Today is Dec. 23, 2010 and we are living in Germany.
Let me tell you what Germany is really like on a military installation....it is, in a word, COLD! The snow is melting, but it's foggy, and more snow is on the way....you can't see six feet in front of you and we're hibernating in our flat here in Kaiserslautern as if we were bears awaiting spring time.
So I figured...while we're in hibernation mode....let's do some school. I know I know...overkill, but seriously...there's only so much I can bake, clean, and craft with two kids in the house and cold weather outside. So I sat down with Pj (the husband) and we were looking over the monthly school reports on grades for Preston and Alexandra. Pj was blown away by Preston's skills in math, science, and social studies...and poor Alex is so bored we upped her grade level to grade one in a few subjects. lol.
While we left the kids to debate the merit over amphibians versus reptiles, Pj and I snuck away to put together the home game of Jeopardy! Seriously, what were we thinking? As soon as we sat down and started to review rules and such the kids come running from the computer center and land in our lap. Tinkerbell, (our great dane) goes insane and her tail wags so hard that she knocks Christmas ornaments from the tree across the room... Pj ducked and missed an ornament to the head by a fraction of an inch...(that was a math joke..get it?! a fraction..heheheh....huh..maybe I need some grown up time...I'm now making math jokes) and I move like ninja fast to avoid her big butt landing on my head, so while I'm buried in Pj's arms trying to avoid a dog that is 160 lbs of love and slobber jumping all over the living room and Preston's NERF missiles shooting across the living room, she decides to wedge her head between me and Pj....forcing me out of his lap and she decides that his lap is her throne...so now, I'm dumped on my tush next to Pj while Tinkerbell looks down..(yes, I said looks down) at me with a sure and smug expression on her face.
I've never wanted to sell her so badly in my life.
Pj looks at me and says...rather impressed with himself... "I think school is over for the day, dear." And now he wants to know if I'm coming out of my room... "but why," I ask... "it's dangerous in the living room."
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
So it began...
Home school....
"Shhhh...they'll hear you..." says one neighbor.
"I cannot believe they yanked those poor kids out of school to home school them." replies another.
I continue walking as if I hadn't heard a thing even though my heart is pounding and I feel the pressure in my head mount. From the next aisle over in the commissary (military term for grocery store) I'm picking up stuff for tacos, because it's my seven year old son's turn to make dinner and his specialty is tacos...and I can hear them still talking only this time louder and I feel my husband's hand rubbing my lower back as if to give me support...and I decide I've had enough. I walk away from my family and back over to the soup aisle and I stand there behind them until my presence causes them to stir and turn.
"The next time you want to talk about my poor children being yanked out of public school where the educational goals are low, bullies are tolerated, and child rearing tactics are left to the school to determine for you what is appropriate...do it some place where my children won't hear it. I never discuss you, your poor choices, or your ...ahem...habits in front of your family and friends." I stand there calmly for a few seconds while I soak in their faces wide with disbelief and I nod my head, turn on my heel and walk away.
Three aisles over...while I was pondering a roast for dinner a woman approached me and said, "Hi, my name is A. I'm a home school parent too...and I just wanted to say thank you for standing up for your children. It's often hard to make the decision and face the pressure and ridicule..but you are the definition of grace under fire." A then hugged me and handed me her card...and disappeared into the mists of the commissary shoppers laden with coats, hats, and shopping carts.
I realized then, that the true adventure of home schooling my children had began.
"Shhhh...they'll hear you..." says one neighbor.
"I cannot believe they yanked those poor kids out of school to home school them." replies another.
I continue walking as if I hadn't heard a thing even though my heart is pounding and I feel the pressure in my head mount. From the next aisle over in the commissary (military term for grocery store) I'm picking up stuff for tacos, because it's my seven year old son's turn to make dinner and his specialty is tacos...and I can hear them still talking only this time louder and I feel my husband's hand rubbing my lower back as if to give me support...and I decide I've had enough. I walk away from my family and back over to the soup aisle and I stand there behind them until my presence causes them to stir and turn.
"The next time you want to talk about my poor children being yanked out of public school where the educational goals are low, bullies are tolerated, and child rearing tactics are left to the school to determine for you what is appropriate...do it some place where my children won't hear it. I never discuss you, your poor choices, or your ...ahem...habits in front of your family and friends." I stand there calmly for a few seconds while I soak in their faces wide with disbelief and I nod my head, turn on my heel and walk away.
Three aisles over...while I was pondering a roast for dinner a woman approached me and said, "Hi, my name is A. I'm a home school parent too...and I just wanted to say thank you for standing up for your children. It's often hard to make the decision and face the pressure and ridicule..but you are the definition of grace under fire." A then hugged me and handed me her card...and disappeared into the mists of the commissary shoppers laden with coats, hats, and shopping carts.
I realized then, that the true adventure of home schooling my children had began.
Welcome!
Welcome to my blog!
Blogging is a new thing...well not NEW, new...but relatively new. Everyone has a blog...a myspace, facebook, twitter...but what's new here on my blog won't be tales of domestic bliss...it'll be the real stuff. The juicy, gory bits of life that no one wants to admit.
I love my life...don't get me wrong...but I'm also realistic when it comes to my world. I hate to clean...yet I love a clean house...I hate to pick up poop...but I've got a Great Dane....I can't stand screaming kids...yet I detest a quiet house...I'm a walking contradiction in terms...and I'm a mess.
It's my mess, my world, my life...and you're welcome to enjoy it with me.
Much love,
Morgana
Blogging is a new thing...well not NEW, new...but relatively new. Everyone has a blog...a myspace, facebook, twitter...but what's new here on my blog won't be tales of domestic bliss...it'll be the real stuff. The juicy, gory bits of life that no one wants to admit.
I love my life...don't get me wrong...but I'm also realistic when it comes to my world. I hate to clean...yet I love a clean house...I hate to pick up poop...but I've got a Great Dane....I can't stand screaming kids...yet I detest a quiet house...I'm a walking contradiction in terms...and I'm a mess.
It's my mess, my world, my life...and you're welcome to enjoy it with me.
Much love,
Morgana
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)