Overdue

Being overdue is a lot easier to deal with when it's not you...

A little reprieve from the "I'm still pregnant" posts...

I bring you....

The Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List

by Deborah Markus

1. Please stop asking us if it's legal. If it is — and it is — it's insulting to imply that we're criminals. And if we were criminals, would we admit it?

2. Learn what the words "socialize" and "socialization" mean, and use the one you really mean instead of mixing them up the way you do now. Socializing means hanging out with other people for fun. Socialization means having acquired the skills necessary to do so successfully and pleasantly. If you're talking to me and my kids, that means that we do in fact go outside now and then to visit the other human beings on the planet, and you can safely assume that we've got a decent grasp of both concepts.

3. Quit interrupting my kid at her dance lesson, scout meeting, choir practice, baseball game, art class, field trip, park day, music class, 4H club, or soccer lesson to ask her if, as a homeschooler, she ever gets to socialize.

4. Please stop telling us horror stories about the homeschoolers you know, know of, or think you might know who ruined their lives by homeschooling. You're probably the same little bluebird of happiness whose hobby is running up to pregnant women and inducing premature labor by telling them every ghastly birth story you've ever heard. Please go away.

5. We don't look horrified and start quizzing your kids when we hear they're in public school. Please stop drilling our children like potential oil fields to see if we're doing what you consider an adequate job of homeschooling.

6. We didn't go through all the reading, learning, thinking, weighing of options, experimenting, and worrying that goes into homeschooling just to annoy you. Really. This was a deeply personal decision, tailored to the specifics of our family. Stop taking the bare fact of our being homeschoolers as either an affront or a judgment about your own educational decisions.

7. Please stop questioning my competency and demanding to see my credentials. I didn't have to complete a course in catering to successfully cook dinner for my family; I don't need a degree in teaching to educate my children. If spending at least twelve years in the kind of chew-it-up-and-spit-it-out educational facility we call public school left me with so little information in my memory banks that I can't teach the basics of an elementary education to my nearest and dearest, maybe there's a reason I'm so reluctant to send my child to school.

8. If my kid's only six and you ask me with a straight face how I can possibly teach him what he'd learn in school, please understand that you're calling me an idiot. Don't act shocked if I decide to respond in kind.

9. Stop assuming that because the word "home" is right there in "homeschool," we never leave the house. We're the ones who go to the amusement parks, museums, and zoos in the middle of the week and in the off-season and laugh at you because you have to go on weekends and holidays when it's crowded and icky.

10. Stop assuming that because the word "school" is right there in homeschool, we must sit around at a desk for six or eight hours every day, just like your kid does. Even if we're into the "school" side of education — and many of us prefer a more organic approach — we can burn through a lot of material a lot more efficiently, because we don't have to gear our lessons to the lowest common denominator.

11. Stop asking, "But what about the Prom?" Even if the idea that my kid might not be able to indulge in a night of over-hyped, over-priced revelry was enough to break my heart, plenty of kids who do go to school don't get to go to the Prom. For all you know, I'm one of them. I might still be bitter about it. So go be shallow somewhere else.

12. Don't ask my kid if she wouldn't rather go to school unless you don't mind if I ask your kid if he wouldn't rather stay home and get some sleep now and then.

13. Stop saying, "Oh, I could never homeschool!" Even if you think it's some kind of compliment, it sounds more like you're horrified. One of these days, I won't bother disagreeing with you any more.

14. If you can remember anything from chemistry or calculus class, you're allowed to ask how we'll teach these subjects to our kids. If you can't, thank you for the reassurance that we couldn't possibly do a worse job than your teachers did, and might even do a better one.

15. Stop asking about how hard it must be to be my child's teacher as well as her parent. I don't see much difference between bossing my kid around academically and bossing him around the way I do about everything else.

16. Stop saying that my kid is shy, outgoing, aggressive, anxious, quiet, boisterous, argumentative, pouty, fidgety, chatty, whiny, or loud because he's homeschooled. It's not fair that all the kids who go to school can be as annoying as they want to without being branded as representative of anything but childhood.

17. Stop talking about all the great childhood memories my kids won't get because they don't go to school, unless you want me to start asking about all the not-so-great childhood memories you have because you went to school.

18. Here's a thought: If you can't say something nice....

Saturday's Child??

I got to thinking about the days of the week on which our children have been born.
Two have been born on a Sunday: Isaiah and Christopher
Two have been born on a Monday: Andrew and Ruby
One on a Tuesday: Nathaniel
And two were born on a Thursday: Linnea and Elijah

So, in the wee hours of a Saturday (with no sure signs of impending labor, mind you) I am wondering if we would possibly have a Saturday's child?

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

Well, I Went...

to my first ever 40 week appointment.

Well, I Never...

I have never gone to a 40 week appointment.
Never.
Seven prior births and I've never needed a 40 week appointment.

Tomorrow I am supposed to go.
I may boycott.

I'm thinking it will look something like this:

Nurse/Dr: Oh, Melissa--you're still pregnant! Bet you didn't think you'd need this appointment, didja?

Me: Nope.

Dr: We could talk about an induction...

Me: Don't even mention that word or you will make me throw my feelings about inductions right out the window! Don't hold that carrot out to me, please. I will just wait.


So unless something happens tonight...in the morning I might go to my first ever 40 week appointment.
*Sigh*

Starfall

I know that most kids don't need
another website to visit,
but I have found this one to be
really good--both for pre-readers and
independent young readers.
Starfall.com

I like that it's not a game as such,
but almost more like a phonics curriculum.

Check it out!

WFMW: I Sleep In My Workout Clothes

It doesn't take a whole lot to
dissuade me from working out in the mornings.

I still do so every morning, but man--
sometimes it's hard to get it going.

What helps me?
Sleeping in my workout clothes.

Yep. I do.

Somehow, eliminating the step
of changing out of pajamas
really helps me.

It works for me!!

P.S. I'm still pregnant.

Why I Love Mom

Mom and Dad were watching tv when Mom said, "I'm tired and it's getting late. I think I'll go to bed."

She went into the kitchen to make sandwiches for the next day's lunches. She rinsed out the popcorn bowls, took meat out of the freezer for supper the following evening, checked the cereal box levels, filled the sugar container, put spoons and bowls on the table and started the coffee pot for brewing the next morning.

She then put some wet clothes in the dryer, put a load of clothes into the washer, ironed a shirt and secured a loose button.

She picked up the game pieces left on the table, put the phone back on the charger and put the telephone book into the drawer.

She watered the plants, emptied a wastebasket and hung a towel up to dry.

She yawned and stretched and headed for the bedroom. She stopped by the desk and wrote a note to the teacher, counted out some cash for the field trip, and pulled a text book out from hiding under the chair.

She signed a birthday card for a friend, addressed and stamped the envelpoe and wrote a quick list for the grocery store. She put both near her purse.

Mom then washed her face, put on her night solution and age fighting moisturizer, brushed and flossed her teeth and filed her nails.

Dad called out, "I thought you were going to bed."

"I'm on my way," she said.

She put some water in the dog's dish and put the cat outside, then made sure the doors were locked and the patio light was on.

She looked into each of the kids and turned out their bedside lamps, hung up a shirt, threw some dirty socks into the hamper, and had a brief conversation with the one up still doing homework.

In her own room, she set the alarm; laid out clothing for the next day, straightened up the shoe rack. She added three things to her 6 most important things to do list. She said her prayers.

About that time, Dad turned off the tv and announced to no one in particular, "I'm going to bed."

And he did.
Without another thought.

author unknown

2400 Square Feet

Our house is roughly
2400 sq. feet.

Unless I'm wrong (which could very well be the case)
that's 28,800 square inches.

And every one of those has been cleaned,
re-organized, or rearranged in the last week.

Any time now, Baby.
Any time...

How Did That Happen??

I didn't get a chance to write this post yesterday, which was Nathaniel's 14th birthday.

We are also having some computer issues so I have no recent picture to post.

But seriously, how did 14 years go by so fast???

How did we go from needing a changing table to needing a shave???

Anyway,
Happy Birthday to our
incredibly intelligent,
never minds having a baby or toddler on his lap or in his arms,
taller than mom,
catching up to dad,
walking encyclopedia,
eats like a track horse yet only grows taller,
fourteen year old son!!

I Have the Best Family

I am a part of a really great family.
I don't tell them enough,
but seriously, my family is pretty great.

Remember this?

It arrived at our house this week,
with love from my siblings and their spouses
along with my mom and dad.

I feel loved...
and can't wait to see Baby in it.

Another Set of Stitches

Because life is never dull here,
Christopher decided to take a dive
(except he was pushed)
into the metal bed frame,
which resulted in 2 stitches.

Long story short,
my cousin gave us a ride
and my mom was able to step over
from the clinic to the adjoining hospital
to give the Bipper man a little love, too.

I agonized at home over whether or not to go
in to the ER.
I thought the cut looked so deep
and that's what was worrying me.

The ER dr. took a good look
and said he'd stitch it up if it was his little boy.

So it was a good thing we went in.
Christopher was so brave and
did SO well.

He is our fifth child, fourth son
and the ONLY one who has had a trip
to the ER for stitches.
The only one who's needed them even ONCE,
let alone TWICE!!

And all afternoon,
I kept thinking,
could this be my
Day Before???

My Computer Was Down...

Our computer crashed last week. It's a good thing I had written a few things "ahead" and scheduled them to come out.
(Sometimes I write a few posts at a time and schedule them to come out over a few days...)

So, because I had things I was dying to write, I'm going to go back and write them as if they would have come out then!


I Finally Like My Bathroom Scale
I Wish I Could, Bipper
The Study of Velocity
Well, Blow Me Over With a Feather

I Finally Like My Bathroom Scale

My bathroom scale and I--well, we have an ok relationship.
I mean, really, Scale tells it like it is.
Which I appreciate.
Except when I think Scale will tell me something different than what it does.

Well, this morning, I felt like Scale and I really connected.
Know what I mean?
Probably not.

Here's why:
I stepped on Scale and guess what he said?

LO

That's right, "LO".
I thought, "How kind of you, Scale. You knew that I didn't really want to know a real number at 39 weeks of pregnancy. You knew I would just want to hear that my weight was 'lo'."

I felt a kinship I hadn't known before with Scale.

I'm sure it had nothing to do with Scale needing a new battery. I'm sure of it. Well, almost sure of it...

I Wish I Could, Bipper

Christopher (4) said to me today,
"Hey Mom. Come here."
He handed me a pen and asked,
"Can you please write on my calendar
which day the baby is going to come?"

I wish I could, Bipper.
I wish I could....

The Study of Velocity

Who says homeschooling
has to slow down,
just because Mom's wearing down a bit
in her 39th week?

Like today, for instance.
We studied velocity.

And when I say "we",
I really mean "the children".

Know why?
'Cause when I came into the kitchen,
I saw Nathaniel and Isaiah
placing rubbery animals
atop the blades of the ceiling fan,
turning it on high,
and seeing how long it would take for them to fly off.

The other children found this hugely entertaining.

We (and when I say "we" I mean "the children")
discovered there was a difference
between the weight of the toy and how far
it would be flung across the kitchen.

We (the children) even needed to duck
on occasion to avoid being
nailed in the head by the flying creatures.

I mean, really,
who says we've slowed down on our homeschooling?

Well, Blow Me Over with a Feather

I just folded five
huge baskets of laundry.

And each of the 500 socks
had it's match.

Does anyone else appreciate
what a rare occurrence that is??

We Are in Trouble

We are in trouble... The population of this country is 300 million. 160 million are retired. That leaves 140 million to do the work. There are 85 million in school. Which leaves 55 million to do the work. Of this there are 35 million employed by the federal government. Leaving 20 million to do the work. 2.8 million are in the armed forces preoccupied with getting Osama Bin-Laden. Which leaves 17.2 million to do the work. Take from that total the 15.8 million people who work for state and city Governments. And that leaves 1.4 million to do the work. At any given time there are 188,000 people in hospitals. Leaving 1,212,000 to do the work. Now, there are 1,211,998 people in prisons. That leaves just two people to do the work. You and me. And there you are, Sitting on your hind end, At your computer, reading jokes.. Nice. Real nice. .

What I'd Rather Be Preparing for...

Yesterday, I told you how I wanted this.

But in my heart of hearts, what I'd really like

is a home birth.

I know, some people think that is really crazy.

I promise you--planned home-births assisted by a midwife are just as safe as a hospital birth. In fact, statistically speaking, safer.

This post isn't going to be a debate about home- vs. hospital birth. If you comment, please don't make it into one.

I'm just telling you what I'd rather be doing.
Which is preparing for a homebirth.

It has taken me a long time--and a fair number of pregnancies--to arrive at this place, desiring homebirth over the hospital.
As with our homeschooling decision, Dennis was "on board" way before I was. He has been wanting me to consider this for a few babies now.
And I've kept putting him off.

So this time, I decided to do some research.
Actually, I decided to start reading up on homebirth even before I knew I was pregnant with this baby.
I have been blown away by the information--and the mis-information that is out there.
It has changed my thinking in so many ways, and how I view the medicalization of birth in the United States.
One line from the synopsis of the film "The Business of Being Born" perhaps sums up how I feel about birth: Should most births be viewed as a natural life process, or should every delivery be treated as a potentially catastrophic medical emergency?
My vote: natural life process.

I had dismissed the idea of homebirth for a long time (or skirted my way around it?) because there are no midwives in our area. I hadn't found that surprising until now.
Anyway, a friend and her husband birthed their third child at home not far from us this past fall with a midwife. I gathered my nerve (checking with Dennis first), got the midwife's phone number and called her up.
We chatted for awhile and had quite a nice conversation.
She happens to be the same age as I am, grew up in a large family, and was even homeschooled! She has attended just under 200 births and is, of course, licensed and all that.
It was then that I just cut to it and asked, "how much will this cost?"
$3,000.
Yep. $3,000.
Now, in a hospital, I realize it's even more than that. But insurance kicks in most, if not all, of that.
She was so nice about it, she even offered to work with us and bring the cost down (too many details to type out here) but it was still out of our price range.

I had to resign myself to going to the hospital.

I need to say here that I have not had any real negative experiences at the hospital. I have had all my babes with no epidural, and all but our first with no pain meds of any kind.

I do, however, struggle after the baby is born with some post-partum issues. One of the aspects of birthing at home that I was looking forward to was perhaps less disruption in our lives and that that would somehow ease the transition from pregnancy through birth and on into life with a newborn.

I guess I'm sad that money played the biggest part in all of this.

So, even though I'd rather be making plans to have this baby at home and getting my little nest all ready for that...
instead, I am thinking about packing my bag, who's going to watch all the kids, how all the farm work is going to get done when Dennis is with me, etc., etc., etc.

But Lori--- don't worry. I'm not going to be a difficult patient when it's time to come in. I promise.
See you soon!

All I Want for ChristmasBaby

I want
this.

Really bad.

Because I don't have much room
in our room to put up the pack-n-play.

And this way, it would fit next to my bed
and that would be so much nicer than
how I'll need to set things up again
once the baby comes.

I'm just wishing, I guess.
But I'll be drooling over this
for awhile....

Works for Me Wednesday

WFMW: Re-Wearing Pajamas to Save the Laundry Lady
aka: Mom

We wear a lot of clothes here.
I imagine you wear a lot of clothes at your house, too.

We are a lot of people, and so the amount of clothes
is likely to be more than in the "average" household.

We also have the barn clothes,
as well as the cloth diapers.

My washing machine is a dear, dear friend of mine.

And even though I like spending so much time with my washing machine,
(I actually do enjoy doing laundry)
I also like spending time with my kids.

One way to cut down just a bit on the laundry is to wear pajamas more than once.
Really, how dirty can they get?
We do baths/showers before bedtime,
they get up and get dressed.
So unless someone had a leaky diaper,
or someone had a leaky diaper who shares the same bed with you,
we wear pj's twice.

Works for me!

The Day Before

I've been thinking lately about "the day before."

You know, the day before something big happens--when you didn't know that that something big was going to happen.

Like the day before I met Dennis, we would have both been at the County Fair. (That's where we met, and it's four days long and 4-Hers pretty much live up there those four days. In fact, at that time, you actually could stay right on the grounds or in the barns. Dennis used to do that, I didn't. Anyway, they don't let people stay that way anymore.)

Ok, so back to the story...
I met Dennis on a Saturday, so the day before would have been Friday (duh) which means we would have each been showing our calves. In fact, my mother-in-law came across a picture years ago of Dennis and I from that day, each showing in the same class, with no idea who one another was. He was about 3 people down from me. I was always SO nervous in the show ring, while he was (and still is) like a professional in that department.
I just think it's funny that we were that close and had no idea that we would one day be married. And have all these great kids!!!
Incidentally, I do remember my mom pointing him out to me later in the day as that guy "who bought his own herd of cows and is only like 19 or something." And I also remember my dad talking about "some crazy young guy who rode his steer through the horse barn to prove some point." (That'd be Dennis. The "horse people" used to ride their horses through the dairy barns and scare the begeebers out of the animals, not to mention take up all the aisle space for people to walk through. So, my husband, Mr. What's Fair is Fair, climbed aboard his beef steer "Red" and rode it through the horse barn. Yep. And then Red decided to leave his mark in the form of a cowpie right in the middle of the aisle. {Would you call it a "cowpie" even if it wasn't left by a cow? Hmmmmm.....} At least the young man had the grace to go clean it up. My dad thought it was a stupid, stupid stunt. I remember he was pretty adamant about that.)

Ok, so my point is, I had no idea the day before, that I would meet my husband the next day.

At this point in my pregnancy, I'm thinking alot about the day before.
And other days before.

We had no idea that my Grandpa would die the day that he did. The day before was a Tuesday and I was gearing up with the kids for the Fair that would begin the next day. The morning of the day that he died, I was hurriedly getting everything in order for us to go. And I got a phone call from my mom that he had collapsed and they were rushing him to the hospital. You just never know what might happen in a day, that's for sure.

On a much lighter note, the day before Nathaniel was born was a Monday. I know I went to school, and that's about all. I didn't have any idea that he would be born the next day.

Isaiah was born on a Sunday morning. I do remember that on Saturday I was cleaning like a mad woman. I remember having some "off" sensations and wondering if I was in labor. I got the house totally clean and then laid down on the couch late that night. And thought, oh--yep. I'm pretty sure I'm in labor.

Linnea was scheduled to be induced on a Thursday morning. (I used to think inductions were an ok idea. I don't anymore. Not from any horrific experience or anything--I just think they are really unnecessary in too many cases. Watch "The Business of Being Born". EYE OPENING.)
So, because I knew she'd be coming the next day, I again cleaned house like a mad woman, went to bed at midnight. Woke up at like 1:30, thought, gee, I'm hungry. Had an apple. Went back to sleep, woke up again at like 3:30 and thought, yep--I'm in labor. And the next day, I was really wishing I had rested up instead of cleaning so much. The house was totally trashed by the time I came back home again anyway. I ended up not needing the induction, though!

I was induced with Andrew on a Monday. Sunday was spent with me making every kind of list I possibly could make. Phone numbers, who likes to eat what, when the kids should go to bed, etc. etc. I did rest a bit.

Mr. Christopher was born on a Sunday. The day before I was at my sister's wedding. I sang for it even! I had absolutely NO IDEA that he would be coming the next day. I was totally exhausted from the busy-ness of the wedding, and so were my parents who ended up taking care of the other children while I was at the hospital. Labor was really tiring, I remember. I also remember exactly what I was doing the day before he was born!

Elijah was born on a Tuesday morning. The day before, I remember I was pretty pensive and just felt "different". We went in during the middle of the night/early morning, like 2 or something, and when the nurse checked me I was at 7. With no contractions and only a feeling that something was happening.

Ruby was born on Labor Day--a Monday. I remember that Sunday was spent scrapbooking all day. As was Saturday and Friday. The kids had all spent the weekend with my parents going to a rodeo and then just having fun at their house.
I had a table all set up in the living room and had caught up on about 2 years of pictures during the 10 days before she was born. I was determined to get caught up before she arrived and I did! I even got it all put away Sunday evening! I spent pretty much the entire weekend sitting on my big exercise ball at that card table because a chair was too uncomfortable.

So now, with Baby #8, each day I wonder could this be the day before? I'm trying to pay attention so that I'll remember.
I know I could certainly have quite a few days before Baby comes, but I start to get antsy. And then I tell myself what I tell every pregnant lady--be careful not to wish away the last weeks of pregnancy. Rub that baby bump, because soon enough it will be gone, and in its place will be a mushy flabby non-pregnant belly. And I'll wish I could go back. And sleep. And not schedule everything in hour-and-a-half increments around the nursing babe.

Do you remember what you were doing on a day before in your life?
Do you want to share?
Go ahead and leave a comment! It's not hard, I promise!

Movin' On Up

(Think The Jefferson's theme song here...)

Well, she's movin' on up
to a
TODDLER BED!!

It was a big group effort, let me tell you.
With very little effort on my part.
Ruby and Elijah played on the mattress
in the hallway (above)...

while Andrew, Linnea and Christopher
set up the bed in place of her
pack and play, which served as her crib.
They all then hauled the mattress together,
and navigated the turning of the corner from
the hallway into Ruby's room.

Ruby's inaugural hop up into her own bed

Although it looks as if she's been thrown onto the bed,
I promise she hadn't been...

Arranging her "stuff" on her bed.

And, though I tried very hard,
I could not get a picture of her actually looking
at me.

Trust me when I say she is loving
her new-to-her bed
and has been sleeping great in it
without getting out until morning
or until nap time is over.

I always try to make the adjustment from
crib to toddler bed
so that there is enough time for the toddler
to get settled in their new digs
before the new baby comes.
That way, they don't feel
"pushed out" by the baby.

Thought for Today

A woman's heart should be so hidden in Christ
that a man should have to seek Him first to find her.

The Beautiful Christian Woman

When I say that I'm a Christian, I am not shouting that I am clean living.
I'm whispering "I was lost, but now I'm found and forgiven."

When I say "I am a Christian", I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say "I am a Christian", I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak and need His strength to carry on.

When I say "I am a Christian" I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed and need God to clean my mess.

When I say "I am a Christian" I'm not claiming to be perfect.
My flaws are far too visible, but God believes I'm worth it.

When I say "I am a Christian" I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches, so I call upon His name.

When I say "I am a Christian" I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner who received God's good grace, somehow.

Author Unknown

Barely Even Showing--yeah, right

Me at 37 weeks

I'm pretty sure this is why
I hear comments like
"Why, you're barely even showing!!"

Yeah, pretty sure that's it.
'Cause I'm so small and all that.

Why do people say such a thing to
a pregnant lady?
When you feel just plain big,
why tell her you can barely even
tell that she's pregnant?
That has never made me feel better,
that's for sure!
I actually prefer the
"Are you sure it's only one in there?"
type of comments!

As an aside, this picture has a lot up above my head
in an effort to not capture for all blog-time
all the stuff on the floor
if Dennis would have focused the camera
any differently.
I'm jus' bein' real here, folks.

And because, well,
who doesn't like a good picture
of an alphabet now and then?

Oh, and as another aside,
Dennis really wants me to grow
my hair long again.

So I am.

That's why I look very different than
the picture in the upper right
on my bloggity.
And because I'm so
accommodating of my husband's wishes.
Ain't he lucky???

Our Troops

This was taken Christmas Eve.
I encouraged Nathaniel to smile.
He doesn't like to smile for pictures, although he's a very amiable fellow otherwise.
I trimmed Ruby's bangs the next morning.

So these are our troops. So far.
Soon there will be someone new!

Wordless Wednesday

Ruby Loves Her Baby

Happy Birthday, Isaiah

This guy turns 12 today.
This picture is of the pocket knives we gave him at Christmas.
Because we live in the stone age and still use a film camera.

Isaiah is all things "outdoors".
He loves to hunt, target practice, whittle, raise his goats,
and work outside.
He hates attention.
He loves pop. (Not soda. It's called pop here.)
He also loves summer sausage.

He shares a birthday with my mom,
Grandma Cindy.

Happy 12th Birthday, Isaiah!!!