What can I do? Give thanks!

There were wet sheets to contend with this morning.

I'm used to it.  Regular things like this, that my kids can't do anything about, barely register on my annoyance meter.

Not thinking, I started the hot water in the washer, put in soap, and dumped the load.

I would live to regret my eager housekeeping gesture, at so early an hour.

I am someone who loves a shower and takes it in the morning, no matter what.  I also get dressed down to shoes, because my feet are always cold in the winter, and because.....I just feel better in shoes.  No, it isn't because the FlyLady suggests it.

Husband tries to get up early enough to watch the kids so I can shower before he leaves, on his school mornings, or busy work mornings.  If that isn't possible, I either bring Beth in with me, or put out table activities and strap her into her booster, which she can no longer get out of.  The older children earn some pennies for staying with her while I'm in the bathroom.

I'm usually alert enough to do only dark loads in cold water in the mornings.

My shower, half-way through, turned ice cold, due to the hot water used up on the sheets.  Getting the soap off each area of my body was a most unpleasant experience.  I couldn't just stand in the water and rinse all at once.  That was too shocking.  Instead, I put in one limb at a time, one side of my back at a time, as though I were doing the hokey pokey.

We're having a cold snap here, so it took awhile for me to warm up after this fiasco.  Shivering, I thought of the ladies and mothers in third-world nations, who walk five miles for clean water.  They probably don't ever feel really clean.  Physical discomforts, such as my chills, are a daily reality for them.

Why, Lord?  Why do I get a shower every morning, usually nice and hot, while they have to feel dirty?

Later in the day, I finally stole a few minutes to read.  I read this and this, about grieving, written by Dana, the mother who lost her toddler to the dresser accident.

Why, Lord?  Why is Dana's mother-heart broken, while mine brims with joy--delighting in the beautiful toddler in my midst?

Yes, we know God is just, merciful, loving.  These differences......we just can't understand them.  They don't seem fair, from our perspective.

What can I do?

Firstly, I can make it more just, more fair, by being more grateful...more mindful of daily blessings...never letting complaint dirty my heart.

I am thankful, Lord!

For......

....the chapter in the Backyard Birdfeeder's Bible on economical bird feeding.  We visited a feed store, at the suggestion of the author, and found that small sunflower seeds and scratch corn and cracked corn are reasonably priced, compared to the packaged birdseed bags--which can run $30.00/week for the avid bird watcher.  We are all excited--Peter most of all!  When that boy develops a new passion, watch out!

...my sweet little Beth, who enjoys brushing her teeth and going potty....many times a day.  For fun.  She does it all independently, which is a sharp contrast to her brothers and sister, at the same age. Independence wasn't on their radar at all, at 26 months old.

...my Mary's new interest in drawing.

...money to finally get the drains cleared.  When the water softener runs, water backs up into the tub.  Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.  This is more complicated than getting the usual bottle of Drano Gel.

...a house still clean.

...the will power to continually ask you tonight, "Lord, help me do what is needful first, before my writing.  Help me put my family's needs first."  I had to pray this so many times, to get through the needful tasks first!  I did the dishes, put on some crockpot navy bean soup, finished folding socks and underwear, put the last load into the dryer, wiped down the table and counters, and got completely ready for bed, in case Beth woke up and left me waiting for a washed face and brushed teeth.

...the reminder to savor this time with my toddler, rather than mourn the baby years already behind me.  You want me to be content always....to notice the beauty in right now.

...the sweet, tiny baby bottom running through my house nowadays.  She's never in a hurry to get that training diaper back on!

May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

—Colossians 1:11-14

all learners are unique

As a classroom teacher I didn't really know my learners.  There was precious little individual time.

Now that I'm intimately involved with four learners here at home,  I see the individuality.  I see more differences than likenesses.  It's amazing, actually, how unique God created each brain.

Paul has an incredible visual memory, with special strengths in spatial relationships and number relationships.   He's technically first grade, but I teach him with third grade materials.  He loves puzzles, maps, numbers, inventing, board games, spelling and crafting.

He has the shape of most states memorized, and puts a US map puzzle together just by looking at the shapes of the states.

He never did any invented spelling.  His visual memory--even though he's not an avid reader--was all he needed to move right into conventional spelling.  His weakness is that he's entirely a visual speller, and doesn't use sounds even when he needs to.  For example, he knows the four letters he needs to spell read, but once in awhile he'll spell it raed instead--not using the sounds as a cue.  He'll notice it doesn't look right, and then he'll fix it.  I know better than to ask him to sound something out.  That'll bring tears of frustration.

I use the same third grade spelling program with both Paul and Peter, but Paul masters the lessons in a day.  The words are grouped by phonics chunks, such as choice and voice, and join and coin.  Paul's brain naturally groups visual likenesses easily and quickly, making spelling a joy for him.  It's like a puzzle he does for enjoyment.

Peter, on the other hand, has a very poor visual memory, but he began hearing separate phonemes very early (great phonemic awareness).  He's a very strong auditory learner.  At three years old he could spell three-letter words effortlessly.  He was very attentive to rhyming and sounds even as a baby.  He soaked in books very early, while my other three wiggled away at the same age.  I remember being on couch bedrest with Paul's pregnancy and reading to Peter--him standing on the floor next to me. At 19 months old, he would pause his play for six or seven books at a time.

Naturally, I thought Peter would read early and read well.  He did start early, but sight words--those nasty visual beasts--took him two years to fully master.  Really nice, fast, fluent reading didn't come for him until January 2010--around his eighth birthday.

Just as he struggled with reading sight words, he now struggles with spelling them, for the same reason--poor visual memory.  One would think that chanting them would help, but he has little patience for chanting.

His spelling, in general, is awful.  Really awful.  Oh, you can read it alright; that's not the problem.  It's entirely phonetic, in keeping with his auditory learning style. He gets every syllable down accurately--just not conventionally.

While Paul reads two chapters per day, Peter reads an entire book in a day, or a day and a half.  Paul writes in a journal, focusing on penmanship and accurate spelling.  The topics are uninteresting, however, most of the time.

Peter composes poems, keeps a fascinating science journal, and will spontaneously sit down and start a story.  He focuses on ideas--on content.

Paul loves math and rarely needs help with any new concept.  How he memorized his addition, subtraction, and multiplication facts without ever studying is beyond my non-mathematical brain.

Peter struggles with math.  His brain doesn't do many mathematical shortcuts--like his Momma's.  He's getting through, though, earning B's or C's on tests.  He can memorize Bible verses like nobody's business, but math facts--except for those that rhyme--are a frustrating beast.

Peter naturally looks for the big picture, focusing on the whole--relating his learning to the world around him.  Paul focuses on the parts and how they fit together--largely missing the big picture, and even tuning out the world around him, like an absent-minded professor.  Facts and figures keep Paul awake at night sometimes--mathematical insomnia, I guess you'd call it.

To outsiders, it appears that Paul is very bright, and Peter is average--even low, if you look at his spelling.

As a mother, this puts me in a hard place sometimes, at least socially. I can't be so quick to defend Peter that I downplay Paul's amazing ability to do square roots for his uncle's pleasure.  He knew them at age six, after his uncle gave a few minutes explanation.

I need to acknowledge, and even defend when necessary, both their unique intelligences.

I need to give them room to soar, as well as fail.  And to not be good at something.

I can't feel shame or embarrassment, or regard Peter's awful spelling as some reflection on me, any more than I can regard Paul's showy talents as a reflection on me.

I need to be their loving, grace-filled facilitator.  Their cheerleader.  I need to draw out and praise their strengths, and patiently assist with their difficulties.

I need to thank the Lord for their uniqueness and for the privilege of learning along with them.  I need to ask Him for wisdom in the daily guiding and facilitating.  Since every brain is so unique, even the best teachers need direction, from the Creator, on how to proceed.

I preach this to myself for a reason.

Last night, I foolishly suffered insomnia about Peter's spelling and multiplication weaknesses. Earlier that night, I researched why he might be having so much trouble.  Little, it turns out, is written about spelling.

But I did learn a couple important things.  One professor wrote that he no longer graded term papers for spelling, because spelling had gotten much worse over the years he'd been at the university.  That I find unacceptable. Students need to learn to spell, even if it takes them much longer than their peers.  Spell check should be a weak speller's backup, only.  It shouldn't be a reason to give up on spelling.

The other thing I learned was from a homeschooling mother, and it mirrored my own instinctive prediction, in regards to Peter.  She said it took her children two years of fluent reading before they began to spell conventionally.  Students with average to poor visual  memories might take longer than two years.  Their brains, I presume, need more bombardment with words, before the sight words and phonics chunks finally sink in.

Peter has been reading fluently only one year.

I need to relax and continue to work with him consistently, but with loving kindness, assuring him he'll get there.

Most of all I need to remind Peter of God's unique design--His unique plan--for Peter.  That plan includes both triumph and struggle. Our triumphs are of God.  Equally true, our struggles are of God. Struggling is not failing.  It's walking the path--experiencing the process--that God designed to make us Holy.

Psalm 139:14
I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.

emergency gratitude

Ugh, kids!  Just discovered my four year old left the water on outside the house--potentially for days!  I can't remember when I caught her over there, and I didn't know she had actually turned on the hose.  Usually we can hear it running out there when we're in the dining room.  We were already having trouble paying the bill.  I noticed today that there wasn't much water pressure in the shower or washer.  Hope that doesn't indicate a problem with pipes!

Strangely, when we lived in the California desert, our bill was $40.00 to $60.00 per month, depending on whether it was watering season for the grass.  Here in a heavy snow area of the midwest, our bill is $100.00 to $120.00 /month!

Time to give God thanks for something:

- praying children, two saved children

- healthy children

- reading glasses to go over my contacts

- literature to fill us with delight

- children's sleeping faces (always grips my heart)

- a house still clean (Am I entering a different season now?  Seems easier to keep a decent house.)

- The water company said if the bill was enormous, they could break up the amount for us.

- Money soon to finally get a perm for my lifeless hair. (I've been waiting six months!  Wish my hair would change, Margie.  You're fortunate!)

- sunshine and reasonable temps, so children can play with their igloo

- husband graduating on Sunday from computer school

- husband working on getting a computer internship at one of his custodial job sites

- a boy with a myriad of interests

- my Beth playing with the dolls more (Mary hasn't much interest thus far.)

- very few wet diapers and a still-enthused potty trainer

- a house with nice living spaces

- decreasing OCD symptoms

- homeschooling

- laughter coming from little people

- siblings

- little teddy bears tucked away for my little ones for Valentine's Day

- big boys and little girls who still like stuffed animals

guess the novel

Next up on my read aloud list for the boys is a 1960 Newberry Honor novel most often read in the seventh grade.  You'll find an excerpt below.  Just for fun, who can guess the title?  I'll give you some hint words:  New York, subway, mouse, cat, drainpipe, Connecticut

"It was a little insect, about an inch long and covered with dirt.  It had six legs, two long antennae on its head and what seemed to be a pair of wings folded on its back.  Holding his discovery as carefully as his fingers could, Mario lifted the insect up and rested him in the palm of his hand.

"A cricket!", he exclaimed.

Keeping his cupped hand very steady, Mario walked back to the newstand.  The cricket didn't move.  And he didn't make that little musical sound any more.  He just lay perfectly still--as if he were sleeping, or frightened to death.

Mario pulled out a tissue of Kleenex and laid the cricket on it.  Then he took another and started to dust him off.  Ever so softly he tapped the hard black shell, and the antennae, and legs, and wings.  Gradually the dirt that had collected on the insect fell away.  His true color was still black, but now it had a bright, glossy sheen.

When Mario had cleaned off the cricket as much as he could, he hunted around the floor of the station for a matchbox.  In a minute he'd found one and knocked out one end.  Then he folded a sheet of Kleenex, tucked it in the box and put the cricket in.  It made a perfect bed.  The cricket seemed to like his new home.  He moved around a few times and settled himself comfortably.

Mario sat for a time, just looking.  He was so happy and excited that when anyone walked around the station, he forgot to shout, "Newspapers!" and "Magazines!" 

 

 

Diary of a Playdate

Preparing for a playdate is a lot of work.  You organize your hot spots.  

You dust your woods. Wait, that hutch was symmetrical.  Someone got ahold of a knickknack.

You vacuum and straighten.  Wait, that room was straightened.  Is that a toy already out?

You clean off your perpetually messy counter, leaving only fruit, tissues, and cell phone cords.  No, I did not pick out that 70's tile.  I inherited it and was told taking it off was a big job, not to be undertaken with small children underfoot.

You make your games and puzzles accessible in the playroom--only not to the two year old.

You display their artwork.

You put out knickknacks, once again, that the two year old will mess with.

You have crafts available.

Which only one or two children will do, because, let's face it: When kids get together, they want to be physical--do things like, say, play tag and break a lamp (that happened here once).

My faithful crafter, Paul, liked the Valentine things.

Yesterday, Jack Black was the hit.  Our homeschooling friend, Elizabeth, has at least twenty different animals in her house, mostly caged.  

They built Jack a Lego maze.

Jack is not supposed to be loose on my carpet, but I made an exception for the playdate.

The two year old is taking advantage of a distracted Momma.  Here she was caught eating the snacks--in this case, Hershey's kisses.  She is her Momma's daughter.

Within the first fifteen minutes of the playdate, the children went outside, begging that an igloo be built for them.  We had never made one, but Elizabeth's father led the way.  The men are out there, sans children, because the children came inside after twenty minutes.  The men wanted to finish what they started.

Here they are digging out the center, after piling snow on for a half hour.

Later, after the playdate, my Mary took advantage of the Valentine craft things.  I had also expanded our supply of craft beads, adding some lettered beads for spelling names and such.  Again, only my faithful crafter, Paul, took advantage of those.  He made Elizabeth a necklace.  My own children did want to do crafts at some point, but girls around nine can be a bit bossy.  Elizabeth didn't want to do crafts.  

Come to think of it, girls around four can be a bit bossy as well.  I recall my Mary saying this week, "Paul, you have to wash your face before we go to the library or to the store.  You see, people can see the food on your face."  

At this bit of wisdom from his little sister, my Paul only laughed, as did the Momma.