Neighbors

Today’s prompt:

Be Neighborly

Maybe you fell for the girl next door or considered building a fence to keep out the nosy neighbor. Tell us a story, draw us a map, or give us a hidden gem about your neighborhood, past or present.

I love my neighbors, but we don’t do a lot socially. We are all busy with our own lives, but it is nice to wave hello over the fence and to know that someone will grab the paper and the mail and feed the pets if we go out of town.  I often think I should have the neighbors over for dinner or something, but I’ve always been better on paper than in person. I would love to get to know my neighbors better, but it’s hard. Letters are easier—so maybe I’ll just get to know my neighbors via mail.  Yeah, that sounds good.

Dear Neighbors,

I had a good time the other night yelling, together, at our dogs as they chased each other around on their respective sides of the fence. Seems they’re really getting along now, don’t you think?

I hope you enjoyed the monster zucchinis we gave you last year. We meant to give you a basket full of the colorful and nutritious bounty from our garden, but the zucchini was the only thing the voles didn’t devour or destroy. We gave you the baseball bat sized zukes, because we thought you’d appreciate having some food storage. For the rest of your natural lives.

Please excuse my kids throwing three different frisbees onto your roof in as many hours and then climbing up there without your permission to retrieve them. The fourth frisbee fell off on it’s own.  I’ve confiscated the frisbees.

Oh, and helping your little girl look for her lost tortoise this fall was actually really fun, glad Squirtacious Ralph found his way home again. We made and stamped a passport for him in honor of his trip around the backyard berm.

Thanks for not killing our cats when they pooped in your flower beds and antagonized your dogs.

I’m really glad you laughed along with me as I “planted” 74 pink plastic flamingos in my yard, just to piss of the HOA. Oh, wait, you’re on the HOA board—guess the joke’s on me.  At any rate, thanks for not fining me.

Oh, hey, and if my four year old tells you that you have “jiggly big bum cheeks” it’s because her brother taught her to say “jiggly big bum cheeks” and we all laughed so hard when she said it the first time that now she thinks she’s telling a joke. It’s not a judgment on anyone’s size or level of fitness. Thanks for understanding, and if you have any suggestions for other, more entertaining phrases for her to parrot for days on end, we’d love to hear them.

Thanks for not calling CPS when my younger kids ran outside to play in their skivvies in 30 degree weather. It seems you and I share the same child-rearing philosophy: “If the little exhibitionsists want coats, they know where to find them.”

Also, I hope it was okay that we sugared up your kids that one time and send them home graffitied in glitter and paint and sidewalk chalk.  The kids keep talking about tagging the garage, but I told them they had to keep their artistic expressions on the up and up, in socially approved formats.

Good chatting with you, and I’ll have the husband bring you back your rake….could I borrow a couple of eggs?

Love, Marissa

Animal Kingdom

Today’s prompt:

Animal Kingdom

Write an ode about the unending loyalty or curious antics of a furry friend. Did you learn something about yourself or th world from your pet this year? Maybe you learned a lesson from an animal in the wild, or a nature program?

As homeschoolers, we are always looking for ways to incorporate learning into regular life. One of the ways we do that is by keeping pets. I firmly believe what Clark Aldrich says about animals in his book Unschooling Rules:

“Children should have as much exposure as possible to animals. In all animals, including domestic, farm, and wild, are entire curricula. There are biology, sociology, genetics, economics, history, cultures, communication, language, hierarchies, governance, relationships, sweeping story arcs, morality, even nutrition, just to name a few. Animals are the perfect microcosms. They are life.” (pp. 27)

Our area is zoned for farm animals, but our subdivision codes prohibits them—even chickens, so instead, we have filled our “animal curricula” with pets. We have five cats (three outdoors, two indoors), a dog, a snake, and five birds.

Some of my favorite stories are the adventures chronicled by James Herriot, a country vet in England during the middle part of the 20th century. Herriot lovingly tells of the quirky places, people, and of course, animals he worked with. Here’s my “Reader’s Digest” James Herriot style stories of our own animals:

The Cats:

Gypsy and Tootsie were two ginger cats we got nine years ago, when my then three year old son tried stuffing an entire littler of four week old kittens in his backpack to take home from my aunt’s house.  We had to rescue them and return them to their mama, until they were weaned, and then my aunt happily gave them back to us.  Gypsy once went missing for three days before he turned up seven miles away at our old house, after we had moved him to our new house. Tootsie, disappeared with him, but never made it back to us.

Gypsy (left) and Tootsie (right) chillin’. They went everywhere together.

Bobbie is a bobtailed tabby that lived in the garage of a rental of a friend. Bobbie came with the rental and the owners didn’t want her anymore and our friend said she was allergic and that the cat needed more attention than she could give, so we took Bobbie home. She lives in our garage and occasionally comes inside to be loved on, but she rules the garage and doesn’t like to leave her kingdom for too long.

Ellen and Bobbie, on one of Bobbie’s rare forays inside.

Hagrid is a massive, long haired, grey and white tuxedo cat with huge green eyes, that I got from the local humane society.  He is large boned and muscular, and his long hair makes him appear even larger. His paws are almost as big as my palms. We like to joke that he’s part lynx. My daughter and I were volunteering and when I first saw him. His adoption fee was only 10 dollars, due to his age (eight years) and size. Hagrid’s number was up, and he was scheduled to meet his demise the next day, if not adopted. I encouraged everyone who came into the humane society to take a look at him, but no one was interested. It didn’t help that he was terribly shy and didn’t want to come out of his kennel. He was very stressed in the small cage. 

My daughter and I fulfilled our volunteer duties and left, but I couldn’t quit thinking about the large, scared cat.  After a couple of hours, I couldn’t stand it, I drove back and got him.  He lives in our garage, too, having staked out a dark corner for himself. We have encouraged him to come inside, but he yowls like we’re torturing him when we bring him inside, so we’ve tried to make him as comfortable as we can in the garage. Bobbie doesn’t like him, but they generally steer clear of each other. Hagrid has recently started venturing outside into the yard to get the lay of the land.  He is timid, but craves affection and is warming up to us. It’s taken him awhile, but he’s finally settling in.

Hagrid in the garage, before he would let me hold him.

Our other two cats are ginger kittens named Fred and George. They are about four months old and will live inside until spring, when it’s warmer and they are big enough not to be prey to the coyotes and birds of prey that patrol our area, looking for easy meals. Much like their Harry Potter namesakes, they are full of mischief and are always getting into laughable trouble.

Fred (left) and George (right), resident rabble-rousers. I just realized how much they look like Gypsy and Tootsie. (though they are not related, so far as we know.) Aww.

The Dog:

Cookie came to us from the humane society, listed as a 1.5 year old “Border Collie Mix.” He is a gorgeous dog, with a black and white double coat and feathered legs and tail. He has beautiful eyes—one blue, one brown. Cookie has the build and behaviors of a Border Collie, though he is longer in the leg than the standard. I wonder what he’s mixed with, but we’ll never know. We opted to send him away for training for a few weeks about a month after we got him, because, although he was a remarkably good dog, we could see that he was on his way to developing bad habits as we fumbled through trying to train him on our own. He was too smart for us.  He completed his training and then it was our turn for the trainer to train us. It was a wonderful experience as we learned about canine behavior, and the importance of consistency in training. Cookie is high energy and requires a lot of mental and physical stimulation, which in turn challenges us mentally and physically to keep ahead of him, but he is remarkably forgiving and always, always game for anything.

Finding a good picture of Cookie was tough. In most pictures, he’s photographs blurry as he streaks from one place to another.

The Snake:

One of my favorite book series’ is Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events. One of the characters in the second book is a herpetologist named Montgomery Montgomery. I fell in love with the character and his menagerie of weird reptilian pets. This prompted me to go looking for my own reptiles and I was lucky enough to find a young corn snake for sale on Craigslist. We named our snake Monty, a nod to both to my favorite herpetologist and to Monty Python. (hahaha!) Monty lives in a beautiful terrarium and is as mellow and good natured as can possibly be.

Monty is considering a career in jewelry design. Here he is modeling a new bracelet concept for Calvin.

The Birds:

Growing up, I kept parakeets. I have always loved their chattering and squawking. Today, our family has four zebra finches and a cockatiel.  My oldest son developed an interest in birds early on and begged us to let him get birds of his own. Unfortunately, he is allergic to parrots, so we’d had to give away our flock of budgies a few years previously.  However, he was NOT allergic to songbirds, so we alllowed him to buy some society finches. 

I am a little conflicted about letting young children care for animals, because of the sometimes hard lessons at the expense of the animals, that come with the child’s inevitable forgetfulness and naivete. He lost a few finches due to these lessons and they were sad days, indeed. Now, however, he is more experienced and compassionate and mature enough to understand the necessity of regular care for creatures that cannot meet their own needs. We currently have four zebra finches (Elsa, Houdini, Robin Williams, and John Paul Jingleheimer) and we also have a cockatiel named Peaches. Peaches was a wary, shy bird who came to us from a friend who had outgrown him. My son has spent much time working with Peaches and has gained his trust and affection. I love Peaches because he spends his mornings wolf whistling.

Left to right: Robin Williams, John Paul Jingleheimer, Beep (deceased), and Elsa. Not pictured: Houdini (His name explains it all.)

Peaches. Chillin’.

 

The Others and a conclusion:

I’m sure we’re not at the end of owning different kinds of pets. Two of my kids are actively saving for guinea pigs and a hedgehog, respectively. I am not a big fan of rodent-like animals and didn’t love having the rabbits we had for about a year, but the kids are determined to try their hand at caring for these other animals. 

One thing I’ve discovered about having pets is that I have become LESS sentimental about them—as much as I love them---I am not afraid to re-home pets that are not being taken care of well. (Our rabbits were ultimately rehomed because the kids weren’t interacting with them or cleaning the cage often enough for my liking.) I cannot abide dirty, smelly cages, or dander and fur all over everything.  So, the care and keeping of the pets in order to keep my house clean and orderly is a high priority! It is frustrating when the kids don’t keep my schedule or standard for cleaning and maintenance, but I know they are still learning (especially the younger ones) and I am trying to be patient as I teach them the importance of proper care for our pets.

On mourning the passing of an artist

Today, I woke up to learn that Alan Rickman had just died of cancer. Just like when I heard Robin Williams had died, I checked several different news sources for confirmation before I would believe it, and when I finally did, I was breathless with the sense of loss.  To say I am terribly sad would be an understatement, but to admit that I feel a deep, gaping grief for a man I’ve never met and have only seen in movies and heard on the radio makes me feel a bit foolish, like I may have misplaced my sense of what is truly important in my life—and yet…

When we are moved by an artist’s work, that work (and therefore the artist) becomes a part of us, informing or reflecting how we personally see and experience the world.  To lose the artist is to lose a part of ourselves.

So maybe it’s not so foolish after all.

Playdates, friends, and schedules, oh sigh….

Today’s prompt:

Play Date

You know the story about all work and no play... How did you play with others this year? Let your hair down and share how you escaped for an hour, a day, or more.

Finding friends for my kids to play with takes work.  Since we homeschool, we aren’t on the same schedule as our public school neighbors and church friends.  And we aren’t on the same schedule as many of our homeschool friends…so we have to be very intentional to make sure the kids get time to play and hang out with other kids. This is harder some years than others. 

When the kids were all elementary school aged and younger, we lived across the street from another homeschooling family.  At first we thought this would afford insta-playmates, but alas, it didn’t.  The other family’s schedule was the complete opposite of ours.  We stayed home in the morning doing school work and turned the afternoons over to project-and-play time. The other family ran around town all morning and then came home to study in the afternoon.  By the time 4 pm hit, our families were headed out for dance, karate, or church activities.  It was frustrating, and I often found myself cutting lessons short and hurrying my kids outside to play when I could see the neighbor kids outside enjoying “recess” while their mother prepared their lunch.  My kids loved their friends across the street, but they didn’t get to see them all that much---weekends were a little better, though.

Then we moved to a smaller town and the ten minute drive to get to our old area so the kids could get together to play suddenly seemed like the most insurmountable obstacle to overcome.  Our families gradually quit seeing each other socially (much to my family’s sadness) because it was a hassle to try to coordinate schedules.

We joined a homeschool co-op with about 20 other kids of various ages and we did that twice a week for three-ish years.  One of the best things about the co-op was lunch time, when the kids could really cut loose and just play and run around.  Eventually, we left the co-op—which was sad, because there were some really good things happening there, but when we left, it was because it wasn’t fitting our academic and scheduling needs.  We spent a semester away, thinking we’d join up again the next fall, but after the planning meeting that involved a complete restructuring of the co-op, it all fell apart and didn’t happen.

A couple of the moms decided to continue getting their families together, and then a third family joined them (essentially re-forming the co-op) but we just found out about it in December, via Facebook. I don’t know that they were intentionally trying to leave us out—I think they just picked days that worked for them and went with it.  My kids were a little hurt when they found out, but when I pointed out that we have since made other friends, they decided to focus on what they have instead of what they don’t have.

This fall, we were invited to join another co-op, but it didn’t quite mesh with our schedule.  Undaunted, we asked if we could just crash their “post-co-op-playtime” and just come over after the co-op and let the kids run around and play games and just have a big playdate. We were welcomed enthiastically! This has worked really well, and so we go over to this family’s house every week and there are usually upwards of 30 kids in various age ranges that all my kids always have SOMEONE to play with.  While there are some regulars, each week usually includes new kids to play with, so the group dynamics have never gotten clique-y, and everyone has a friend.  The little kids run around pretending to be kitties or playing with toys and the big kids play board games, flirt, and otherwise goof off.  When the weather is nice, the kids run around outside.  Also, there are usually other moms to talk to---obviously, the mom hosting is there—and she’s a blast! But sometimes the other moms stay and visit.  Other times, they are off runnig errands or prepping for school or whatever.  It’s a pretty great set-up, with my kids’ only complaint being that they wish we could do it more than once a week! It has been fun to see the kids become friends and share a few activities outside the play day….again, my kids only wish they could do more!!!

My teens are the most vocal about wanting more “friend time” and we’ve gotten them involved in several community and after-school activities (choir, book club, church youth group, dance) in the hopes that they make more friends and meet different kinds of people.  They enjoy these activites, and have occasionally reached out and invited kids from those things over, but trying to schedule a playdate is hard, even among homeschoolers. You have to cast your net pretty wide to get one scheduled, and then half the time, they fall through, because something comes up or someone gets sick or whatever the reason is.  We are guilty of doing this to others, too.  It’s just life.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this post, other than it’s just my thoughts on what’s happening and how the kids are doing socially.  They love their game-day buddies and I would love for them to have more opportunities to spend time with them, but we’re in such a busy season of life, as are our friends. There just isn’t a whole lot of downtime to allow for spontaneous get-togethers.  Summers are a little easier, but even then, we’re all running around doing our own things a lot.

Blah.

Today’s prompt:

Role Models

Life is so much easier when you have someone to help you navigate. What makes a mentor great? Have you ever had a mentor? Been someone else's?

Casting around for a way to work this prompt, I thought of the ice-breaker game question “If you could have dinner with anyone in the world, living or dead, who would it be?”  There are too many people for me to pick just one, so I’m going to tweak the question a bit---and answer this: “If you threw a dinner party and could invite anyone you wanted, living or dead, real or fictional, who would you include?”

My dinner party guest list:

JK Rowling

Albus Dumbledore

Remus Lupin

Jane Eyre

Barbara Kingsolver

Eric Greitens

Maya Angelou

Oprah Winfrey

Tim Burton

Ben Carson

These are all people (or characters) I find fascinating and have held up as models for various aspects of my life. Yes, really. Certainly I could add more, but these are the first that came to mind….and once I looked over the list, I started considering how I would arrange the seating for this group, and then remembering that I hate dinner parties, and then my head started hurting because it’s late and I’m tired and need to go to bed.  This daily prompt thing is tough.  I’m just gonna call this one a win for getting it done on time, quality of content be damned.  But I would still really like to hang out with JK Rowling.

Figments in Four: Part 1

Today’s prompt:

Homies

Friends are our chosen family. They have the wonderful capacity to make us laugh till we cry, to hold us up in dark hours and to keep our secrets under lock and key. Tell a friendship story.

What do three Maasai warriors, a twenty one year old Cherokee man, a former WWE wrestler suffering from acromegaly, and a female African American artist have in common?

They were all my imaginary friends.

Like many others in middle school, I was ferociously bullied. I wore glasses, had frizzy red hair, bad teeth, and painful, disfiguring acne. I was a real stunner. I was also uncoordinated, shy, and socially awkward. So, you know, that made me an easy target.

I endured the standard name calling and taunting, but was also treated to regular butt and breast grabbing (by boys AND girls), pushing, shoving, tripping, spitting, pencil stabbing, fingernail scratching, buckling (being thwacked in the back of the head by a belt buckle), and so much gum stuck in my hair that I ended up with a quarter sized bald spot over the crown of my head from trying to pull it out on my own. The few times I tried to defend myself, weakling that I was, I was overpowered and threatened with worse treatment.

I don’t know where the teachers and hall monitors were when this was going on day after day, and riding the bus was the seventh circle of Hell. When I complained to the “trusted adults” you’re supposed to be able to confide in, I was brushed off and told to ignore it. At most, I was told “You should have responded thus: _______.”  It was like the adults didn’t hear me, couldn’t SEE the naked scalp, the long, red scratches on my arms and legs, the bruises and gouges, the mucousy gobs of spittle soaking into my shirt and running down my hair. Where in God’s name were the people who were supposed to protect me?

Things got so bad, I began to have anxiety attacks and would pray nightly that either I die or that my tormentors die before I had to go to school again. I thought the blackest thoughts and took respite in plans to take my own life.

One day, the worst day, I decided to do it.  Recently, a little boy in a neighboring town had been hit and killed by his school bus as he crossed the street.  I had to cross in front of my bus to walk home after school, so I told myself that instead of crossing the street after my  ever-vigilant bus driver waved me clear, I’d start walking on the right side of the road and dash out in front of the wheels when the bus began to move. I can still see my bus driver’s suspicious face as I refused his wave to cross the road, and walked weak kneed, up the right side of the road. I remember peering backward at the face of the bus, then at the front right tire, my heart pounding as I calculated the timing to get run over. I can still feel the whoosh of hot exhaust as the bus pulled back it’s stop sign and rumbled forward, past me.  As the bus left me in a cloud of exhaust, I felt…abandoned.

Horror and relief pooled like water in every joint and I collapsed to my knees on the sidewalk.  Acid tears poured from me. In anguish, I cried until I was parched.

And then, I heard a deep, gentle chuckle.  Fearful—frantic, I looked around, expecting to see someone standing on his front porch, laughing at me.  But I was alone on the sidewalk.  I heard the laughter again, then the low sounds of men talking together, as if sharing a funny story. I couldn’t hear the words, but their tone was kind.  I looked around again, and though I was still alone, I saw three tall, thin, Maasai warriors.  They huddled loosely together a few feet behind me, chatting casually. I stared at them, seeing them—but not REALLY seeing them.

They didn’t look at me, didn’t even acknowledge me, but I knew they were there for me.  I stood shakily, and began to wobble-walk home.  The warriors followed. I didn’t look back, but I knew they were there.  They moved from their cluster, two of them flanking me on either side, and the third walking behind me, adjusting their long-legged strides to my short legged paces. They talked and laughed softly over my head the entire time, and their voices soothed me.

When I reached my driveway, they broke rank and fell back. At my front door, I turned to look at them. They were walkng away, already across the street. The tallest man then turned, smiled kindly, and waved farewell. And then they disappeared.

I knew they weren’t real, but the comfort and peace I felt in their presence…that was real.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox.

Finding My People

Today’s prompt:

Communal Circles

What new circles have you formed? Any unexpected ones? Did you start a book club or hang out in a tea yurt? Maybe you re-upped with existing friends. Explore your kumbaya moment from 2015.

When my husband and I bought our first house, it was in a brand new subdivision full of brand new starter homes. Most of the neighbors moving in were in the “acquisition” stage of life, like we were.  We were all fresh out of college, starting families, buying furniture, and for some weird reason, hosting Tupperware type parties. At first, it seemed a good way to meet the neighbors and make friends—invite them to your Pampered Chef party or go to their scented candle party…and buy overpriced stuff, of course. 

These parties were always touted by the hostess as a “girls’ night out” and they did have that air, at least until the sales pitch started.  I’ll admit, I hosted a few myself, but I found that attendance at my parties was pretty low, as were the sales—probably because when I attended others’ parties, I didn’t spend a lot of money, if any.  At first I did—buying up rubber stamps and food choppers and jewelry, but after awhile, I realized how ridiculous and wasteful it all was. So, I quit buying—but I still got invitations for awhile, and I was hungry for friends (hard to come by in the pre-Facebook world as a stay-at-home mom bound by nap schedules) so I would go for the party atmosphere and some socializing.  I thought the ladies that invited me to these things were my friends, but shortly after I quit throwing money toward whatever things they were peddling, The invitations dried up and I didn’t really see my “friends” anymore, except at church on Sundays.

The gals at church were nice, but I didn’t click with most of them, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. I’m not exactly sure why I didn’t end up in one of the clearly delineated groups of close friends. I would hear them talking about the birthday parties they’d put on for their kids together or the work out groups they’d formed, and wonder why I wasn’t invited. Fortunately, over the years, I made a couple or three very close friends as they moved into the area—but we gradually lost touch when they moved back out.  I spent a lot of time feeling pretty lonely and discouraged and left out as a young mother. This bugged me, because it felt like an adult version of junior high or high school.

It wasn’t until my husband and I decided to homeschool our kids that I found my people. We didn’t know a whole lot about what resources were available, or how many other people in our area homeschooled, so I immersed myself in research.  I found a couple of homeschooling conferences and met with many, many homeschooling families---at first I went to conferences and meetings to see what kind of weirdos did this homeschooling thing, but I was happily suprised to find that most homeschoolers are perfectly normal, not the ultra-conservative, borderline religious fundamentalists I had seen on TV. I learned that our city had a large and thriving homeschooling community and information and access to so many educational resources it made my head spin. 

There were several homeschool support groups in the area and I tried to join them—only to find that in order to participate in their activities, I had to sign a statement of faith that conflicted with my own beliefs.  I was disappointed and hurt by how exclusionary these groups turned out to be, but eventually stumbled onto a support group that didn’t require a statement of faith and, in fact, made it very clear that ANY homeschooling family was welcome.  It turns out this group was founded by some Mormon homeschoolers FOR Mormon homeschoolers, since no other group would take them.  While there was definitely a Mormon flavor to the group, it was purposely set up to be inclusive, and in the years I’ve been involved with it, we’ve had homeschooling families of all stripes join the ranks.

It was in this group that I found the friends I so desperately desired.  The group hosts monthly “Mothers’ Meetings” where women can get together and discuss all things related to home education, motherhood, and life.  I found this group incredibly supportive as a new, bewildered, stressed out homeschooler. It was so reassuring to talk to “veteran” moms, who had years of experience teaching their own, and commiserate or celebrate with the other “newbie” moms. 

My family has since moved from our starter home, and found our place in our new church congregation, but the constant has been my homeschooling moms’ group. I laugh and cry and pray with these women, go on adventures and retreats with them and their families, and we teach each other’s children. Homeschooling mothers think outside the box and are so incredibly generous with their time and knowledge---it was easy to make friends, feel included, and in turn, support the other women in the group.

It was in my homeschooling group that I found real camaraderie and friendship, and confidence as a mother, teacher, and leader. I now serve on the administrative board of the group as the membership and social media coordinator, and I love being part of such an awesome group of women and families.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox.