The Autodidact

This year, the husband decided to take us all out to dinner for his birthday; he even bought each of us a gift, in true Hobbit style. Taking seven kids out to eat is somewhat complicated, but we did it, and no one got left behind. The kids get so excited when we take them out to eat.  OK, some more than others. Baby girl was ready to help with those candles. If it weren't so darn expensive to eat out with our crowd, we would do it much more often. They are so fun to hang out with!

Once upon a time there was a little girl, and she was small for her age, often sick and not very strong. She played by herself mostly, in her room, or on long walks in the neighboring woods. She was pretty content to spend hours alone, and only once in awhile wished for a friend. But all too often, her solitude was broken by her brother. He was older, and much bigger and stronger. When he wasn't off doing his own thing, he loved to torment his little sister. His favorite amusement was to hold both her wrists in one of his massive hands, and with the other hand, he would poke, pinch and slap her around until she was crying and begging to be let go. And he would laugh and scorn and mock her crying. Or, he would "play" a game with her; a sinister game of inappropriate touching. And she lived in fear and dread and shame. Afterward, she would be filled with feelings of helplessness and loneliness and unworthiness. She was a nobody with no voice, no one to stick up for her.

Recently, someone posed this question to me: What does it mean to teach our boys how to be boys? I pondered this for days and came up with another question: Do we need to teach them how to be boys? I asked that at the breakfast table and the responses varied. The 17 year-old looked at me oddly, said 'no' and went back to reading the paper, and the 5 year-old proudly showed me some new-fangled weapon he had fashioned out of Legos. The 11 year-old thoughtfully replied with another question: "does that mean we aren't boys until you teach us how?" I have three sons but they are so very different from one another. One never played with dolls, even though he has a sister very close in age who made him play whatever she wanted. Another son, to the delight of his sister, can style her dolls' hair and coordinate outfits. And yet another plays with dolls only if it means he can hog-tie them with rubber bands, or make them Karate chop each other or get kidnapped by his

This is a creation my 17 year-old son came up with, based on a dish he ate in a restaurant. And it was so easy!  Simply bake some potatoes; I used various sizes because I have big eaters and small eaters. My son likes potatoes about the size of a football. Slice open the cooked potatoes and mash in some sour cream (or Greek yogurt), your choice of cheese, butter, capers, and a helping of smoked salmon. Salt and pepper to taste. That's it. I sauteed some peppers, onions and mushrooms and served them on the side. I put my veggies in the potato with all the other stuff. This was delicious, and I am so glad my son asked me to make it. This will show up on our menu again! As for expense, I spent ten dollars on the package of smoked salmon, which was plenty for the 9 of us, but there were no leftovers. The capers will last a few more times, their cost was minimal, and they are a must for this recipe. So, in all, I would consider this meal to be pretty cheap.

Lentil soup has become such a regular dish at our house, that I rarely look at the recipe when I make it, but I dug it out to share. It's quick to make and makes great leftovers. If you luck out, the leftover soup will thicken enough that you can wrap it up with some taco fixings in a tortilla! In a soup pot, combine: 2 cups lentils (any kind) 1/4 cup olive oil 1 tablespoon paprika 7 cups water Bring to a boil and then simmer for an hour. Then add: 1 can chickpeas 1/2 cup dry rice 4 cloves minced garlic, or garlic powder, to taste 1-2 teaspoons salt 1 teaspoon pepper 2 teaspoons cumin 1 teaspoon chili powder 1/2 teaspoon garam masala (if you don't have it, don't worry, it will still be delicious) vegetable or chicken bullion (I use a tablespoon or more of  Better Than Bullion because it has no MSG) more water if needed Simmer for 45 minutes more, and check the water level. At the end, put in a dash of lemon juice and a couple of pats of butter. Serve wit

Twenty years ago tonight, I was in a hospital room. Waiting for the birth of my first child , who I knew was already dead. It seemed life was over; I could not see past tomorrow, let alone 20 years. Today, the 8, 11 and 14 year-olds played in a piano recital and the 14 year-old sang. They had worked so hard for months on their pieces, and were more and more nervous as the day approached. But they played and sang beautifully, and were satisfied with how their efforts paid off. Even though I had heard their music daily for a while now, it all sounded new to me, and lovely. And I was so proud. Today, the 17 year-old won an All Conference award, the MVP, and a letter for swimming. In his first season. He had worked hard for months on his swimming and was always nervous at meets. But he swam beautifully and was satisfied that his efforts paid off. I've seen him swim a lot this year, but it was always a pleasure to watch and an even bigger pleasure to see him recognized. And I was so

He was sick in bed for a week. In all, sick for an entire month, with fever, trouble breathing, fatigue, headache and coughing. He dragged himself to work, week after week, and came home, had dinner and went to bed. Weekends he spent in bed. It seemed that it would never end, that my husband would be sick indefinitely. We glimpsed into each others' worlds; usually I am the sick or injured one for weeks on end, while he takes over the grocery shopping and care of the children. And patiently waits for me to get well, while I bemoan my fate. But he is long-suffering, he endures. He never complained, except once when I asked him if I could get him anything and he asked for a new body. He did a few things around the house and ran a few errands, even though I knew he'd rather not; that he'd rather be in bed. The younger kids spent a lot of time with him while he was in bed, snuggling, reading, keeping him company. He was too tired to play or wrestle or swing them in the air

All the talk about administering numerous tests to little kids in order to somehow improve their education makes my head spin. We keep talking about testing outcomes as if we were talking about a business. As a home educator, I have a much different view of testing, and I can because I am the one in charge and I can easily assess how things are going. Of course, that would be a bit more tricky if I had to mentally assess 20+ kids, and it would seem easier to do it with a test. And that's what's wrong with the entire education system in our country; we always seek to use the seemingly most efficient means to figure out how much the kids are learning, and testing them is the default. But in doing so, we put stress on the child; we do not and can not take into account how the child learns and processes information, whether they slept well the night before or had a good breakfast on testing day. We fail to address their unique abilities and strengths, their passions and aspiratio

I'm on my seventh two year-old and wondering if I will ever experience the Terrible Two's. Books have been written about it and I received many warnings about it when my oldest kids were little. Friends, relatives, even the pediatrician warned me of the impending hell that is living with a two year-old. But since my youngest is nearing 2 1/2 without any sign of turning into a horrible brat, I do wonder. How did I miss out on this rite of passage, this trial by fire that all parents seem to go through? Before you start to pity my plight, I must tell you that my teenagers have certainly made up for any loss of stress on my part when they were two. That was so kind of them. But it just didn't happen for me. I never once had to take my kids out of a public area because of tantrums or bad behavior. I never once was embarrassed by the actions of my small children in public. The rare tantrums at home were ignored and that was the end of that. This doesn't mean the kids never

I just needed two things at the store, but I kept forgetting what I was there for. I just couldn't stop looking at all the people there. Old, young, white, black, tall, short. And their faces; I couldn't stop seeing their faces. Slow down, and look at their faces. I keep seeing a face in my mind; I don't know her, really. I see her around town occasionally, I see her at the pool in the summer, sometimes I see her walking. Her daughter was killed yesterday in a car accident, near our neighborhood. Dead at the scene. Slow down, try to remember what you came to buy. But instead of groceries, I see the faces around me. Faces that reflect their Maker's image. I think how pathetically mundane and normal and easy my life is today. I'm frustrated because I have a kid who has to be on a special diet? I should rejoice that special food is all she needs; and I would but for the heaviness in my heart. Slow down, be thankful. Waiting in line. How many other faces are hi

Recently, Ohio enacted a new law requiring school superintendents to allow home educated kids to participate in extra curricular activities offered by their local public schools. Prior to this, it was up to individual school districts to set their own policy. Some allowed homeschoolers to participate if they enrolled in one or two classes, some chose to not allow it at all. As a fiercely independent home educator, I was, at first, reluctant to consider allowing my kids to participate in anything associated with public schools. But I have a son who loves swimming and wanted to compete, and there is not much in the way of sports for just homeschoolers, or if there is, it's far away or expensive, so we ventured forth on a new home educating adventure. I contacted the swim coach, who enthusiastically encouraged us to come to the informational meeting. We signed all the paperwork (and it's a lot), paid 100 bucks (way cheaper than swimming for the YMCA), and he was off! Six days a w