I can remember holding these guys at two months old, their small cuddly bodies warming my neck and shoulders. Now here they are, five year olds who say funny things like, “Girls can’t do that!” (mistakingly uttered to their mother who is the most capable woman I know) and “Ew, gross!” (when I’m changing Livia’s diaper in front of them). I love watching them grow.
I think I’ve found a new calling in life. It involves Diet Coke and Mentos.
I just completed some Monday morning cleaning. Except, it’s Wednesday. I’m so confused.
The four day weekend was a fun one. We went to Worlds of Fun in KC on Saturday with Jeremy’s folks and cousins. Fully prepared to experience the hottest summer day yet amid crowds of roller coaster-happy, sweaty individuals, we were really surprised at how few people were in the park. WoF has come a long way in the past nine years (since we took the Covenant youth group back in the good ole days!). The food is better, the gardens are really pretty, and overall the amusement park is cleaner. On Saturday there was a nice breeze accompanying us through waiting lines, the longest of which was only 15 minutes—we practically walked onto big rides like the Mamba and the Patriot. Liv spent a delightful day with the Moreheads and Nickesons, which was a big blessing for me. I now realize that the destination isn’t what made the day a vacation for me, rather the time off from work was a relaxing break.
The rest of the long weekend was spent gardening, cleaning, napping, organizing and, finally, grilling and fireworking last night.
What did you do over the weekend?
It’s easy to look at God as a cosmic clockmaker who created this universe, got it ticking just right, then let go and sat back to see what happened. But the Bible says something very different in the book of Romans. It says that we’re God’s children – that He loves us as a father. Just writing those words, I can’t grasp the full meaning of being a daughter of God. But when I look at my own daughter and see how much I love her, how readily I’ve give anything to keep her healthy and whole, then I get a more complete picture of how God the Father loves His children. It’s almost unfathomable to grasp that the Creator of the universe loves me and cares about me on a very personal level.
Recommended reading: Joie’s latest post over at The Grand, and From Fear to Freedom by Rose Marie Miller.
A Sunday evening spent with five friends, a hot tub, and a guy named Mike who makes a mean lemonade… Well, let’s just say it was a lovely way to start a new week.
I’ve been surfing. And reading. And following all sorts of links related to homeschooling. I then felt compelled to record a few thoughts on my own schooling. Here is the rambling report that followed:
I carried a bookbag with a bold statement across the front:
I [Heart] School.
And boy did I. I LOVED school as a small child. I attended Westminster Christian Academy in Augusta, Georgia, from K-4 through the first half of second grade and I have many great memories of my time there. One year my class celebrated “P” Day and we enjoyed a Picnic Party outside where we ate Pizza and Popcorn and Punch. And of course I wore Pink and Purple (my two favorite colors at the time). To celebrate Thanksgiving we all dressed up as the first pilgrims and Native Americans and invited our parents to come to some sort of special meal. I have fuzzy memories of an all-school fun day, complete with various relay races and water balloon fights, as well as a very Southern kindergarten graduation ceremony held at my church (every last kindergartener was dressed in white for the celebration). Mrs. Lovingood, the most grandmotherly assistant kindergarten teacher on the planet, holds a special place in my mind, while Cheryl Beach, a close family friend, was a fabulous second grade teacher who was known for her delicious monkey bread and sweet heart. When I moved across the country to California in the middle of the school year, it was Mrs. Beach who created a special book full of well-wishing letters from my classmates. She glued the letters to brightly-colored wallpaper samples – I still have the book in a box in my basement.
I now realize that my parents deserve most of the credit for my great education, from its roots at WCA to its pinnacle at Lincoln Southeast High School.
My mom read to us all the time when we were small. Our book collection was enormous (I can remember Adam going through the books and claiming them as his own by writing his name in front covers) and reading was always fun for us. That is, until Andrew bucked the system. But he likes to read now, so that’s water under the bridge. My folks couldn’t punish Adam or me by sending us to our rooms – alone time was a perfect time to read a book! True punishment was telling us that we couldn’t read. When we moved to California we entered the public school system and from what I remember, Mom worked hard to enter us into the TAG program (Talented and Gifted, a bit of a lofty title, in my opinion). Westminster had pushed me ahead of my classmates somewhat, and I think I would have been bored without TAG activities. One TAG project involved building, interestingly enough, a flume. We built a model-sized, working flume… Pretty cool thing for a third grader! I also began participating in spelling bees, where I recall losing once on “affidavit” which I chose to spell similarly to my dad’s name. And other than confusing “minstrel” with “menstrual” I think I did pretty well.
The remainder of my public education years were spent in the small town of Klamath Falls, Oregon, as well as here in Lincoln. In each school, in each location, I have wonderful memories of good times. There was the school year where I had the ultimate in creative teachers, Mrs. Griffiths, who figured out how to take her classroom on field trips despite being allowed only once school bus trip a year. We bicycled to the Oregon Institute of Technology to study robotics and walked downtown to take gravestone rubbings while learning about epitaphs. We made apple pies in boys vs. girls teams and had them taste-tested by the school janitors. In junior high I learned how to build stage sets, use a Macintosh computer to design lighting for theater productions, and dreamed about stardom in a theater class. My high school experiences are too many to record here, but suffice to say that I was afforded great opportunities to grow and learn during senior high. It wasn’t until I went away to college that I realized how many opportunities I had been given. And it wasn’t until very recently that I learned that the difference between high school and adulthood is that in school there are many people that want to see you succeed – and furthermore, they literally hand you opportunities where you can learn and be successful. Once you reach adulthood, it’s up to you to find your own way.
All this to say that I attended one private school and four public schools by the age of 18 and I don’t for one minute regret my schooling. It is for this reason that I want to enroll Livia in Lincoln Public Schools in approximately three years.
—————————
As I post this entry, I need to acknowledge how incomplete an explanation it is for why I plan to have Liv attend public schools. Other factors that I may blog in the future include Livia’s needs and learning styles, the strength of particular schools and teachers, my own personality type and strengths and weaknesses, and, perhaps most importantly, my ideas related to issues of fear, control, and trusting God regarding my children.
There. I think I’m done modifying this post now. ; )
1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME:
(middle name and current street name)
Lawton Eighth
2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME:
(grandfather/grandmother on your dad’s side, your favorite candy)
Mary Skor
3. YOUR “FLY GIRL/GUY” NAME:
(first initial of first name, first two or three letters of your last name)
R. Tre
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME:
(favorite color, favorite animal)
Blue Kitty
5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME:
(middle name, a city where you’ve lived)
Lawton St. Louis
6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME:
(first 3 letters of your last name, last 3 letters of mother’s maiden
name, first 3 letters of your pet’s name)
Tre Nes Chl
Tre Nes Emi
Tre Nes Pri
7. SUPERHERO NAME:
(“The”, your favorite color, the automobile your parents have)
The Blue Continental
Along time ago, we used to be friends but I
haven’t thought of you lately at all
Come on now, honey!
Bring it on, bring it on
I used to raise my eyebrows at uncontrolled children in grocery stores and malls. I used to think, Boy, when I get to be a parent I’ll do so much better than those people. In fact, if I was that kid’s mom I’d [insert perfectly-crafted discipline policy here], and my kid would never behave like that. (Fellow mom bloggers know what I’m going to say next.) HA and DOUBLE HA! The laugh is on me. All the judgment I cast out into the universe is now biting me in the backside.
Livia was this beautiful angel child almost all weekend. Sure, there were points of naughtiness, but overall things were fun and easy. But this morning Uber Toddler (her Hyde side) came out in Gordman’s. She’s all, “I DO IT!” while pushing the shopping cart despite the fact she has no understanding of steering. I’m sure the cashiers at the front of the store could hear her, my two year old, squealing “NOOOOO!” while her little hands swatted at mine when I’d try to angle her in the right direction. Mentally I wrestled with looking like a pathetic pushover to other shoppers, picking my battles with Livia, and chucking her over my shoulder and heading for the nearest exit. I settled for a Sponge Bob video in the children’s section, and Liv and I curled up there until my mom was done with her shopping. (Praise Jesus for Nana, by the way, who is graciously watching Uber Toddler this afternoon.)
All this to say, people, don’t judge me. Yes, I did judge you for years and years, and I’m truly sorry about that. But when you see us coming down the aisles at Super Saver, Liv screaming all the way because she didn’t get to ride in the special car cart, just give me an empathic smile. A little mirth goes a long way in these situations.
The Good:
– This photograph of Livia, snapped by our dear friend Renae, is definitely good. In fact, it’s great! I love how Livia’s green-grey eyes match the grey tones of the screen door and how her toddler fingers frame the hole in the screen. Note: the door had a gaping wound prior to our purchase of the house, however it keeps expanding due to one particular little person, who will go unnamed in this post.
– Also good, exercise. See “The Ugly” below for a more detailed explanation.
The Bad:
– This whole entire week. Okay, that’s a bit unfair. Most of the week has been hard due to the yucky, sinful, fallen-ness of this world. S-i-g-h…
– Also bad, speeding tickets. CHiPs caught up to me somewhere between a nearby bridge and my house, and pulled me over at an intersection that has bad vibes for me (I was rear-ended there last winter). My mind had been preoccupied with all the “bad week” issues and I had no clue how fast I had been going. Yikes. Twelve miles over the speed limit – I’m not surprised, but I am ashamed – and I’ve got to pay a whopping fee or else pay a smaller fee and attend the dreaded STOP class. STOP class it is, for insurance purposes. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Note: if you’ll be attending STOP class in the near future as well, let me know; we can go together and make a day of it. Heh.
The Ugly:
– Exercise. It’s kind of an ugly experience for me. It fits in the Good category, though, because it makes my heart happy (literally), gives me energy, and allows me to have fun with friends. The ugliness comes with the truth that I haven’t exercised in forever and that we do our aerobic set in front of mirrors. Mirrors. Mirrors which reflect the out-of-shape, somewhat rhythm-less, pasty pale reality of moi. It may be a bit ugly now, but Baby, after the Tredway Summer Challenge is over I’ll be reporting The Good, the Bad, and the Smokin’ Hot.
– Also ugly, naked mole rat babies at the zoo. (Hey, I needed a second Ugly point. And it’s true, they are not very attractive in their wrinkled nakedness.)