Peter's a big one.
Two months old and already weighing 13 pounds & 5 ounces.
(Helen weighed only 11 pounds when she was six months old.)
Monday, December 29, 2014
Friday, December 26, 2014
Christmas with a Colonel 2014
I was very lazy with the Christmas photos this year.
Here is all I can offer...
Brother Joseph with Baby Peter.
And my husband is now a Kentucky Colonel.
And he has the paperwork to prove it.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Peter's Baptism [one month later]
Peter Isaac was baptized on November 9th, 2014
at Saint James Catholic Church.
It was wonderful!
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
The Arrival of Peter Isaac
My actual due date with Peter was October 24th. I was really hoping to have him on the 27th, which would give all of our children a birthday on the 27th of their respected month.
As I walked around for a week 3 centimeters dilated, October 27th came and went without so much as a twinge.
Everyone was getting impatient, including me. Thankfully, my doctor is smart and won't schedule inductions until 42 weeks, which we were creeping up on. If I did not have this baby on my own, I would be induced on November 6th. I was induced with Helen only three days past my due date, and I swore I would never do that again. I tried every at-home-all-natural remedy. Finally, I tried the very last thing, which to me, was the scariest.
Enter castor oil.
I mixed a shot of it with a milkshake around lunchtime. By four o'clock, I still felt nothing; not even a stomachache. I was getting discouraged and losing hope. I had abandoned my plan of having a natural birth and started coming to terms with an inevitable induction and an epidural.
Around 4:30pm, Brian called me and I mentioned I thought I was having very slight and irregular cramps. I told him not to get excited; I assumed it was my imagination because I was so desperate to feel something. I finished balancing the checkbook and started making dinner (chicken & dumplings, in case you were wondering).
By 6:30pm I was having more regular cramping, but I wasn't convinced it was labor. I was worried if I didn't keep moving these minor pains would go away and we would be back to square one. So the family and I leashed up the dog and headed out for a long walk up and down the hills in our neighborhood.
As we were heading home, I told Brian maybe we better get the kids and the dog to their respected places in case something goes down during the night. I still wasn't convinced this was actual labor, but I didn't want to call the neighbors in middle of the night. I remember talking to my friend, Amanda on the phone (during all of this) and telling her I will feel like such a jerk if this is false labor, as Brian was loading up the dog to take to her house. I also remember telling her to not let Brian into her house; this was not the time for a beer with her husband.
About 8:15pm my friend, Emily came by to pick up the kids. By this time, I was circling the island in my kitchen. Again, I even told her I would feel like a jerk if this was false labor. Then I went into the other room. Brian whispered to her, "Emily, the contractions are coming every two minutes." She told Brian to get me to the hospital right away.
I, on the other hand, decided to take a shower. And dry my hair. Brian put a stop to me straightening my hair. He had the car loaded up and ready to go. Just to get him off my back, I slipped on my flip flops and headed to the van. I almost grabbed a book, because I figured we would be awake for hours.
As soon as I sat down in the van at 9pm, I knew things were getting serious. "Ok," I said, "things are getting serious. I'm getting the epidural." I assumed I was only a few centimeters dilated and there was no way I was dealing with this all night. Brian said he was going to speed to the hospital in hopes a cop would chase him (very funny, Brian). I looked over at the speedometer...he was going 25mph.
A few, seemingly long, minutes later, we pulled into the hospital parking lot. "Where should I park?" Brian asked me. "I don't give a f@$k," was my response. At this point, false labor was off the table.
We barreled through the emergency room doors. "I'm in labor," I said to the lady behind the counter. I saw everyone in the emergency room turn and look at me. It was like a scene from a movie. She started asking me all kinds of questions. "Brian, you need to answer these for her." The receptionist realized I wasn't kidding and called for a nurse and a wheelchair.
"How far apart are they?" Every Cosby Show episode I had ever watched flashed through my head. "Two to three minutes apart," Brian told the nurse. "Oh," he said in a very overly calm manner. I sat down in the wheelchair and the nurse quickly (and cautiously) wheeled me up to the labor and delivery wing; only stopping once to get grab some sort of backpack marked "Emergency Delivery Kit" for Brian to carry. I can only imagine what Brian was thinking at that point.
I stood during the elevator trip up to the fifth floor. When the doors opened, I shouted to the nurses, "I forgot to call ahead!" One nurse came from behind the desk to escort us down the hall to a triage room. "How far apart are they?" She asked. "Two minutes apart and about 30-45 seconds long," the male nurse told her. "Nevermind. Let's go in here," the other nurse said as she pointed to the first room we passed.
Now keep in mind, I was induced with Helen and had an epidural around six centimeters. At this point labor was much different, and I only assumed I was still in the early stages of labor and I would be monkeying around with this for hours. Oh what a naive thought....
As I was getting into my hospital gown and thinking of Jim Gaffigan's bit on births (because that's what I do in a crisis situation), I happened to look at the clock. It was 9:10pm.
People were asking me all sorts of questions as they got me settled into bed. Nurses were filing in with tables on wheels full of instruments. Brian was trying to hold my hand. I was 8 centimeters dilated. And that's when things got real.
I started begging anyone that looked at me for an epidural. There was a lot of screaming. Later, Brian said he felt like he was at an exorcism. At one point I was shouting in some midwife's face about how she wasn't doing her job and she needed to give me drugs immediately. Then a few seconds later I would apologize for my behavior. Then I would start screaming out demands again. It was very bipolar.
At 9:45pm (yes, a mere 35 minutes later), without so much as an IV and my doctor barely making it for the delivery, Baby Peter was born. Had Brian had that second beer when he dropped off the dog (because there was a first beer) or had I been able to straighten my hair, this baby would have been born in my periwinkle blue mini van.
I thought after having a completely natural birth, I would strut my stuff like I was Queen of the Universe. But actually, it was very humbling. I was at my worst and unable to control myself in front of a room full of strangers. And don't get me wrong, if I had the slightest window of opportunity, I would have happily accepted an epidural. I am certainly no hero. But the crazy thing is, I would do it all over again. And who knows? Maybe we will.
As I walked around for a week 3 centimeters dilated, October 27th came and went without so much as a twinge.
Everyone was getting impatient, including me. Thankfully, my doctor is smart and won't schedule inductions until 42 weeks, which we were creeping up on. If I did not have this baby on my own, I would be induced on November 6th. I was induced with Helen only three days past my due date, and I swore I would never do that again. I tried every at-home-all-natural remedy. Finally, I tried the very last thing, which to me, was the scariest.
Enter castor oil.
I mixed a shot of it with a milkshake around lunchtime. By four o'clock, I still felt nothing; not even a stomachache. I was getting discouraged and losing hope. I had abandoned my plan of having a natural birth and started coming to terms with an inevitable induction and an epidural.
Around 4:30pm, Brian called me and I mentioned I thought I was having very slight and irregular cramps. I told him not to get excited; I assumed it was my imagination because I was so desperate to feel something. I finished balancing the checkbook and started making dinner (chicken & dumplings, in case you were wondering).
By 6:30pm I was having more regular cramping, but I wasn't convinced it was labor. I was worried if I didn't keep moving these minor pains would go away and we would be back to square one. So the family and I leashed up the dog and headed out for a long walk up and down the hills in our neighborhood.
As we were heading home, I told Brian maybe we better get the kids and the dog to their respected places in case something goes down during the night. I still wasn't convinced this was actual labor, but I didn't want to call the neighbors in middle of the night. I remember talking to my friend, Amanda on the phone (during all of this) and telling her I will feel like such a jerk if this is false labor, as Brian was loading up the dog to take to her house. I also remember telling her to not let Brian into her house; this was not the time for a beer with her husband.
About 8:15pm my friend, Emily came by to pick up the kids. By this time, I was circling the island in my kitchen. Again, I even told her I would feel like a jerk if this was false labor. Then I went into the other room. Brian whispered to her, "Emily, the contractions are coming every two minutes." She told Brian to get me to the hospital right away.
I, on the other hand, decided to take a shower. And dry my hair. Brian put a stop to me straightening my hair. He had the car loaded up and ready to go. Just to get him off my back, I slipped on my flip flops and headed to the van. I almost grabbed a book, because I figured we would be awake for hours.
As soon as I sat down in the van at 9pm, I knew things were getting serious. "Ok," I said, "things are getting serious. I'm getting the epidural." I assumed I was only a few centimeters dilated and there was no way I was dealing with this all night. Brian said he was going to speed to the hospital in hopes a cop would chase him (very funny, Brian). I looked over at the speedometer...he was going 25mph.
A few, seemingly long, minutes later, we pulled into the hospital parking lot. "Where should I park?" Brian asked me. "I don't give a f@$k," was my response. At this point, false labor was off the table.
We barreled through the emergency room doors. "I'm in labor," I said to the lady behind the counter. I saw everyone in the emergency room turn and look at me. It was like a scene from a movie. She started asking me all kinds of questions. "Brian, you need to answer these for her." The receptionist realized I wasn't kidding and called for a nurse and a wheelchair.
"How far apart are they?" Every Cosby Show episode I had ever watched flashed through my head. "Two to three minutes apart," Brian told the nurse. "Oh," he said in a very overly calm manner. I sat down in the wheelchair and the nurse quickly (and cautiously) wheeled me up to the labor and delivery wing; only stopping once to get grab some sort of backpack marked "Emergency Delivery Kit" for Brian to carry. I can only imagine what Brian was thinking at that point.
I stood during the elevator trip up to the fifth floor. When the doors opened, I shouted to the nurses, "I forgot to call ahead!" One nurse came from behind the desk to escort us down the hall to a triage room. "How far apart are they?" She asked. "Two minutes apart and about 30-45 seconds long," the male nurse told her. "Nevermind. Let's go in here," the other nurse said as she pointed to the first room we passed.
Now keep in mind, I was induced with Helen and had an epidural around six centimeters. At this point labor was much different, and I only assumed I was still in the early stages of labor and I would be monkeying around with this for hours. Oh what a naive thought....
As I was getting into my hospital gown and thinking of Jim Gaffigan's bit on births (because that's what I do in a crisis situation), I happened to look at the clock. It was 9:10pm.
People were asking me all sorts of questions as they got me settled into bed. Nurses were filing in with tables on wheels full of instruments. Brian was trying to hold my hand. I was 8 centimeters dilated. And that's when things got real.
I started begging anyone that looked at me for an epidural. There was a lot of screaming. Later, Brian said he felt like he was at an exorcism. At one point I was shouting in some midwife's face about how she wasn't doing her job and she needed to give me drugs immediately. Then a few seconds later I would apologize for my behavior. Then I would start screaming out demands again. It was very bipolar.
At 9:45pm (yes, a mere 35 minutes later), without so much as an IV and my doctor barely making it for the delivery, Baby Peter was born. Had Brian had that second beer when he dropped off the dog (because there was a first beer) or had I been able to straighten my hair, this baby would have been born in my periwinkle blue mini van.
I thought after having a completely natural birth, I would strut my stuff like I was Queen of the Universe. But actually, it was very humbling. I was at my worst and unable to control myself in front of a room full of strangers. And don't get me wrong, if I had the slightest window of opportunity, I would have happily accepted an epidural. I am certainly no hero. But the crazy thing is, I would do it all over again. And who knows? Maybe we will.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
One Month!
We made it!
One month down; only 215 more months to go.
Baby Peter has become an expert at eating, sleeping, and pooping.
His favorite activity is staring at the ceiling fan or at the refrigerator.
But the best thing is this:
His brother & sister love him very much.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Sunday Evening
In this house, there are more children than adults.
I never thought the day would come.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
God is Good
Baby Peter Isaac has been home for three weeks. I barely remember life without him!
The last three weeks have been crazy!
I have a blog post about Peter's birth, which is a great story. Stay tuned for that.
I also have pictures from Peter's baptism, which was a blast. Stay tuned for that, too.
But, the scariest thing happened earlier this week. My youngest son, who was only 18 days old, spiked an incredibly high fever early Sunday morning. Normally, I don't make an issue over fevers, but little Pete was just that...little. So, on the advise of a good friend and medical professional, I took Peter to the Urgent Care. I really thought I would be home in an hour with antibiotics.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
I should have known something was up when I got right into the Urgent Care and the admitting nurse was looking at me with pitiful eyes.
Apparently, a fever in a newborn isn't something to take lightly. Peter was rushed into the emergency room with a crowd of nurses and doctors. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was like a scene from ER. I had ten different people telling me ten different things and asking me ten different questions. I am no good in a crisis situation. It took everything I had to stay calm.
After an hour in a half, I was able to call my husband and do my best to explain what was going on. I told him about the IV that was in Peter's foot, and originally the doctor wanted to put it in his head but was merciful because of the look of terror on my face. I tried to explain how the nurses wanted to inset a catheter, but thankfully used a bag instead. I had to tell him about the vials of blood that was taken from our newborn, and how the radiologist had to do an x-ray on baby Peter. But the worst thing I had to say was:
Brian, they're wanting to do a spinal tap to rule out meningitis. Then he will be admitted to the hospital. I need you here. I can't do this.
We stayed in the hospital two long nights waiting for test results. It was the most awful experience. I held my baby almost the entire time and begged God to help us get through this. I vowed I would never take my family for granted; I would never lose sight of my vocation. I also promised to myself to never let the cries of a newborn bother me, because I heard crying in the ER that will never amount to any crying I can't easily sooth at home.
God heard our prayers, along with those of our friends and family (including Mass offered for Peter by our Bishop)! We are home! It was ruled Peter had an undetermined viral infection, and should shake off the remaining infection with a little help from Tylenol and plenty of rest.
The last three weeks have been crazy!
I have a blog post about Peter's birth, which is a great story. Stay tuned for that.
I also have pictures from Peter's baptism, which was a blast. Stay tuned for that, too.
But, the scariest thing happened earlier this week. My youngest son, who was only 18 days old, spiked an incredibly high fever early Sunday morning. Normally, I don't make an issue over fevers, but little Pete was just that...little. So, on the advise of a good friend and medical professional, I took Peter to the Urgent Care. I really thought I would be home in an hour with antibiotics.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
I should have known something was up when I got right into the Urgent Care and the admitting nurse was looking at me with pitiful eyes.
Apparently, a fever in a newborn isn't something to take lightly. Peter was rushed into the emergency room with a crowd of nurses and doctors. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was like a scene from ER. I had ten different people telling me ten different things and asking me ten different questions. I am no good in a crisis situation. It took everything I had to stay calm.
After an hour in a half, I was able to call my husband and do my best to explain what was going on. I told him about the IV that was in Peter's foot, and originally the doctor wanted to put it in his head but was merciful because of the look of terror on my face. I tried to explain how the nurses wanted to inset a catheter, but thankfully used a bag instead. I had to tell him about the vials of blood that was taken from our newborn, and how the radiologist had to do an x-ray on baby Peter. But the worst thing I had to say was:
Brian, they're wanting to do a spinal tap to rule out meningitis. Then he will be admitted to the hospital. I need you here. I can't do this.
My baby.
We stayed in the hospital two long nights waiting for test results. It was the most awful experience. I held my baby almost the entire time and begged God to help us get through this. I vowed I would never take my family for granted; I would never lose sight of my vocation. I also promised to myself to never let the cries of a newborn bother me, because I heard crying in the ER that will never amount to any crying I can't easily sooth at home.
Feeling better!
3 weeks and home!
Friday, October 31, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Welcome To Our Family!!
7 pounds, 9 ounces, 20 inches long
Happy birthday, Peter Isaac!
If your birth story is any indication, we are in for quite an adventure!
Brotherly Love
Big Sister Excitement
Monday, October 27, 2014
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Monday, October 20, 2014
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Monday, October 6, 2014
My Week [in pictures]
School has been going very well. There have been a few bumps in the road, but nothing that couldn't be worked out. I really thought by now the kids and I would be sick of spending so much time together, but the opposite seems to be true. They both look forward to the day and are thankful we are finished by the early afternoon. Martin is especially thankful there isn't any homework.
Experimenting with science.
Fresh Water vs. Salt Water
Friday night, Brian and I headed out for a (what is probably our last) date night before the new baby arrives. We ate at a nice Italian place and headed over to a bar to listen to some music.
37 Weeks Round
Martin has started selling popcorn for his Scout Troop. Let me know if you're interested. *wink*
Popcorn Buddies!
On our recent trip to the library, Helen picked out a cookbook. She talked about this cookbook all day and how we needed to get the ingredients from the store to make everything in it. So, being the great mother that I am, I added extra things to our shopping list with this fantasy of my daughter and I making dinner together. When it was time to make Elmo's Chicken Pot Pie, I found myself alone making dinner out of a Sesame Street cookbook because Helen was "too busy".
So typical of my life.
Monday, September 29, 2014
It Runs in the Family
Martin & Brian marched in the Oktoberfest parade.
I'm pretty sure Martin shook every hand and handed out a sticker to anyone who would take one.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Little Library Readers
Here's what you probably see: A big brother taking time out of his library trip to read to his little sister.
Here's what I see: My son wearing the same shirt he has worn almost everyday this summer. My daughter, who is sporting her "ballerina dress and ballerina shoes," has perched herself in the bright pink beanbag demanding her brother read to her. However, she is too busy watching me take a picture to listen to her brother.
Either way, it's exactly as it should be.
Monday, September 15, 2014
Top 10 Things I've Learned...
While I don't want to turn this into a 'homeschool blog', I'm going to share with you the top ten things I have learned over the last two weeks of homeschooling:
1. I thought I knew my kids, but actually I'm just getting to really know them.
2. Finding a balance between the high expectations of a parent and the realistic expectations of teacher is the hardest part.
3. I haven't worn a denim jumper yet.
4. I'm learning right along with my kids.
5. My 8 year old son is struggling with reading comprehension, but has no problem teaching himself Latin.
6. My 4 year old daughter has a better concept of reading than I thought, but refuses to actually do it.
7. No one misses watching cartoons during the day.
8. My kids seem to enjoy spending so much time together. (Brian is now referring to us as The Flanders.)
9. Patience and discipline are the two key factors.
10. A sense of humor is necessary. (see below)
1. I thought I knew my kids, but actually I'm just getting to really know them.
2. Finding a balance between the high expectations of a parent and the realistic expectations of teacher is the hardest part.
3. I haven't worn a denim jumper yet.
4. I'm learning right along with my kids.
5. My 8 year old son is struggling with reading comprehension, but has no problem teaching himself Latin.
6. My 4 year old daughter has a better concept of reading than I thought, but refuses to actually do it.
7. No one misses watching cartoons during the day.
8. My kids seem to enjoy spending so much time together. (Brian is now referring to us as The Flanders.)
9. Patience and discipline are the two key factors.
10. A sense of humor is necessary. (see below)
B is for Baptism
C is for Crucifix
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Diapers & Drinks!
Last night my friends hosted a party for me and my friend, Amanda (who is going to have a baby just a few short weeks after me).
When you get to your third kid, a baby shower seems a little over the top, so they hosted a Diapers & Drinks Party. Everyone brings a pack of diapers and hangs around drinking gin and tonics and wine.
It was perfect.
When you get to your third kid, a baby shower seems a little over the top, so they hosted a Diapers & Drinks Party. Everyone brings a pack of diapers and hangs around drinking gin and tonics and wine.
It was perfect.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
First Day of [home] School!
This first day of school was....suspiciously successful!
It's also exciting to watch Helen's eagerness to learn to read as she sees her big brother reading & studying.
Contrary to this picture, Martin had a very good day. After starting at 7:30 this morning, he completed all of his subjects (Classical Composition, Greek History, Religion, Math, Science, Geography, Literature, and Latin) by 1:30, and was ready to meet his friends at the bus stop without the weight of homework hanging over him.
If everyone keeps up this positive momentum, this really should go well. Or this was just first day excitement.....
I tortured my kids by making them hold up the trendy & obnoxious signs saying what grade they are starting. I'm not exactly sure if Helen is really in kindergarten, but we're going with it. The very idea of saying she's in kindergarten completely motivates her. Martin thinks he's cute by "magically" holding up his sign.
Our school uniforms are much different than years past, but it's incredibly freeing knowing I'm not on a tight laundry schedule, or I don't have to run around looking for the right color of socks, or shop for appropriate black dress shoes.
The girl loves her arts and crafts!
If everyone keeps up this positive momentum, this really should go well. Or this was just first day excitement.....
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Peaceful Reasoning
I've been thinking about this post for a long time. How can I say what I want to say? How can I put into words my thoughts and feelings on a subject I was sure I was not fit to discuss? How could I tell friends and family about one of the biggest decisions our family has ever made, especially since it was something I never thought we could do? (or really, something I thought I couldn't do) So I'm just putting it out there:
After long discussions and prayerful consideration, we've decided to homeschool, starting this Tuesday.
Shocking, I know. Imagine how shocked I felt after the thought started to become reality!
Before you think something awful has happened or we have gone completely crazy, let me try to explain, the best I can, how and why we came to this decision.
With the surprisingly wonderful news of a third baby, I found myself constantly worrying about the cost of private school (a private school that Brian & I feel very blessed to be a part of) for three children. Never mind, the future cost and pressure to save for college, or retirement, or the need to finish our basement. Let's face it, even the most frugal people still live in an expensive world.
Now, with any Catholic school, there is always a means to accommodate families who feel financially stretched when it comes to tuition, and Providence Academy is no exception. It wasn't that we couldn't afford private school tuition, but we were only paying for one kid, not three. Admittedly, it would be a struggle in the future. We have several friends who have much larger families than we will ever be fortunate to have, and they make it work, so we knew it wasn't impossible, it just scared the crap out of me. Basically, I had a 'financial freak out' which caused a very small ball rolling ever so slowly toward the thought of homeschooling.
Many of our friends here and elsewhere homeschool their children. Some only have one child and some have five or more. Most have been doing it from the beginning of time, while others chose to homeschool after their children were in traditional school. I looked toward all of them and began making phone calls to each and everyone one of them with every question and stereotype possible. My favorite conversation was with my friend, Kati:
Me: "Is being cheap reason enough to homeschool?"
Kati: "Yes."
I started researching the cost of paying for a homeschool curriculum and books. I was surprised to find both would be less than new private school uniforms. The ball grew a little larger and started moving a little faster.
I then turned to websites, blogs, articles, and books on homeschooling. Brian & I even attended a homeschool conference in the Twin Cities. Each had a different perspective on parents' reasons for homeschooling. Many included dissatisfaction with the school system, bullying, learning disabilities, common core, safety concerns, morals, or the child wasn't challenged enough. Within the private school Martin was attending, there was never an issue with any of these. He was being taught exactly what we felt he should learn, we had a great report with all of his teachers, we had constant open dialogue with his headmistress, he was going to daily Mass, the classes were small, there was never a concern he wasn't challenged enough, and he was in one of the safest environments outside of our home. Why on earth would I want to leave such a great resource? I was starting to doubt the ball that kept growing bigger and moving faster toward homechooling.
I began struggling back and forth between homeschooling and not homeschooling. Why was I agonizing over this? A few months ago, this idea would have never crossed my mind. Now I found this idea nagging at me and causing me to lock the door and cry over this decision. Here we are living in a community that has an excellent Catholic school that educates using the classical method. Martin is excelling. We are happy. The only justification I could come up with was the cost - which really wasn't justification enough. Overall, the cost was reasonable considering we were getting exactly what we expected to pay for: excellence. Why, then, was there still this tugging at my heart to continue to entertain the idea of homeschooling?
Enter prayer.... I asked God to guide me in the right direction, to please help us make a good decision, and to give us peace in our hearts.
As summer moved on, our days were filled with soccer, baseball, sleepovers, playing, friends, camping, and a family trip to Indiana. The kids were busy and growing up right before my eyes. I remember looking into their faces and being a bit sad over how much they changed over the last few month. I found myself reminiscing about when they were little, or the time they did this, or the time they did that. I am convinced my kids grow up faster than any other kid on the planet. Then I would hear people say something I have been guilty of saying myself: I can't wait for my kids to go back to school. But, for some reason, I wasn't saying that this summer. And that's when it hit me.
I was fighting against this homeschool idea because I wanted to have some impressive validation on why our family decided to do it, but in actuality, it was very simple. I just want to be with my family. I want to be the one who sees the kids learn something new. I want to be the one to teach Helen to read (I taught Martin, after all), and I want to teach Martin math. I want to be the one there during all of their successes and all of their failures.
And there was the peace I was hoping to find.
I am realistic in knowing homeschooling isn't going to be easy and smooth all day everyday. Neither is being a wife or a mother. I know Martin is going to miss things at Providence Academy, but I also know he will learn this will strengthen our family bond. I know there are days Helen will be defiant, but I also know she is four years old and it's just a phase.
So come Tuesday morning, we will continue with the classical education method, and the kids and I will sit down and study, and learn, and grow together. We will figure out our new dynamic together. And just when we have our new routine established, our new baby will be here, so we can all figure it out again...together.
After long discussions and prayerful consideration, we've decided to homeschool, starting this Tuesday.
Shocking, I know. Imagine how shocked I felt after the thought started to become reality!
Before you think something awful has happened or we have gone completely crazy, let me try to explain, the best I can, how and why we came to this decision.
With the surprisingly wonderful news of a third baby, I found myself constantly worrying about the cost of private school (a private school that Brian & I feel very blessed to be a part of) for three children. Never mind, the future cost and pressure to save for college, or retirement, or the need to finish our basement. Let's face it, even the most frugal people still live in an expensive world.
Now, with any Catholic school, there is always a means to accommodate families who feel financially stretched when it comes to tuition, and Providence Academy is no exception. It wasn't that we couldn't afford private school tuition, but we were only paying for one kid, not three. Admittedly, it would be a struggle in the future. We have several friends who have much larger families than we will ever be fortunate to have, and they make it work, so we knew it wasn't impossible, it just scared the crap out of me. Basically, I had a 'financial freak out' which caused a very small ball rolling ever so slowly toward the thought of homeschooling.
Many of our friends here and elsewhere homeschool their children. Some only have one child and some have five or more. Most have been doing it from the beginning of time, while others chose to homeschool after their children were in traditional school. I looked toward all of them and began making phone calls to each and everyone one of them with every question and stereotype possible. My favorite conversation was with my friend, Kati:
Me: "Is being cheap reason enough to homeschool?"
Kati: "Yes."
I started researching the cost of paying for a homeschool curriculum and books. I was surprised to find both would be less than new private school uniforms. The ball grew a little larger and started moving a little faster.
I then turned to websites, blogs, articles, and books on homeschooling. Brian & I even attended a homeschool conference in the Twin Cities. Each had a different perspective on parents' reasons for homeschooling. Many included dissatisfaction with the school system, bullying, learning disabilities, common core, safety concerns, morals, or the child wasn't challenged enough. Within the private school Martin was attending, there was never an issue with any of these. He was being taught exactly what we felt he should learn, we had a great report with all of his teachers, we had constant open dialogue with his headmistress, he was going to daily Mass, the classes were small, there was never a concern he wasn't challenged enough, and he was in one of the safest environments outside of our home. Why on earth would I want to leave such a great resource? I was starting to doubt the ball that kept growing bigger and moving faster toward homechooling.
I began struggling back and forth between homeschooling and not homeschooling. Why was I agonizing over this? A few months ago, this idea would have never crossed my mind. Now I found this idea nagging at me and causing me to lock the door and cry over this decision. Here we are living in a community that has an excellent Catholic school that educates using the classical method. Martin is excelling. We are happy. The only justification I could come up with was the cost - which really wasn't justification enough. Overall, the cost was reasonable considering we were getting exactly what we expected to pay for: excellence. Why, then, was there still this tugging at my heart to continue to entertain the idea of homeschooling?
Enter prayer.... I asked God to guide me in the right direction, to please help us make a good decision, and to give us peace in our hearts.
As summer moved on, our days were filled with soccer, baseball, sleepovers, playing, friends, camping, and a family trip to Indiana. The kids were busy and growing up right before my eyes. I remember looking into their faces and being a bit sad over how much they changed over the last few month. I found myself reminiscing about when they were little, or the time they did this, or the time they did that. I am convinced my kids grow up faster than any other kid on the planet. Then I would hear people say something I have been guilty of saying myself: I can't wait for my kids to go back to school. But, for some reason, I wasn't saying that this summer. And that's when it hit me.
I was fighting against this homeschool idea because I wanted to have some impressive validation on why our family decided to do it, but in actuality, it was very simple. I just want to be with my family. I want to be the one who sees the kids learn something new. I want to be the one to teach Helen to read (I taught Martin, after all), and I want to teach Martin math. I want to be the one there during all of their successes and all of their failures.
And there was the peace I was hoping to find.
I am realistic in knowing homeschooling isn't going to be easy and smooth all day everyday. Neither is being a wife or a mother. I know Martin is going to miss things at Providence Academy, but I also know he will learn this will strengthen our family bond. I know there are days Helen will be defiant, but I also know she is four years old and it's just a phase.
So come Tuesday morning, we will continue with the classical education method, and the kids and I will sit down and study, and learn, and grow together. We will figure out our new dynamic together. And just when we have our new routine established, our new baby will be here, so we can all figure it out again...together.
Oh, and if there is concern on socialization or isolation, just look at this picture:
I think we're good.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Caffeine & Social Media
She's a four-year-old living in the modern world.
One hand "texting", the other hand holding a small root beer from the root beer stand.
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