Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Random End of Season Ramblings

It's been along time since I've sat down to write at the computer.
I've been busy.
It's been a distinctly good summer,
but I'm ready to move on into the school year.
The children are antsy and Grumpy Mommy has emerged
to quell them.
They prayed out loud for me while we drove in the car today.
They prayed that I wouldn't be so grumpy. Every one of them sent up a petition.
It was touching.
And it helped for approximately five minutes.
So, hurrah for a schedule around here, where Grumpy Mommy turns into Purring Mommy who resembles the Persian cats (minus the clogged eye ducts).

Here are some pictures of when Dave took the kids camping last week.

These are some reasons that I don't go camping with them. They eat things like crayfish. This time the boys also, creatively, caught water skaters, boiled them, and ate them, too. Yum.

On the way up to the cottage Avonlea decided to read out loud to the kids. Now, our family has never used the term "butt" we say "bum". I'm proper that way. However, I didn't realized that none of our kids even know what that term means. Avonlea is reading a book aloud about a canyon and the word "buttes" figures into the story heavily. She pronounces this "butts". I correct her once. She ignores me. I'm starting to get rather uncomfortable but am unsure of how to proceed. Then she reads the sentence, "So they sat down around the campfire and stared up at all the beautiful, shining, butts." An anatomy conversation followed.

Our time at the cottage was exciting. The pear harvest is beginning and there are workers and trucks and bustle everywhere. Avonlea and Grant were able to help harvest Bartlett's on Sunday. They loved it! The farmers who farm our orchard are wonderful people and they are so good to the kids. Farmer Dave showed the kids how to trap gophers. He took them to one of the traps and showed them the dead gopher, buried it, and then showed them how to reset the trap. This is the equivalent of Heaven to my boys. Rosy however, dubbed Farmer Dave, "Bloody Gopher Man." She was disciplined and she told him sorry, but we can't get the name out of our heads. She has a way with words and I wouldn't be surprised if she ends up naming lipsticks for a living. The boys unburied the dead gopher to show Dave. They then attempted to unearth the poor soul again to show me. I wouldn't have it. No matter, I dreamt of Pet Cemetery all night that night. A crazy jumble of giant gophers, snapping traps, and Bloody Gopher Man.

I've been immersed in the book The Outliers. I'd be immersed in it this minute if it wasn't for the fact that Dave took it and immersed himself. Anyway, it's about the 10,000 hour theory. In short, the idea that if you practice anything for 10,000 hours you will be exceptional at it. So of course I took it and applied it to homeschooling. Most people don't know what they really want to do until they're older. What if you knew at 7 and started racking up the hours while most kids your age were eating water skippers? So....I explained all this to Avonlea, who practices music an hour and a half a day already, and asked her if that was want she wanted to excel at. Her answered picked up my world and shook it like a snow globe. She said, "What I really want to do is get married and be a mommy. I want to home school my children. I want to be like you. So really, I don't need to know anything."

The day after this comment I went out and bought a guitar. The day after that I got CDs that will apparently teach me French while I drive and I can already say "What do you want?" in French, so I suppose it's working. I guess Avonlea's comment made me wonder what I have learned intellectually in the last ten years. Surprisingly little. I haven't pursued knowledge, but it's pursued me. The things I've learned, I've learned for the sake of survival. God's brought the life lessons I've needed when I needed them. So maybe this too, has come at an opportune time. I can spend an hour a night working on French and guitar. At that rate, I'll be exceptional in 27 years, 145 days.

And then, won't you be glad you know me?

I wonder if lipstick naming is lucrative.

1 comment:

  1. Fear not. You are an exceptional wife, mother and friend. And 80s rock star. Au revoir.



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