Vanity, thy name is four eyes

Look who really, really wants to wear glasses.

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We’ve been to the glasses store twice—to pick out my new frames and to pick them up today–and he has been absolutely smitten with these blue frames since he put them on a few weeks ago. You should’ve seen the faces he was making of himself in the mirror. . .totally in love with his look.

I didn’t let him keep them because I’m not buying frames for a kid who doesn’t need glasses. But, don’t worry D. . .with your mama’s terrible eyesight, chances are pretty high that you’ll be able to sport some specs soon enough.

I could be an unschooler, if I just understood how

When I first started thinking about homeschooling, I was immediately drawn to the concept of “Unschooling”. I loved the idea of letting my kids learn at their own pace, of exploring the world with wonder and excitement, not glumly sitting at the table while I lorded over them.

From the get-go, though, I stumbled. I remember joining Unschooling message boards and feeling way out of my league. These were women (and men) who forged metal, knew the periodic table by heart, knitted sweaters, raised chickens (from eggs!), and took month-long hikes with a compass and a map. They knew the answer to any question, and not after first saying, “let’s check Google!“. They were smart and resourceful and definitely did not use the television as a babysitter.

There were also the Radical Unschoolers who had no rules for their kids other than basic safety guidelines. Their kids were up until 11 and slept until 10. If my kids are up after 9pm, I start to twitch. I remember innocently asking, “so how do you go about teaching your kids to read” and having the wrath of many descend on me for daring to use the “t” word.

I backed away, slowly, and adopted a more traditional approach. I read The Well-Trained Mind and loved it because it seemed to take away all my worries that my kids would not learn anything if left to my own devices.

But, and this is a big “but”, it also turned our homeschool into exactly what I was trying to avoid.

When I say, “time to do grammar!“, I’m met with groans. History, my oldest’s favorite subject, has become a chore. Science, a favorite among all three, is hardly touched since I can barely get through math, reading, spelling, history, grammar and language in any given day.

But, when I try to loosen up, my kids play. Just play. OK, before you guys say, “but aren’t they supposed to play?“, I say, “yes!“. I want them to play. But, why is it that the unschoolers I read about have kids who do math emails for fun, or start reading chapter books on their own? Mine will sit and play with dolls or blocks or puzzles for hours, which is great, but isn’t going to help with “six times eight” as far as I know.

Plus, many unschoolers do what looks like “school” to me with lapbooks, math curriculum, schedules/charts. . .which makes me think that maybe unschoolers are regular homeschoolers with less rigidity?

And for you, how do you make sure your day isn’t consumed with your own tasks/needs/jobs? If I don’t tell myself “school starts at 9:30″, I will find myself writing or cleaning or Googling something until 10 (or later). Especially if the kids are happily playing in the other room.

So before I go and make yet another schedule listing all the subjects we need to cover in a day, please shed some light on what makes unschooling work for you. But, if you tell me your family just finished building a homemade telescope to study the rings of Saturn, I’m going to weep.

Hug first, ask questions later


I entered the Y in a rush, three kids close behind as we made our way down the crowded corridor, trying to get one to swimming and the other to gymnastics before classes started.

As we rounded a corner, Jilly stopped dead in her tracks, squeaked “My Friend!” and started to wave to a little girl standing next her mother. The little girl’s face lit up and she waved back. All of a sudden, Jilly did her standard greeting: she walked up to the girl without hesitation, threw her arms around her, and gave her a big hug.

The mother looked at me, smiling, and said, “OH! The girls know each other?!?”

“Yes, I guess they do!” I said uncertainly. “Jilly, how do you know each other?”

“The party. . . you know!”

“Oh. . .yes. . the. . .party?” I looked at the other mother to see if she could fill in the blanks.

“Was she at Joe Josephson’s birthday party?” the other confused mother asked me.

No. . .Jilly and I both nodded together.

“Does she go to Town-Other-Than-Our-Own Elementary School? Maybe they met there?”

“No. . .well. . .um. . .maybe it’ll come to us soon. We’ll keep thinking about it!” I turned, kind of embarrassed that my daughter had mistakenly hugged a total stranger.

As we continued down the hall, I leaned down toward Jilly and asked in a low voice, “Honey, what party are you talking about?”

“Mooooommmm. . .the party we went to at that house. Where I played on the swings with that girl. . .”

And, then it hit me: the girl she played with at a friend’s holiday party. After that party, she had bounced to the car, beaming, and said, “I made a friend!” “What’s her name?” “I don’t know”. (Ahhh, to be six and have friends without names.)

I told the kids to stand still and ran back to the mom: “the girls met at Terrie’s party!”, I said as if I solved some great mystery. (I also thought, “yes! my daughter is not some crazy rogue hugger!”).

A little while later, as both our girls took gymnastics together, we talked about how funny those moments of confusion had been, as we tried to figure out how two friends knew each other.

And I wondered how different adults would be toward each other if we all hugged first, asked questions later.

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