Plan with Rigidity, Execute with Flexibility?

A few months ago, my husband had the opportunity to serve at the Boise LDS temple re-dedication.  He was part of the Spanish translation team for the broadcast of the re-dedicatory services.  He spent all three services (or sessions, as they’re known in Mormon-ese) in the basement of the temple, in a small utility room, the only place where the microphone wouldn’t pick up extraneous noises from the broadcast equipment and crew, who were also set up in the basement. Between translating at each session, my hubby got to chat with the security personnel who were charged with keeping things running smoothly.

The LDS prophet, President Thomas Spencer Monson, was at the temple that day and my hubby got to speak with the director of the prophet’s personal security detail.   President Monson’s frequent travels take him all over the world, and apparently, he creates quite a stir wherever he goes--stopping spontaneously en route, to visit at hospitals, homes of members, or to just greet interested passersby.  This behavior requires “on the fly” changes in security plans.

The director commented to my husband that, “We have learned to plan with rigidity and execute with flexibility.”

I have been thinking about that a lot lately.  I started out this school year with high ideals and intricate plans—and they have largely fallen by the wayside (again.)  It’s hard not to beat myself up about this—but I think I (and many others) underestimate just how much “life” happens to throw off the best laid homeschool academic plans.  When I first noticed this, I thought I just needed to plan better, be more rigid, demand more out of every minute: HERE IS MY PLAN AND BY GOLLY, WE WILL STICK WITH IT!
But it never works.  Ever.  So I keep trying, and keep getting frustrated when things go awry.



Because I’m a slow learner, I recently bought myself The Ultimate Homeschool Planner from Apologia.  It sounded awesome, and I loved its set up. “Use me,” it seemed to say, “and all your scheduling and planning issues will be solved! With me, you will reach your goals, your children will be studious and focused, you’ll have a clean house, and maybe even lose ten pounds!”

I thought for days how I was going to organize our hours, days, weeks, and months using this planner.  I spent several hours last week working up THIS week’s schedule for my two older kids.  I sat down with them and went over the plan.  I even made a meal plan for the entire week.  I was pumped, the kids were pumped.  We had a PLAN! We were going to ROCK next week!

Ahem.

Nothing has gone according to plan.  NO-THING.  The night before this awesome plan was going to work it’s magic, the dishwasher broke and flooded the kitchen from UNDER the wood floors.  The sub-flooring was soaked, the wood floor was warped, and there was water under the house.  Oh, and I had two days’ worth of dirty dishes that weren’t getting done.  The water had to be shut off, along with the electricity in the kitchen so we could fix the dishwasher.  We had no kitchen, and no water for 24 hours.  And then, when the water was turned back on, it came in one temperature: scalding. (I’ve heard of people having no running water, or no hot water---but no cold water????) I couldn’t shower or bathe my kids, or even work on Mount Dishmore because the water was TOO hot,unless we filled up the sink and tub and waited around for an hour or two---which just DIDN’T JIVE with my schedule…


(Keeping it real, folks. Really real. This is what my kitchen looks like when I fall behind on dishes—and don’t have a dishwasher. Or cold water to counterbalance the boiling water from the faucet.)

Okay, so the world’s tiniest violins are playing for me—really, this was just a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, but it THREW my schedule—my PLAN!—out the window on the very first day.  Sigh.

I had also forgotten to include in my plan the fact that we had dentist appointments and a book club meeting on the first day.  AND, I didn’t account for a last minute change in schedule to my kids’ piano lessons.  My eight year old missed her dance class. Oh, and I misplaced the meal plan, which included my grocery list.

I was in the depths of despair until the mailman arrived with a package from my best friend from childhood, full of paper for school and art projects AND three notebooks we wrote back and forth in throughout the ninth grade.



The note enclosed said: “I included some ‘historical texts’ you might enjoy!” (Thanks, Cathi! I love you!)

So, all was not lost—I may not have had the perfect “DAY ONE OF THE NEW REGIME” but this made up for it!  I was ready to attack the rest of the week (oh, and my dishwasher and water issues were resolved that evening—a definite morale boost!) We also took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese so I didn’t have to cook and the kids could eat pizza, slurp soda, and generally run amok.

Day 2 was spent partying and dancing the Samba at our homeschool co-op (which was ON THE PLANNER! Woohoo!), resurrecting the house, and catching up on dishes and laundry. And showers.

However…

It is now Day 3 of my grand weekly plan---and while I tried to start the day with optimism and a degree of grace, I have already yelled at my six year old for not doing his language arts worksheet, threatened to turn a timer on for the big kids who are dilly-dallying instead of working on math, and abandoned school for the 8 year old entirely for the day. I let the kids eat Girl Scout cookies for lunch. And the baby is careening around the house in nothing but a diaper, a runny nose, and two stuffed unicorns under her arm, shouting “Twilight Sparkle! Twilight Sparkle! Twilight Sparkle!”



Okay, that IS pretty cute.

But back to today. The lesson in all of this, I suppose, is that while I managed to plan with rigidity, I also tried to execute with rigidity.  This has merely resulted in a stress headache. And an alarming lack of Thin Mints.

My day—MY LIFE—seems to go better when I PLAN with flexibility.  I have often been told by my Type A husband and friends that I fly by the seat of my pants. My lifestyle makes them a little crazy. Even my religion touts order as the ideal. And I admire that, I do.  I aspire to it.  But, maybe my sense of order---as disordered as it feels to others, is still order. It works for me, until I start looking around at how other people are ordering their lives and I think, “Hmm. They seem so put together, maybe I should try a different method!”  It’s comparison, of course, which doesn’t do anyone any good—unless perhaps one is shopping for a new dishwasher.

The truth is, I’m pretty put together when I do things my way. My way takes a lot of big swoops and nosedives. I sort of catapult through life.  To mix metaphors: I’ll never be accused of missing the forest for the trees.  My house is cleaner, my kids and I are happier, we get more accomplished, when I’m NOT trying to adhere to a rigid, intricate plan.  If I make a rigid plan, I feel the pressure to execute it in the same manner.  And no matter how many times I tell myself “execute flexibly” it just doesn’t happen, because I’ve set up the expectations with my “plan with rigidity” mindset.

So, again, I’m going back to flying by my seat. Over the forest. The view is great up here!

Notes from “Professor McGonagall’s” Journal: Harry Potter Month 2012

My kids and I are avid Harry Potter fans. J. K. Rowling’s series about a downtrodden orphan who discovers he has magical powers is chock full of things a family can learn about or talk about—Greek myths, botany, astronomy, Latin, friendship, integrity, loneliness, overcoming or succumbing to pride, the hero’s journey, hero and villain archetypes, good vs. evil, how to handle handicaps and prejudices, social justice, politics, setting goals, sports, animal biology, and even knitting!  And that’s just the CONTENT of the books.  There are so many things you could pursue in language arts by just looking at how the  books are structured---grammar, formula, literary style, symbolism as a device in literature--I could keep going!
A couple of years ago, I read the Harry Potter series to my oldest two kids and they fell in love with the series as much as I did. We were feeling a little burnt out in school and decided to shake things up a bit with a Harry Potter Week, wherein we would turn our house into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and incorporate some Harry Potter themed activities into our days. We started small (really small) and renamed our classes and chores:
World History became Muggle Studies
Math became Ancient Runes
Gardening became Herbology
Taking care of pets became Care of Magical Creatures
Cooking became Transfiguration
and so on. 
We decorated the house.  We turned the TV into the Mirror of Erised and hung paper stars from blue yarn in the kitchen to create the ceiling of the Great Hall.  The kids had a few stuffed toy owls, so we perched them on top of the piano and called it The Owlery.  It was fun, and silly, and the kids wanted to do more—after that first Harry Potter Week, we decided that next time, we’d do a Harry Potter Month—full of Harry Potter themed activities and foods and décor!   October seemed to be a good time to do this, what with Halloween and all it’s attendant costuming and decorations.
We haven’t yet managed to make it a full month, because we’re still figuring things out and I’m trying to decide how much Harry Potter we can actually handle and still accomplish schoolwork and the rest of real life, but we’re getting there.  This year was the grandest of Harry Potter Months so far, and we anticipate next year being bigger (and more organized!) and even more fun.
Here’s a sampling of what we did this year (and my thoughts for next year, so I don’t FORGET!)

This year, the kids wanted to dress up. I rifled through the Halloween costume racks at thrift stores in search of things to use as the Hogwarts school uniform. I think my favorite finds were the graduation gown  that Gloria is wearing and the black “crushed velvet” robe that Ellen is wearing.  I had the kids put on white dress shirts and dark pants, and put the “robes” over top.  One of these days, I’ll get ties in the appropriate “house” colors.  Ellen and I originally intended to crochet scarves and hats, but both times we tried that, it just didn’t work out.  I anticipate Harry Potter Month becoming a longstanding tradition—so I’ll probably just break down and buy suitable items rather than make them.


We surprised the kids with “official” Hogwarts acceptance letters.  I found a Hogwarts School Crest online and we copied it.  Then, I typed up Harry’s acceptance letter, including his school supply list, and addressed one to each of the kids.  Notice it’s in green ink—just like in the first book!  The letters were then delivered by "owls” made from helium balloons.  (Thank you, Pinterest, for the idea!) I bought the balloons at the local party supply store, and used sharpies to create a Snowy Owl, Barn Owls, and a Great Horned Owl.




I am ridiculously pleased by the Snowy Owl (and the girl holding it!)
I also made House “hour glasses” that we filled with glass “gems” when the kids did something to merit praise or a reward. The idea was to fill the hour glass to the top with the gems and the first student with a filled jar got a prize.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get any photos of this project—but we used standard size quart jars for the “hour glasses” and I bought colored glass gems from the craft store—red for Gryffindor House, green for Slytherin, blue for Ravenclaw, and Gold for Hufflepuff.  (Hufflepuff really should have been yellow, or even black—but those were ugly—the gold glass was much more striking.)
Last year, we filled the mason jars with colored candies, but it only provided even more of a sugar overload, considering Halloween was around the corner.  We decided this year to go with something we could use over and over again.  I had the jars on hand already and used craft store coupons coupons to get the colored glass. (Love those Michaels and JoAnn’s 40% off coupons!)  Next year I’ll take pictures.
We made wands this year.  I bought a couple of wooden dowels, cut them to size, and spray painted them brown. I had big plans to decorate them with swirls of hot glue and plastic gemstones the way it's done here, but I couldn’t find my stupid glue gun and decided to just press ahead. The kids didn’t care, and in truth, I was relieved I didn’t have to worry about someone’s wand bling falling off if the glue relaxed or got brittle.
A few weeks ago, I was going through a container of my grandma’s old art magazines and discovered that many of them were wildlife magazines with pictures or paintings of different kinds of owls.  I let the kids cut out the owl pictures and paste them onto poster board—this became our Owlery (where Harry and his friends go to post their letters) and we hung it on the wall upstairs over a weird shaped ledge that was perfect for the kids to line up their toy owls on!


Some of our activities this year included:
Making popcorn as part of a “transfiguration class.”  We made it on the stove after reading the book Popcorn by Tomie de Paola.  There is a killer recipe in the back of the book for stovetop popcorn.  My kids have only experienced the microwave and air popper kind—so, making popcorn on the stove was a blast. Literally.  I was pretty liberal in adding the corn to the sizzling pan—and the popping kernels lifted the lid as they popped and sent popcorn flying everywhere.  It was awesome.  Calvin thought it was so funny he couldn’t stop laughing and jumping around.
Holding a Tri-Wizard Tournament.  In the book, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Harry is entered in a competition called the Tri-Wizard Tournament, wherein three wizards/witches are each expected to complete three dangerous tasks.  They are judged on performance (and their success at staying alive!) and the winner receives the Tri-Wizard Cup—a high and historical honor in the “Magical World.”  The tasks include fighting dragons, solving riddles, retrieving lost or stolen items from the depths of an enchanted lake, and navigating a labyrinth full of dangerous creatures.
In our Tri-Wizard Tournament, we made dragons out of air-dry clay, with the intent to paint them once they had cured for a few days. (Unfortunately, the dragons all fell apart, much to the kids’ dismay.  Next year, we’ll have to come up with a better medium—papier mache, maybe?)  I let the kids take turns having a bath in the soaker tub (which we otherwise rarely use), so that was a real treat.  The final task—the labyrinth—was a trip through the corn maze—which we would have normally done at this time of year anyway, but it was fun to add a Harry Potter twist to that tradition.  Fortunately, we didn’t encounter anything more dangerous than shoe-sucking mud.
We spent a couple of evenings outside looking at the stars.  I had every intention of getting hold of a telescope for these nights, but it didn’t happen.  At this point, though, the kids were happy to just get to stay up late with mom and dad, outside.  Earlier in the month, we had gone to a local-ish planetarium and the kids had learned about what constellations are in the sky at this time of the year in our end of the world, so they had fun looking for those.
We made a few Harry Potter-esque treats, too.  I had way more recipes than I had time to try.  I tried a recipe for apple muffins, which I had decided to call Cauldron Cakes, after a confection from the books—but the muffins turned out so badly that we decided not to eat them.  I wanted to make Pumpkin Pasties, which I interpreted to be like an empanada, filled with pumpkin pie filling—but ran out of time.  We substituted Starbucks Pumpkin Scones, which no one seemed to mind!  I have a couple of large stock pots that are wider at the bottom than at the top—one is shaped like almost like a cauldron—I made chili in it one night—and the kids thought it was hilarious.
I had many, many big plans for other activities, but we didn’t get to most of them.  At first, I was feeling frustrated and discouraged that my vision for our Harry Potter month wasn’t coming together exactly as I had hoped—but the kids didn’t even notice. I was basing MY expectations not only on what I’d read in the books, but what I’d seen in the Harry Potter movies.  I wanted to really decorate the place based on what I’d seen in the movies, but I didn’t have the time, and in some cases didn’t have the knowledge of how to do it---so I was frustrated that the place didn’t look (and therefore feel—to me, anyway) more “magical.”  For instance:
In the movie, the sign for the train platform that Harry goes to to take the train to Hogwarts looked like this:


Or at least like this:

I kept meaning to make a sign like one of those, but it was one of those projects that got shunted aside for other things (like laundry) so the kids took over and Calvin made these signs and hung them up:

This was not at all what I had in mind, but Calvin was thrilled at his own handiwork.  Here are the other nearby platform signs he put up.  Notice all destinations are in North America rather than England, where the series takes place:




Seeing Calvin excited about his train platform signs made me realize that I could take a step back and let the kids sort of run the show—they didn’t need everything to be movie-set perfect.  This made me relax a little, because as much fun as Harry Potter Month was, I was starting to stress out about making it “perfect” as I saw it.  I was getting carried away with what my vision for the event was, rather than letting the kids just do their thing.  Once I realized the kids were much happier running on their own imagination than on what I thought they should be doing, things got really fun.
In order for Harry to get to Hogwarts, he had to go to King’s Cross Station in London and walk through a brick wall barrier to the proper train platform to take the train.  The barrier only allowed “magic folk” to pass through—regular people (known as Muggles in the books) couldn’t get through.  We made our own “brick barrier” by hanging a red block-weave shower curtain in the hallway on the way to the garage.  Anytime we needed to take the “train” (our car) to go somewhere, we had to walk through our barrier. 
There were several regular school related things we did that I decided to assign “Harry Potter” names to, so I wouldn’t have to re-invent activities—in our homeschool co-op, we were studying desert ecosystems and made a desert terrarium with cacti and succulent plants.  Prior to doing this activity, I told the kids we were going to have “herbology class.”  They just used their imaginations and started calling the cacti and aloe vera plants by the plant names in the series---Venemous Tentacula, Mandrakes, Gillyweed, etc.  We had a good laugh over it.  They also insisted we purchase a carnivorous plant in honor of the herbology class—I’m such a sucker---I did it.  We are now the proud owners of a baby Pitcher Plant.  I don’t have a terribly green thumb, so we’ll see how it does.  Maybe next year we can try a Venus Fly Trap!
All in all, the kids and I had a lot of fun, and we are already planning for next year.  The kids wanted each day to be entirely devoted to Harry Potter stuff, and while I would LOVE it, that is unrealistic, so I told them perhaps we could do ONE Harry Potter thing a day (some things are merely a matter of re-naming a regular activity, and others will require more planning.)  We ended on a high note this year with the Tri-Wizard Tournament.  And after Halloween, we hit the Halloween clearance at a few stores and picked up some fun things for next year (like a trio of Gargoyles for Hogwarts Castle!)
The kids did some brainstorming for activities for next year.  They are included here:
Harry Potter Month Ideas:

• Acceptance letters (delivered by helium balloon owls)
• Decorate “Hogwarts” with the owlery poster and toys, house color crepe paper streamers, hang stars from the kitchen ceiling, candelabra on the kitchen table, train platform signs and shower curtain “brick barrier”
• Draw Moaning Myrtle on the bathroom mirror with soap (Calvin did it this year, but she was steamed off from of a month of showers before I thought to take a picture!)
• make book covers for school books---with the proper subject titles on each
• have a Potions Class (science experiements with goopy stuff)
• Have a House Sorting Ceremony—get a hat for this!
• Game of Quidditch! (need multiple brooms and hula hoops and balls!)
• Make Honeydukes candies: chocolate and peppermint frogs, butterbeer, etc.
• have a feast in the Great Hall
• Transfiguration Class (make popcorn or popovers or some other recipe where the initial ingredients radically transform!)
• Tri-Wizard Tournament (find different stuff to make dragons…) include going swimming and a trip to the corn maze
• Herbology—make an ivy topiary
• Care of Magical Creatures Class—go to Boo at the Zoo—a great excuse to wear the Harry Potter school uniform costumes!
• “Spell”ing---(which is really just studying Latin roots.)
• Herbology—plant a terrarium
• Have a dance party
• Read favorite passages from the books by the fireplace
• learn to knit or crochet something (can use this as a service project, too!)
• Read some Greek myths
• Play chess

Tea in the time of, well---TIME.

Ever have one of those days where you’re mindlessly scrolling through Facebook or Pinterest so busy you are nearly flattened by the fact that you are missing out on the most precious moments of your life?
Last week, Gloria kept pestering me about playing with the little ceramic tea set we have, which I had purchased a couple of years go with the vision of enjoying many cozy tea parties with my girls.  I was doing something on the computer (I’m sure it was hugely important…) and I kept brushing the kid off.
“Not now, babe. In a while.”
“Later on, okay?”
“In a bit, kiddo, in a little bit.”
Well, Gloria finally got tired of waiting and got the set down.  I heard the clinking of the dishes and went to investigate.  My first inclination was to scold the kid for getting into the tea set without permission. But when I saw her dressed in her finest, with a giant, floppy ribbon carefully tied in her hair, and setting the table with a flowered hankie as a table cloth for the tea set, I melted.

This wasn’t going to be any old tea party, casually slopping water from tea pot to cup.  This was going to be the REAL DEAL.
I don’t even remember what I was doing before, or what I did after—but right then, I realized this was an opportunity to make some sweet memories.  We made biscuits.  We made herbal tea.  We set the table. We broke out the freezer jam.  We invited the other kids.  We added insane amounts of sugar AND honey to our drinks.  And we had a blast.

Isn’t she adorable?


Of course, things got a little less dainty and refined when the siblings joined us, but hey---good company is good company.


We decided to skip having a real lunch and just gorge ourselves on biscuits and jam and sugar loaded lemon herbal.


I love that the baby has a tea cup AND a sippy.  She’ll have her tea, and drink it, too!


I love her pinky in this last picture—it appears Gloria is trying to be dainty, but the reality is that as I took the picture, I asked her a question, but she was focusing on drinking the tea—the uplifted pinky was a signal that she couldn’t respond right then and would have to wait until she finished.

The Ultimate Field Trip-- Washington DC Version, Part Two: How NOT to Get Through Airport Security

We begin our trip not at the airport as shown here, but the day before, wherein I frantically packed our gear and cleaned out our garage so we could stow the cars there while we were gone for two weeks.  I did the same thing I do every time we are about to embark on a long vacation; I pulled an all-nighter getting everything ready.  So I started our vacation feeling like a zombie and with a serious lack of patience.
Those who know us, know we travel light—carry-on only—but with five kids and two adults, this translated to 11 carry-ons, two car seats, a stroller, and a partridge in a pear tree.


This is a lot of stuff, but I was determined to make getting through security at the airport as easy and painless as possible. I made sure the kids left their box cutters, automatic weapons, and crayons at home. We looked up the “restricted items” list on the TSA website and I made sure the kids weren’t even wearing belts or carrying pocket change. We coached the kids to remove their coats and shoes and put them on the conveyor belt and how to walk through the security portal.  We advised them not to tell jokes or mention guns, knives, or bombs as we were going through.  Fortunately, when we got to the airport, it was so early in the morning the kids weren’t up to potentially damning wisecracks.  I figured we had this security thing down.
My plan was to have Julio go through security first so he could corral the kids as they went through and I’d bring up the rear. This was a very efficient plan.  Unfortunately, the security personnel do not define efficiency the same way I do.  First, after the kids had taken their shoes off and were waiting patiently for their turn to walk through the metal detector, they got yelled at for removing their shoes.  Yes, yelled at.  They were told to put their shoes back on and then my husband and I were yelled at for having had the kids remove their shoes in the first place.
The kids were flustered and stressed, scrambling to do what they were told.  The security dudes then barked at the kids to get moving through the metal detector.  Blythe, our four year old, was so confused by what they wanted him to do and where they wanted him to go, he had a complete meltdown. I couldn’t even get to him because they made the kids go through first before Julio (my husband) and me. (Why do they always do it that way?)  Blythe was scared and the other kids were bewildered and didn’t know what to do, so then the security guards barked at them to get out of the way and move over to somewhere else, but they weren’t shown WHERE.
Next, it was Julio’s turn to go through, and, as always, he set off the metal detector even after having removed his shoes, belt, and pocket change.  He was pulled aside to be wanded and possibly patted down.  I have no idea because at that point, it was my turn and I had a security guard snarling at ME.
I was told I had to take the (sleeping) baby out of her car seat and put it on the X ray conveyor.  I was also told I had to fold up the stroller and put it on as well.  I asked why I couldn’t just take the stroller through the metal detector, and was given a withering look and again commanded to fold the stroller and put it on the conveyor. 
The security people are either really stupid or really sadistic, because it was next to impossible for me to do this while holding the baby in my arms. I struggled with it, trying not to drop the baby, and trying to stay upright enough that Blythe could still see me from the other side of the metal detectors and machinery. The guards just stood there barking orders at me, and the people behind me in line were instructed to stay where they were, as if they’d be aiding and abetting a criminal if they helped me. I don’t understand why I couldn’t just take the stupid stroller through the metal detector!  I tried to warn them that it was too big to go through the machine and would get stuck, but did they listen?  It got stuck.  They tried to back the conveyor up to get it unstuck.  It took them probably five minutes to wrestle the stroller through the machine.
THEN, they wouldn’t let me carry the baby through the metal detector portal—I had to pass her through to Julio. I wonder, what would they have had me do with her if there was no one on the other side to pass her over to? Put her on the conveyor belt and have her go through the X-ray? I was so mad I was ready to scream. No wonder they won’t allow guns and knives in carry on luggage. I was ready to use both!
We finally got through, and it took us a good fifteen minutes to gather all our things and put our shoes and belts back on, re-pack our bags (toiletries, lap top, cell phones) and put the stroller and the baby carrier back together. Blythe was still crying and the baby joined him.  Ellen, our eleven year old, was freaking out about missing the plane (we had plenty of time, so that wasn’t an issue, but she was stressed out even so.) In an effort to grab all our bags off the conveyor after inspection, I stepped over some invisible barrier and was ordered by two or three guards to “back away from the restricted area.” One guard came at me like he was going to physically remove me.
I lost it. I had already gotten the bags, so I just yelled at them “Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” in a tone that made it abundantly clear I was NOT sorry. I will not repeat to you the words I uttered after that. You’d make me go soap my mouth. Honestly, I tried to keep in mind that the security guards are people just trying to do their job and it was early in the morning, but sheesh.
One guard at the far end of the security check area, a portly, aging black man, had been watching the whole thing and it was clear he was a decent man, but apparently couldn’t move more than five feet in any direction from the stool he was stationed on. As we were finally putting our stuff together and trying to soothe Blythe, the man called to him to catch his attention and then told him to look down at the floor. I saw the man flip a coin to the ground, just outside of his patrol range. He told Blythe there was some treasure for him. We walked over and Blythe picked up the shiny new nickel. He clutched that nickel for dear life. I thanked the man and he smiled a knowing smile. I could imagine him rolling his eyes at the mean guards and saying “Jackasses.” Blythe was a little happier after that, but not much.
On the plane, the boys sat on one side of the row and the girls on the other. I thought they all behaved beautifully, but the woman who sat in front of Blythe chewed Julio out when we landed.  Apparently, despite Julio’s best efforts to keep the boys from disturbing the other passengers, Blythe once pushed his feet into the back of the seat in front of him. When we landed in Chicago, the woman popped up, turned around and demanded “Are you going to Virginia?” Julio replied we were going to Washington DC. Then she said “If we’re on the next flight together I am NOT sitting in front of YOU. I refuse.” I hadn’t even noticed the woman talking until she raised her voice. She huffed out of her seat and off the plane. I’m glad Julio was the one sitting on that side, because with the mood I was in, I might have punched her in the face.
I really need to learn to go to sleep before traveling.

Please return your seat backs and tray tables to their upright and locked positions—thank you for flying by the seat of your pants….

I’m writing this as I re-wash some laundry—a rogue red hand towel made it into a load of whites. I tried to convince my husband that he should adopt the motto of the cowboys at the Snake River Stampede, “Real men wear pink,” but he insists the slogan doesn’t apply to underwear. Okay, fine. So, here I sit, my socks and undies not the only things being agitated.
So far, it feels I’ve spent the school year hurried and harried. I realized today that I have horked down every meal since we started school, frantic to shovel fuel into my body so I can rush off to deal with whatever kid, crisis, or event is careening toward me. There is something seriously wrong with this system. Funny thing—at church in a couple of weeks, I’m supposed to teach a lesson on “avoiding crisis living.” Of course, the lesson plan focuses mainly on financial planning and staying out of debt. But I see parallels with time management. Wise use of time, like wise use of money, makes us better able to deal with unexpected events and issues.  Supposedly….
I have a bunch of kids involved in a bunch of things, and I’ve discovered it’s impossible to expect to get them all out the door and be somewhere on time five minutes before we’re supposed to be there. (Cue flickering lightbulb in a thought bubble over my head.) So I’ve been experimenting with how much time is needed to get everyone ready for any given event, their bodies and supplies safely buckled and stowed in the car, and to arrive at wherever early enough to look like we have our act together, but late enough that I don’t have to resort to hog tying the little ones to keep them under control. I’ve found that with five kids, it takes me approximately 50 minutes to gear up to take them anywhere. If I were to divide that out, that would run around 10 minutes per kid—but they EACH take the entire 50 minutes. (What branch of math explains that equation?)
Then, it seems that any place we go requires a thirty minute minimum in driving time—and I can only stand about 10 minutes of Raffi songs in the CD player. Obviously, our car time would be better spent listening to an audio book, that is, if we could hear it over the bickering or robust renditions of “Jingle Bells/Batman smells.”
I am flying by the seat of my pants—which has always worked for me--I’m still able to get everything done and even have it turn out well (with the possible exception of my socks and undies tonight.) but I am not enjoying the rush, the adrenaline, the borderline panic that used to get me really jazzed. I am not finding my high in this lifestyle anymore.
I must be getting old and responsible, because I find myself wanting to fill out my calendar several months in advance. I want to do things like stock my pantry and my arts and crafts cupboard so I feel “prepared.” I am feeling a desperate need to have a structured schedule, and as little “stuff” as possible. (Craft stuff doesn’t count as “stuff” so please don’t quibble with me on it.) It is as frightening an experience as it is liberating.
My kids, who have been used to my “Jack Sparrow” approach to things--because it’s the only thing they have ever known--are struggling with my newfound desire to be organized in home and spirit. I won’t say they are resisting me—they just don’t know what to make of me when I tell them to get their karate uniforms on a good hour before we even have to leave for class. They are boggled by the fact that I’m now planning meals—and disheartened at the elimination of “half price Happy meal Tuesdays.” (Okay, kind of miss that one, too.)
I am trying to be patient with them as they learn to adapt to my attempts at avoiding crisis living. I am trying to be patient with myself when, despite my best planning, things still go awry and we STILL fly by the seat of our pants. Even on our best days, things are slightly insane around here, especially in the evenings after school. But, as long as I can laugh about it all, I think we’ll be okay. Even if I have to schedule the laughing in. Now, where’d I put the pencil?

School in the Time of Upheaval

Just when I felt I had this homeschooling thing figured out and running smoothly—weekly schedule ironed out, lessons planned, supplies purchased or borrowed, chores assigned—our family and household has been thrown into some upheaval.
We’ve had the unexpected addition of some extra people to our household and it appears we will be accommodating said extras for an indeterminate amount of time. This has changed the dynamics of everything from meal times and preparation and timing of lessons to space in the house and the car.  Maybe that sounds like no big deal, but believe me—it is.  There are discipline issues and differing expectations that make for plenty of awkwardness and Motrin-worthy headaches. There have been no end of distractions from schooling (some minor and just annoying, some major and downright frightening.)  And this is not including a newfound anxiety of where to put and what to do with the baby I’m due with in a mere four weeks.
Consequently, we’ve had to fit school in wherever and whenever we can.  I never considered myself a “structure” person, and never put much stock in having a routine, but now that we don’t have any of that anymore, any sense of routine and normalcy is what I crave most.  There have been days where I’ve had to abandon formal school time and just grit my teeth and endure the goings-on around here.  There have been times when I’ve needed to put myself in “time out” so I don’t turn a hard situation into an awful one.  I long for things to go back to  normal…but it appears we’ll have to redefine normal.
I apologize for sounding both cryptic and grim.  What I’d like to get across in this post is that even though we’re in the midst of a less-than-ideal situation, we’re trying to make the best of it.  I’ve had to let go of my expectations that things will run smoothly in any given hour, and I’ve had to practice patience when I’d rather run screaming from the room (or send other people screaming from the room!)  I’m trying to find humor in all the craziness, and I think I’m succeeding (most days.) 
My point here is that even when times are hard, and things aren’t going as planned, we can still accomplish a lot.  We can still learn a lot.  It’s a matter of reassessing one’s priorities. In our case right now, we’re more in survival mode than anything else.  We’re spending less time learning math, grammar, and history, but more time learning adaptability, patience, and diplomacy.  I suppose I should include that we’re learning more about love and charity (by far, the hardest lessons for me.)  In the grand scheme of things, those are probably the most important lessons to learn.

Lately, I Feel a Lot Like This Guy:

This is Jack Sparrow, of the Pirates of the Caribbean movie franchise.  He lives life flying by the seat of his pants.  He appears to others to be a disaster; a hapless, clueless mess.  He constantly finds himself in dire, surreal situations.  But, through his wiliness, his opportunistic tendencies, and just plan dumb luck, he always comes out on top.  I can completely relate. This guy is absolutely nuts, but he’s smarter than people give him credit for. And for all his faults, he’s rather likeable.
If only I looked as good in dreds and black eyeliner…

A Preliminary list of Home(school) goals for 2011 or A List of Wishful Thinking…

Christmas is over, January is coming and I’m feeling the pull to make some resolutions.  Of course, my resolve to accomplish things waxes and wanes, but here are some things I’ve been thinking about for the new year, in no particular order.

• Do the girls’ hair every day. It gets brushed every day, but I’d like to step up the girls’ personal grooming a notch or two.  I’m “hair-stupid” so the only hair styles I know how to do are pony tails and basic three strand braids.  My goal is to learn some cute, fast, hair dos that are nicer than just pony tails.  There really is something to looking put together.  Makes you feel better about yourself, more ready to take on the day…
• Train the kids to hang up their coats, karate uniforms, and church clothes, and put away their shoes in the designated spot as soon as they are removed. (not that I haven’t been working on this all along, but I’ve kind of let things slide in the last few months…)
• Make sure the kids are doing their daily chores EVERY DAY.  I’m writing this on a Sunday and had to get after the kids to convince them they STILL have to unload the dishwasher and take out the garbages on weekends.  I don’t know how it became the standard that I have to take over ALL household duties on non-school days, but it has to change.
• Work on refining the look and feel of the household.  (Of course, this would probably be easier to do if I first resolve to keep the house tidier in the first place.)  I’m tired of everything looking kind of junky and cluttered, it’s making me crazy.  I want some beauty and order, please!
• Pick up my own studies again.  One of the fastest ways to burn out on homeschooling, I’ve found, is to neglect my own intellectual pursuits.  I have a bunch of books that I’ve been meaning to read and take notes on.
• Change my tone of voice.  My default vocal setting is “annoyed” even when I’m not. I’m not sure why this is, but I can hear my oldest daughter picking up on it and I cringe every time I hear her sound like me.  I don’t want the kids to remember me as grouchy and irritated.
• Use the TV less.  I admit it, I’m one of those bad moms who uses PBS and videos to entertain the kids so I can get things done.  Usually, it’s the little kids who watch TV while I’m teaching the older kids or doing chores.  I hate doing it because I hate that it turns the kids into whiny zombies after a few days of “passive entertainment.” (But it’s so darn convenient!)  I need to find other activities for the little people to do while I’m working with the bigger kids—they’ll be better off for it, and my conscience will feel MUCH better!
• Learn to roll with the punches.  I have a tendency to get irritated and grouchy when I feel I’m not measuring up to my ideals.

There.  There’s the list of what I want. Now—how to go about it?