Some days...

Two weeks.  That's how far I made it into the new school year before my self-loathing, pity party of "I'm-doing-this-all-wrong-and-surely-someone-else--ANYONE-else-could-teach-my-children-better-than-I-can" negative self-talk began.  Why do I continue to do this to myself?  I'm always so quick to reassure and praise other homeschoolers about their unmatched ability to know and love and teach their own.  When will I ever learn to believe my own advice?

Today was a hard day.  I woke up feeling tired and unmotivated.  I needed to go to the grocery store.  We were out of milk, bread and butter.  Brandon had an orthodontist appointment at 8:45 and Brock had an online class that started at 9am.  The kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes and the laundry room reeked of dirty socks and damp towels which overflowed the laundry basket.  I offered my kids scrambled eggs for breakfast, but they opted for dry Cheerios in a bowl with no milk.  I started on the dish pile, and promptly got a call from my husband, the dentist.  There had been several cancellations at the office and if we got to the office quickly, we could all get our overdue exams and cleanings done today!  Surely that was more urgent and important at the moment than housework or academics, right?  I hurried Eden & Kade out of bed, and asked the kids to hurry and get their shoes on.  I skipped the shower, threw myself together with some mascara and a ponytail and shuffled the kids to the minivan.  Brock stayed behind to get his online class in, while I dropped Austin, Eden & Kade off at Justin's office on my way to Brandon's orthodontist appointment. 

While waiting for Brandon to get his braces tightened, I received a Facebook message from another friend considering homeschooling.  I've received just about one of these sort of communications a month over the past year or more.  Homeschooling is definitely a growing movement, and one that I am happy to share all I know about.  I issued my standard reply--encouraging "you can do this" words and suggestions about curriculum and homeschool philosophy books.  Then Brandon finished his appointment and we went back to the dentist.  There was still time on the schedule, so I left Brandon there for a checkup and went home to get Brock.  He was finishing his online class when I got there, so I took him back to the office for a cleaning and then got my teeth cleaned too.  Then we all went home and tried to get serious about "school".

It wasn't quite lunch time yet, but we were hungry, so we heated up some leftover hot dogs and settled in for our memory work drills.  The kids weren't into it.  I wasn't into it.  I was low on patience.  The iPad battery was dead, and it took forever for me to find the YouTube video I needed for our geography lesson.  We were supposed to learn about the pilgrims and the Mayflower, but I could tell that no one really cared or was really listening and I felt ineffective and ignored as a teacher.  Why can't I be more motivating?  Why aren't my lessons more engaging?  Why don't my kids respect my time and effort as an educator?  I began to lecture.  The lesson dragged on.  I decided it was time for a break and my class quickly disappeared.

I left the kids home and went to the grocery store for milk, bread and butter.  I bought a pint of chocolate milk and drank it on the way home.  I felt a little better and was ready to tackle round 2 of the school day.

When I got home, Eden showed me the baby snake she had found and the bucket habitat she had built for it.  She kept asking if she could do an internet search on what snakes eat.  I told her to just feed it cat food. 

I went into the bathroom to find an entire roll of toilet paper in the bowl.  I fished it out and flushed.  Sure enough, the toilet was clogged.  I lectured Kade again about not using more that three squares of toilet paper at a time.

When it was time to reconvene for grammar and history, I decided that maybe our lessons would be more enjoyable if we were outside.  We met on the patio.  The kids complained that it was too cold.  (It wasn't.)  One kid disappeared to find a jacket.  When he returned, another excused himself for a drink.  Then a bathroom break.  Then....what was happening here?!?!  I started lecturing again.  Something about respect and consideration and how I can't force them to learn if they don't want to, yadda, yadda, yadda.  They were quiet.  I finished reading the assigned lessons.  Then set the twins to work on a writing assignment. 

I helped Eden with math.  Kade complained that he wanted to do math too.  I helped him write some letters.  He got frustrated and gave up.   I went to the computer desk to check on Brock.  He'd been working away all afternoon on the computer, but when I looked at his list of assignments, it didn't look like he'd gotten anything done.  I asked him to show me what he had been working on.  Some of the assignments he had completed, but hadn't submitted correctly.  Then the one assignment he had spent the most time on was one that isn't even due until the end of the month.  I tried to explain to him something about time management, how the assignments that are due tomorrow should take priority over the assignments due in four weeks.  I explained to him that we're leaving town on Thursday, and he will miss an entire week of class.  He should be trying to get this week and next week's lessons done so that he will have an easier time catching up when we come back from our trip.  He kept contradicting me and telling me that he has everything under control and will get it done.  I kept telling him to stop interrupting me.  It ended with a phone call from Justin.

Justin asked if I could bring Brock to his office at 5:00 for a boy scout activity.  It was nearly 4:00 and I hadn't started dinner yet.  I told him I'd bring him something to eat when I came.  I went to the kitchen and started a casserole--something to use up the rest of the leftover hot dogs.  I got everything into the oven, but realized I didn't have the prescribed hour to let the dinner bake.  I tried raising the oven temperature, then broiling the dish for the last few minutes.  At 4:45, I pulled the casserole out of the oven to check.  The potatoes were still crunchy.  In frustration, I moved to put the casserole back in the oven, but missed the shelf, spilling the contents onto the kitchen floor.  Then the tears started.

Brock was standing nearby, so I asked him to make something for him and Dad to eat for dinner.  He started on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while I scooped hot dog casserole off the kitchen floor and mopped it up with my tears. 

We left the house five minutes after 5:00.  We were late.  Justin called and I assured him that we would be there soon.  We got caught behind a minivan going 25 mph the whole way there.

I cried and cried.  Poor Brock didn't say anything.  I didn't say anything.  The chocolate milk in my gut churned and felt like it was going to come back up.  I tried to wrap my mind around what exactly I was crying about.  I felt like a failure.  Today was a failure.  I was a naggy mom, too hard on my kids, too hard on myself.  I had failed to teach effectively.  I had failed to set a good example.  I worry that my kids are learning bad habits.  I worry that they aren't getting what they need to be successful.  I worry that I'm going about this all the wrong way.  I worry.  I worry.  I worry. 

We got to Justin's office.  I handed over the peanut butter sandwich and the minivan.  I took the truck home and cried some more.  Sometimes crying just feels good.  I needed a good cry.  When I got home, I felt better.  Justin called.  He asked how my day had been.  I cried some more.  It felt good to tell someone about my failures.  My worries.  He was a good listener.  I asked him how his day was.  He shared his frustrations from the day as well.  Then we got disconnected.  It was okay.  We had said what we needed.  Then I went outside to take a walk around the lake.

The kids were stripping "bamboo" from the island and turning the sticks into kung fu weapons.  They joined me on my walk around the lake, creating a "kill circle" around me to guard against attacking horseflies.  At one end of the lake, there is a bridge, with a tree blocking the entrance.  The kids climbed around the tree and up onto the bridge.  As I studied the tree that my kids had just climbed through, I realized that the leaves looked like poison ivy...or maybe poison oak...this was clearly a tree growing by the bridge, so poison oak would make more sense.  I told the kids to avoid the plant and then turned back to get a hand saw from the house to chop the thing down. 

I decided that while I was at it, I'd mow the grass.  I really enjoy mowing the grass.  There was a time in my youth when mowing grass was the absolute worst punishment you could give me, but now, it's a welcome chore...therapy, really.  I put the kids to work folding laundry and cleaning up the kitchen and spent the rest of the daylight hours mowing grass.  I developed a theory that there are few things in life that a beautiful evening, fresh air, and power tools can't make better. 

Once the sunlight had faded, I parked the mower and came inside to write this blog post.  Now that I've written it, I'm struggling to wrap it up neatly with some sort of profound conclusion...some lesson from today's frustration...some point to this whole saga.  I suppose there is no such neat little sum-up.  Some days are just harder than others.  Some days require chocolate milk and tears, cool night air and freshly cut grass.  Some days feel like failures.  Some days make me doubt my abilities.  Some days make me doubt my decisions.  Some days end, leaving me very glad that there will be a new day tomorrow to start over and try again...