Thursday, July 10, 2014


We--the kiddos and I--just finished a three day parent practicum.  Which is just three days of training in how to homeschool with Classical Conversations.  With specific training as an essentials tutor in how to tutor on Community Day--Tuesdays for us.  The day I get to "play teacher" again and remember the old days. 

What does any of that mean?  It means that we are tired.  Down deep in our bones tired.  Want to crawl in the bed and pull the covers over my head and not come out until tomorrow morning tired.  But alas, there are children who do need things from me.  So, instead I will drink diet coke and coffee and get on with the day.  But I will get on with it, slowly, very slowly. 

I am an introvert.  I think?  It's confusing because I am drained of energy when I have been around people all day long for three days.  I mean, completely, empty of any social abilities, drained of energy.  But I also process out loud.  So...a combination? 

Let me just paint a picture really quickly of the past days--Ada, my happy-go-lucky, I love life, oldest daughter, practically ran into her daily classroom (geography drawing) with hardly a glance over her shoulder to say, "I'll see you at lunch."  This morning she said she wished that "day camp" was all summer long instead of just three days.  That was Ada.  John and Evie, however, were literally both attached to me at one point.  When I tried to drop John off in his classroom, he wrapped both his arms and his legs around my leg, meanwhile, I had a clinging Evie in my arms while I juggled a diaper bag, my tutor bag, and a packed full lunch box/cooler, plus a pointless umbrella stroller that only made Evie cry if I put her in it.  I was quite the spectacle.  We were quite the spectacle.  But, I was surrounded by homeschooling mamas, most with multiple children--many with more children than I have--and they were all quick to help me.  So, no one was judging me, everyone was full of grace and full of practical help!!!  And God was gracious because my son who hates crowded situations where he knows no one, also loves to play by himself in his own little world, so, for the most part, it all went as well as it could go, with John staying by my side all three days.  And Evie slept in my arms a few times, so we survived.  I am getting somewhere with this...

Yesterday morning, I found myself in the "mother's room," where two other moms and I had congregated to nurse our fussy babies and let our toddlers/preschoolers get some energy out away from the auditorium that echoed every sound.  So, of course, as women tend to do, we began to talk, and I found out that another mom in there had also been a high school English teacher before she became a homeschooling mom (to five!!  her oldest being severely handicapped--I wanted to sit and talk to her forever soaking up advice!).  So, we were chatting about English--how much we love British literature, poetry, etc. etc., as she nursed her baby and I nursed mine, and she said, "do you write?"  And I laughed and said, "I used to.  Before."  And we both laughed and the third mom laughed and we made the familiar jokes about, "back when we had time and all of these ideals about what life would look like."  But in the midst of the conversation and the jokes, we also talked about the beauty in this--in our children, our nursing babies and birth and getting to homeschool our children.  We said there is beauty, even in, especially in, the mess.  We talked about why we keep having babies--because it's so hard but it is so beautiful.  And, mostly, we talked about God's grace.  How he gives us the grace.  And I realized that I hate that I don't write anymore.  That here in the midst of what is my life and will be my life for a very long time--Lord willing--that I have separated the writer me from the mama me, and can't they be one in the same?  So, maybe I will try to write more.  Maybe?  Maybe I won't; you know how these things go.  But there is beauty here to record, and I want to write down the beauty.  Some people capture it in photographs and in painting and in a million little ways, and I would like to try to capture it in words.  Inadequate words, sure, but it is the process of writing that brings so much joy. 

So this is my attempt to write again.  And maybe next time someone asks, "do you write?"  I will simply say, "yes."

Last night, so tired, and she just wanted her mama.

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