If it's Monday, I'm wearing purple.

As we pass the halfway mark for summer I've been trying to work in all the special goodies I bought for our Monkey Summer. We're wearing our monkey shirts. Each child has a special color, and I bought matching shirts so that I can identify with each one in turn. They may not be the most fashionable attire, but they let my kids know I care.
The other new item I've added is the Best of the Monkee's CD to be our summer soundtrack. I couldn't resist the idea of popping open Madame Blueberry's doors and having all the kids deploy in full monkey regalia with "Hey, hey, we're the Monkees..." playing in the background. So far I've been unable to realize that dream, but I'm sure I'll get it all together one of these days. The thing I wasn't expecting was how much we'd all enjoy the other tracks on the disk. There are all the Monkee classics, but also almost forgotten songs like "Auntie Griselda" and "Goin Down." It's nice when a car full of people can agree on music.
The other fun gem we haven't gotten the max out of yet is the book Monkey. It's a Chinese classic that we've only made it through the first chapter of. Summer is a hard time to get the kids interested in sitting quietly to listen to a story. Our oldest has read it by herself 2 or 3 times, and she really enjoyed it. I'm hoping we can be more diligent and expand our understanding of another culture. Maybe I'll bribe them with ice cream.

I love the movies!

From the age of 5 to the age of 14 my family was prohibited from attending movies. My parents worked for a fairly conservative church and we couldn't do a number of things other families did. We missed Star Wars. We lived without all the Disney movies. We listened to other, more decadent people describe the films, and television premiers were huge. A network executive could clear the church out several minutes early by scheduling such blockbusters as Gone With the Wind and The Sound of Music.
When we found ourselves parting company with the church we'd poured our lives into for nine years, one of the few bright sides was that we could finally go to the movies. I remember the moment quite clearly. We chose a smaller theater in a neglected area of town and we watched The Great Mouse Detective. Dad loaded us up with popcorn, Jr. Mints and soda pop. It was a great day. Even now I walk into a movie theater feeling proud and excited. I am a storyteller and the movies are our great medium. Sometimes I think archaeologists from the future won't even begin to understand us if they can't somehow access our films.
The kids are setting most of the agenda for our movie watching this summer. Kung Fu Panda wasn't as funny as I expected Jack Black to be, but we enjoyed it. As American Girl fans the girls and I had to see Kit Kitteredge. We plan to see Wall E, but the family reviews have been mixed, so we haven't been in a rush. I saw Meet Dave, and was disappointed. Kurt and I really enjoyed Hancock. We all saw Prince Caspian the first Saturday it was out, and loved it. Sometime this summer we'll have to do the drive-in experience. There really isn't anything like it.

Shades of Grey

Growing up I belonged to the Fundamentalist crowd. Grey was a bad word. Life was clear, and easy. We all knew who the good guys were and who the bad guys were, and the decisions that life called on us to make were simple. Vote for the good guys. Ignore the bad guys. I gave up looking at life in that way two years ago, but only now am I beginning to understand the trade. I never realized how uncertainty would dog my thoughts, and how difficult those grey decisions would be. It never occurred to me that my whole family would be affected by those grey thoughts and choices. I was just reaching for the better way.
Perhaps I haven't found it yet. Perhaps my apprenticeship is only begun. Part of me wants to run home where faith is a consumer product, conveniently packaged and on sale. Part of me knows I just can't anymore. But what kind of faith am I giving my children? What have I taught them about God and living in a relationship with him? It feels like all I've taught them is that church is hard. Living in the body is painful. I want them to have the same transcendent confidence that sparkled through the beginning of my faith life, but then again I'm a better person and a better Christian since I accepted the difficulty of an adult faith.
Sometimes the greatest act of faith I can muster is the most simple, I keep breathing. I keep breathing in the hopes that somehow it will get better, or it will make sense, or something will come right again. Sometimes that breathing leads to little victories and life becomes easier. Sometimes I even find joy in just breathing. One more day with my husband. One more day with the kids. One more day of hoping and watching for God to show up. One more day of realizing that breathing is sign enough that God has shown up. One more difficult day of doing the best I can to do the right thing well, even in the shades of grey

Step 10

When I was a child my father usually gave me the option of confessing my sins to God or a spanking. It was a no-brainer even for a toddler. Dad made getting things right with God seem like a very good thing, and long after the deal was off the table I persisted in the habit of confessing my sins as soon as I realized I was sinning. I owe my Dad a lot for fostering that kind of joy maintaining a clear conscience.
Somewhere in those mildly random moments of childhood, I met a little Catholic girl and in awed tones she told me about confession. The very idea terrified her, and she was glad she had awhile before first communion. I thought the whole idea was awesome. An official place to say goodbye to mistakes and sins. What could be better than that? When I was younger, and certain I'd never be Catholic, I wondered if the priest would notice or care that I wasn't Catholic if I stepped into the confessional. There were numerous times when sins seemed so complicated I'd never make sense of what was right and what was wrong, when I longed for the comfort of someone else thinking it through with me.
The confessional lived up to my expectations and then some. I find that after I've made confession I have new strength to resist temptations and there is a freedom and moral clarity I can't imagine finding any other way. My heart can find its way to happiness again without the strain and stain of sin.
This story begins Here.

Chemistry

Next year's curriculum is giving me some grief. This is the first year that has me feeling apprehensive, and the main cause is chemistry. I was unable to make any sense of the discipline throughout my school years, and now I need to find a way to make it understandable for my kids. All the other subjects I not only feel good about teaching I'm actually excited about teaching. We'll be doing medieval history, writing, spelling, math. All of these things I'm confident that I know enough to do a good job. Chemistry, not so much.
The good news is, this is just a let's get acquainted year. Our oldest is still too young to take a real chemistry class, so I just need to wet the appetite and introduce the fundamentals. I've got the Teaching Company videos and a high school chemistry book I happened upon in the library's resale book room. These will get me started. I've found some interesting chemistry curriculum online, but I'm not sure it's what we're looking for.
Homeschooling is often just as educational for the parents as it is for the children.

Birthday Resolutions

This year my birthday was a fairly quiet occasion. I like that in a birthday. I had time to think about my life so far, and what I want it to be in the future. Various exercises and workbooks gave my thinking a structure, and what came out of the experience was a list of resolutions. Some are fairly mundane--eat right, exercise. Some are just fun--bubble baths and date night. Some are a stretch--learn calculus. Some are spiritual--spend 20 minutes a day in prayer, go to Mass once a week. Some of the most challenging are social--invite people over for dinner twice a month. I've also made the decision to take a picture of my family every day. I think that's the hardest one for me. Photos freeze the present and make it the past. It's my nature to want to be in the here and now. The present is where all the action is. I like to pay attention to who you are right now. Photos are a record of who we were, parts of ourself we just can't get back. I don't know why I made that particular resolution, but I trust the self that made it enough to haul out the camera and take a few snaps. I don't have to look at the pictures. They can just live on my hard drive.

Best Birthday Present Ever

For my birthday this year my mother-in-law gave me Merry Maids for a month. I cannot express the relief that one gift has given me. The children have just begun to pick up after themselves without prompting, and now the scrubbing is done for me. The maids come as a team and the two of them have the house spic and span in a little less than 2 hours.
What an amazingly helpful gift!

My Own Room

This is my little office. I don't do much writing here, but I do type up the long-hand manuscripts. Research and finding the best homeschooling curriculum happens here too. My dad put up the bead board, and I covered the cement block with old Mary Engelbreit calendars. The desk has been mine since I was ten. Manuscripts and rough drafts are filed in the filing cabinet under the printer. Further down the wall, dad put up a gigantic whiteboard and that is terrific for plotwork and poetry. This is my quiet little space to do my own work and to grow as an individual. The rest of my spaces are all about growing as a parent or a wife. This little desk is where I express just myself. Everyone ought to have a corner to dream in.