Poor, poor monkey.

Poor monkey. It’s like Pierce knows I made it. And when I make him mad and put him down for a nap when he doesn’t want one…

poor, poor monkey. Momma made Pierce mad. Again.

Pictures: what our homeschool looks like.

Every homeschool blog I look at looks idyllic. Orderly, labeled, color-coded shelves of perfectly graded schoolbooks, desks free of pencil marks (and dust), and charts on the walls to tell each perfectly groomed student which minute of which hour they should be doing their 3rd grade Geometry.

Oh, to be so organized. But I’m not. So, without further ado about what I don’t have, a look at a day in the life of our homeschool:

Sometimes, they sit where they are supposed to: at the little table, in front of our less-than-organized children’s reading bookshelf. (Do I get points that the kids’ books have their own shelf, and 95% of them are on the shelf or on top of the book on the shelf? Please?)

Or they work in the middle of the room, on their laps. Because that’s super comfy. (?!)

Younger siblings sit and soak up the instruction as well. The way I figure, they’ll know half of what they need to know before the age of five at this rate.

The floor is a popular place to be.

But it has it’s risks.

And in the end, it usually works something like this.

I attempt to keep children on task and distractions to a minimum. But it doesn’t always usually work.

Our school shelf screams for someone, anyone, to do something. It started out the year organized, and each child’s books were together, youngest to oldest, left to right. Now, they are all on the shelf, and when room runs out, they are on the books on the shelf. It’s success so long as it’s on the shelf, I’m afraid. As long as the encyclopedia set is in alphabetical order, I tell myself there’s hope.

When a dear child fails to maintain their proper schedule on time, penance must be paid. It’s rough.

But they are learning. And one day, when they are older, they will thank me for their ability to concentrate despite extreme circumstances.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

**Just for the record, Pierce was napping during our photo session this school day. If he hadn’t been, the camera shake would have been considerable and the learning level greatly diminished.

Crookeder.

You know you live in a crooked house when you play Jenga on the coffee table and Ruby, not quite understanding the laws of gravity and physics and whatever it is that requires balance for stability, does this:

and it stands. And stands. And it takes five more turns before it’s Ruby’s turn again and

she’s the one who knocks it over.

What joy.

Life can be crazy sometimes. In many worlds, this life of mine can be considered crazy all the time. If there isn’t someone leaning on me, pestering me, waiting for me, or whining at me, it must be midnight. If someone isn’t hungry, tired, or desperately needing to use the bathroom while we’re 5,000 steps from the closest bathroom, it’s a large miracle.

And yet.

I get hundreds of kisses a day. I tried to count one normal day. I gave up and lost count.

I get to see the light in my son’s eyes when he reads “churning” for the first time.

One little girl told me today that I must think her family is lucky, because they only have three kids.

I don’t.

This craziness, the moments when I am at my limit and supper’s late and babies are crying and the floor just got a cup of cooked rice spilled, I’m still glad this is my life.

There are six little people who call me ‘Momma’. God’s given me them to teach, train, to show them my sin and His grace, and to tell them they can have it too.

It’s a privilege. I’m glad He’s called me to this purpose, these children, this life. What joy.

Lamb feeding photos.

 

I’m not sure words are needed here. They had fun. The got to experience lots of things. It was really, really cold. Really cold. The difference in temperature between there last week at this time and the temp today here is 90 degrees. It’s pretty incredible.

Borax.

Edited to add: Boy, the qualities of Borax must be under appreciated! I drew numbers and Laura, Lanita, and Sharilyn, your entries were randomly picked for the coupons. Congrats!

Borax and I have been good friends for a long time. I originally bought it to make my own detergent, and since then I’ve found it to be helpful in adding to the wash when clothes are especially dirty, and I even tried using it to clean my bathtub. (That one wasn’t my favorite use. But it was worth a shot.) With hard well water here, it’s been a clothes-saver.

Borax is a natural mineral from the earth. It’s the common name for sodium tetraborate. (If I can remember that long term my husband would be impressed. I’m not counting on it though.) Nothing is added to it; it’s just cleaned, dried, and boxed. It naturally softens hard water by attaching to some of the compounds and settling to the bottom of the machine – and then draining out. All that to say, I didn’t know all of this. But 20 Mule Team Borax sent me a box to try out (it’s identical to the box that I already was using…) and they also sent me three coupons to give away to my readers to try.

Want one? Leave a comment here, like this post on Facebook, and comment on my facebook page to win three chances. Three winners will be drawn at random on Thursday at noon CT.

One of those mysteries...

The kids got to see a lamb born. As far as I could see, one potentially awkward future conversation just got a whole lot easier.

I thought. The question about how the lambs came to be was next. I mentioned rams. They said Grandpa didn't have any rams out there. I assured them he must have had some sometime in the very near past. The notion of ewes simply birthing yearly without ram assistance was mentioned. The rams that recently went to market were mentioned. Mystery solved.

And so the awkward conversation came full circle. I believe I threw something in there about our goats, both male and female, and understanding dawned.

I am so not ready for this.