She felt better after awhile, and followed Joy to the garage to throw out the trash. Joy closed the door on Chanya’s fingers, and she screamed and jumped around.

I told Joy to pay attention to Chanya when she followed her. And I told Chanya to be careful how closely she followed her sister. Then I told Joy to get a washcloth and run some cold water over it.

Chanya’s lip had started to swell. I gave her the washcloth to suck on, and we snuggled on the couch. I remembered my mother’s frozen washcloths, and how they seemed to heal everything when I was a little girl. When Chanya and I got up for storytime, ice fell out of the washcloth. Joy had intuitively supplied ice. Chanya agreed to suck on a wet rag tomorrow. She curled up in my lap during story time and went to bed without complaint.

I would have called my mother and thanked her for the frozen washcloth remedy if I could have.

Or say your child is the most demanding person. He greets you every morning with a list of what he expects from you all day. It’s downhill from there. When other children come around, the child flips on a dime and becomes indecisive, insecure, and meek.

Maybe your child is sweet, compliant, and shy. He doesn’t ask for anything you don’t already supply. He grabs your leg and hides behind you every time anyone new comes around.

Or you don’t have one of these extremes. Your child is moderate and well-adjusted. They watch the neighborhood children go off to school, and sigh. They run outside to meet the school bus after school.

All of these children want society. The word, society, originally meant partner, comrade. So I’m really talking about a group of friends for your children.

I don’t know how we got them, growing up. Maybe we collected folks from school, or clubs, or teams, or orchestra other organizations. It didn’t seem as intentional as forming a society.

But when you homeschool, your kids don’t find themselves falling into groups. Everything you do is intentional.

So you advocate for your child. You find like-minded people at church, or co-op, or sports teams… Wait a minute! I just said your child doesn’t just fall into groups when you homeschool.

Let me back up a bit. You yourself are not isolated. You go to the store. You go to the post office. You go to church… you get the idea. So when you’re going where you go, you’re on the lookout for other people. You’re searching your mind for people who have children, you’re having conversations. You can figure out pretty quickly whether you’d be interested in getting to know someone better, and whether your children would hit it off.

Also, while where we live there is an active homeschool community that is growing. I know we are fortunate. I am sure we’re not alone. You could look at a support group or a co-op with a mind toward making connections. Of course, there’s also the academic component to the co-op, but keep your eyes open for connections while you’re volunteering or dropping your child off, or what have you. Ditto with sports are arts groups.

Before you know it, you will have connections coming out of your ears. You may have to use a (Microsoft) Excel program to manage all your contacts. You are on your way to building a community.

Next, you must have something to do with all your people.

This post is part of the carnival of homeschooling, this week hosted by smallworldathome.blogspot.com. I’m sorry, I can’t put links in my posts like I used to be able to do.

Imani, who never had problems with spelling, spelled 19/20 words correctly today, including ‘absence,’ which she had practiced incorrectly: ‘absense.’ She added a ‘d’ to admission, or some such word, which was disappointing to us both.

Joyous, who usually struggles with spelling, initially misspelled 6 words out of 21, but was able to correct enough of them to have missed only 2.

Esteban, who has a strong ear, will likely be a strong speller. He misspelled a few words on his spelling test, but corrected his way to 15/16 properly spelled words.

I don’t know if the painting and ball bouncing, jumping rope had any effect on spelling scores or not! I want to try having Joy act out her spelling words, whatever that means on video next week. She was able to memorize Bible verses by acting them out, so maybe this will help.

As for math, Imani started her week with an 86 on her 100 multiplication fact sheet, but finished strong by scoring 100 on her next 100 multiplication fact sheet, her 90 division fact sheet, and her 100 addition fact sheet.

Joyous started out strong, scoring 100 on her first three fact sheets–100 addition facts, but she narrowly missed the standard today on her 100 subtraction fact sheet, by scoring a 95.

Esteban’s fact sheet performance actually declined over the course of the week. He scored 17/25 on his first fact sheet of the week/year, and 15 and 14 on his subsequent quizzes. This is Esteban’s first year of timed fact sheets, and we haven’t figured out what works best for him yet. I did notice that he got his top score on the fact sheet he took at the dining room table, instead of in the seclusion of the ‘testing center,’ aka the library.

We started our math drill last spring to pull up fact sheet scores, and it has worked well for the girls. Esteban’s routine may need to be tweaked before we have success.

This summer, I had been taking it for granted that someone else would plan my beach trip and I’d just happily go along. Last week, it occurred to me that I would have to plan my trip if I was going to the beach this summer. So yesterday I texted my friend who planned last year’s trip. She wrote me back, asking what day I wanted to go. While I thought about it, she texted me back saying that she and another friend were going today, and did I want to join them?

So somebody else did plan my trip to the beach. Sort of.

We had some difficulty on our way. The less said about that, the better.

It was a beautiful day for the beach. The temperature was in the 90s, humid, and the sand was burning hot. The water was refreshingly cool.

The children were transformed by the beach. Imani, who usually prefers to sit still and think was running and diving and swimming in the water, a smile plastered to her face. Joyous splashed out as deep as she could, so all I could see is her head bobbing in the water. Ok, so that’s the way Joy usually is. Esteban, who usually stays in the sand, or planted by the snack on our beach blanket jumped and splashed in the water, slapping and diving at waves. Chanya, who usually wants to splash and play in the water was pretty cautious in Lake Michigan. At first.

The little boy that came with us, Chanya’s age, was throwing himself in the water, jumping, giggling, squealing with joy. He was infectious. Soon Chanya wanted to wade out into deeper water and face the waves by herself. Too bad I wouldn’t let her, though. I think she’ll forgive me for lifting her up to jump the waves.

I don’t remember the last time I took the kids somewhere and they were all so glad we went. There were smiles all along, and Imani said many times how much fun she had. Her eyes were bright red, hair full of seaweed.

Imani is my fairest-colored child. Her skin is tanned deeper than I’ve ever seen. Everyone except Chanya looked rosy and dusty and possibly burnt. Chanya’s skin is smooth and soft as a baby, her arms tanned a dark brown. She joins her oldest siblings in the pigment department.

My skin soaked in enough sun to give me an inner glow for the rest of the year, I think. I took in a lot of good will, too.

When I took Chanya to the bathroom, we tangled her swimsuit around her ankles. I took it off and helped the sandy baby back into her suit. “I like you, Mommy,” she told me.

Definitely worth a trip to the beach.

The gist of the article is that we should stop feeling guilty for our missteps in raising and educating our children, and get on about the business of discipling them.

This is not news to me. I know that I am the problem and the solution in many ways with my children. But it is very difficult to disciple your children when you get stuck on being the problem!

How many times have I cried out to God that I have made a mistake, that I am failing, that I’ve done so many things wrong! And He whispers the same answer every time.

Disciple your children.

But, wouldn’t they be better off if I just went away and stopped ruining them?

Disciple your children.

And I better watch myself. Remember what happened to Moses when he protested too much. If Zipporah hadn’t quickly responded to God’s wrath by circumcising her son, the Exodus story would have been different.

So, tonight, while I was sweeping the floor, going over the idea that I am too imperfect to possibly disciple my children, something clicked. Phillipians 3:14 comes to mind: I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. So what I disciple my children in is not perfection, but in the pursuit of perfection!

Everything fell into place! The reason for discipline, order, standards. If we don’t press toward the mark, if we don’t model our pursuit of perfection for our children, they will be overtaken by the weeds of our culture.

Talk about a high calling! But talk about vision. This is a vision to get me up in the morning, to hold my head up, straighten my back a bit more. And to never give up. God is awesome!

I just didn’t get it. It felt like I was allergic to the very air outdoors, and I preferred to be in the house watching TV.

Except…I played outside all day long throughout the summer. And I didn’t miss TV at all during my weeks at Girl Scout camp. So maybe my mother got through to me in spite of myself.

The outdoors beckoned to me in the summers after I’d had a baby. I remember strapping my first born to my back and walking outside with her blathering on incessantly about this type of tree, or that type of flower.

Something about the sunshine and the air outside that make me feel human again after days of lying around the house nursing a new baby.

When I read Charlotte Mason’s Home Education , the part about spending afternoons out of doors really resonated with me. I started taking the children on daily walks, where we explored the glorious Michigan spring (at last!)

This summer is no exception. There is life outside, deep in the dirt, bubbling forth out of every pore in the ground. Now we’re in the gasping season–every time I go outside I see another new blossom, and I check on plants who promise to bloom later in the season.

I weed my flower beds, shaking my head at the grass that refused to grow there until I wanted flowers to grow instead. My husband told me that grass is like people–when the ground is not right, they refuse to come around, but when the ground is broken up and receptive, the grass comes.

Outside, the children can stretch and run, shout and grow. It’s so confined in the house, by comparison.

Outside, our plants flourish and grow. My faith grows with each seed that brings forth leaves.

Outside is whispering to you, “Come outside. There’s life here.”

The upshot of it is that I called my sister in law and asked her how she potty trained her girls–before 2. She said something very simple. Too simple, it seemed to my confused, complicated mind. She said she rewarded the child with candy for using the potty, and punished them for willfully going in their pants.

I thought ok, what did I have to lose? I might as well try it. And then my husband reminded me that he’s been telling me to do that for years. I reward desired behavior and reward undesired behavior; different rewards, same system.

I was shocked and humbled at how quickly Chanya went from being oblivious and unconcerned with the potty to going every few minutes. “I want some candy, so I’ll go potty!”

I’m real quick, so I needed more information. What about if she lied about going to the potty? I had to see evidence that she actually went, or no reward. Oh.

So far, the hardest thing has been keeping the older kids away from the candy rewards.

I didn’t write in the journal every day, and I never could be sure whether I’d heard from God or not, so I eventually abandoned the whole idea, delight-based learning, seeking God for the children, etc.

I revisited the journal in the same spotty fashion this fall, as I try to find out how the children learn best. It turns out I learn best by obsessive journaling. Who knew?

I’ve written my recent discoveries in the journal, as well as my educational experiments. Today I went back and read what I’d written about the children from 2004 until 2009. Many of the things I wrote down from God were very loving. Many of the things were very challenging. Based on how many times I wrote some of the things, it was obvious I didn’t do them right away.

Reading through the questions I had and the answers God had, it’s hard to believe I doubted it was God. I still have to convince myself that God told me to do some of the things I ended up doing, as well as other things I never did do.

I wish I’d been more diligent about it. I should be on my 6th journal this year, at least. I think I’ll make it my goal this year to use up this whole journal and start on another.

I wonder how far into this project I’ll get before I know all the best ways to reach the children?

I have another book for piano lessons. I pulled that out today, and saw that we’re due for another recital. And, unrelated, I’m sure, my 15 year old son practiced piano without my telling him to today.

Do you journal your children? How has it helped you?

He was doing math at the same time as his three younger siblings this morning, and noticed that I was struggling trying to get two of them to pay attention. The 10 year old was literally staring off into space when her 15 year old brother challenged her. “I’ll bet I can get my math, which is WAY harder than yours done before you can.”

Mind you, we have a math challenge between the three little kids daily to see who can finish math first. The winner gets a sticker. The 10 year old has been complaining lately that her math is way harder than her younger siblings, etc. She couldn’t say that today. She took up the gauntlet, put her head down, and worked until she was done.

Usually, she stops to play with the baby, make lunch, do her hair–anything is more interesting to her than focusing on her studies.

My son conceded defeat in math, his 5th grade sister the victor, but he extended the challenge to the day’s school work. It was effective. Everyone was done with school before 2 o’clock, except for the 3rd grader, who had patiently waited for her lesson after I’d worked with the distracted children.

The 1st grader won the whole challenge, finishing his school before lunch.

We had to pull out the microscope in order for the fifth grader to finish. The microscope and I have a dramatic relationship. I really struggle to see anything with that thing, and it’s been like that since my oldest was a fifth grader, 8 years ago.

Today was the day we were to look at blood. I dreaded it 8 years ago, and I dreaded it today, but I read the directions carefully, and dove in. My fingers are too tough to prick, my child was too scared to prick her fingers, so I tried my wrist. I couldn’t prick that skin either. I eyed my 10 year old with desperation in my eyes. Maybe she would reconsider? When my oldest stepped in and took the needle.

She had been too scared to draw her own blood 8 years ago, and she wanted to make up for it today, she said. Back then, I’d managed to pierce my skin, possibly even my finger? But the only thing we saw under the microscope was the table cloth. (I have no idea. Don’t ask).

The college freshman squeezed a tiny drop of blood on the slide, and I did what the directions instructed, scraped it so it was flat on the slide, then stained it with iodine, then let it dry, and then rinse that mostly off. I think you are supposed to rinse off the excess, not the actual specimen. Any which way, I prepared the slide the best I could, and slipped it under the microscope.

After some adjustments, we were able to make out something! It was iodine colored, and it was a blob of something! Just blurry. I quick grabbed the fifth grader and told her to draw what she saw.

Then I had to take my oldest daughter to work. I left the microscope out so I could check it some more when I returned. I even called home to make sure nobody put away the microscope so I could check it.

I returned, sat down to check the microscope, and I was adjusting it when my first grader told me he’d broken the slide by accident. I looked down at the slide, and sure enough, there was broken glass spilling onto the microscope and table.

So much for all that trouble of preparing the slide.

It seemed an innocent question enough. I knew someone who’d already started school. And the babies were bored. What harm could it do?

So I set out to start school two weeks ago.

First I had to hunt down all the curriculum. Problem: Imani’s 5th grade math book still hadn’t resurfaced. I had had to reorder. Good news: The new book arrived ca week 2. Problem: neither the answer book nor the test guide had arrived yet. So I gave Imani a 4th grade fact sheet. Fail.

Problem: The leap from Kindergarten to first grade means MUCH MORE busywork. Esteban’s school went from being a cute little play session here and there that was easily made up to an all-day work session, one of us ending in tears. Fail.

Joy reads much better this year, and cheerfully dove into her school work without me. Problem: she still needs me to help her understand assignments and tests. We started the second week reviewing week one. Fail.

Problem: it was still hot out, and we still had another fruit-picking trip to plan, and everyday I was pushing and waiting for school to be done so I could get on with my life, the whole while screaming inside that I was not ready for this. . .

So, we did a week of school, then a Monday. And as I was a hysterical maniac, I decided to stop school until I could mentally and physically prepare for it. I thought that the little children wanted to start school because they were bored. I bought more crafts, and started the origami and needlepoint craft sessions.

I took a personal day last week. That was very restorative.

I’m looking forward to starting afresh on Tuesday. Are you ready for school?