Monthly Archives: September 2011

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What a day!

Most days I’m pleased with our decision to home school. Then there are days like today, when I can see why there wasn’t really another option for us. Every single thing today just lined up with what we’re working on, what we’re going to be working on- it was magic.

First we went to open gym at the place that the girls take dance and gymnastics.

Tiny wasn’t really grumpy the whole time, but this picture cracked me up.

She got to try out the equipment (since she takes dance and Z takes gym, she hasn’t had a chance to try it out yet.)

 

Z got to practice being upside down.

And she tried out the beam for the first time. She even hopped on it! (Well, on the lower one. But still!)

Tiny stuck with the lower beam.

Then we had the amazing opportunity to meet Kerri Strug, 1996 gold medal olympian. Her story is so inspiring, it totally made me cry as I was trying to explain to Zo what she had done during her vault. (If you don’t know, watch this.) Z’s been struggling recently with feeling that if she makes a mistake that she’s not good at that thing- and to see Kerri fall and then get back up and win the gold was a big eye opener to her. More immediately, Z’s been frustrated that she’s not instantly good at cartwheels, and she got the chance to ask Kerri how long it took her to learn how to do them. I think Kerri’s answer of a year was a bit of a surprise to Miss Z, and she’s feeling better now about it taking her more than one try.

Tiny thought she was nice too.

Then we went to the Children’s Discovery Museum, where everything was about mammoths and paleontology and cave drawings- everything we’ll be talking about in history over the next couple of weeks. Serious jackpot.

I love Tiny’s weird spider straddle a she tries to get to some bones.

Zoe’s cave drawing, using charcoal and clay.

It’s a squirrel.

And here’s one more feisty face, just to round out the post.

Overall it was just such a lovely day, so full of fun and honest to goodness educational experiences. Made me feel like I’m doing something right.

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The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

My dear friend Brandy has been suggesting this book to me for years now, and while I’ve even suggested it to others, I hadn’t picked it up. It’s not that I don’t trust Brandy’s taste in books, but more that I know her taste, and while it is spectacular and discerning, it also more open to sadness and grief than mine usually is. But when she brought this book up to me again recently, I decided that it was time to take the plunge.

I should mention that I’m surprisingly superstitious. When I was younger I read Piers Anthony’s Incarnations of Immortality series, and at the back of each there was an author’s note where he discussed the process of writing the book. A reoccurring theme of these essays was that whatever topic he was writing on (time, death, war, birth) seemed to manifest itself more during the writing of the book, almost as if he were drawing it to himself by writing.  This has stuck with me like you wouldn’t believe.  Not only do I shy away from writing about certain subjects for fear of invoking them (I have a great “child vanishing” story in my head that will never be written), but I find that I avoid reading about them too.

So reading this book was extraordinarily uncomfortable. It’s Didion’s memoir of the year after her husband’s sudden death, during which time she was not only trying to come to terms with his death, her loss, her grief, her memories, but also the  life threatening illness of her daughter. (I found out today that her daughter died after she published the book, which is just gutting.)  Her writing is so honest, so raw, that it cuts through any mental barriers you may have up and gets straight to your heart.

I have a hard time with grief, specifically other people’s. I don’t know what to do with it. As I heard it put, I tend to go straight for the “comfort those who stand in need of comfort ” instead of “mourn with those who mourn”. (They weren’t saying that about me, but about the concept- you know what I mean.)  People who are grieving don’t always need comforting, but them feeling better would make me feel better, so that’s what I’ve tended to go with, and I fear that in the past that’s been harmful.

One of the reasons I don’t know what to do with others grief is because I’m scared of it. I don’t want to go there, don’t want to admit those things that Didion manages to sneak right past those barriers: we are not in control, bad news comes to everyone, tragedy strikes on ordinary days. (It seems fitting that I’m writing this on 9/11.)

So what do we do with that knowledge? Obsessively check on our kids in their sleep to make sure they’re still breathing? Push it to the back of our minds and move on, blissfully unaware? Something in the middle? That’s a question I’m still grappling with, but I’m grateful that this book got me thinking about it.

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At this moment

It’s 7:09 am.

There is a bird twittering outside my window. 3 notes, middle, up, middle, down, over and over. I can see blue sky behind clouds out the window, and I’m guessing he’s happy about that.

I’m the only one awake, though I’m predicting that Z will be up any minute. I was up late last night, (I LOVE getting together with amazing groups of women, don’t you?) but I still tumbled myself out of bed at 6:42 so I could shower and be dressed when Z gets up. I’d like to get back in the pattern of getting up at 6 so that I can workout and shower before she’s up, but my body hasn’t been waking me up at 6, and that’s my alarm clock.  But regardless of the workout, I’ve noticed that there is a marked difference in our day if I’m up and moving before the girls. It gives me time to get some things done, but more than that, it seems to give Z … something. Not sure what, but her whole attitude is better if she finds me up and doing things when she gets up.

We’re heading to Santa Cruz today. There should be no babies to make us turn around this time, and we’re off to meet with our Educational Specialist from the charter school we’re working with. There’s the added perk that she’s one of my most beloved college roommates, so that will be quite fun. And we’re going to see Papa Joe and hit the Natural History Museum, so all in all it should be a great day.

I have a pile of fabric triangles waiting to be sewn up into a banner on my craft table, and a littering of books spread around that want to be read. I must prevail and start on my book club book, (The Scarlet Pimpernel, it should be good!), but I keep getting waylaid by Shakespeare. He’s just like candy to me. Over the last couple of days I’ve read The Tempest (which I’ve never read before and was completely surprised by, I’ve always been under the assumption that it was a tragedy, and it’s not) and Two Gentlemen of Verona (which I’ve read before and highly enjoy, even if one of the characters makes me stabby, but that’s kind of his job). I’ve wanted to see the new Helen Mirren version of The Tempest, so now I can. But first I must read The Scarlet Pimpernel.

I think I’m going to go get some sewing done before the day starts, and hopefully I’ll have an Eiffel Tower of Paris banner to show for it soon.

But,  just because I feel like this post should have a picture in it, Tiny would like you to know that the thing that you are looking for, your very heart’s desire, is over there.


What are you doing at this moment?

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Going to the forest

Yesterday we took a little trip to my favorite place on this green Earth. It’s the forest my family has been camping in annually for 30 years, and it’s one of the most beautiful places I know. We got to see friends who have known me since I was a wee one, and some I’ve known since they were babies, there now with babies of their own. The girls loved it and didn’t want to leave, and neither did I.

These pictures were all taken by B, who has a much better eye for composition than I do.

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Some more pictures

It’s been kind of a busy week.

Tiny started dance class with two of her besties. I had no idea that three three year olds with tap shoes and sticks could make the noise equivalent of 75 kids. It was amazing.

Z started gymnastics with two of her besties. (Only one is in the picture, I don’t know that other little girl. But I’m sure she’s very nice.) She had a great time until she fell and bit her lip, but we got her cleaned up and back out again and then she liked it again.

The girls are collecting acorns. This was Z’s science journal page where she drew the acorns she found. And she just did it by herself today (Saturday), so it wasn’t even for school. But we’ll go ahead and use it for school.

I’m starting a new project to fancy up the girls’ room. They’ve become passionate about “The Eiffel Tower of Paris” . (in our house it’s always referred to that way, as though there were more than one in other places around the world. I think we have Little Einsteins to thank for that.) So I’m making them a banner out of the top two fabrics, then beanbag poof kinds of things out of the 4 bottom fabrics- the pink for Tiny and the blue for Z.

I also picked up all this awesome fabric at a sale and now have to decide what to do with it.

I found all of these satin strips in rainbow colors, and knew that they were destined to be used in our preschool. But how? Any ideas?

That’s all the pictures I have. I’d put a picture of Macbeth, since I read it, but that would be boring, and I don’t have one. But it was good- I somehow got through taking 3 (4?) Shakespeare classes in college and never being assigned to read it, so I figured it was high time. I’d like to see it performed, it’s definitely a meaty one for the actors. Very sad though. I love those stories that make you think about destiny and agency- would Macbeth have done what he did if he hadn’t been nudged along by the witches? Maybe?

Anyway, Tiny wants a glass of milk and it’s time to think about dinner. I think we’re going to have turkey, bacon, avocado wraps. That sounds good to me.