Cue the cheezy violin music.....

I've been just a mess these past couple of days. My youngest son had a lovely run as Fredric in "The Pirates of Penzance" this weekend. He isn't really a tenor--a high baritone, yes, but not a tenor but between the heroic transposing of our music by our wonderful music director and my son's fabulous voice teacher, he just sounded fabulous through three shows and a dress rehearsal over the past few days. And his very best friends in the world were in the cast, and the rest of his closest friends--in the audience. He was even supposed to kiss the girl in the last scene, but I think it felt a little too weird since he's known her since she was in preschool, so he picked her up, twirled her around and then did a deep dip away from the audience which you could interpret however you may like.

It was a fabulous performance. I'll post video soon because it's out of copy write--yeay! so it's legal! The whole cast of almost all middle schoolers was simply amazing.

And since I can talk easily in front of people given my church life, I was asked to do the "thank yous" at the end, which was fine but by the end it was all I could do not to sob out loud.

This school has been one of the solid centers of our family life for seven years, just a few months after we moved to Seattle. We've celebrated births and mourned deaths with our friends there, we've spent holidays and vacations and every milestone possible with our extended family from school. Our boys have really grown up there. And now, we'll never, ever go back. I don't have to go sit in the lunch room and study airport codes, or read curriculum or do mountains of dishes that teens left behind. It's over. I can visit, but it'll never be the same.

People tried to compliment me on my son's performance last night, and all I could do was nod and bite my lip and try not to fall completely apart.

That's the other thing--he went from being forced to take the musical theater class which performed a canned, packaged musical that lasted 20 minutes to being an accomplished actor and the lead in an operetta. It's been a blessed gift to be here. Our middle son took his first biology course here and did his first animal experiment ( at age 9-nearly identical to the one just completed in AP Biology!) and dissected his first animal--now he's headed off to work toward an Associate in Science at the community college instead of his last two years of high school. And the oldest was a member of the robotics class and then the coach of the First Lego league team--and was assistant director of two musicals (Suessical and You're a Good Man Charlie Brown) and is now headed to an engineering degree and maybe even a drama minor at the University of Washington.

Our little homeschool school has been a beautiful bright blessing in the life of our family.

I will miss it. I will miss everyone.

And as I mourn myself into a self pitying puddle of muddled drama, we hear the violin soar...

Sun rise, sun set.....sun rise, sun set.

Vampires Have Consumed the WEEK!

I'm so sorry, there must be a rampant rage of vampires running wild here in the dewy dawn of June.

Vampires.

Sucking every last stinkin' minute from the week.

There was the last minute need at our little homeschool school because almost every family has a child who is sick so all the moms and dads are home.....but of course sending the one or two healthy kids to school. And our brand new hardly- ruined-at-all office manager was out sick, and our temporary-doing-heroic-double-duty-work program manager actually has to teach the high school classes on Thursday--so she was busy. I think the first adult in the building wound up subbing in the office (reason 348 to never walk in the building first...one other being the possibility of discovering ant infestations...) and so when I saw the call on facebook for a headcount of who was going to be on site for the day--with no replies, I knew I was on.

No problem, really. This school has been our home and offered a fabulous education to all my boys. I can give a day.

So that was no vampire, really. Just a need.

And then there was this project I said I'd do that I didn't really want to do but I felt obligated to do because it wasn't really that difficult after all, and the people asking me were really overwhelmed with other things.....so I said yes. Oh dear. Say no. Never say yes. Practice with me. "No" "Noooooooooo!" "Nope" "No" "No thank you!" Um, yeah. Didn't say no, and I really should have. Well, unless *I* ask you for something. Then say yes.

So, yeah, that was kind of a vampire. Vampire-ish. Taking lots of time and lots of time to just worry about busted deadlines and falling reputation.

Then there was all those children I had a couple of decades ago who need to go places and eat and register for new schools and interview for internships and you know.....live in my house. Geez!

No, OK, not vampires at all. Just lovely children who are so happy to be together after months apart that video games are played until all hours of the night and homework is sloppily completed--so much so it's sent home again. Oh well. People are more important than algebra, right?

And then the actual work I do, which is lovely work that is only possible with the combination of a devoted faith community and families and children and the end of the church year. And movies--the production of the year end movie. And bridging gifts which can no longer be purchased at the local drug store but must now be purchased from a mega-provider of Kindergarten bears. Because we've grown by some 60% this year. And I'm tired, and it's overwhelming every time I walk in the building, or log onto email. or think about our little church busting out of it's walls....still busting out of it's walls.

But that's not a vampire. That's a glad gift of exhausting and exhilarating service. And it's lots of amazing children and youth. That's always a good thing.

OK, I guess I take it back. It wasn't vampires that consumed my week. It was my life. My rich and full and vibrant life. And it wasn't sucked out of anything. It was just the real truth of what happens when we engage in this one wild life and when we care. It's life.

My life.

Amen.

Free Fallin'

I suppose I should feel grateful that I'm healthy and my family is well. That we're employed and we love each other and that we have a little dog who is a little neurotic, but who loves us.

But I'm not. I'm not grateful. I'm pissed.

People should not get sick. Life should not take a turn for the worse and cancer sucks.

Things that feel solid and regular--pieces of life that have finally smoothed out should not get ripped right out from under your feet.

I feel like the cartoon character who runs off the cliff. The ground is suddenly gone.

But my solid ground is not gone. It's right there. This is not free falling. This is just a lousy bounce of life for someone I really care about-- for someone who has had an enormous influence on the lives of my sons. It's not my issue to rail against.

I will write meaningful notes of thanks, make a nice dish to pass for the hastily planned and low key "good-bye" lunch. I'll smile and blink back tears. I know it's just the way things go. I know. And really, who knows what gifts are hidden in the manure pond of this lousy thing called cancer?

There are often gifts.

I pray that there are gifts.

Amen.

Finding the Blessings

I was in a hibernate-y mood. Too much to do, too much to think about. Too many people needing something from me.

But it was time for what in the slang in my head I call "butt-day"; time to put in my hours at our little homeschool-school. Time to sit myself down and just be there as part of the cadre of parents who hang to keep the peace during lunch and PE.

Oh I didn't want to go. Yes it was supposed to be my day off from work but there had been paint trauma with the living room prior to the new carpet going on on my work day, so I was behind. And my kind of job never really allows for a personal leave day or anything--the work just sits in the corner and patiently waits for you. It's got those glow-y eyes, too.

So, I took myself up to school. After lecturing my youngest son about personal responsibility and discipline all morning, I felt guilty just thinking about blowing it off.

It was lovely up at school. There were babies riding in back packs, littles playing in the preschool room. Teens were clustered in little groups--some playing guitar, some studying. Some just hanging out.

There was a soup lunch that one of the kids had arranged, she's trying to raise enough money for a "Cheese of the World" package for Heifer. We had a bake sale for the Musical Theater class and a candy sale for the drama class. Lots of people were working and laughing and playing and getting ready.

I realized that my "butt-time" is coming to an end. This is our youngest son's last year at the little homeschool-school. Yes, the middle son may go through this school for his early college program next year, but it's not the same. That's just stopping in for paperwork and saying "hi". If you're a parent of a "Running Start" student, you don't have to do volunteer hours in the same way. After all, your kid isn't one exploding beans in the microwave, or getting a little too loud with the guitar in the hallway. So for me, these days are coming to an end.

Zap. The whole day shifted. I was deeply grateful for the mess of soup bowls to wash. And deeply grateful for babies toddling out from the preschool room to snitch a cookie from the bake sale. Even the trauma of another little injury during PE made me smile. It's not just our own children we care for, a child with a bump brings the whole village-strong response. No one at our school ever is left alone with a problem. And it's even sweeter now that it's almost over for me.

The seasons of our lives do turn, one to the next. It's funny but the things that seem to be drudgery at the time, are often the things that I miss the most when they're gone.

I am blessed and lucky.  Amen.

Cool Kids!

This very cool kid used to go to our little homeschool school. She's moved on to bigger things!

Austerity, oh yeah!

I went grocery shopping this morning like I always do on Monday mornings. That's the really good thing about working on Sundays, my weekend is everyone else's "Back to work" day.

I really needed to go grocery shopping. There had been no bread in the house for about three days, the milk was probably OK but it was a little past it's expiration date. We had no fruit. There were still carrots but you would absolutely have to peel them before eating to get all the hairy bits off. We could have made few more meals out of the lentils and onions in the cupboard, but no one wanted to eat like that any more.

Nope, we didn't lose a job. We didn't have a tragedy.

We had....AUSTERITY WEEK!

Our family is pretty good at shutting down the spending when we need to. We can all wait to get hair cuts or new shoes or fancy shampoo. The living room carpeting is more than thread bare and we love our 10 year-old-couch.

But this was a mission. I was ready to clean-out and clean-up and to live on what we had in our house. No money. No shopping. No buying. Time to make due and make it work.

It was like going to a nudist colony! Freedom! Well, if I had ever been to a nudist colony and if I thought that being nude was a freeing thing. I don't. I'm from Minnesota. There is nothing freeing about being nude. No. Who would even think that anyway? But living on what we had in our house was extremely liberating!

Wheee!

We ate the food that was already in our house. We baked muffins and rolled out creative pie crusts. We made a quiche with chives from the garden and fake sausage and buttery pie crusts. There were some strange lunches. And some kids standing in front of the fridge, well...pondering. But we made it through. We had to buy bird food and dog food of all weird necessities. And there was one point when we had to decide between sanity and coffee. Coffee won.

But for all the weird meals and interesting combinations of food, I'm really glad we did this. Our fridge is clean, our cupboards lean. And with the money that we would have spent on groceries for just one week, we bought a share in the garden-farm of a friend of a friend....a CSA. We've got a share, we're part of the food chain! It's amazing.

And now we have the prettiest eggs, ever!

Thanks to our good friends who connected the dots and helped us have beautiful eggs! I can't wait to see what comes in our big bag next week!

Feeding the Masses

I like to feed groups of people, big groups of people, huge groups of people. Just in the past three days, I think you could say that I've cooked for 120 people. For real, no lie, and it's not even an exaggeration, I don't think so anyway.

At our church we've been offering soup lunches for a couple of years. It began with a Coming of Age service project called "What Could be Better Than Soup?" and just rolled from there. But really, I began doing soup lunches years and years ago at the Minnesota Valley UU Fellowship when I was the activities chair. It's a great way to build community. And a great way for families with young children to feed their kids BEFORE the hungry monster hits. Love that. Eat together. It's a really good thing.

So, this year I've committed to putting on a soup lunch every first Sunday of the month. I work for this great church who has no building and no way to get together in a big group any time but on Sunday without-- **ZAP** incurring at least $100 in fees just for meeting. So, we'll feed them. And if people throw money in a bowl to help us pay for stuff for the Religious Education ministry, well then yippy skippy, I'm happy!

On Sunday I'd committed the Religious Education Council to serving lunch, but-ha! no one was really around to help. So I made the soup and bought the bread. The middle schoolers on site on Sunday helped me assemble the basil and purple beans that turn green when you cook them and the rest of the soup ingredients. The guys in my family agreed to serve while I blackmailed, I mean recruited, families to actually register their children for classes this year. We served at least 40 people beef barley and bean barley soup. Psssht. So easy! Soup. That's only one pot! Add 6 loaves of bread and two sticks of butter and tickety-boo, you've fed a hall full of people.

Then yesterday we had a big huge 13th birthday party planned for our youngest. We were going to be at a local park that has a volley ball court and a basketball court and a tennis court as well as a great little dock on a nice little lake. We were bringing kayaks and inflatable boats and many hot dogs and hamburgers. But sometimes we forget that we live in Seattle and that when fall starts in pours on us all for weeks at a time.

By 10am we'd called and emailed everyone: no park! Our house! Ignore all dust! Come early, stay late but come to the house. You know the minute we did this the sun came out. But oh well, it was really windy and very, very wet. And our "birthday" parties are never just seven kids and a cake. His birthday is at the END of the summer, which means that all brothers are bored to death, and must make the most of any upcoming activity, including a little brother party. So there are finely crafted video invitations, and big fancy theme parties with elaborate treasure hunts designed by the treasure master (that's the eldest). And all the kids bring their whole families and whoever is hanging out at their house when they leave to come on over.

Come on! We're homeschoolers! These are BIG families! With lots of people hanging out! The party was huge. It might have been 40, but it really might have been a grand total of 50 people here if you count babies and young adults and the quick stops by some family members. At one point I felt like I was on a pinball machine running through my kitchen. Boing-boing-boing! Bouncing off people! We had a huge pan of cheezy noodles and a million dogs and burgers with a monster batch of hummus and as many chips as a grocery cart could carry, topped by a cooler full of discount soda. I spent most of the time at the counter cutting up more watermelon and opening a can of baked beans or slicing pickles to top the burgers. Yes! JUST where I wanted to be!

Then tonight we had our youth group dinner where we feed the homeless teens. The last time we served dinner there one of the teens asked for pasta with alfredo sauce and broccoli. She really wanted to be sure there was broccoli in the sauce. So today I went to Cash and Carry, the local restaurant supply store, and bought marinara and alfredo and meatballs and chopped lettuce and of course; broccoli. It was your typical flatbed cart full of supplies. We were making a pasta bar! No biggie, I'm used to it. We arrived at Orion Center at 5, FAST put water on to boil and ran around like crazy making the salad and marina and meatballs and meatless meat balls and baking the par baked bread. There were only three of us tonight. We had to do the hustle!

But we did it. We could tell from the minute we walked in that it was going to be a big group, and it was. Every table was completely full. All the chairs were taken. I don't think we've ever seen such a crowd in our two years of working there every month. We used every last noodle and every last meat meatball. Almost a whole sheet cake was gone and three cases of soda and a whole box if jaw breakers that I'd bought on a little impulse were gone. Yes. Isn't that just what you want? Youth who really need to feel special to, you know, take a box of jaw breakers and eat some fine alfredo with fresh parmesan? Yes. That is what I want. It's just what I want. Yes.

It's funny. For someone who desperately struggles with this awful disordered eating that makes me believe that food is love, I sure enjoy feeding huge crowds of people. I love it, I really do. I love that I can do it. And in some ways it really is healing. Food really can be good. This is a sort of proof.

And I wonder, did I miss my call? Am I really destined to be......a....caterer?!

Parenting Tip No. Five

When you choose a place to live, if you have school aged children, be sure you have chosen an area with some significant wealth so that your local schools will be good schools.

Now please, don't freak out on me. It's true. We all know it. If you live in a poor area, your schools are more than likely to be poor schools. If you live in a rich area, your schools will have good art rooms and fine computer labs and teachers who fight to get into those classrooms.

In our years we've had both.

When we moved across the country and to the house we live in now six years ago, it was at the height of the absolute destruction of my marriage. My husband had just come to terms with being an Asian man, a transracially adopted man, a Korean Adoptee, or rather, he was in the throes of that process. We'd decided to get divorced, decided not to, gone through absolute hell and then, as any two completely insane people would do; decided to move across the country together. Really, it was both of our inner wise selves saying "get the hell out of here, go start over, NOW!" But at the time I can't say I was totally in touch with that wisdom.

When we pulled up in front of our home I told the realtor "No, we don't even have to look at this house, I don't want to live here. It's like a neighborhood from the movie 'The Truman Show' no way. Let's see the next one." And we did. We saw a bunch of homes, and then my husband said "let's just see that two story, just to see what they look like inside" so we came back and the minute we walked in the door, I knew he'd want it. It's nice, open, vaulted ceilings. A fine house. I figured we wouldn't be here six months much less long enough to have school districts or the lack of a yard or basement matter. "Fine, let's buy it"

Now you know, of COURSE this is the house we've lived in the longest of any our homes. Six years so far. It's that damn Karma Fairy that Meg Barnhouse is always talking about. "Hooo ho! Think you've got it figured out, do you? Well, here you GO!" wham.

Three years ago when our oldest betrayed all sensiblity, or um, I mean decided to stop going to our little homeschool school and go to a real high school, the school district with the attendance line that is two houses to the south let him in. I said the right thing to the principal's secretary or waved the right test scores or they'd had good experience with homeschoolers or something and he got in. People were shocked. This school NEVER let any out-of-district kids in. But they let him in, and they let him in again for his sophomore year. He lettered twice, went to dances. took great pottery and web design classes. Had fun.

He had a perfect GPA and was an excellent student, and then he came to his senses or um, I mean decided that seven hours a day of classes was a crazy idea and decided to take advantage of the state paid early college program in Washington called "Running Start" and get a start on college classes instead of being a Junior. Good thing, because the nice rich, I mean um, well funded district to the south got too full and wouldn't let him in for the next year. Fine, our little homeschool school welcomed him back to "administer" his Running Start years with a big hug, all was well.

Then our middle son lost his mind, um, I mean decided to go to high school (what, have they never SEEN those high school movies? Come on!). There were no other options, it was the local high school for him. "Oh well" we thought, the oldest didn't really learn a lot in high school that he hadn't already had at our little school. He always said that in high school he'd read some books, learned some math and had a good web design class. No biggie.

But oh my gosh, the difference three miles can make! We actually live closer to the school that's not in our district. But they are a thousand miles apart. The campus of the school our middle son goes to is dirty. The classes don't assume you can afford a calculator much less a programable TI four million or whatever it's called. There is no demand to go out and buy exactly the right composition book (which I searched ALL OVER the city for, and finally found for about $20 for the oldest). There is an assumption that things at home may not be rosy, which I fully support, I think it's good. But the books coming home are books that any library would deem "unlendable". The text books are ancient, and I'm not talking dead sea scrolls ancient. The halls are, frankly, kind of scary and any student bringing a bandana to school is immediately expelled.

We are not in freakin' Kansas any more, Toto.

Why is this OK? Why is it acceptable for a rich district to have clean, neat schools with new textbooks and a nice performing arts center while three miles away a poor district has a performing arts center that was last new before every current parent of students was born and every book is at least a decade old? How is this right? How is this just?

Now I'm not so worried about my kid. He has almost enough credits to be a Junior this year, although they were kind enough to let him be "called" a freshman and be with his age peers. And we seem to have done some good service to the karma fairy because we've gotten an absolute saint of a counselor who thought to tell Peter that the Cross Country team goes to state every year and is coached by the honors history teacher. Bless you Ms. Lumsden; he LOVES the Cross Country team.

But what about the kids who don't have 12 credits already? What about the kids who didn't read Moby Dick last year with the best english and history teacher who ever walked the earth. What about the kids who didn't learn math and science from a woman who will most cerainly come to their grad party as well as their wedding and who has known (and, shhhh....ADORED) them from third grade til now. What about those kids? How does it feel to go to a school with a couryard filled with leaves and trash from the last fifteen years? Where everyone has kind of given up?

Don't even talk to me about the fact that the country club and golf course and entire golf community is very nearly across the street from this school, but that the attendace area for the "good" school swerves violently to include them.

How is this fair? How is this just? What is wrong with this system?

It is not fair, it is not just and nearly everything is wrong with our system of funding schools.

Raw Homeschooling

When my kids were in third grade, first grade and preschool we had our first year of real homeschooling. In the years before that we'd always said that we were a "homeschooling family who used public school as an enrichment option". It was a cop out, but it worked for us. Our kids did just fine in school. We had some wonderful teachers, wonderful gifted programming, some wonderful staff and families. But it just got to a point where our oldest was rushing through his work so he could finish a mystery that he read between assignments. He read about three a week. I volunteered in the classroom, but what I did was work with other peoples' kids in the hall.

That was crazy. I was eager to have them all home, they were willing to come home and most of our best friends were already homeschooling. What were we waiting for?

We scheduled a "Not Back to School" trip; a tour of the Olympic Penninsula. That set the tone for the year. Other than some math game books we did no formal learning. But we read constantly, and we traveled. We spent time in the wilderness and we listened to Public Radio (good Liberals and Unitarians that we are). We spent time with our friends.

When you "raw" homeschool--no co-op, no homeschool school, no shared teaching, you really need to have friends. I would have run screaming into the snow if I hadn't known that once, twice or on a really good week three times a week; I'd get to see friends.

One homeschool family we spent a ton of time with is my bff. We went to school together, we lived together in college, we went to the same party and said "we're having a baby!". She was at two of three births of my kids. My youngest has a middle name in honor of her. We loved to spend time together. But we lived pretty far apart. In the snow and the heat and with little ones, that was sometimes hard.

I was involved with La Leche League as a young mom, and there I found a different kind of connection than I usually found at church where many moms worked full time, or with the neighborhood moms where there was sometimes a swat on the behind or a (horrors) regular popsicle. One very long winter another mom and I formed a play group that met, I think, on Wednesdays.

All winter and into the spring it pretty much went from her house to my house to her house to my house to her house. Our oldest kids were six months apart--about three at that time I guess, our youngest kids were about one. We each had only two kids. She was a quiet person, reserved. And she was also deeply involved in her church. But it was a very different church. They were Baptists and we were Unitarian Universalists. You can hardly get any farther apart theologically. Well, in theory you can hardly get any farther apart. As with so many things; the common groud was much, much wider than any little slip of difference.

We spent hours and hours together. Moms talked, kids played. We became friends. Real friends. And I was so grateful to have found this family. They believed almost everything that we did. Our one sticking point was probably Jesus. Well, that and football teams since she was from Wisconsin with their crazy cheesehead Green Bay Packers. But I had enough of a personal relationship with the spirit of Jesus and they had enough of an accepting view of all God's creatures--even us, that we became good family friends. I had another baby. We moved much closer to them, they had another baby. Our kids grew, the dads finished rooms and fixed cars. We celebrated holidays together, we gardened together, decorated together. And we homeschooled together.

Yesterday, I read this from a lovely homeschool family at Grassroots Homeschool. I could just SEE the time that our friend's oldest was at our house making cookies, completely convinced that I was crazy for not putting enough butter and liquid in the frosting recipe. Of course, it turned out perfectly and I think I still have street cred from that one event to this day.

I don't have a ton of memories about teaching the kids math, although clearly Mr Math tutor at the community college at age 16 proves we did something right that I simply don't remember. I don't remember any reading lessons. But I remember many, many days of hanging out with friends; kids involved in science or history. Being together. Learning together.

I miss those days of "raw" homeschooling. I miss weeks of tearing through everything we could find about the Oregon Trail, about Ancient Egypt, about whatever took their interest. I miss quiet days, and long, long read-alouds. I miss playing. I miss our friends.

Now, the kids from all those families are starting college or finishing high school--or actually, they all did both in the same year with early start college programs. They're dating and driving and becoming fine young men and women. We're standing on the porch, waving as they go. Happy and sad. Grateful for good friends, good days and how lucky we are to be right here.

Three Good Things

One:

The youngest son's play was a smashing success last night. The middle schoolers chose the play, cast the play, did costumes and sets and worked like crazy. And last night they shimmered in the spot lights! People guffawed! People clapped not out of politeness but because it was really good! And our child? Yep, the bumbling Prince Charmeless, thief.


Two:

Middle Son won Tae Kwon Do tournament number three--in a row. He has been worried that the people he's been training with are bigger and have longer reach than he does. But speed and sheer force of determined will won out. He's limping around today from some tough hits, but he has a nice big trophy and bragging rights for a while longer.


Three:

We get to go meet this little dog today to see if she'll be a good fit with our family. Oh please oh please oh please oh please. Her name? Noodles. Oh, please!

Three Good Things

Drama Trauma

My little homeschool school has two drama programs for the first time. We've had improv classes before and musical theater class. We've had little plays with the cd that has all the parts and the kids would listen to over and over and over and over again until everyone in the family room knew all of the songs. All of them.

This year we have a musical theater production of Seussical Jr. This is twice as long as anything we've ever done. We had try outs and a team of people who cast it in the fall. We've built amazing sets and set pieces drawing on the talents of our graphic artists and engineers. Our costumes look to be done by professional designers. And our advanced drama class is doing a production that is all dialogue and it's an hour and half long, it has beautiful sets painted by one of the actors, lovely costumes and a dedicated team of sound designers.

My youngest is in both plays. My oldest son is the assistant director for Seussical, and though he denies it my middle son is the assistant director for the Sleeping Beauty and the Beast performance and he does stage crew for Seussical.
(Horton and Gertrude....you should see these two play "sniper" against each other with nerf dartguns......not so much this affectionate)


There's been DRAMA around our drama. We need microphones. Some of our kids are little, with little voices and the places we preform are big. Even though we're all in the same school district, we can't use their wireless mics. We might damage them and they are super expensive. So we've been fundraising all year. Soup lunch after bulb sale after coupon book after bake sale. Super expensive. When you put children and money and opportuntities together you get near people's senstive spots, near their hearts. Tempers have flared. Meetings have been less than pleasant. It's a he said-she said-I heard-who said mess.

But here's the thing; we must not be too dysfunctional. There was a big talent show marathon day with an outing afterward, and hey.....we all got along. Yesterday was a four hour practice for one show followed by a three hour practice for the other. We just compared anxiety dreams and ran for coffee. No trauma, and (snort) no drama!

I think this is what living in community is. We all care, we feel strongly and sometimes speak strongly. And then we move on. I guess this is healthy, loving community. Good stuff for our kids to see.



(JoJo and the Cat, who will be at a birthday party later today with Horton and Gertrude......we are lucky, and check it out--of these four leads, three are mixed race. We really love our school!)

Lilacs in Bloom

Today began sunny and lovely and by the evening we were making a cozy fire and brewing cups of hot tea.

But while the sun was still pushing through the clouds I was outside with our little friend who is very nearly two now. Peter was with me and we were just gladly following the little one around. She's so sweet and grown up now. I can hardly believe how big she's getting. We found some pretty flowers blooming near the front door of our school. I lifted her up and we picked a branch. We smelled them, " 'mell 'em?" "mama, 'or mama" so we picked another branch for mama. And as we turned she held them out to Peter. Peter made his "cute baby" face and leaned forward to smell them.

Peter's face went completely blank. He looked at me and I could see what he was seeing. Until he was almost 5 and we moved Peter spent hours climbing our huge lilac bush, way up into the tops of the branches. Through his expression, I could see the leaves in the breeze that he would see from the old lilac tree. I could hear the neighborhood kids calling and laughing. And I could smell the lilacs.

Funny how a scent can take you right back and put you in the body you had when you knew that smell.

I miss my four-year-old Peter. He misses his lilac tree.

Funky Alternative Life

I went to the zoo yesterday. I had been so touched that my 12 and 14-year-old kids wanted to go to the zoo with me on a group field trip with our homeschool-school. That is until one of the 8th graders pointed out that they'd be missing classes at school! Hunh. I'm a little slow, sometimes.

But it wasn't really only about missing classes. It was about being outside, and spending a day with friends. And checking in with the animals.

I spent the day walking the longest "thank you" prayer I've ever known. Our school is a K-12 parent partnership program with about 100 kids total enrollment. We're homeschoolers. We have no idea how to walk in a line, we walk in small clumps heads bowed together to chat, or giggle wildly or push and shove, depending on our stage in life. Many of us have known each other for years and years. We trust each other, we lean on each other. The kids know that even though that little five-year-old isn't their brother, he's a friend's brother and he might need a boost to really see the hippos. The boys and girls talk and laugh together. The older kids hold doors for the younger kids and no toddler ever tires a mom's arms becuse there are a dozen middle school boys and girls who are happy to carry her, too.

Lunches are shared. Water is shared. Hand sanitizer is shared. Someone starts talking like Jack Sparrow and soon the whole crew of kids have cheezy english accents.

Yesterday was the last day school groups could buy the group tickets for the zoo. There were dozens and dozens of busses lined up outside the zoo. And for me it was a stark contrast. I watched our kids and I watched those groups. Our adults had the same orange "Chaperone" stickers and our kids had the same drive to see everything. We had a bigger age range of course, from our newest little brother who is probably about six-weeks-old to a group of eigth graders who will be 15 in the fall. But the difference in the groups was stark. Yes, our moms and dads were frustrated with the kids who climbed up on the rocks again after being told to please get down, it wasn't safe. And yes our kids sometimes ordered each other around. But the redirection was gentle, our patience supported by the group of parents we happened to be walking with just then. We were there with our community.

I've always felt lucky to have been able to homeschool. But frankly, it's been a commitment that I take seriously enough to make it work. I want my kids to have just this. And if it meant I had to work full time swing shift, well then I did. If it means working 20 hours a week and taking no vacations and driving 12-year-old cars, that's fine. It's so worth it to have days like our day at the zoo.

The icing on the cake happened in the primate area. I was hanging back, watching six kids watch the animals and I noticed--no white kids. All our kids were mixed race. I was with two good women friends who are both white, but our kids were white and Asian and black and native because we're all in mixed marriages. I smiled.

I am happy to live this funky alternative life with it's funky alternative church and our funky alternative school and our funky alternative days. I'm still smiling.

Seventeen Candles

A ghost. I think there's a ghost in my house. Or maybe it's the lack of a ghost. For the last few days when my whole little nuclear family is together it feels like something is missing. Like some person is missing.

My oldest son turned seventeen yesterday. He's a young man, has been for a while now. He's over six feet tall, going to the community college instead of high school. He flies across the country to do good work for a fantastic denomination that empowers youth to do good stuff. He's been on the verge of young adulthood for a while now.

Turning seventeen lets you go to R rated movies. That and you can, well...um. Yeah, that's about it. Movies. But it's a whole lot closer to eighteen than sixteen was.

One of the great things about our work, homeschool and school schedule this year is our little calm spots. We have a few eddies built into the rush of life. Mondays happen to be one of them. Yesterday we all met up for a burger-fest lunch right in the middle of the day to celebrate the birthday.

As my husband and I walked to the car I looked at our three boys and the scene took on a cinema-zoomed out view. The boys were walking, shoulders together, heads close in animated conversation plotting some overthrow of the banking system or their next song for the band or their next hair color. And zoomed out I could see the men they are growing to be. I could see the strong, confident, handsome men peeking out. Climbing out, really. Emerging through the broad shoulders, good hair and long strides. It made me stop cold in my tracks. Tears came to my eyes. Men, they'll be men, grown men.

So today when we were back to normal family life flow making burritos for dinner all at once I felt it again. "It feels like someone is missing."

My middle son said "maybe you're missing the younger Michael"

Maybe that's it. Maybe I'm missing my little boy. Zap, what a hole. As the young man emerges the young boy disappears.

Like so much of raising children, the hard things are lifted and soar with the wonderful things. It's all good. Grown men are what little boys become. It's wonderful, beautiful.

And it leaves a little boy sized hole straight in my heart.

You believe in WHAT?

One of my dearest friends just heard this:

"Oh my gosh, I think my teacher might believe in the big bang!".

Nope, it wasn't her son. It was the new neighbor's 10-year-old daughter. They're trying to be friends, the moms are, but this could really be a deal breaker.


"Oh no! Honey, your teacher believes in the big bang? What are we going to do?"

Of course it was my friend's son who had brought up the Large Holdron Collider to his class and that is what started all the commotion. And it brought on the minivan theology conversation.

So what to do? Do you out yourself as a religious liberal to someone who will find that an unforgivable sin?

Do you tell a friend, an acquaintance really, that you too believe in the big bang, even if you do call it "the great radiance"? Do you say;

"Hey, yeah, me? Um....I'm one of those liberals".

For me it's usually the "Prayerfully Pro-Choice" bumper sticker on my guitar case. Or the multi-faith symbols on my car that give me away. The chalice I wear just makes them squint a little, you know, with their head tilted to the side and lips pursed.

I am deeply immersed in the homeschooling community. There are a lot of very conservative folks here. And it's kind of funny to track the emergence of our friendships. Sometimes I can almost hear their conversations behind my back "how can she be so nice and be you know, one of those heathens?"

Well, from my side, too, I find myself surprised when a person who "believes" much differently than I is so intelligent, and accepting, and kind. Ouch, you mean, I have preconceived and often incorrect assumptions, too?

So, yes. Tell the minivan woman that you don't see things her way. Tell her with humor and pride in your theology. Tell her and be open to finding good ways to learn more about her faith and let her learn more about yours.

And you know, maybe this is how we'll move forward here in our deeply divided nation. Talking, laughing, sharing our stories in our minivans over the heads of our kids.

Eyes to the Sky

School starts today, well classes started yesterday and the youngest had musical theatere class, and his brothers tagged along in the hope that we really do get to do Seussical Jr and they can rock some sets and props. But the big academic classes that run Tuesday and Thursday start today.

I love our school. It's like coming home after a long vacation. All the kids grew two feet and the babies started walking. And the moms and dads all look like a cool lake on a hot day...so good, refreshing and just what I need.

And a new family member joined us! A colleague, the youth programs coordinator for one of the really big churches in town is at our school with his kids. Oh, how nice to talk shop with someone I really like to hang out with.

But the best part of the day was the science unit we did in the morning. I decided we'd look at habitats and get to cells and little stuff going from the big to the small, so we went to the South King County Arboretum. OK, really it was just an excuse to get out and enjoy the holy high church of a September day in Western Washington.

The lake was still, the pines whispered, we ate bagels and Jarlsburg cheese and little fresh apples. The plants were amazing. And being together was, too.

For a week full of meetings every night, single parenting while the dad travels, the launch of classes, two teacher spots still to fill; I'm centered, feet fully on the ground and eyes to the sky. It's good.

Not Back to School

Happy Not Back To School Day!

It feels like our first unschooling in years! I am full of warm happy memories of the year we first stepped back from public school and just took a year away. That year instead of going back to school we took a family trip. A lovely trip around the Olympic Peninsula to the Strait of Juan de Fuca, to the Hoh Rainforest and to Ocean Shores, the kitchiest of little coast towns.

This weekend we went back to Ocean Shores to fly kites and drive mopeds on the beach (I know, but the men in the family were just so happy!).



And today we drove past little gatherings of girls in ponytails and pink capris, boys in spiked hair and wheeley shoes all waiting with moms and dads and grandmas for the bus. And we drove on by with our day. Drop the car off for work, stop by our "homeschool" school to move tables and set up chairs for orientation, home for left over tacos for lunch, a run to the community college to buy the oldest a parking permit, pick up the car, come home. Work, read, cook.

The days will come soon when classes will start, and homework is in full swing. But the oldest is back out of regular high school with its six hours of classes a day and into community college for the end of high school, and the youngest is old enough to be in middle school classes at the HOME school, which means we have Monday and Friday off from class. We can go to museums and the beach and the science center and we can be together. Maybe they won't want to be with me now that they're so old. Or maybe it will be like today when the oldest drove during errands, and I did equivalent fractions with the youngest in the back seat, and it was so good.

It's almost like just raw homeschooling again.

And it makes me feel so full.