Sing Your Heart Out

Do you know of the grammy winning musical group from South Africa, Ladysmith Black Mambazo? I first heard them in junior high, when a substitute teacher in my choir class had us watch a film called “Spike Lee’s Do It A Capella.”  The movie showcased a number of a capella groups—all of them dynamic, all of them talented.  Among them, the most fascinating to me was Ladysmith Black Mambazo.  I loved their deep, tribal harmonies and exotic sound. I loved the story of their name. I followed their career through the years—loving their collaborations with everyone from Paul Simon to Disney.  I fancied myself a singer as a kid and I had this fantasy of going professional and performing with Ladysmith in something like this. I bought the Do It A capella soundtrack and memorized all the songs—trying to pick out various parts. “Someday,” I thought, “I am going to sing with Ladysmith Black Mambazo!”
As the years passed, my interests and focus changed.  I would not become a professional singer, and that was okay.  I got on with life, went to college, and studied the Humanities. I got married. I had a bunch of kids.  I took up scrapbooking and knitting. But every time I listened to the Do It A Capella soundtrack, I’d indulge in the childish fantasy of singing with Ladysmith. 
And then—I heard they were coming to perform in Nampa, Idaho.  I was thrilled (and surprised they’d be coming to such a podunk town in Idaho in the first place.)  There was NO WAY I was going to miss their performance. My hubby bought tickets and I jabbered to him the whole way over to the event about how much I had loved Ladysmith Black Mambazo’s music as a kid, and how I had always wanted to sing with them and how excited I was to see them in person in what was practically my back yard.
We sat in the center of the fourth to last row in the small auditorium of the Nampa Civic Center.  I always like to look around at the audience when I go to concerts, and in this case, I was very curious to see who else would attend a Ladysmith Black Mambazo concert.  It was full of stuffy older people, whispering back and forth what they thought they knew about Ladysmith and full of themselves for coming to a “cultural event.” I wondered if I was the only genuine fan in the audience.

When the music started, I was practically bouncing out of my seat.  The singers encouraged the audience to clap out rhythms with them and participate in the call and response songs.  Surely, this was heaven!  But to the singers’ frustration (and mine) the audience remained reserved in their participation.  I think I was the loudest clapper and responder in the bunch—much to the chagrin of the people around me.  I felt the pressure to sit quietly, and began to hold back.  I became agitated.  I really wanted to participate, but because of what I perceived as disapproval from the people surrounding me, I felt I had to stifle my enthusiasm.
Then, the singers began a song, inviting people from the audience to join them onstage.  A couple of the singers left the stage to hand pick people from the audience out of the front row.  I was desperately jealous of and excited for the people the singers were trying to engage. The singers weren’t having much luck convincing people to come up.  Soon, I was disappointed and embarrassed to see that most of the people opted to remain seated.  When the singers realized they weren’t going to get the adults to join them, they turned to recruiting kids—and finally got a couple of them up as they got into their song.  Throughout the song, the singers continued trying to get folks to join them, moving to the edges of the third, fourth, and even fifth rows!  I kept whispering fiercely to my husband that I wanted to go up.  Here was my chance—here was my fantasy realized—I could really go up there and SING with my favorite musical group!  He encouraged me to go, practically pushing me out of my seat.  But by then, the song was nearly over and I would have had to climb over fifteen people, run up ten rows or so, and climb onstage.  I would have looked really stupid and I would have annoyed the people I had to climb over. I would have caused a bit of a ruckus.  What would they have thought of me?
So I stayed put. It killed me, but I couldn’t find the nerve to go up there.  When the song ended, the singers helped the two kids and the one adult couple that eventually joined them back to their seats.  I kept thinking that if they asked for volunteers to go up on stage again, I’d do it and to hell with the people that might get annoyed as I barreled up to the stage.  But, the singers didn’t recruit any more people.  They finished out their concert, and the curtain closed.  I had missed my opportunity.  I left what had been an amazing performance not elated and uplifted by the singers, but dejected and disappointed in myself.  I had let fear of what others might think prevent me from fulfilling my dream.  It had been quite literally within my grasp, and I had not seized it.
On the way home, I tried to mollify myself.  There were a couple of call and response songs that the group had gotten the entire audience involved in.  I had sung with the crowd when directed to, so technically, I had sung with Ladysmith Black Mambazo.  But repeating a few choruses with a reluctant audience wasn’t the same as going up on stage, joining the beckoning singers, and singing my soul out.
I’ve thought a lot about that experience over the last couple of years.  How many times have I had an opportunity to do something great, to be a part of something phenomenal, to do a bit of good, but not taken part because of fear of what others would think, or fear of my own inadequacy? And what have I ever gained from hanging back, not plunging in to something I’m passionate about? I vowed I would never let fear best me again and prevent me from fulfilling my dreams, because living in fear is not living at all.
When dreams call, grasp the hand of opportunity, regardless of fear, and sing your heart out.

A Life Lesson, as brought to you by my husband

Back in April 2010, my husband went in for a routine physical and was told by his doctor that his blood pressure was high and he needed to lose weight because he was at risk for a heart attack (among other things.)  The doc wanted to see him back in three months.  If my husband hadn’t improved, he’d have to start taking blood pressure medication.
For about two weeks following his appointment, my husband tried to exercise—but then life got in the way; we went on vacation, he got a head cold, he got busy at work, the kids wanted his attention, his church callings took up too much time.  I worried about his health, but not wanting to nag my man about his eating habits and lack of exercise, I didn’t say anything. (If I had, it would have been the pot calling the kettle black!)  Soon, three months were past, and it was time for his follow up appointment.
This time, my husband’s blood pressure was worse.  The doctor actually told him he was a “ticking time bomb” and “going to have a heart attack.”  He wrote out a prescription for BP medicine.  My husband was horrified and declared he would try again to lose weight, if the doctor would just give him another three months. The doctor, highly skeptical, called my husband out on the carpet.  “You’ve had three months to get this under control and you haven’t,” he said.  “What makes you think you’re going to do it now?”  My husband asked how long he’d have to be on the medicine if he started taking it.  The doctor said, “Probably for the rest of your life.”  My husband looked the doc in the eye and said, “I don’t want to have to rely on that medicine to stay alive.  I WILL get healthy the right way.  Give me three more months and let me prove it to you.”
The doctor was still skeptical, but turned my husband loose, without the prescription.
Long story short, my husband has spent the last nine months proving he could get himself healthy.  He’s lost 60 pounds and is now within ten pounds of his target weight.  His blood pressure is now normal, his risk for a heart attack and stroke down to practically zero.  This man is a lean machine.

Over the last few months, people have noticed him getting smaller and leaner. He’s been approached by men and women who tell him he looks like his weight has just “melted off.”  He’s been told, in tones of awe and envy, that he looks like he’s “wasting away.”  Some of our elderly friends have even expressed concern that he might be ill, because he’s so thin.  Some folks have insisted that he STOP losing weight because “You’re small enough now.”  He’s been asked what magic pill he’s taking, what diet he’s on, how he’s “magically” managed to lose so much weight.  People want to know:  “What’s his secret?”
No one believes him when he tells them. They actually laugh at him.  But, I know his secret, too.  It IS unbelievable.  Want me to tell you?  Are you ready?  Okay, here it is.  My husband’s secret for weight loss success is------DAMN. HARD. WORK.
He started by joining our local “corner” gym—it’s a small place, open 24/7, membership fee: 20 bucks a month.  Next, he hired a personal trainer for six sessions to help him come up with a game plan and some goals, and to keep him on track long enough to get into the habit of working out on his own.  The trainer weighed and measured my husband, wrote out an exercise plan for him, and introduced him to a health and fitness website: www.livestrong.com to help him track his progress.  Then the real work began.
My husband has, for nine months, consistently spent an hour to an hour and a half at the gym, or out cycling, five OR six days a week. He is still as busy as ever with work, family, and church responsibilities, but now he MAKES TIME for fitness.  More often than not, he gets up at 5 AM to go work out. Occasionally, he’ll skip the gym, and take in an evening kickboxing class, or play as a substitute in an indoor soccer league. The big realization here: You make time for the things that are truly important to you.
He has learned to count calories and for the first three months of his serious endeavor to get healthy, measured EVERY morsel of food that went into his mouth.  He was already eating fairly healthy foods, just MORE than was strictly necessary—so, he had to learn portion control.  And, admittedly, he did change some of his food choices.  He now eats high fiber cereal, and tosses in a bit of protein powder in with a fruit smoothie.  He eats a lot more salads and veggies.  At restaurants, he generally chooses lower calorie entrees.  But, he doesn’t shy away from the occasional donut or slice or two of pizza.
All this has been very hard.  He got tired.  He got sore.  He was often hungry, initially. He’d get sick and want to quit.  Three or four times, he’s had to take as much as two weeks off, to recover from injuries, or illness, or other life events.  But he keeps getting back up, and keeps going to the gym.  And he keeps watching what he eats and tracking his progress on the website.
To the untrained eye, my husband’s weight appears to have “melted off.”  But if it’s melted off, it’s melted off with gallons of sweat from hours and hours and HOURS of damn hard work, physically and mentally.  This brings me to the “life lesson” mentioned in the title of this post.



I hear a lot of parents telling their kids “You can be anything you want to be.  You can be successful at anything you put your mind to.”  I believe this.  But I also believe that when we say these kinds of things, we have a tendency to leave out the critical part---“if you’re willing to work your arse off to get it.” Consequently, our encouragement to our kids sounds vague and abstract, and the kids develop the belief that if they wish or dream something hard enough, it will come to pass. 
In my experience, hoping and wishing and even dedicated thought don’t usually work by themselves.  But—work will win when wishing won’t.  Whether you’re trying to lose weight or you want to learn to speak Russian or play the violin—it’s the WORK that gets you there.  And the harder you work, the better you’ll do.  We tend to want to look at people who have accomplished much and think they’re just lucky or unusually talented.  Luck and innate ability may lend themselves to success, but real, lasting success in any endeavor requires a whole lot of old fashioned, uncomfortable, gritty WORK.  Take it from one who knows. 
I’m proud of you, my man!

Burnout: Part Deux

I was hoping to be able to post all the awesome stuff I gathered from the Mother’s Meeting that I had anticipated in my last post.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much in the way of awesome advice about what to do about feeling burnt out.  Most of the moms who attended this time are mothers to older kids and teenagers---the big topic of the night ended up being about how to motivate their older kids to take their education into their own hands—so there’d be less nagging on mom’s part.
I suppose I should have paid better attention, so when my kids are pre-teens and teens, I’ll have some ideas, but I was just sort of disappointed that we weren’t going to talk about dealing with the homeschool blahs. 
At the end of the meeting, however, I threw my concerns out and asked for advice.  One mom of ten told me that my feelings of burn out and disinterest will pass—probably well after my baby is born, and that if my other kids didn’t get any formal academics for six months to a year, they’d still turn out okay.  It sounds kind of flippant to write it here, but I was actually comforted by that statement.  This mom of ten is a woman I consider my homeschooling and parenting mentor.  She’s given me a lot of practical advice since before I started homeschooling, so I trust her.  She’s also got a very wry sense of humor and isn’t one of those Pollyanna types that tries to gloss over the hard stuff.  She’s upbeat, don’t get me wrong, but she’s very REAL about her triumphs and failures.
So, I’ve been giving it some thought.  Six months with no school?  A year?  For real? We haven’t done any formal academics for about six weeks.  I have a baby coming sometime (God willing) in the next week, and I can’t imagine I’m going to feel up to hitting the books really hard for at least a few weeks after that.  I don’t want to whine or anything, but I’m feeling pretty miserable physically.  Standing hurts, walking hurts, bending over is nigh unto impossible—I’m exhausted after taking a shower and getting dressed.  So, I’ve been doing a lot of just sitting around.  I’m too tired to read, I just fall asleep—so yes—I have resorted to letting the kids entertain themselves with the TV and with the Wii.
But, I have discovered that the kids can only tolerate so much of that before they are restless and discontent.  They are brunt out on burnout.
  For the last few days, They’ve been asking me what we’re going to do today.  Something?  Anything? So I’ve given them chores.  I’ve let them cook (yikes!)  I’ve let them get out whatever messy craft project they want.  And, as I’ve watched them discover the satisfaction and order of a cleaned room, the joys of a successful cooking experience, or the lesson in perseverance when the project doesn’t turn out they they were hoping initially, I’ve begun to feel a glimmer of motivation and interest.
A spark of Phoenix fire.  But that’s the next post.

Burnout!

Oh yes, it has arrived. I admit, here and now, I have entered the Apathy Stage.  Revel in it with me for a moment.  The entire household has been down for the last couple of weeks with intermittent occurrences of head-colds, stomach bugs, and in my case, epic pregnancy-induced heartburn.  For the last little bit we’ve been foraging instead of having regular meals, living off saltine crackers and suspicious looking leftovers.  Dishes and laundry are piling up. Half my kids have been running around in pajamas, the other half, undies and T shirts that haven’t been changed in a few days.  I think I’m the only one who has bothered to shower in nearly a week.  I may not feel good, but I insist on smelling good.  As for the others, I’ve ordered them to stay downwind. 
We (but especially me) are officially suffering from burnout.  With everything.  School, chores, church, interpersonal communication, hygiene…(I warned you I was keeping things real here.) Even TV has lost it’s mind-numbing charm.  Consequently, the house is in chaos and the bickering between the kids has increased.  I’ve been tempted to put hazard tape up across the front door. It is NOT pretty here.
However, before I’ve completely depressed you, I will say that I know this is temporary.  I know as soon as I start feeling better, things will improve, by virtue of the fact that I’ll care about the state of the kitchen and general housekeeping again.  I’ll go back to insisting on daily bathing rituals.  I’ll get excited about using the copy machine to run off math lessons.  Right now, the kids are on the upswing, meaning they have tons more energy than I do—but they’re all young enough to still need a lot of hand holding to help with chores and still need considerable one-on-one time for schoolwork.  They are bored and I can only boss them around from my prone position on the couch for so long before they revolt and run screaming into the backyard half naked.
Sometimes, when you feel crummy and don’t want to face the day, I think it really is best to surrender to that and hide under the covers as long as the kids will allow.  I’ve heard crashes and clunks and screechings as I’ve been buried in blankets, and when no one comes in bleeding or on fire, I manage to quell the concern over what’s happening by reminding myself that everything in the house is cleanable or replaceable.  Wow, I’ve really sunk low.

Burnout is a part of life—and it often seems to hit me and my family when we’ve been under the weather or had some major change in the family or our environment.  I used to stress about those “blah-I’d-rather-be-doing-anything-but-this” times, thinking I was shortchanging my kids’ education.  I mean, what if they get “behind?”  What if I get SO burned out I can never get out of feeling this way?  But now, I know that this kind of thing is cyclical.  Sometimes, you can force yourself out of it by changing your routine, or taking a couple of days off.  Other times, you just have to ride out the ugliness. When things are good, they’re great.  When they aren’t, they aren’t—and it only makes things worse when you stress out.
I’ve found that having friends to talk to helps a lot.  I meet up once every month or so with a group of other homeschooling moms—we call our meetings “Mother’s Meeting.”  No kids are allowed (except nursing babies) and we meet at someone’s house for a couple of hours to talk about whatever’s going on in our lives.  Our meetings generally have themes or topics and each mom is asked to come prepared to talk about whatever the topic is.  Questions and concerns are encouraged and “what works for you” ideas are even more so.  I find these meetings inspiring—it’s nice to see I’m not the only one dealing with balancing housework with homework, and it’s fun to rejoice in each other’s triumphs.  It’s comforting to share each other’s burdens and concerns.  We laugh, we cry, we encourage each other. Oh, and we generally have treats.  Always an upper, in my opinion.

This month’s meeting is in a week or so, and fittingly, our topic is “Burnout—when does it hit and what do you do?”  I’m looking forward to this meeting because I SO need it.  I’ll post what I learn/gain here on this blog afterward.
Now, back to the couch and the ginger ale.

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.

Some Questions Answered

Recently, one of my favorite cousins emailed me with some questions about how I handle this school thing and requested I post about it.  They were good questions, so here goes:
Q: What did you do personally to prepare for homeschooling?
A: I did (and still do) A LOT of praying.  Seriously.  I mean, we’re talking about the lives and intellectual growth of my kids here!  I need all the divine guidance I can get!  Beyond that, I attended conferences and “mother’s meetings” sponsored by the Deseret Homeschool Association (a local LDS homeschool support group.) and took copious notes. I found and hounded other homeschool parents about their methods and curriculum. I wrote out my goals to use as a reference. I did not attend any official “teacher training” courses.  I surveyed curricula. I read books on educational theory and I researched the teaching methods and models other people used. These are some of the books and websites I used: (I’m including links so you can see them, too.)
The Original Homeschooling Series by Charlotte Mason
A Charlotte Mason Companion by Karen Andreola
www.tjed.org
A Thomas Jefferson Education by Oliver Van Demille
The Well Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise
CHOIS (Christian Homeschoolers of Idaho State)
Idaho State Department of Education (I found the state standards and each grade’s scope and sequence outlined here)
The Core Knowledge Foundation
I also checked out various homeschooling books and periodicals in my local library (most of which are out of print now, but still chock full of practical advice on every aspect of homeschooling you can imagine.)
After doing a lot of reading and asking a lot of questions, I started forming my own ideas about what an education should be and how to implement it.  Initially, I was very drawn to the philosophies and methods presented in the book A Thomas Jefferson Education. That book pretty much guided me through my first year as a homeschool teacher.  I returned to that book and the TJEd website and forums frequently for reassurance and guidance.
As I got more comfortable with my role as home educator, I turned to the book The Well Trained Mind, which offered a different philosophy and more rigorous practices than the Thomas Jefferson book.  It also offers curricula reviews and suggestions.  I’ve taken most of our curriculum from what was suggested in TWTM—namely our math, spelling, language arts, and history curricula.
Q: What has been the hardest part about teaching?
A: I’m tempted here to say, “Every part!” but the truth is, certain aspects of teaching have been harder at times than others. The hardest part initially was dealing with the crushing weight of responsibility for my kids’ entire education.  I was terrified of screwing up, so I modeled my teaching and “classroom management” after what I remembered from my own experiences in public school.  And it was a FLOP.  You cannot duplicate public school at home. It’s impossible.  But, impossible as it was, I couldn’t let go of my public school mindset and I was frustrated when things didn’t go according to plan (which was pretty much all the time.)  My kids were miserable, I was miserable.  It was only after the experiencing the WORST homeschool day ever, that I realized my expectations and my methods were WRONG. (I’ll post about it soon, I promise—it’s a great story, now that I can laugh about it.)
After that day, the hardest part about teaching became being consistent about having school at all.  (Okay, seriously, my next post will be about the WORST day ever, because it illustrates how drastically things changed.)
Right now, the hardest part about teaching is still being consistent and insisting all the work (mine and the kids’) be done in a timely and excellent manner.  I am not an organized or structured person by nature, so following lesson plans and staying on task are my biggest challenges.  I’m easily distracted, and there are a LOT of distractions in a homeschool.  There are screaming toddlers, laundry, phone calls, people coming to the door, chores, bickering kids, Facebook (yes, I am slightly addicted), and a slew of other things.  I have to work hard to keep to a schedule and eliminate (or ignore) the distractions.  Some days go better than others, but I’m proud to say the good days now consistently outnumber the bad.
Q: What have you learned along the way about your skills as a teacher?
A: I’ve learned:

• I am really good at getting people excited about things.
• I have a tendency to want to fizzle out after the initial enthusiasm wears off.
• I’m the “wrong” kind of perfectionist and have had to learn to be the “right” kind. (We can debate whether perfectionism is okay in the first place, later.)
• I vacillate from being rigid to flighty.
• There’s a HUGE difference in knowing how to do something and knowing how to teach it. (Stay tuned for an upcoming post about math.)
• Fear can be crippling if I let it be. 
• To ask for help. (Again, look for the upcoming math post.)
• Before I can teach anything, I have to have the students’ attention and respect.
• Sounding upbeat and positive sets the tone for the day (so fake it ‘til you make it, baby!) 
• I’m drawn to the rigors of drills and memorization but don’t always like to implement them. (The kids feel the same way.) 
• My students are more interested in learning when I treat them like individuals rather than a herd.
• How to correct the kids without getting upset ( overcoming the perfectionism thing, and a “these kids and their actions are a reflection of ME!” thing) 
• The value and timing of using incentives and the importance of being clear, concise, and consistent.
• I am surprisingly tenacious and resourceful.
• Practice makes permanent.
• I have a lot to learn! (Some days this is exciting, other’s it’s daunting!)

I hope this answers your questions, Cuz.  Thanks for suggesting I tackle these in a post. If you or any of my readers have more questions you’d like to see addressed, let me know and I’ll get going on them!

School Inservice Day—January 2011

On the first Monday of each month, the kids and I have a school inservice day—basically, we spend the morning going over the past month’s school goals and projects, and plan everything for the new month.  Then, we clean the house.  I LOVE inservice days.  I got the idea from another mother who homeschools her nine (NINE!) kids.
For one thing, inservice days are great for keeping me semi-organized.  When God was handing out the genes for organizational ability and interest, I was standing in the buffet line.  Inservice days help me make up for that.  For another thing, inservice days allow me  to chart our progress and evaluate the methods and programs I’m using.  I can also assess the kids’ success and interest in what we’re doing.
Inservice days are a great guard against burn-out.  These are when I switch up the chore assignments, the class schedule, implement new teaching tools/methods, and discard ones that aren’t going so well.  We plan field trips and I introduce new themes—giving the kids a heads up for what to expect for the next month.  I dole out the rewards (I’m not above bribery!) the kids have earned, like the Book It! program from Pizza Hut, or local library incentives, or awards/privileges of my own design.
Here’s how today’s inservice shaped up:
I started the official meeting at breakfast—when all the kids are at the table and their mouths are full, so they are more inclined to listen.  Today is our second anniversary of homeschooling, so we planned a party for tonight (basically just an excuse to have some cake and ice cream and reminisce about the last couple of years—complete with a foray into our photos and memories of all the crazy stuff we’ve done.)
Next, we talked about some “social issues.”  Calvin, my second oldest, has gotten rather fidgety (I’m blaming it on cold weather and being cooped up in the house too much) and has started rolling his head constantly, claiming he has a crick in his neck.  Now, doing this OCCASIONALLY is one thing—but doing this too frequently just looks weird and is incredibly annoying to witness. We talked about how to present ourselves in public (there’s no excuse for tic-like/nervous habit behavior without a medical reason!) and how to deal with real cricks in the neck, so there’s no need for persistent head rolling. 
After that, we moved onto the kids’ daily/weekly schedule.  A few months ago, I realized we all needed some more structure, and I was tired of nagging the kids to get every little thing done.  I discovered this daily checklist on www.chartjungle.com and began posting a copy for each kid in the family room to fill out, or at least to refer to.
After going over the nitty gritties on the daily checklist (chronicled in my next post) we talked about field trips (Guatemala for a week!) and how to celebrate Daddy’s birthday!
Finally, it was time for lunch, a break, and then some housecleaning and errand running.  All in all, it was a good day, and we’re officially ready to take on January 2011!