good.

When Monday comes I’m always so glad it’s Monday, because I love every day I get to spend with these children. I’m sorry I don’t have a secret homeschool mom confession to offer here. It’s just the worn out, honest to goodness, truth that I can’t always explain. It’s a happy worn, like the one rabbit story. I couldn’t tell of a better way to be young and grow old.

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