Take it from one who is clearing out her curriculum shelves as the adventure winds down:  Your children don’t need as much as you think they do.  And you need more.  At least experientially, more.  (And probably more rest, but that was last post.)

I know.  Some of us would rather run to the store to buy another set of workbooks than take the time to plan a memory.

Please.  Put down the workbook.  Or the extra workbook series you think your children won’t live through college without.

Really?  Why do we buy them?  So many of them?  In my case, all those extra workbooks were like comfort food for my public school-raised soul.  They brought me back to happy times when I was sick in bed and had to miss school proper.  I would lay on my bed, propped up by pillows, pencil in hand, homemade lap table on my lap, turning page after page of colorful workbook accomplishment.   Workbook times = good times.

But, here’s a tip from an not-as-old-as-I-feel-sometimes-timer:  Enjoy the memory-making.  Leave the workbooks on the shelf (unless your children love workbooks).  And make a memory.

Your children will still learn – probably more! – and they will most likely be happy about it!

Although … he may not be thrilled when Mom makes him, the enrolled College Man, stand with a First Day of School sign because she’s so proud he learned well as a homeschooler and now is heading off to his first day at school-school!  At least he’s learned to be tolerant of his mama’s heart for him. And yes, I am refraining from blowing kisses.  Don’t want to embarrass the kid!

Enjoy your children, and enjoy yourself too!

Fluttering by for now,

Remembering so many good times (and so many – unused – workbooks),

www.suzannebroadhurst.com

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Oooh, we all love secrets!

Except when we are the ones revealing them – about ourselves!  The fear of being “found out” is no less in a woman just because she wears smeared blue paint from decorating clothespins for a prayer line.

Oh wait, that craft was for Sunday School, not homeschool.

Well, you get the picture.  (Of the clothespins, at least!)

 

I thought about revealing what I look like hair pulled back, pic-snapped-as-I-blinked, face slightly blued, cleaning paintbrushes, but I know that’s not the secret you’re waiting for. I tend to get all secret-gooey about things others are just plain not excited about.  Like the day I revealed what the function of x is all about.  Who can’t get excited about f(x)?  Oh.  Lots of people?

Well, in that case, here’s the secret … but before I say that, let me say this (don’t you love saying that to your children?).   You are as patient as your homeschool students waiting for you to finish baking the bread so you can answer their science workbook question about chemical reactions between glucose and fungi. YAY for patience, Mom!   Just remember the amount of willpower it takes the next time you need to stall the young ‘uns in the information department.  They’re doing a good job, too!

And So … The Secret

One day, years ago, I asked my mom for a favor.  It wasn’t the normal kind of favor.  It was one of those Oh-So-Bizarre-Who-Else-Other-Than-Mom-Will-Understand-Me favors.  Well, now that I’ve met Maggie Hogan, I imagine I could ask her, too.

I asked my mom for an official document:  A Certificate of Rest.

I couldn’t take it anymore.  The guilt, the condemnation, the exhaustion, the fear.  I needed a nap.  And one in which monsters were not eating me up, gnawing on my wiped out flesh with pencil-sharp teeth, using planning calendars to wipe their mouths.  I needed rest.

My mom, understanding my need, sent me via mail – yes, the old fashioned way, it was all we had back then – a beautifully printed homemade Certificate of Rest.  I might still have it.  (Read: attic.)

 

It was all I needed: permission.

 

And now, years later, I still rest.  I don’t recommend sleeping our children’s childhood away – that would not be good for anyone in the long-run, including the furniture, but I do recommend rest.  It’s not a sin to rest.  In fact, it can be when used properly, a sin-preventer.

Nothing like an hour or two of quiet a couple-three-four-five times a week to settle the soul. When the hubby comes home from work – with possibly a full mind or a full heart (and I don’t mean the kind of heart full of roses and slow dances) – the home is at least, a little more, peaceful than it would be without a good solid knocked-back hour of rest in our minds and hearts.

Who says we need to compete with our men about how hard our day has been?  (Been there, done that, guess how well it works?)  And why do we feel like we must have a hard day in order to accomplish anything?

Can’t we have a day of ease and productivity?

 

It’s just a thought I’ve been pondering for this generation, the past generation, and the next generation, during my productive moments, as I’m fluttering by for now,

www.suzannebroadhurst.com

 

“Let’s teach ourselves that honorable stop, Not to outsport discretion.”
by good ol’ William Shakespeare

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Bright Ideas Press is excited to be a sponsor of The 2:1 Conference this weekend in Sterling, Virginia.

Homeschooling moms, blogging, and chocolate! What’s not to love?

Are you attending?

Drop by the Bright Ideas Press booth and drop a business card!

Two attendees of The 2:1 Conference will each win a $30 gift certificate to the Bright Ideas Press store!

Drawing will be held Saturday at 830pm.

Be sure to follow Bright Ideas Press on Facebook and Twitter, where we will announce the winners.

We look forward to seeing you there!

This giveaway is open only to ticket holders of The 2:1 Conference.

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We all desire to foster a love of learning in our children. Ask any homeschool Mom or Dad and surely, we echo similar thoughts — maybe it’s even why we have them home.

Today I offer ideas on nurturing this learning lifestyle. Not at all an exhaustive list or even a partial one, you’re welcome to add suggestions to the conversation.

Just for fun, let’s count backwards….

5. Expose them to a variety of options

I think of this especially for families who are prone to ‘get in a rut’ with activities or pursuits. For example, in my family growing up, we all played musical instruments, taking extensive lessons and even playing competitively for years.

What’s wrong with this picture, you might ask? Maybe nothing. My children are all in some stage of learning music and the heritage I’ve received is well-appreciated. However, this hyper focus left little room to explore other options. As parents, we can encourage our children to master a particular skill, yes…but to also explore others as hobbies. There’s a difference.

Summertime offers great opportunity for week long (or more) camps to try options. Our children may not pursue those long-term, but the exposure is an invitation to experience something different.

4. Offer a variety of outlets

Some children are content with learning without lots of recognition…other kiddos need more. Whatever your child is pursuing, allow for a variety of ways to share what they’ve learned.

Visit a local nursing home to sing, play an instrument or share poetry — our family has done this, it’s a welcomed idea by most facilities! Form your own recital, art show or learning fair of sorts, maybe as part of your end-of-year celebration? Seek outlets for healthy competition or ways for your children to express to others what they are learning or pursuing.

The preparation time and positive feedback received will grow them as a learner.

3. Model Learning Yourself.

This seems obvious, and most likely it’s a natural part of our days. Just a tip to allow our children to see us enthusiastic about the new information we’re taking in.

Share your growing pains and also the joy of learning something new or of sharpening your skills. Children pick up quickly on attitudes and hopefully see that while learning may have difficult seasons, perseverance pays off and the results are exciting!

2. Allow them to make mistakes.

In efforts to help our children succeed, we often spare them one of life’s greatest teachers — failure. I’m in no way suggesting we allow for dangerous or unsafe practices or to ignore our children’s cry for true help.

As they age however, within the safety of parental support, there is value in realizing all of our ideas are not good ones, all pursuits not worthy of time-investment. We need wisdom and discernment to know just how to navigate this path, but life without failing isn’t real.

Our children will mature and grow as a learner when they can safely make and process their mistakes.

And finally…

1. Believe that they can.

Rather, believe in the God who gifted them in the first place. Yes, I know it’s hard to envision greatness in the two-year-old who’s running around waving his brother’s undies (why yes, I’m using real life examples!).

But there is greatness there. For my son, your child, has been gifted by an incredibly creative God and is destined for greatness. Not as the world judges, but in God’s standards, in His ways and timing…there is purpose waiting to be released.

Speak it, Act upon it. Believe it.

***

Any other suggestions or thoughts?

www.domesticserenity.org
twitter: @danieatdomestic

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I used to be so frazzled. I mean SO frazzled. If life had been my hair, I wouldn’t have known which strand to put conditioner on first.

“Too much, just TOO much” became my mantra. And I didn’t like it.

So, what did I do?  More, of course!

And then came The Advice. It was one of those bits of advice that entices us to crawl into it like a sleeping bag.

Just do the next thing.

That was The Advice.

Sounding too simple for functionality – why do I like to complicate everything? – I did try it.

When I felt more overloaded than a baked potato, I would just do the next thing. And a lot got done.

Try it this week.

Instead of frazzling and frizzing, try just doing the next thing.

If you don’t have a next thing, think about what you’ve been wanting to do, and do that. Maybe something like: teach my children 6 x 6 = 36. Anything to get you thinking about a next thing.

And let me know how it goes.

Come back next time and I’ll tell you about installing a zipper in your sleeping bag of next things.

Fluttering by for now,

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In part 1, Private First Class JB Hogan told about his arrival in Kuwait. He continues the story here.

The final task at Camp Doha was to load the Bradleys onto the HET trucks. When we finally loaded all the vehicles, we drivers hopped into the cab section of the truck, but everyone else got on busses.

Nice highway. Pretty lights. Ahhh… Sleep.

Kaboom! The truck lunges violently off the road and into the dusty side paths. Due to the extreme vibration, I give up all hope of sleep. Foolishly I decide to watch the road. My driver dodges the small divots by hurtling directly into gaping potholes. I’m sure we went airborne.

It becomes a free-for-all once we hit the side roads. Cutting each other off, passing on the “shoulder,” foregoing the road altogether in favor of the wilderness. It is wild.

About 1 km from our outpost, we stop. The Bradleys will go the rest of the way under their own power. The sun is beginning to rise. It’s leering at us. “Give me eight hours, and I’ll have you crying for Mommy.”

We arrive in the Kabal. Our tents are okay. There are 12 men in each. They’ve got a tube running across the top to cool them off when the wind blows. [Editor’s note: He told us by phone that it’s 135–140° F during the day but cools off at night.] There is a double door airlock system to keep the dust down. But the battle against dust isn’t winnable. The Kuwaiti desert is not sand; it is dirt. Endless nasty dirt. And it blows all over. We have to clean our weapons 3 times a day just from walking around.

So far it hasn’t been too bad work-wise. Filling sand bags stinks, but they are relatively smart about when and for how long we do that. We have also worked a bit on the Brads but nothing major. Breakfast this morning was canned Mexican barf eggs. It was…filling. Lunch was an MRE. They haven’t started a chapel service yet. Supposed to be soon.

I’ll write more when stuff happens.

~ JB

From Basic to Baghdad is a compilation of letters and emails that J.B. Hogan sent home to his family detailing his experience in the Army. Available at Bright Ideas Press.

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Years ago, our bright and talented (okay, so I’m biased) son decided that he was tired of college and wanted to do something “real” for a change. So he joined the Army. For a little background you may want to read my article about JB and basic training, “Diary of a New Recruit.”

After a year, JB was deployed to Kuwait. He wrote home when he could, and I thought I’d share some of his letters with you. When I start to complain about the heat, I think of JB and the thousands of others in the military stationed in faraway places in less than ideal conditions. I am blessed that so many are willing to make sacrifices for their country, and I am proud that JB is one of them. Thank God for our military!

Kuwait

Holy Cow, Everyone,

I’m in Kuwait! It is incredible. Already I have gone from “Whoa, this is awesome!” to “One more day of this and I’m killing myself!” and back again. Let me start from the beginning.

It all started first thing Sunday morning back at Ft. Benning. I was tired and not really in a “Let’s Deploy!” mood. But I staggered out of bed and dragged all 155 pounds of gear (my body weight, incidentally) to the company area. Even though we had already stowed duffle bags and rucksacks, I still had 60 pounds of junk to wear. [Editor’s Note: I wonder how much of that weight was his books?]

The plane was a Boeing 777. Talk about unbelievably cool! Each seat had a built-in TV and remote. It had three columns of three seats each, plus first class. It would have been very pleasant had there been no soldiers on it.

The flight was very long and messed with our heads. Between sleeping at odd times, the 7-hour time change, 15 hours of flight, and 3 hours of delays, I was thoroughly messed up by the time we got in the country. We arrived in Kuwait International Airport at about 1730 local time. It was my first experience with time travel. It was strangely anticlimactic. Of course, 7 hours isn’t exactly a huge time leap.

We get off the planes right onto busses. There are lines of hedges, trees (palms and short bushy ones), and grass! So far Kuwait is mocking my expectations. Board busses. Sleep. Exacerbate already bad jet lag.

1930. Not the year. We only traveled in time for 7 hours, remember? We arrive at Camp Doha.

Serious whoa. Warehouses. Military vehicles everywhere. Not as hot as I expected. [Editor’s note: Yet.] Nice breeze. Smells like that little beach by Grandma’s house.

Briefing received. Lots of clichés and militarisms. Got it. We’ve heard this all before.

We are shown to our vehicles. Mine has two serious problems. Number one, my cooling fan rotates about as quickly as, as, something notorious for revolving slowly. The Earth maybe.

But most worrisome is my engine access hatch. This is a hydraulic lift cover that raises to expose the engine components. Mine takes about 15 seconds to open and 7.5 minutes to close. Already I’m having visions:

“Hogan, we’re halting. Go check your fluids.”

“Roger,” replies our hero.

“Whirrrrr…” says the hatch.

Private First Class Hogan (who just got promoted on June 15) begins checks.

“Boom!!” explains the artillery.

“We’re taking fire! Get in and close the hatch. Let’s go!!!”

“Tick…tick…tick…” says the hatch, moving so slowly it is unobservable to the naked eye.

“Yeah, tell the Lt. we’re gonna be about 7.5 minutes behind them,” says PFC Hogan.

“Darn! Well, Hogan. We’re gonna have to rely on your ‘Powers in the Force’ to push those shells away.”

“Roger.”

So, I’m not exactly thrilled with Bravo 13 right now. But I finish my vehicle PMCS and PLUT. We receive BII, SKO, ask about PLL, and are denied CRTT. After LNTT the TCs set up our SP, and we are almost done. (Bonus game: Guess which acronyms I totally made up!)

To be continued…

From Basic to Baghdad is a compilation of letters and emails that J.B. Hogan sent home to his family detailing his experience in the Army. Available at Bright Ideas Press.

This post may contain affiliate links. For more information, please refer to the disclosure policy.

Join me in a flashback to early June 2001. Our oldest son, JB, tells us he’s considering joining the Army and what do we think about it? Frankly, I was shocked. My son who’s: highly academically gifted, a creative and out of the box thinker, who loves to write and play music, and spend time deep philosophical debates; this son in the army? It wasn’t at all what I had in mind for him during all those years we homeschooled. Although I have great respect for the military, I’d planned that he would continue to excel academically in college, then perhaps go on to graduate or law school or perhaps begin a career in journalism – whatever the Lord wanted, of course.

I had often told our boys that success doesn’t equal college or a great job but success comes with doing what God calls you to do. Did I really believe that, though? I found myself reasoning with JB: the military is a great idea honey, once you finish your degree you can join and go to officer’s training school. He didn’t bite.

The previous year JB had a rough time struggling with many issues and problems in his life. Going back to college held no appeal. He didn’t know what he wanted to be “when he grew up” and he felt life was passing him by. Additionally, he was frustrated and angry with God. Why wouldn’t God just tell him what to do? His dad and I talked and prayed with him. Then the next day, on his own, he enlisted in the Army.

The next week was crazy as the Army had offered him an “early ship” bonus – meaning he had about four days to pack up and go. He left in a whirlwind. I cried. He spent three weeks hanging around Ft. Benning waiting for a space in boot camp. That gave him plenty of time to decide he wished he hadn’t acted so hastily! But we quickly saw that God obviously had him there for a purpose. A few excerpts from his letters home:

June 18, in Baltimore while waiting to be shipped out

Sgt. What’s-her-Face says “You guys Benning?” (Sentence structure and logical equivalence are not required to be a sergeant. In a strategic career move I decided not to say anything.)

“Yes.”

“Well, you guys are all messed up. Go find out what’s wrong.”

Gotta love the military. The Chief of Transportation Officer has given us peons the privilege, nay honor, of finding out what has happened to our transportation. It turns out that there is a storm or tornado or a giant bat or something over Charlotte , NC . I voted we brave it out because in terms of overall nastiness, dying in a plane attacked by a giant bat is equal to Basic training but quicker. Instead, they tell us to sit. “Be all you can be” is not the Army motto. “Go and have a seat” is.

June 23

I miss all you guys back home. Every now and then it strikes me that I will probably never live at home or in Dover again. I didn’t want to grow up – I don’t know what I was thinking!

After waiting 3 weeks to actually start Basic Training, we receive this:

July 6

We’re finally shipping out . . . But wait! What’s this? JB isn’t shipping today! Of course everyone else is! JB is being held over. Why? Because back at 30th AG some worthless lowlife stole his boots.

July 13

I am just totally lost here. I don’t know if this is where God wants me. I really feel I could come back home and do much better for myself in the civilian world. I’m aching – absolutely aching with creative energy, stories, music and all kinds stuff but the Army is no place to be creative.

July 26

I am still very leery about the Army. At my core I feel I have made a foolish decision. But your words have motivated me to give it some more time. Now more than ever I need to be seeking the Lord’s guidance. Please trust I am seeking God’s will in whether I should try to get out or not. Besides, even if I try to leave, if here is where I should be, I won’t be able to get out

Aug. 24

So how was my birthday? Considering the circumstances, pretty good! We only got smoked {in trouble} twice. But best of all, my birthday present was a fully automatic machine gun, a firing range, and a long belt of ammo!

Sept. 3

Each day is about momentum – if I made it this far I can go all the way. That’s my new motto.

Sept. 11

They say that Sept. 11 will live alongside Dec. 9th in infamy. We are only a few steps from declaring war. This is probably the scariest day of my life. I have heard all kinds of rumors. It’s like the whole world went crazy in a couple of hours . . . The specter of war looms and all I know is that I want to get as much out of every piece of training that I can get. That may be what keeps me alive in a few weeks or months. I don’t want you to worry about me, though. I am in God’s hands and it is His choice where I go. Please keep me, the victims, the president and the nations at risk, in prayer.

Sept. 15th

President Bush has said that he has declared war on terrorists and anyone who harbors or helps them. If we start deploying for war, the Infantry will go. On Oct. 12th I will be part of the Infantry. Don’t start worrying though. You can be sure I am getting the training that I will need to survive and kill the enemy if I am called to do so. Although I want revenge, I’m not desirous of combat and war and I do not hope for battle. But whatever comes, I will do my duty and be prepared as I possibly can.

On October 12

My family joined hundreds and hundreds of other family members and friends who gathered at Ft. Benning to watch their sons graduate into the Infantry. As the soldiers shouted out the Infantrymen’s Creed, the tears welled up in my eyes. Here’s part of it –

I am the Infantry.
I am my country’s strength in war.
Her deterrent in peace.
I am the heart of the fight – wherever, whenever.
I carry America’s faith and honor against her enemies.
Never will I fail my country’s trust.
Always I fight on – through the foe
to the objective, to triumph over all.
If necessary, I fight to my death.
By my steadfast courage I have won 200 years of freedom.
I yield not – to weakness, to hunger to cowardice, to fatigue, to superior odds,
for I am mentally tough, physically strong and morally straight.
I forsake not – my country, my mission my comrades, my sacred duty.
I am relentless. I am always there, now and forever.
I AM THE INFANTRY!
FOLLOW ME!

Do you know what soldiers swear to uphold and fight for when they take their oath? Most Americans would probably guess it is our land, our flag, our people, or our president. But no, they swear to protect the Constitution of the United States of America. I wonder how many of us have even read it? I know JB has. He spent an entire year studying the constitution and another semester taking a constitutional law class on-line with Mike Farris. JB’s a homeschool graduate. And I’m the proud mom of a {former} US soldier. God Bless America.

I’m curious:

Have your students studied the United States Constitution?

Do you have plans for your kids that may or may not be what the Lord is calling them to do?

From Basic to Baghdad is a compilation of letters and emails that J.B. Hogan sent home to his family detailing his experience in the Army. Available at Bright Ideas Press.

This post may contain affiliate links. For more information, please refer to the disclosure policy.

 

I’ve been into vacuuming lately.  No, not actually vacuuming, that’s my daughter’s job. I’ve just been pondering vacuuming.

I love chore assignments, gives me time to ponder.  Today, the sights along the pondering path include education and vacuuming.

 

The only history that happens in a vacuum is the gathering of the dust of yesterday.

Ask Max.

 

He’s our vacuum cleaner.

Max has been with us for several years, his filtering system keeping his hard work internalized.  No sense sucking up the dust if it just leaks out the other end, important where there are allergies afoot, uh, a-nose.

Education, however, is rather un-vacuum-enical.  Learning itself doesn’t happen in a vacuum.  We must learn from someone, somewhere, somehow.  Someone must sprinkle the dust of information, offering us a serving of curiosity and giving us something to suck on, intellectually speaking, of course.

As educators, however, we want what is sucked in to be leaked out.

We offer input.  We expect output.

Output comes in many forms, unlike the fine dusty spray I recall from those who were once mine, but were not my Max.  As age crept upon their mechanical hearts, they each dispersed their input in the same way.  Blech.  Pull out the dust cloth.

If our children are whining like paperclips in a roller bar, maybe our output expectations are a little dusty.  Workbooks hold their place, but how much more they will retain when they are having fun in the process.

How would you rather clean your house?  To the barks of a Master Drill Sergeant,  “Sweep One!  Sweep Two!” or to the tunes of Tchaikovsky’s booming tones?  The house gets clean either way, but the ‘tudes are so much sweeter with the T-man’s music!

Addendum:  My son reminded me we did have good times cleaning to Sergeant barks, or in my case Brigadier Colonel commands.  But if it’s not done in fun, with a lighthearted tone, I’d suggest sticking with a war of 1812 Overture and a vacuum cleaner cannon.

Lock, load, aim – FIRE!

Fluttering by for now,

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