Deep Fried Jelly Donuts

December came and went, but not before it left behind a few pounds to remember it by.  I haven't even had time to blog, with all the festivities going on.  It sure has been a festive month!  And I can't speak for everyone, but I CAN say that I have had at least one too many deep fried jelly filled donuts this Chanukah, and at least one too many high calorie cocktails at at least one too many holiday parties.  My scale is not talking to me.  It wants me to make up for my overindulgence with extra exercise and three meals of lettuce a day.  But I have no regrets!  It was worth every joyous calorie!  Who will break first in this standoff?  Only time will tell.....

The New Watch

In order to get a feeling of what I am about to explain, you first have to imagine something else.  So here goes: imagine your 6 year old daughter saying, "Mommy! Look!  In our backyard!  It's a real live flying unicorn!  And it's pink and sparkly!"  Now take the tone of voice she said that in, with all the excitement and wonder and loudness, and apply it to this sentence: "Mommy, it's seven o'clock!" 

My daughter got a watch.  And she is very, very excited to know what time it is all day.  And boy do I mean all day.  I was woken up this morning by the animated proclamation that "It's 7 o'clock!"  Then I nearly spilled my coffee when she startled me with the exciting news that "Mommy, it's seven twenty three!"  Apparently it takes me four minutes to finish my coffee, because as I was putting the empty cup into the sink, I was given the update, "ITS SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN!!!" (accompanied by a really big, proud smile.)

The day progressed, and schoolwork got done, and the watch got forgotten, for half hour intervals.  But in between those half hours the family was treated to exciting real-time updates of what time it is.  And each time it was something different; sometimes it was one thirty, and sometimes it was four seventeen, and there was even a time when it was "ALREADY SIX OH TWO!!!!"  It was a very exciting day, every minute of it, or at least every thirty minutes or so.  Different times of the day elicited different levels of excitement, but perhaps the most surprising time of all was at night, and I 'm not sure what time this happened because it was after my time announcer had fallen asleep, when I did the opposite of what I was waiting to do all day.  After my daughter fell asleep, I picked up the watch from beside her bed, smiled to myself a surprisingly pleased smile, and put that watch right back down for her to find the next morning.

Turkey Day

It's difficult to describe the soft, mushy feelings I feel on my siblings' birthdays.  So instead, I'm going to talk about Thanksgiving.  Because, besides for the fact that today is the birthday of two of my sisters, (yes, they are twins, and yes, we are talking about something else,) it is also Thanksgiving.  So let's talk about how I feel on Thanksgiving.

I kind of feel happy and thankful for the day off.  The normal daily routine is so busy, that a day off with everyone home is like medicine for the soul.  I cherish days off with the family, and I look back fondly to the too few days off spent with my sisters, but we're not talking about them right now...  By late morning, the peace and serenity sound like this:  "Mommy I'm hungry can you make waffles and eggs and hash-browns?  And can we bake some brownies?"  So I say yes, and we have a big family brunch.  Then I get busy with cleaning the kitchen, and sometimes the stress starts creeping back in and I forget how much I love Thanksgiving and turkey dinners.  When I notice this happening, I try to keep my perspective positive.

The afternoon passes quickly until it is time for Thanksgiving dinner.  Consumed with the mundanities of life, in this case the act of using a fork and a knife, it is easy to forget about the deeper, more important things, for instance how delicious turkey tastes.  I start feeling amazed and surprised about how much I really love turkey, and that it is so incredible that there are two of them!  (There really were two turkeys at tonight's dinner, this isn't just a reference to my sisters.)  I feel a moment of clarity in this otherwise unclarified day, and I realize how much I missed those two turkeys.  Okay, this time I am referring to my sisters, so let me end by saying, happy birthday to the two cutest little twins in the world, who aren't that little anymore (although still skinny....) and don't you guys also miss the Thanksgiving dinners we used to have before we got too busy....

"Why Do You Do It?" And Other Praises of Homeschool

I'm noticing a big change in people's perceptions of homeschooling from when I first started a few years ago.  People definitely seem to be becoming more open minded about this nontraditional form of education, based on my observations of my own casual conversation with friends, family, and strangers.  I'm really happy about this, because as a homeschooling mom with an entourage of children always surrounding me, conversations always turn to homeschooling.  And it is really exhausting to constantly be defending what is already a very exhausting job.  So you can imagine what a refreshing feeling it is when strangers, friends and family find merit in homeschooling while grilling you about it.

Just yesterday at the grocery store, a very sweet lady observed verbally how well mannered my children were.  Pleased with how courteously they spoke to her, she asked where they went to school, and was visibly impressed when I said they are homeschooled.  "How will they learn to interact with others," she asked me.  And later that same day, at the library, a mother of a very unruly 8 year old was pretending not to notice as her son began pulling books off the shelf one by one and screaming "BAM!" as they fell.  She looked wistfully at my son, almost the same age, politely asking the librarian for help in locating a specific book, and she asked what school he goes to.  I told her he is homeschooled, and her eyes popped open in curiosity.  "Most of the homeschoolers I know are really weird," she said, clearly impressed with my son.

Even once skeptical family members are coming around.  I recently spoke to a cousin of mine, who originally thought and said that the idea of homeschool was insane, but now was more open to the idea.  "Why do you do it," she asked me, "were you're kids having problems in school?"  I was so happy about this turnaround in attitude that I opened up and told her about how I believe in the more natural setting of the home, and in a closer parent-child relationship, and the individualized learning.  She listened without any judgement, and said, "I could never do it."  Another family member is opening up to the idea as well, and told me during a phone call recently, "how much longer are you going to keep doing this?"

Most of my friends have been pretty open minded about it from the start.  But I've noticed even more openness lately.  For example, a close friend recently asked me what the kids do on a typical day.  As I went through the daily routine, describing how it is different every day depending on the classes they are taking or the trips scheduled, my friend listened very intently.  Her face lit up with interest when I described how after a few busy days in a row we usually take a "lazy day" and do only about an hour of basic learning and then spend the day at home relaxing and reading and baking and playing board games and building lego.  She understood that school children lack this type of family-centered day on a constant basis, and she said, "some of my best childhood memories come from school."  I have a feeling if she had children she would homeschool them too!

A fellow high school teacher whom I used to work with was recently telling me how lucky I am to be out of school and homeschooling my children instead.  She described how, even in the private school where she works, the level of education is rapidly declining.  She lamented about how the classes are getting more rowdy and difficult to control, and she expressed how she was concerned that these students were not learning even the basics of manners and courtesy.  I think she really exemplified this feeling I have that there is more open mindedness towards homeschooling.  I told her that I agree with her perception of traditional school, and that I am very happy with homeschool.  It was really uplifting for me to have a school teacher praise homeschooling, and when she said, "eventually you will have to put them back in school, right?" I knew we've come a long way.

They Grow Up Too Fast

I wish I could go back in time.

Ten years of changing diapers is exhausting.  There are times when I thought it would never end.  But now that my youngest is toilet trained I feel like it all went by too fast.  And diapers is only the beginning.  There is also sleep, and messes, and chocolate-milk-sippy-cups.  How many nights did I longingly dream of sleeping a solid 8 hours without being woken up by a crying baby?  Yet when I woke up rested and refreshed this morning, I realized it is a bittersweet pleasure.  I realize that I didn't fully appreciate the mess of toys all over the living room floor that I would clean up after the children went to bed each night.  This morning no one woke me up to give them breakfast, and when I stumbled into the kitchen, groggy with sleep and curiosity, I found my once-babies serving themselves cereal and chocolate milk.  Are you proud of us, they asked me?  Of course I'm proud, this is what I wanted, isn't it?  Self-sufficient children who let me sleep and who fold their own laundry.  And make their own chocolate milk.  In open cups.  It is exactly what I've been waiting for, for so many years.  And yet, as I smile at them for a job well done, I'm not sure I'm happy to be here, now.

I wish I could go back in time, and to yearn again for today.

"It's Not My Thing"

Life throws us all curve balls.  I actually have no idea what that means, because baseball is not my thing, but I think it means we all find ourselves in situations where our tried and true skills are not helpful, and we have to figure out how to navigate  in new ways which we might not have expected.

That is why I was so surprised today when my son didn't want to calculate the measure of the third angle of a triangle because, in his words, "math isn't my thing."  How could math not be his thing?  I've been a math teacher almost my whole life (not taking into account the times when I wasn't.)   Therefore, all my children have to be math people too.  Otherwise, it just doesn't add up.

So I told him that.  I explained that it is impossible to exist as a function of half my DNA, and not love math.  I told him his love for math should go from n to infinity.  I told him that if math isn't his thing, then he better make it his thing.  Because it is so important, for school, for the SATs, for college, for the process of logical thinking, and for proof that he really is my son.  Then I decided to ask a non-math question: WHY does he think math isn't his thing?

So he said he likes to be more abstract.  He said when he answers a math question, I take him literally and don't take into account the nuance in his answer.  He said he feels that math is lacking in hyperbole and metaphor.  But isn't the unknown variable a metaphor, I asked?  Not really, he said, because there is only one right answer.  He would rather work on subjects that allow him to come to his own conclusion than to the expected conclusion.

Well, all that doesn't really speak to my logical side, but maybe its time for me to embrace my metaphorical side.  Because he is my son, and although he does have my math genes in there somewhere, they are expressing themselves very differently than I expected.  It might not be the outcome I was looking for, but it's a shining star of an outcome nonetheless.  A very welcome curve ball indeed.

Things Are Not What They Used To Be... And They Never Were

Nostalgia is the practice of remembering the good things about the past and forgetting the bad.  I just made that up, but that doesn't mean it isn't true.

Take high school, for example.  Which adult doesn't long for the teenage years, when we could spend all day with our best friends and our skin didn't have the hint of wrinkles yet?  I am constantly amazed at my high school students, who don't appreciate their good fortune of being so young.  I wonder why they seem so tense.  Tests and papers cannot be nearly as stressful as bills, child care and work deadlines.  And they get to spend all day with their group of friends, so why do they complain about cliques and bullies?  Looking back at my high school years, I remember feeling empowered to make the right decisions about my future.  So why do these young high school students seem so lost?

Childhood is another great example of something that looks better when you're on the other side of it.  An early bedtime is a dream for most adults, but not as much appreciated by the children on whom it is enforced.  I remember fondly the days filled with the freedom to do whatever you like.  So why are my children complaining that they are bored?  A childhood memory that stands out the most for me is jumping on the couches in our living room, I can clearly picture my hair bouncing and a big smile on my face.  And although I am sure that episode ended with my mother yelling at me to stop, I cannot remember that part.  The good memories stand out and take over our perspective.

Motherhood isn't always as it seemed either.  I observe my friend's baby crawling on the floor, trying to eat her rattle and stopping every two minutes to give anyone looking at her a big baby grin. I remember those beautiful days when my youngest was that age.  I remember the ecstatic smiles, the joy my baby would have just from someone looking at him. The newness of life, the excitement of bathtime, and the wonder at everything was such a pleasure to behold.  I share these thoughts with my friend, the new mom, and I wonder why she isn't sharing in my excitement.  Why is she nodding in half agreement with a partial smile plastered on her face?  Why she is yawning as I speak, and why does she look like she was too tired to remember to match her clothing?  I don't remember being that tired.  I just remember my baby's bouncy curls and mile-wide smile.

10 Years Ago Today

Has it already been ten years since that beautiful September morning?  When I woke up to the bluest sky I had ever seen, and thought that I would take my seven month old baby to the park when I got home from work?   Ten years since those sweet thoughts turned to horror?  Since I took the crowded subway into Manhattan, a subway that would be empty for the next week?  Ten years since I heard my husband's frantic voice on the phone, saying, thank God you're okay, and then wondered how many husbands and wives never got that relief?  Ten years since I thought for a scary moment that I might not make it home to my young son?  Ten years since I hugged him so tight with relief when I finally made it back to Brooklyn, that it made all those standing around me cry?  Ten years since I cried for all those babies whose parents didn't get back that day?  Since the towers turned into a pillar of smoke before our shocked eyes?   Ten years since I wondered how many people were killed in those buildings?  Ten years since the city was covered in ash?  Ten years since 343 firefighters bravely rushed into the towers?  Since hundreds of volunteers came to ground zero to help search for any possible survivors?  Ten years since the hospital where I worked prepared to accept and treat hundreds of wounded?  Ten years since no wounded ever showed up?   Ten years since every surface in Manhattan was covered with missing person posters for weeks after the attack?  How can it be ten years, when the memories are as fresh as if it just happened?

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

Bedtime runs pretty smoothly in my house most days.  I tell my kids often about the importance of a good night's sleep for their physical and emotional health; and so when I say, "Time to go to bed!" they know why and (sometimes begrudgingly) comply.  And I am happy they do, because next comes my free time, so relaxing and enjoyable that I lose track of time and often find myself awake until the early hours of the morning.

Dinnertime is also pretty cooperative.  Brown rice and and salad for sides are tolerated because I often point out the benefits of healthy eating, and the negative effects of eating badly.  But when they see me sneak some oreo cookies after dinner, it is a little more difficult to explain that behavior.  "In moderation it's okay," I say, as I give them each one cookie.  The rest I save for myself later.

They also know that when it comes to computer time, they must first do their schoolwork and then play their games.  Business before pleasure.  It is very tempting to click away from Word and onto MonkeyQuest, but I don't hover over them.  I trust them to use self discipline so that I am free to browse celebrity gossip sites and online shopping sites while procrastinating writing my blog and checking on my children's online schoolwork.

Hey, I'm a Mom, not a Saint!

Lessons from Tisha B'Av

Most parents will agree that their main wish is for their children to be happy.  Successful, good people, but mostly happy.  And most parents will agree that the last thing they would do is actively teach their children how to mourn.  Which normal parent, who wants their children to be happy, would teach them how to sit on the floor and reflect on tragedies until tears spill from their eyes.  Yet this is exactly what religious Jewish parents, including myself, do once a year on Tisha B'Av, the day when the Temple was destroyed and many other tragedies befell the Jewish people throughout the years.

Yesterday, over two thousand years since the first Temple was destroyed, I sat with my children on the floor as mourners do and read them the story of the events leading up to and following the destruction.  As we do every year on this day, we cried together.  And I couldn't help but wonder, why am I teaching my children how to cry?  We are living in good times, why not focus only on our good fortune?

In addition to a painful history, the Jewish people also have a history of celebrating life, even in the darkest moments.  Woven into the mourning is a feeling of hope.  The wedding scene in the movie Defiance illustrates this idea very well.  A group of Jewish partisans during WWII were barely surviving in the forest, skeletons of their former selves, and most of their relatives killed by the Nazis.  Nevertheless, when young love finds itself, the Jewish partisan group makes a wedding for the new couple, singing and dancing in the cold Russian forest while snow falls on them.  This scene cuts back and forth between the celebrating and scenes of another member of their group fighting alongside Russian partisans at the same time the wedding is taking place.  The contrast between the wedding and the war was very poignant.  My son watched the movie with me, and he asked, breathlessly, "Why are they making a wedding during such a terrible time?"  But that is exactly the secret to Jewish hope: never giving up.  Dancing with strangers instead of relatives at a wedding deep in the Russian forest during the Holocaust. There is always reason to celebrate life, no matter how dark the times are.  It is not a tragic story, it is an inspiring story.

This is message of Tisha B'Av: hope.  More than 2000 years have passed since the destruction of the Temple, and yet we have not given up on it.  We still mourn this great loss.  Just as we still have hope that it will be rebuilt.  We never give up our hope.

By teaching our children to mourn the destruction of the Temple, we are teaching them to have hope.  Hope that we will survive, hope that it will be rebuilt, hope that we will one day rejoice with as much emotion as we now mourn.  I want my children to be happy people.  But I want the happiness to come from within, not to be dependent on circumstance.  This way, they will be able to find joy and hope even in the darkest moments of their lives.  In times of war and poverty, Jewish parents taught their children to find joy in their lives.  In these times of peace, however shaky that peace is, I am grateful to have my children naturally understand joy and instead to teach them how to mourn.  And I am grateful to be able to pass onto them our Jewish legacy of hope and survival.

Where Do Our Thoughts Come From?

I just stubbed my toe, and that's when it occurred to me: the first thought that pops into your head shows who you are!  The first thought that popped into my head was to use arnica to prevent bruising.  That was a very surprising thought, so much so that it distracted me for a moment from my pain (see! arnica works!)  The reason it was a shock is because I have never been a fan of  homeopathic remedies.  I am all for tylenol and ice packs.  And sometimes even an epidural, when the situation calls for it.  But here in California, homeopathic remedies are part of the common culture, and even doctors send their patients to Whole Foods instead of CVS.  When I first moved here, I was resistant to trying any of it.  But over time, more and more mothers have told me they use Rescue Remedy to calm their children (and their own nerves,) or that Arnica will prevent bruising, or that a little colloidal silver in a child's ear will get rid of an ear infection.  I heard it often enough, and eventually, this information made a little home for itself in my own head, and now these ideas are my own.

The place where you live, and the messages you hear over an over, have a significant impact on your thoughts.  It took a few years, but I have become a real Californian, in thoughts and actions.  I have a bottle of Rescue Remedy and a vile of Arnica in my medicine cabinet.  Not to mention that I use controlled, deep breathing to relax when I'm stressed.  And I think this is great, because, first of all my toe already stopped hurting and I only took the Arnica 10 minutes ago, and second of all embracing your city's culture is great.  As long as it is done with common sense. When will I consider myself to have gone completely over the deep end?  When I hear myself saying, "Marijuana isn't any worse than alcohol."  That's when.

Leiby Kletzky, A"H

My heart sits heavily in my chest, and my breathing doesn't come as naturally as it usually does.  This morning, every parents worst nightmare became a reality when 8 year old Leiby Klatzky was found brutally murdered.  He was one month shy of his 9th birthday.  His parents let him walk home from daycamp himself for the first time.  His mother must have been very nervous waiting for him to make it safely home after his first time walking alone.  Every parent knows that feeling, barely breathing until your kid makes it home safely.  But Mrs. Kletsky never got to breathe that sigh of relief upon seeing him running to her, cheeks flushed and proud of himself for being so independent.  Instead, two days of searching came to a bitter end as she and his father laid him to rest tonight.

Every parent is shaken to the core by this disturbing story.  The internet is abuzz with the news.  And, sadly, some people see this as an opportunity to point fingers.  I am reading comments online judging the parents and saying that it is wrong to let a child of 8 or 9 walk home alone.  This conversation is going on while his funeral is taking place.  Where is the consideration and respect for a mourning family?

There are two sides to every argument.  Some people say it is dysfunctional to hover over your children and never let them become independent, and some people say it is not worth the risk to let your kids go outside alone.  There are valid arguments on both sides.  But this is certainly not the time to make those arguments.  Nor do they need to be made, because for the rest of their lives, Mr. and Mrs. Klatsky will be battling that nagging thought that he was not ready yet to walk alone.  May God grant them strength to get through this terrible tragedy.  My thoughts and prayers are with them.

The Mommy Workout

Its a great idea to go to the gym every day, but sometimes you just don't have the time.  Luckily, being a mother means you get a great workout just by spending time with your kids.  On days that I don't make it to the gym, I still get a complete workout, albeit an unconventional one.  But that's okay, because I was never known to conform to any standards, and this includes exercise norms.

On non-gym days, I do the Mommy Workout.  Instead of a 60 minute kickboxing class, I spend at least as much time exercising my patience.  Instead of weight lifting, I flex my smile muscles.  Instead of doing bicept curls, I lift the baby up and down playing "swingy swing."  Instead of training for my 5K, I train my toddler to use the bathroom.  Instead of touching my toes, I reach down to pick up the laundry dropped on the floor.  Instead of yoga, I stretch my imagination.  Instead of mile repeats on the track, I have the kids favorite song on repeat on the CD player.  Instead of bootcamp drills, I do multiplication table drills.  In place of the cool down, I do story time before bed.

At the end of the Mommy Workout, I know I had a great workout because my muscles are sore, I am fatigued, and I feel a satisfying sense of exhausted accomplishment.  And I'm craving carbs. 

The "Kind" Dinner

The place where you live certainly plays an important role in shaping your lifestyle and values.  In my case, moving to and living in LA changed the way I look at dinner time.  Dinner used to be centered around one main dish, either meat, chicken or fish.  But now, feeding off (pun intended) the movement of eating a "kind diet," I have incorporated vegan dinners into the rotation, serving absolutely no animal products to my family a couple of days a week.

The first few times I attempted to introduce my family to vegan dinner night, they looked around the table and asked "where's the main dish?"  Moving from an animal-based diet to a vegan one is a difficult transition to make, even if it is only for a couple of days a week.  There is something physically and emotionally satisfying about eating a burger, or even chicken and rice, and you cannot reproduce this feeling with vegetation.  It makes one wonder, Why try?  Or, more specifically, why would I, someone who does not believe it is immoral to eat animals, incorporate vegan meals into my family dinners? 

I believe that if you hear of an idea enough times, you will be at least partially convinced.  Living in LA, it is impossible not to feel that a vegan diet is at least worth trying.  I have become "greener" in so many ways, seeing billboards everywhere I go convincing me that it is my job to save mother earth by recycling, reusing and buying green products.  It was only a matter of time before I started wondering about a greener diet.  I have always known the importance of eating healthy, such as whole grains and lean protein and many fruits and vegetables,  but now green was becoming the new healthy in my mind.  While I was swatting away at the notion that a vegan diet is "kinder" to the planet, the idea that a vegan diet is the most healthy was planting itself firmly in my mind.

So I jumped right in with both feet and committed to making a vegan dinner once a week.  But I quickly found that cooking and serving the dinner was the easy part; explaining to the kids this new way of eating was a bit more tricky.  They wanted to know where the meatballs for the pasta went, and if they are really expected to eat the rice and beans.  So I began educating them on the health benefits of increasing plant based products and decreasing animal products in their diets.  We went online and researched the dangers of high animal protein diets, and the benefits of plant based diets.  We even discussed the possible benefits to the planet that a vegan diet offers.  They asked me if I think it's wrong to eat meat, and I told them that to me, it's not about right and wrong.  It's about small lifestyle changes that are healthy and maintainable.  It's about knowing that there are other options for dinner that are not animal based.  It is about becoming more educated to the beliefs of  our ever changing society, and approaching them from a place of curiosity and open-mindedness.  Then they asked for doubles of the vegan pasta and sauce.  And as they ate this heart-healthy dinner, rich in vitamins and minerals and educational at the same time, I reflected that this is exactly what I would call a Kind Diet.

Stream of Conciousness, or Unfiltered Thoughts of a Harried Mom

The profound and the mundane swim around in my head, swirling together and creating an indiscernible collage.  Indecipherable from one another, important and trivial become one and the same.  The blackberry buzzes nonstop for twenty chaotic minutes, then it is silent for two hours.  Why does everyone call at the same time?  What should I prepare for dinner tonight?  Nobody wants to eat the same thing twice in a row.  Yet starving children in Africa (and elsewhere?) would be grateful to eat anything.  I'd be grateful for a piece of chocolate right now.  And coffee.  And I'm grateful for running sneakers that take me the distance, and can you even do distance on a treadmill?  I do.  Six miles, sometimes only two, I always find myself exactly where I started.  And then it's time to have lunch.  Salad for me, mac and cheese for the kids.  Is this mine or is it yours?  Is it time to flip the laundry already?  When did she grow so tall?  The passing of time is a stealthy adversary, acting when we are busy with other things and deceiving us when we look in the mirror and are greeted by someone much older than ourselves.  We are all at different stages in the time continuum, but not at any stage for long.   There are babies and old ladies, young children and midlife crises.  Is a sports car really that dangerous?  And shouldn't red light camera's be illegal?  There are too many rules.  And we're out of yogurt again.  Wow the kitchen stayed clean for a full hour.  Questions about pirates and ninjas, and are there any REAL princesses these days?  Almost time to put the kids to bed.

Can Gender Be Neutral?

Can gender be chosen by each individual, or is it assigned?  According to one couple in Toronto, each child should have the right to choose his or her gender without any external pressure from parents and society.  They named their youngest child Storm, and they have not told anyone, not even the grandparents, the gender of their baby.  See the full article here:  http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_thelookout/20110524/ts_yblog_thelookout/parents-keep-childs-gender-under-wraps

Why do they want their baby to be genderless?  They feel that society puts too much pressure on children to conform to specific gender roles.  Kathy Witterick and David Stocker, parents of Storm, feel that Storm should be able to wear whatever color he or she chooses, and to play with whatever toys he or she wants.  They have two older children, both boys, who wear pink and have long hair, but they feel the gender neutrality is not complete because their gender is known.  They want to let Storm make his or her own choices about his or her gender, and to be able to decide when to share that information.  But have they truly left the choice to Storm?  Or have they already made a gender-related choice for Storm?

We all impose our beliefs onto our children.  Children look towards their parents for direction, and form their values based on the parents guidance.  This Canadian couple is trying to let their children make their own choices regarding their genders and not imposing the choice on them.  But in doing so, they are in fact imposing two values on them; one, that parents don't have the right to make choices for their children, and two, that gender neutrality is preferable over defined gender roles.  The question of whether parents should or shouldn't impose their values on their children and make choices for them is a moot point because it is impossible not to do so, just as it is impossible to be genderless.

"What's My Prize?"

Kids have a desire to be rewarded for every good deed.  My children are especially talented in negotiating prizes for the things they do.  When they score well on a test, I immediately tell them I'm proud of them, and the first thing they say is, "Can I get an Ipod as a prize?"  When I say good job cleaning your room, they say can we get ice cream since we did such a good job?  When I ask them to finish the book report they are working on, they say, when we finish it can we go to Toy's R Us for a prize?  They even want a reward for hitting a home run in baseball (although, granted, I offered this prize on my own, I was so proud!)

Rewards have their benefits.  People often need external motivation to complete non-meaningful tasks.  But I think the goal should not always be the reward.  The goal is to find intrinsic value in everything we do, and eventually the task itself should be the reward.  While my children receive many prizes for jobs well done (they really are great negotiators,) they also receive many speeches about finding satisfaction in the work itself.  The reward for a good grade in math is having a good grade in math.  The reward for cleaning your room is  having a clean room.  The reward for finishing your book report is having completed your book report.  And the reward for hitting a home run is a score for your team, and the lego set you've been waiting for (hey, as I said, I was REALLY proud.)  Kids are human, and they will need some external motivation, but these should be used as a tool to reach the final goal of finding meaning in the task itself.

Being human myself, I wonder, what's my reward for being a patient mother?  What about my prize for spending my free time building a lego tower with my toddler instead of reading my book, for contemplating with my older children the pros and cons of choosing flying as your superpower instead of chatting with my friend on the phone, and for reading to my daughter a disney princess book instead of getting a manicure?  But even as I write this question, I know the answer.  My reward IS being a patient mother, building a lego tower with my toddler, discussing superpowers with my sons, and reading a princess book to my daughter.  I wouldn't trade it for any other prize in the world.

Where did all this laundry come from?

The title for this post pretty much says it all, but I'm going to write it anyway.  If there is one thing I do more than the dishes, it's the laundry.  A mother's job is never "done."  We cook dinner, and it gets eaten, and then we have to cook dinner all over again the next night.  We clean the kitchen, which usually lasts about a couple of hours until the kids come back in for a snack.  We give the baby a bath, and sometimes the results of that job don't even last the day.  No matter how many snacks we prepare in a day, there is always someone who wants another, different snack.  No matter how many dishes we wash, there is always another dish waiting in the sink.  And of course, no matter how much laundry we do, there is always more.  A mother can sometimes feel like there is no sense of accomplishment in her job.

Yet at the same time, there is more accomplishment in a mother's job than any other job.  It is a job which is never completed, and yet it allows things to happen in a way no other job can.  I was reflecting on the fact that I've been washing and folding (and sometimes even ironing, but rarely) my children's clothing for over ten years, and I'm still not done.  That's right, after ten years of laundry, there is still more laundry in the basket in my son's room.  You'd think by now I'd be done.  I might feel like I will never accomplish anything at this rate.  But then I took a closer look at the laundry I was folding, and I noticed that instead of size newborn, they shirts were size 10.  I realized that although it seems like nothing was accomplished, so much was.  And if I wasn't folding my son's laundry, and washing the dishes he ate off, and making him another snack, he would never have grown into the boy he is now.

After a day of cleaning and folding, I look around the house and wonder how many hours until I have to start the process over again.  The constant turnover of housework doesn't seem to say much about all the work I've done.  But hidden between the piles of neatly folded laundry is the story of how far my family has come.

In Celebration of Mother's

Happy Mother's Day to all mothers and especially to my very own Mom.  While every day really should be "Mother's Day," and acknowledging how much we appreciate our mothers and love them should not only be done once a year, nevertheless this is a day to celebrate motherhood and recognize it's importance on a national level.  So to my mom, and to all mothers, thank you for being so awesome!

More on Socializing

This video made me laugh at about 3 minutes in.  Especially because I just wrote a post explaining how homeschoolers socialize, and how in school true socializing doesn't take place; and the responses in the comments were mostly "but how do you socialize your children? If they don't go to school they will be weird."  The baseless argument has become so rhetoric people cannot even think beyond it.  This animated video is 5 minutes long, and very worth watching.  If you wonder how homeschoolers socialize, this video might help you understand.  And if homeschool, this video will look like conversations you have certainly heard before and will probably make you laugh.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjOXT_KSFhA&feature=player_embedded

How Do YOU Socialize?

I'm sure every homeschool parent will be able to relate to this post.  If there is one question every single homeschool parent is asked, it's this one:  "You homeschool?  But how will your children ever become socialized?"  And that is a completely valid question, if you're premise is that children socialize in school, and also that they never socialize anywhere else.

My first reaction when people ask me this question is that they obviously don't know what it means to "be socialized."  To be socialized means to be placed under government or group control.  So actually the answer is that I hope my children, as well as this country, never "become socialized."  But of course they don't mean this.  They meant to ask how will my children ever learn to interact with others in society if they don't go to school?  And that's why I say the question has some validity, assuming children only interact with others in school.  So I will answer this un-thought-out question.

Social interactions happen everywhere, every day.  It happens with siblings, with relatives, with friends outside of school (yes, that exists,) with strangers while shopping, at the library, at karate and swimming and any other classes the children take, at homeschool parkdays, and everywhere the children go.  Wherever there are people, there is socialization.

So why the insistence that socializing only happens in school?  Why assume that if a child isn't in school, he will never learn how to interact with others?  In fact, why assume socialization happens in school at all?  In school, children are put into an environment where everyone around them is just like them.  Then they further group themselves into cliques of even more similar children.  In school, when someone is different, they are ostracized by the class, as children refuse to socialize with anyone slightly different than them.  In this situation, children are learning how to seek out comfort and security in similar groups, rather than how to actively socialize.

By contrast, homeschooled children constantly interact with others who are different than themselves, and they learn how to socialize in many different situations.  They interact with people of all ages, not just children born in the same schoolyear as them.  They interact with children of all backgrounds, because people usually don't form cliques outside of school.  And while school children have to adjust to "the real world" after high school, homeschooled children have been integrated into regular society from the beginning of their education.  When you give this question some thought, you realize that homeschooled children are the only ones who actually learn to socialize!

Although I have all these answers to this often asked question, my daughter had the best answer of all.  I overheard her talking to two friends who go to school.  They asked her how she socializes in home school, and she answered, "What am I doing right now?"

Why Do Boys Love To Play With Guns?

Young boys have a natural penchant for war, guns, and fighting.  Almost all of their play involves some type of play fighting.  Many mothers who decide at the time their sons are infants that they will not introduce guns to them are shocked when they watch their sons, at about 2 or 3 years old, use their legos to make a gun and then run around the house shooting their homemade gun at imaginary "bad guys."  These mothers wonder how their sons came up with such a concept, because they were so careful to never let them see a gun, either as a toy or in a movie.  But the concept of "fighting the bad guys" is inborn for boys.  And mothers struggle with this inborn nature while trying to raise non-violent boys.  They worry as they watch their sweet young son play games which seem incompatible with their values.  They wonder why the child who has good manners and a compassionate nature likes to shoot and wrestle in their play time.

There are so many variations to gun play.  There are soldier games, there is cops and robbers, and lately there are superhero games.  In all of these games, the "good guy" uses his physical power or superpowers to save the world from the "bad guys."  And actually, this is exactly what we want them to be doing.  Mothers need not worry, because our boys are acting out the values we have been teaching them since they were born.  While it may look violent to the untrained eye, in fact they are restoring order to the world, and protecting those who cannot protect themselves.  At times, they even pretend to be the bad guy, showing empathy and  understanding of the other side.  And when their friend, playing the good guy, shoots them, they fall and die, demonstrating that good always wins, and ultimately there is no excuse for evil.  So when mothers see their sons shooting with their lego guns, they should perhaps see beyond the fact that he is using a toy gun and look at what he's doing with that gun. 

I, myself, am a mother that teaches her children not to be violent, and never to get into fights with other children or each other.  But when it comes to their play time, I don't want to teach my sons to stop fighting the bad guys.  I am proud of their desire to save the world from evil.  And although I tell them to stop wrestling with each other or someone might get hurt, I am simultaneously reassured about their values. Because even during play time, when they can do whatever they want, they are fighting imaginary bad guys and saving the world from the forces of evil.

Backseat Drivers

There is no sound as peaceful as the sound of a sleeping baby.  Parents will resort to all types of tricks to hear this sweet sound, and the most reliable trick of all is to put the baby in the car and start driving.  With few exceptions, all babies fall asleep to the soft lullaby of a moving car, and parents come to rely on this.  Many parents will even take a longer route to their destination, sometimes hours longer, just so that they can enjoy this peace and quiet a little longer.  A friend of mine went so far as to stay in her car with the engine running, in her garage, until her children woke up; and aside from the threat of unintended suicide, I can completely understand why she did this.

But like all good things in life, the peaceful car ride soon comes to an end, as the sleeping babies in the backseat are soon replaced with noisy toddlers.  Not only do these new beings NOT fall asleep as soon as the engine starts, they become critical backseat drivers.  The moment my oldest son reached this age was a big turning point in my life.  I will always remember the first time he yelled out from the backseat, "Mommy, that light was RED!" as I went through an intersection.  In truth it was yellow, but such subtleties are lost on young children.  But anyway, the point is, I just got myself my first back seat driver.

Eventually the directions coming from the backseat became even more specific.  It was suggested that I pass that slow car, that I honk at the car in front of me who won't move at the green light, that I take a route with less traffic next time, and of course that light was red (it was yellow!)  And as time went on there were more kids joining the backseat drivers club.  I now have a car full of backseat drivers wherever I go.

But in truth I treasure this time.  Because I know that nothing lasts forever, and just like the sleeping baby phase has passed, the backseat driver phase will pass as well.  And that is a scary thought, because I know what's coming next.  In the next phase, the backseat driver will be me, asking them to please slow down, watch out for that car, hey that light was red, and weren't you just born?

A Somber Post About the Fogel Family

Parents spend a lot of time watching happy, smiley, sing-songy children's programing, and that's a good thing.  Because once you have children, watching the news is scary.  Just this past Friday Japan had a devastating earthquake and tsunami.  Thousands of people, surely young children and babies too, died in the destruction.  Everyone around the globe watched the footage of these events with a heavy heart, but parents of young children can't help thinking, how would I protect my family in such an event?  Protecting your children is always the foremost concern of every parent.  And we certainly worry about catastrophic events in nature.

Yet even more disturbing, on the very same day of the earthquake, came the news of a young family in Israel brutally murdered by Palestinian terrorists.  In the silence of the night, two Palestinian terrorists broke into the home of the Fogel family and slit the throats of the parents, and 11 year old boy, a 4 year old boy, and a three month old baby girl asleep in her parent's bed.  Although the death toll is significantly smaller, obviously, this story is even more disturbing, as it challenges our faith in humanity.  As humans, we like to believe in the inherent humanity of all people, even our enemies. We appease our fragile vulnerability by telling ourselves they have reasons for their “anger” and that, no matter how misguided, there is another side to the story.  We reassure ourselves that even pure evil has logic and humanity. But when we witness such barbaric brutality, a baby girl stabbed to death while asleep in her parent’s bed, it leaves us confused and shocked, because our very faith in humanity is challenged.  This week, Mother Nature killed many babies, and we are very saddened and shaken; but a fellow human being raised his hand to slit the throats of young children and a baby, and we just cannot wrap our heads around that.

Hashem Yikom Damam!

Headstands

Young children aren't the only ones who stand on their heads.  Once a week, in my yoga class, so do I.  I always thought the headstand at the end of the hourlong yoga class was just another interesting pose to watch the experienced yogis do, and an exciting pose to master.  On the week I first was able to do it, I was in a good mood all day.  I thought my mood lift was because I was amazed at myself for being able to stand on my head, like a kid again.  But it turns out there is more to it.  My yoga instructor teaches yoga not just as an excercise but also as a philosophy.  She explained that headstands restore our positive energy that gets depleted throughout the day because of negative thoughts, unhealthy food, and even because of bad deeds.  So according to yoga theory, when there is negative energy flowing through our lives, we can flip ourselves upside down, stand on our heads, and restore the positive energy.

This idea is so simple that it's brilliant.  We find comfort in doing what we are used to doing.  Even when things aren't going well, we usually don't change our ways much at all but just wonder why things aren't working out and hope that it gets better.  But doing the opposite of what we're used to is sometimes exactly what we need.  Maybe that means eating breakfast for dinner, maybe it means taking a different route home from work, and maybe it means standing on your head.  By turning your routine or yourself upside down, you see the world from a different perspective.  And seeing a different perspective in addition to your own is what leads to a balanced life. 

There is so much we can learn from young children.  We are always teaching them the right way to do things, because after all isn't that our job.  But sometimes we can learn from them how to do things in a different way.  We balance our weight on our feet all day, why not balance our weight on our head for a bit?  You will be looking at the world from a different perspective (upside down, to be exact) and you just might feel renewed when you're back on your feet again.  Maybe you'll feel good because it's cool you stood on your head, or maybe it's the positive energy renewal.  Either way, it works.

Gridlock and Knowlege

Since so much of homeschooling is spent on the 405, I found this to be a very interesting news article. http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_localnyc/highways-to-hell-new-york-may-soon-pass-los-angeles-to-become-gridlock-capital-of-the-country Summing up the article in one sentence (because I know you're busy,) gridlock on the LA freeways is the worst in America, but New York is in close competition. But you are still wondering about my opening sentence. What do I mean that much of our homeschooling is done on the 405? Let me explain.

I always thought that in New York, homeschooling would be more difficult than in LA because of the weather. That's because a large part of homeschooling involves outdoor play, or as we homeschoolers call it "learning." (We call everything learning.) But actually, more time is spent "learning" in the car that outdoors. Possibly even more that at home, if you consider how many outings homeschoolers go on. How many Story of the World CDs have we gone through this year on the 110? How many Torah tapes have we listened to on the I5? How many thoughtful discussions have we had on the way home form book club? Sometimes I am so occupied with the schooling going on in the car that I pass my exit!

There are many who complain about the traffic in LA, myself included. And there are also people trying to fix the situation. About a month ago, someone rang my doorbell in the evening. It was two young women, going door to door in the neighborhood to get people to sign a petition for the California High Speed Train Project. Their selling line was, "Wouldn't it be awesome to have less traffic on the freeways?" When said with a smile, this sounds like a great idea. "Who wouldn't want less traffic on the freeways?" they added, with an extra smile, really driving their point home. Sounds great, I said, but where would the funding for this project come from. From government grants, of course, they answered. And where does the money for government grants come from, I asked. They seemed kind of confused by that one, so I offered the answer: from the citizen's pockets. I told them I will not sign anything that will raise my taxes. The only thing higher than the gridlock in LA is the tax rate. Actually, we have that as well in common with New York.

That is the reason I gave them as to why I don't want to support a project that will lessen congestion on the freeways. There is another reason, which I am pretty sure would render them even more speechless. The more gridlock, the more chapters we complete on Story of the World; while less traffic would mean less education for my children. And who would want that?

Who Would Have Thought?

Teenagers often surprise themselves with their own brilliance.  In fact, there is often nothing that fascinates the typical teenager more than himself.  The teenage years are a decade of self awareness, and a time when they are supposed to be developing a healthy sense of self, so I am not saying this as a negative observation at all, I'm just stating a fact.  I noticed this most when teaching high school, and now that my oldest son is approaching the teenage years, I am experiencing this phenomenon in my own home.

It takes a lot these days to make my older son say "Wow!"  Just as it took a lot for my high school students to be impressed.  No matter how interesting the topic we were learning, it was never as brilliant as a funny line from one of the students, and often the student who made that comment was laughing the most at her own genius.

On the other hand, people can deviate from their own personality, and this can happen with teenagers as well.  It is very refreshing to witness this happening.  (In fact, any deviation from normal teenage actions is refreshing.)  I witnessed such an event today, with my own eyes, otherwise I never would have believed it.  Actually, it was with my own ears, since I was driving and this came from the back of the car.  Let me tell you what happened. 

We went to an exhibit about the life and work of Leonardo Da Vinci.  My almost-teenage-in-years-but-completely-teenage-in-actions son listened to the docent the entire tour, and then spent time looking around the exhibit on his own, taking everything in.  I was impressed with his interest in Da Vinci's work, and watching him I knew he was learning a lot.  I was curious about his impression of the exhibit and of Da Vinci, but at the same time I knew that he would probably shrug his shoulders if asked and just respond, "It was okay."  Imagine my surprise when he expressed awe at Da Vinci's work!  In a voice of awe that I remember from his childhood years (oh how I miss those years!), he said, "Da Vinci was a genious!"  He sure was, I responded.  But my son wasn't done surprising me.  "If Da Vinci was so smart," again childhood voice of awe, "imagine how smart Shlomo Hamelech (King Soloman) was!  Da Vinci isn't even the smartest man of all time!  Imagine!"

Wow!  I certainly am surprised.  But not for the reason he thinks.

Natalie Portman's Most Important Role Yet

Natalie Portman has gotten on the bad side of feminists with her Academy Awards acceptance speech.  While accepting the academy award for best actress for her role in Black Swan, she referred to her upcoming motherhood as "the most important role of her life."  This of course has many people asking, really?  After all you've done in your career, is being a mom really the most important of them all?

The answer is yes.  Motherhood is the most important role of all.  Although this does not mean it is the biggest accomplishment of all.  But those are just semantics which can take us away from the main point here.  The point is that I am so proud of Natalie for recognizing the importance of motherhood.  American society does not value motherhood as it should.  We are a career-based society, and we place value mostly on earning potential.  When a woman has a child, her earning potential is sometimes lessened, and therefore her perceived value is diminished.  But what society fails to recognize is her value beyond the career.

There is no doubt that the feminist movement has empowered women in America.  It has given women the ability to accomplish whatever they set their minds on, and to be as independent as they want.  It has given each woman the chance to choose her own path in life, instead of being forced to conform to society's view of what a women should do.  But every rose has it's thorns, and unfortunately in the process of liberating women, the feminist movement devalued feminism.  The nurturing role of motherhood is the most feminist value of all.

It is interesting that Natalie compared her acting roles to the role of motherhood.  A good acting role is hard work, yet it is also very rewarding, much like motherhood.  A good acting role is one where the actor learns something or improves himself or herself from the role, while motherhood is all about improving your own self to become a better parent as well as a better example for your children.  And most importantly, a well acted movie will leave an impression on people for months, even years, while well done parenting will leave its impression for a lifetime.

Natalie Portman is the most successful female in Hollywood this year.  It is wonderful to hear her acknowledge the importance of being a mother.  And for all us moms who sometimes wonder who we'd be if we weren't moms, the most successful actress of the year put it best.  We'd be someone with a less important role.

Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

Parents are always hungry for entertainment, and we take it where we can get it because babysitting is expensive.  This is why you will see parents on the sidelines at kids soccer games getting more into the game than fans of competing teams at the Super Bowl.  This is also why parents seem to often be amused at their own insights into life.

So this is the reason I went off on a thought tangent today when I heard myself telling my son, "If you start a sentence by saying, 'no offense but,' then you probably shouldn't finish that sentence."  I realized as I was saying it that this is good advice for adults as well as children.  I thought about all the times people start sentences with things like, don't get upset but, or can I be frank, or would you mind if I tell you.  If you need to ask, then yes, I mind, and I will get upset, and you cannot be frank.  But you already know this.  Otherwise you wouldn't ask.

This got me thinking about things that are better left unsaid.  We all teach our children not to always speak their mind.  We say, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all."  We have to remember to listen to our own advice.  Especially when talking to our children.  How often I hear parents insulting their children, in the name of honest parenting.  How often I do it myself.  Is it more important for my daughter's outfits to match, or for me to refrain from telling her it doesn't?   Is it more important for my son to score a goal in soccer, or for me to encourage him on the effort made during the game?  Although children need guidance, I think more often than not the criticism is better left unsaid.

Of course this is a difficult thing to balance.  How do you teach and guide your children, yet refrain from criticising?  And how can you spend all day caring for your children and for the house, and at the same time maintain the patience necessary to speak gently and thoughtfully all the time?  Well, I have some ideas, but I'm thinking that some things are better left unsaid...

Zero Tolerance?

There is a news story today about an 11 year old boy who was arrested and locked up in a cell, fingerprinted, and not allowed to see his parents, without actually having committed any crime.  (See the full article here: http://www.theblaze.com/stories/11-year-old-co-boy-arrested-for-innapropriate-stick-figure-drawing/)   Shocked?  So am I.  This student, on the advice of his therapist, chose to deal with feelings of anger not by acting out but rather by drawing a picture as an outlet for his feelings.  He drew a stick figure picture of himself with a gun, and four other people with the words "teachers must die" over them.  This does sound pretty disturbing.  But what happens next is even more disturbing.  He was about to throw out the picture when the teacher caught him and asked to see it.  She then sent him to the principle, the principle contacted the police, and later that day police came to his home and arrested him.

There have been a few other examples of extreme overreaction with zero tolerance polities.  To name a couple, in 2000 in Texas, a 13 year old boy was required to write a scary story for a Halloween-based assignment. His story involved a character who shot students at a school. Consequently, the teenager was arrested and spent six days in jail before police confirmed that no crime was committed.  In that same year, in Florida, a 14 year old special needs student was referred to the police after the principal discovered that the child allegedly stole $2 from a classmate. The child was charged with “strong-armed robbery” and was held in an adult jail for six weeks. When a CBS “60 Minutes” news crew arrived to report this case, the charges pending were dropped.      

Since public schools implemented their Zero Tolerance policy, they say there will be swift and severe consequences for violence.  Bringing a knife to school, or getting into a fist fight, will cause a student to be arrested.  They made this policy because the violence in schools was getting out of hand.  But now I think Zero Tolerance Policy is getting out of hand.  As the therapist of this child said, "handcuffing an 11 year old and putting him in a cell over something like this is “quite an overreaction” and does much more harm than good."

Is Zero Tolerance Policy possible when dealing with children?  Children need to be dealt with on a case-by-case basis.  This incident is an example how "one size fits all" policy does not work with children.  It sounds logical in theory to say we have zero tolerance for violence, but if that translates into arresting an 11 year old boy, and scaring the living daylights out of him, locking him up in a cell and not allowing him to see his parents, while he thinks he will spend the rest of his life in prison and never go home or see his family again, well that sounds pretty violent to me.

It's All Relative

On Friday, my mother in law in New York told me "We had such a beautiful day here today, we just wanted to be outside, it was sixty degrees!"  "Wow," I told her, "you're really lucky.  Here it was freezing, the kids didn't even want to go out at all, it was sixty degrees!"

This of course made me laugh.  It also made me think of how much our perspective affects our reality.  When we were told as kids to eat our brussel sprouts because there were children starving in Africa, that didn't help us stomach the taste at all, because in comparison to our other food the brussel sprouts had no taste.  Nor did it help the starving children in Africa, but that is another matter.  The same applies to the toys we received as kids, we loved it until a friend had a better toy.

My kids ask me all the time if things are "a lot of money."  If we're shopping for lego, (which we do quite often, by the way,) they will ask, "is 10 dollars for a ninjago a lot of money?"  Well, that depends, I say.  For some people its pocket change, and for others it's a week of food to feed their family (again, Africa.)  I try to explain to them the concept of "value" and of buying what you can afford.  But I think it will take time before they can understand that affordability is relative.

There are many other examples we discuss of relativity.  I tell them the story all parents tell their children, about how we used to walk two miles to school in the freezing snow, backwards and uphill both ways.  By comparison they should be thankful all they have to do is keep their rooms clean and brush their teeth.  But I don't think they completely understand, and they think I'm exaggerating about my walk to school.

I remember when we first moved to LA, I was amazed on a daily basis that wherever I drove, I would see palm trees and mountain tops.  I loved that it almost never rained, and even when it did the some came out at least once a day.  And I was amazed that people would stay home because "it's raining."  If it rained for two days in a row, no one could believe how bad the weather was.  Drivers slowed down as if it was a snow storm.  Now, a little over two years in, I have become used to this weather, and not only do I not feel calmed by the palm trees, I slow down my car when it's raining, and I even try not to go out in the rain if I don't have to!

So now I know with certainty that my perception is relative, and it can even change as what I am used to changes.  One person's rain is another persons snow.  One mother's beautiful day is another mother's freezing.

Numbers and Shapes

Preschool math is all about numbers and shapes.  My daughter is learning how to count, write numbers, group numbers, and identify shapes.  As we were working on "finding the shape within the shape" in her workbook, the thought struck me that much of our adult lives are centered around numbers and shapes.  Take, for example, fitness.  Fitness is all about numbers and shapes.  And of course most adults do spend a lot of thought if not also time on fitness.  We fret over numbers on the scale, hours logged at the gym, mileage, and of course the ever elusive dream of being in shape. 

I tell my daughter that these mathematical concepts that she is learning will be useful throughout her life.  I enjoy making my children's lessons meaningful to them by showing them how it is used in different ways.  This doesn't always work, and it can be difficult to explain why they need to learn the square root of pi, or memorize the names of the presidents.  Learning for the sake of learning is also important, and memorizing creates new connections in the brain that actually makes you smarter than you were before.  And of course  you never know when a small tidbit of information will come in handy, for example on an job interview or even in social situations.  (See, homeschool families incorporate socialization into our lessons as well!)  But it's nice to be able to clearly explain the benefit of learning, and its practical usage.  So I was very happy to explain to my daughter the importance of numbers to manage money and the use of shapes in architecture.  But I don't explain to her how adults sometimes become very concerned with numbers and shapes, specifically with the numbers on the scale, and the "shape" they're in (or not in.)  As much as numbers are important, I want her to focus on fitness for its health benefits rather than for weight.  I want her to think of food as nutrition and as fuel, not as numbers of calories.  When it comes to fitness and body image, being too concerned with numbers is not beneficial.  And who decided what "being in shape" really means anyway?  Shapes come in many different forms.  Maybe us adults should be satisfied with the variety of shapes that we come in, rather than all trying to fit into the same one.

And speaking of shapes, THE BOX is one shape that homeschooling families pride themselves in thinking outside of.  The dining room table is a classroom.  Math is learned while grocery shopping.  Science is in the backyard garden.  Playing is learning.  Shoes are always optional.  And round is a shape, too.

Brushing your teeth isn't a chore

When did brushing your teeth become a chore?  There are things children should be doing to "pull their own weight" around the house, such as making their own beds and putting away their clean laundry.  Even helping with setting and clearing the table and with carrying in and putting away the groceries.  These can be considered chores.  Sometimes you're in the mood to do them, and sometimes you're not.  I can understand if a child feels burdened by having to help out in the house when he really just wants to play, and complaining about making his bed when he's just going to mess it up again anyway in about 12 hours.  I can understand that.  I would still say they have to do these things, and explain to them the value of maintaining a well running home, and of being able to take care of oneself.  I would also explain to this child that he is lucky he is learning how to do housework because these living skills will help him function well as an adult.  I would point out that many students away at college for the first time are at a loss when they have to do their own laundry and cook their own meals for the first time, without any prior training.  I would explain it is better to learn to always increase self-care responsibilities until, by the time one finds oneself in college, he can fully care for himself instead of eating only fast foods and wearing clothing pulled out of the hamper.  However, I would hope I don't have to explain why showering daily is important, and why brushing your teeth has to be done twice a day.  However, when I tell my children to brush their teeth before bed time, they sometimes act as if this is a surprise to them, as if we haven't been doing this every night since they were one years old.  They say, "Brush my teeth again?  I'm not in the mood.  Do I have to?"  And this is when I have one of those are-you-serious moments in parenting, when I wonder, really, are they serious?  But they are.  I shouldn't have to explain to them that brushing your teeth isn't a chore, but I do have to.  I remind myself that, as a parent, sometimes I have to explain the obvious.  Because it's not obvious until you know it.  I tell them they don't have to be in the mood to brush their teeth.  I explain that it should be a habit, done almost without thinking.  I say brushing your teeth isn't a chore.  And I can only hope that one day they will laugh, when they find themselves saying the same thing to their own children.

Birthdays

Birthdays are like any other day.  Chores need to be done, children need to be fed, blog posts need to be written, and bills need to be paid.  But there is a big difference.  On your birthday, although the day might seem like any other day, suddenly everyone wants to hear every detail.

My daily activities are pretty mundane; cook, drive the kids to various activities, fold laundry, clean the kitchen again, change the baby's diaper, and cook some more.  On my birthday I do these same things.  The only difference is that because its my birthday, my friends and family call and ask, in a very excited voice, "So what are you DOING today?"  Well, I'm making breakfast for the kids right now, then I'm driving the boys to soccer, I'm going to try to squeeze in a workout at the gym, and I have piles of laundry to go through.  Should I reheat the meatballs from last night for dinner, or should I make something fresh?  And, hey, how come you sound interested in all this, yesterday when I told you what I was "doing today" I could hear you yawning through the phone?

The truth is I really appreciate these phone calls.  Starting from childhood, everyone has a need to feel special and recognized on their birthdays.  Its your own personal holiday, just for you.  And every adult knows the feeling of a birthday that passes without feeling special; it's downright depressing.  The extra attention on your birthday is uplifting and validating.  It reminds you that through the mundanities of daily life, there is the specialness that is you.  If we would celebrate ourselves every day, the specialness would lose its value.  But once a year, we each celebrate our own day, by basking in the attention and well wishes, and reminding ourselves that what we are doing today is special.  No matter what it is.

Lego's Underfoot

Nothing says "Parenthood" more than waking up in the middle of the night to use the restroom, and stepping on a tiny, pointy lego piece on your way.  Ouch!  It's during those precious moments of holding your hurting foot in one hand and covering your mouth with your other hand so that you don't wake up any sleeping babies, that you really arrive at a deep understanding of being a Parent.

I used to think bringing home a beautiful, warm, wrapped little newborn made me and my husband parents.  And it did, in a way.  Having your own baby is an important step in becoming a parent.  But it's only a step.  Becoming a real Parent doesn't happen overnight, it's a lifelong process of changing yourself.  As children get older, they test you to see your reactions, they test your love, they push limits, and they leave lego out on the floor in strategic places.  They don't just add to your responsibilities, they permeate every area of your life.  That little newborn will make you feel a type of love you never knew existed before you had him.  But can you call on that love to take over and prevent you from swearing loudly when you step on the lego that the beautiful newborn left on the floor, just so that you don't wake him up? Now THAT's parenthood.

Soccer Philosophy

Listening to my son's soccer coach coaching the boys during their game not only distracted me from the fact that the uniforms are actually gray and not "silver," but it also got me thinking.  Specifically two things he said this past game got my attention.  One, when the team scored a goal and one boy asked, "who scored?" the coach answered, "Who cared who it was?  You all scored!"  Two, when my son passed out the donuts at the end of his game in celebration of his birthday, he offered one to the coach, who said, in the same loud coaching voice he uses to encourage them during the game, "Coach JJ doesn't eat donuts!"

I, myself, along with the other mom's watching the game, had a donut, while we thought about what Coach JJ said.  Is there anything more important for boys than team sports?  Probably, but that's not the point.  I signed my kids up for soccer for the third year in a row because I feel that, besides for the exercise they get, the life lessons inherent in team sports are timeless.  These are lessons that can never be taught in a classroom (or dining room table for us homeschoolers) but have to be learned on the field.

The most obvious example is teamwork. There is no group activity in school that can compare to working together to pass the soccer ball down the field.  And the feeling of working together to get a goal is intensified by the urgency of passing the ball to a fellow teammate who has a better chance of scoring the goal, instead of trying to go for it yourself.  They learn that the glory lies in the success of your team, rather than in your personal successes.  That's what the coach was telling the boy who asked "Who scored?"  There are no individuals, there is only the team. Being a team player is a skill necessary for most jobs, and I'm happy my children are learning this lesson in soccer.

Another important lesson is that everyone has different skills.  There is defense, midfield, and offense.  Someone who is very good at kicking precisely and far will be put in offense, and this will help the team score.  Someone good at moving a ball along will be in midfield, and this will help get the ball to the offense.  Someone good at blocking will be in defense, preventing the other team from scoring.  And every one of these players is essential to the team.  Each of their different skills combine to form a winning team.  The "life lesson" here is clear.  Each member of a family, each member of society, combine their skills to form a complete world.  If we all had the same skills, we would never score.  Each child should feel confident that their skills contribute to the success of society, just as their skills on the field contributes to the success of their team.  So while Coach JJ doesn't eat donuts, I do.  But I bet he doesn't have a blog.

Tiger Mom vs. Western Mom

The Wall Street Journal excerpt from "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother," by Amy Chua, has provided fodder for many interesting discussions and heated debates about parenting styles.  (Use this link to read the full article: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704111504576059713528698754.html) Being a "Western Mom" myself, when I first read the article, my reaction was more horror than anything else.  I thought Amy Chua was making a case in favor of child abuse, her excuses being that the end justifies the means, and that parents have to assume children are strong and can handle it.  However, I have since read an interview of Amy Chua, and she said that the excerpt shows only one side of her book.  She said she wrote the book in defense of Chinese mothers during a time when many books are being published showing the evil side of Chinese parenting.  She felt it was necessary to show that Chinese parents are doing what they feel is best for their children, helping them achieve their  highest potential, possibly higher than the child themselves thought he could.  And although the internet was abuzz with Asian-American children, now adults, saying that it takes years of therapy to recover from such parenting, Amy Chua wanted them to know that it was done out of love.
This is really difficult for American parents to absorb.  Reading the article, Amy sounds like an angry, demanding mother, certainly not loving.  She says her parents raised her the same way, and that it never affected her self worth.  But perhaps it did.  Maybe she feels secure now that she can play the piano beautifully, and score well in math, but the insecurities come out when her children don't live up to her expectations.  She accepts her upbringing as normal and maybe even beneficial, but the tramatic consequences show themselves in her parenting.  She panics when her children don't perform up to her expectations, and then she reacts by yelling, and using all means necessary to force her child to practice over and over until she gets it right.  I would venture to disagree with Amy that this rough upbringing did not have any negative impact on her; if her parents made her feel loved unconditionally, she might be able to do the same for her children.
Having a better understanding of Amy Chua's reasons for writing the book, I do believe she raised her children in this method out of love.  But she is mistaken to think they are strong enough to handle it, or that it didn't affect her.  In parenting, the ends do not justify the means; the means are everything.  The acceptance you show your children, and the uncoditional love you shower them with, is what makes them strong.  Demanding perfection makes them think their only value lies in their successes, and your love for them is linked to how or if they succeed. 
I think the title of the article in the Wall Street Journal is misleading.  I don't think Amy Chua feels that Chinese mothers are "superior."  She admits to having many regrets and to softening up as the children got older and her mothering matured.  But I think she did want to point out that good parenting has many faces, and the Tiger Mother is just as loving as the Western Mom; she just expresses her love in a different way.

Kids Are People Too

People ask me all the time why I homeschool my children.  To me the most obvious answer is "why not?" but it never fully satisfies the asker's curiosity.  There are actually many reasons why I feel homeschool is the best form of education.  If I had to choose the biggest reason, it would be because I want to raise my children the way I would want to be raised myself.  I know I would not learn best in a school setting, so neither would my children.  I would want to learn in a way that encourages individuality rather than conformity; in a setting where participation comes from curiosity and interest rather than discipline; and in a positive environment.  Since this is what I would want for myself, this is what I chose for my children.

With much encouragement from many family members and some friends to write a blog about the homeschool experience, I am starting this blog. However, it is not only going to be about homeschool.  It is going to be about life, as seen through the eyes of children.  Or through the eyes of a mother trying to see the world through the eyes of her children.  Because children are people too.

I encourage questions, comments, and stories of personal experiences.  I am working on a post about hands on learning vs. classroom learning, and on one about teaching reading (which could probably be 20 posts itself.)  Please post comments if you have any suggestions.

Thank you for reading!