The Autodidact

     My home schooling journey started 13 years ago when I sat my then 5 year-old down to start kindergarten. It was a really easy decision to make. Home schooling was and is still counter-cultural and against the norm. It's even kind of rebellious! Growing up, I looked for ways to go against the grain and question why we do the things we do. So, it seemed a perfect fit for me. I am often asked why I home school, and I think that most people are asking about the educational aspect of it. Not only getting a chance to challenge the the status quo, but also giving my children a solid education were certainly the foremost reasons for homeschooling in those early years, since we could not afford private or religious schools, and I was fairly sure I could do a better job than any public school.          So, armed with workbooks, colorful posters, a desk, lots of pencils, and a copy of "What Your Kindergartner Needs to Know," I launched my homeschooling career. It did not go we

     She heard of his passing from a friend. She hadn't talked with him in over 10 years, and that was a brief conversation, of seeming little consequence. She didn't really know him, even though he was her half brother, twenty years her senior. No, they didn't have a relationship; that was the result of someone else's efforts. It had been decided by the powers that be that he was no longer part of the family; mention of him as an older sibling was forbidden by all younger siblings. The children were told that, should anyone ask, his name or that he even existed should not be mentioned. And so she, being the youngest, thinking that that was how things were done, accepted it. She never questioned it. She grew up thinking that, as a natural course of events, children were written off, written out of the will, as the second son suffered a similar fate as the first. Not until was she married with children of her own, did she understand the sin, the horrible actions, the den

     It was a needy day, when they were all in want of a variety of things from me. The oldest was very sick in bed and wanted hot lemonade, hot compresses, and a tissue box mixed in with some love. The 16 year-old realized how behind in Algebra he had become and was barely staying afloat. So I threw him a life-line and we worked out a plan to catch up and reach a better understanding of the concepts presented; a plan that includes me doing more teaching. The 12 year old is suffering from the long dark days and feeling under the weather all the time. She needed a shoulder to cry on, a warm fire and some hot tea. The nine year-old had been dizzy for a few days and needed rest and some company. The 7 year-old was fine, praise God! But she needs me, too, even on good days, as any child needs her mother. Poor 4 year-old spiked a fever late in the day and put himself to bed on the couch and I had to carry him to his room, undress him and tuck him in his bed. The baby was suffering with teet

Funny how kids view things that we adults think to be too complicated for them. We adults muddle and confound things by placing conditions on circumstances; we like to split hairs. I was explaining to the younger kids what abortion is, since I was sure it would be central to the message in church on Sunday, and I wanted them to have an inkling of what was being presented. And our pastor did not disappoint; he was clear and Biblical.  I tried to keep it basic and simple: when a pregnant woman decides she does not want her unborn baby, she can have someone kill it for her before it's born.  They were shocked and puzzled (what kid wouldn't  be!) over a few things. First, they could not understand why a woman would want to kill her baby. Why would someone want to kill any baby? Second, they were incredulous that abortion is legal.   But Mom, isn't killing wrong?    And third, they wondered why today is called the 40th anniversary of this issue. Aren't anniversaries for ha

     I'm losing two old friends today. Their deaths will not appear in the obituaries, nor will there be any calling hours or a funeral. There will be a hole in the ground where they once stood. No, they are not people, but dear old friends nonetheless. They are my very old Maple trees that stand guard at our rental house. It is a house where we spent the first ten years of our marriage. Lots of changes happened there, but those two trees remained unchanging. I spent many years under their branches, basking in their shade.      Once I found my little boy, daddy's hatchet in hand, trying to cut down one of those trees. Another time, I discovered that same little boy, garden hose in hand, water turned up full blast, pretending to put out a tree on fire! On the corner of the lot, one of the Maples dwarfed several other smaller trees, creating a "grove." To my little children, it seemed a forest, and they would hide and wander through the trees. I would lie on a blanket

     Walking along the side of the country road on a clear summer day, I was returning home after playing at a friend's house. There was no sidewalk, of course, so I had to carefully make my way between the road on one side and the deep ditch on the other. I was about 9 and reveling in the freedom of being old enough to walk home by myself.  It was not a heavily traveled road, so when I heard a car coming, I took notice. It was a large, white car driven by a middle aged woman. She slowed down as she approached me, and then stopped to talk to me. She asked where I was going, and I told her I was headed home. She asked me if I wanted a ride, and I declined. But she insisted that she could give me a ride home and opened the passenger door to convince me to get in.  I don't ever remember my parents drilling me in "stranger danger" but something didn't seem right to me, so I declined again. I began walking again, and she let her car creep along beside me asking again i

     It's morning and Jay has just quietly left the bedroom to head downstairs. The house is silent and dark. The bed is comfy and warm and I pull the covers up higher, hoping that somehow I can put off the morning. The dog is snoring gently and warming my feet. I hear the coffee grinder and soon the aroma of coffee floats upstairs.  The front door opens as Jay gets the paper.  Now I hear him unloading the dishwasher. In the room next door, I hear the baby cooing and singing her wake-up song.  Soon I hear the 7 year-old letting down the side of the crib to get her baby sister and put her in the big girl bed for some snuggle time. They are giggling and talking and singing. This time of day is so sweet and precious to me. It's true, my husband does spoil me by letting me laze in bed for a few minutes.  But he also knows what lies ahead of me for the day: mountains of laundry, school lessons that tax my brain, children that will fight and misbehave, meals to be prepared and the ki

We love fudge at our house, and when we need, er, want some, we can whip some up in no time. This recipe is so easy, a child can do it, so I enlisted the aid of several willing children today.  I needed some fudge! First, you need a pan, one about this size: Next, open a can of condensed milk. Then, measure out about 2 cups of chocolate chips. I said add a pinch of salt, not you brother's cheek! Stir over low-ish heat until the chips are melted. At this point, you can add some chopped nuts, but I decided there were enough nuts in my kitchen today. Now, stir in a teaspoon of vanilla. Drinking the vanilla is not  recommended. Pour into an 8" square pan lined with lightly greased foil or parchment paper and put in the fridge to cool and harden. Clean up is a snap! In a few hours, you can take it out of the fridge and cut it up and serve. Or you can just send the kids outside, lock the door, and eat it out of the pan.  I cut mine up. This time.

      As a mom, I need to react to my children all day.  With ages ranging from 1 to 17, they need different things, different parts of me.  The baby needs me to hold her and talk to her, the middle kids need me to pay attention to what they are playing or drawing, and the older ones need me to listen to what they are saying, as well as what they aren't saying.  They are all so needy!  My responses to them vary from laughter to crying and everything in between, and it is so hard for me to have the right response at the right time.  But I have discovered something so devilishly simple, yet so very effective, that any mom could use.   My secret weapon that works on ALL of them?  A smile.      A smile is a powerful tool in a mom's arsenal.  Baby needs a new diaper?  Smile through the whole change, and by the end, the baby is clean and giggling.  I was so busy smiling and laughing with her, I couldn't smell a thing!  4 year-old playing with his toys in a sink full of water?  A

58 million smiles That never made someone laugh, 58 million pairs of hands  That never got to clap. 58 million pairs of feet That never got to run, 58 million pairs of eyes That never saw the sun. 58 million beautiful faces And no two were alike, 58 million pairs of legs  That never pedaled a bike. 58 million cries That were never soothed by a hug, 58 million graves That never will be dug. 58 million mouths That never squealed with glee, 58 million voices That never said "Mommy, Look at me!" 58 million minds Never taught to read, 58 million people We thought we didn't need. 58 million cheeks That never got kissed, 58 million names Is too many to list. 58 million hearts Never allowed to love, 58 million souls That rest in Heaven above. -Katie Marino In memory of 58 million Americans who have perished.