Make the connection

I may have mentioned, a time or two, that our history studies these days have dwelled upon the American Revolutionary War period. 

And one of the bestest things about homeschooling is that you, the parent, get a fabulous opportunity to provide yourself with either the education you missed or the revisiting and deeper delving you've always wanted. 

That being said, Tim and I right now are very much enjoying our set of DVDs of John Adams. The acting and storytelling in the series are superbly nuanced, giving a sense of the great crises and complications facing our country during its birth. 

At the same time, the children and I are listening to a Jim Weiss CD called Thomas Jefferson's America. It basically covers the same time period and plotlines, but from Jefferson's point of view rather than Adams'. Again, great stuff, and what thrills me the most is finding those points of connection. You know, those moments when you're listening and you go, aha! Just saw that on the miniseries! Or, just read Abigail's point of view a few months ago while reading Founding Mothers: The Women Who Raised Our Nation. 

What I've realized about myself as a learner, once I step back and look at why I enjoy this process so much, is that the books and other media I love the most are the ones that are particularly clever at setting up dots for the audience to connect -- and then letting us connect some of them first, getting those aha! moments, letting us feel particularly clever ourselves. Well, clever or surprised. 

I'm reading Les Misérables right now, which is an excellent example of how plotlines and characters converge. So, so-and-so is really that character mentioned ten chapters ago? And he first met the main character in Montfermeil, but now they're meeting up in Paris, seemingly by accident, fifteen years later? Oooh! Delicious. The historical novels of Bodie Thoene do this kind of things delightfully as well. 

It's also, I think, why I enjoy LOST so much. Sure, the twists and turns of the ever-thickening plot are brain-tickling (and cause me to send frantic text messages to my brother, who's several episodes ahead of us -- so-and-so has been kidnapped! so-and-so's trapped in a big pit with so-and-so! -- so he can reassure me without spoiling), but it's the character connections, once again, and the chance we get to figure out some of them for ourselves, that make it all so fun, fun, fun ...

Day Care

So. 

What do you get when you combine ...

SEVEN children (four extra offspring from neighbor who recently broke clavicle in biking accident)

ONE mother who tends to get anxious, just between you-me-and-the-doorpost as my mother would say, about watching other people's kids, for fear that they will not be sufficiently entertained

FIVE minutes of morning prayer for the day with this dear friend

ONE helpful sister visiting on her Hahvahd spring break

EIGHT colors of Sculpey clay, good for an hour or more of intense artistic exploration

FIVE princess costumes

UNLIMITED divine grace 

and 

... once the sun finally triumphs over the rain ...

THREE playful chickens

and 

ONE tire swing???

Answer:

A surprisingly satisfying day. 

Also, a white picket fence

A dinnertime conversation with my three year old: 

When I grow up, I'm going to be TWO THINGS! A mommy, and an astronaut!

Oh really? How many kids are you going to have?

[Holds up three fingers.]

Do you know what you're going to name them?

Francis, and Katherine, and ... Lily. 

Oh? Any boys?

Francis is a boy. 

Aha. How old will they be? 

One, and two, and three. 

Wow, you will be such a busy mom! And a good one, too!

Yes. My children will NOT eat candy. 

[Ouch.] 

And tell me about your pets.

I'm gonna have a dog, and a cat, and a horse and a bunny rabbit. 

Will you live out in the country?

Yes, I'm going to live just like Aunt Jenni. 

What about Ian and Eliza? Where will they be?

They're gonna live with ME! And they will be my kids!

What about Mommy and Daddy?

They will live with me, too. Daddy's going to be my husband. 

Oh, you'd better tell him about that. 

I will tell him later, because he's mad at me for getting into my princess costume instead of my pajamas, so I will tell him in a few minutes. 

What will Mommy be?

She will live with us and cook our food!

Oh HURRAY. She must have been demoted due to her failure to prevent her current children from ever eating candy, including the child who begs for it (see above). Does she get to scrub the bathroom floors with a toothbrush too, I wonder ... ?

Spring Fever

We had a lovely welcome-home present awaiting us when we returned from frigid Boston this afternoon.

Our front garden had prepared a colorful show for us during our absence -- proof that splendid 

spring has arrived here in Texas.

Before even unpacking the car, we had to traipse around, snap photos and pull a few weeds. 

(Note: about a year ago, our friend Randolph gave me a little tour of my garden, showing me what I had inherited from the previous owner and what qualified as a "weed" or a "hackberry bush" that really ought to go. About an hour later, gloves in hand, I went to dig in and realized that I should have videotaped his little seminar, as Teflon Memory had struck again. And I feel stupid asking for the whole shpiel all over again. Now I just merrily pull whatever looks ugly to me.)

Ah, home sweet blooming home.

The North End

You really can't appreciate Boston fully without seeing the North End. And when I say "seeing," I mean "tasting" as well. Because the North End, a pocket of Old Italy here in Beantown is chock full of restaurants serving up promising concoctions and confections.

I had some shrimp scampi pizza today at Ernesto's that put to shame any pizza I've eaten in recent memory. The tears of culinary discovery nearly gushed forth, egged on by the fact that our family of five ate to satiety for under $20.

And of course, there are always the pastries at Mike's.

We had to eat frequently during our tour, because although we were ostensibly there to add dimension to our education by visiting Paul Revere's House, Copp's Burial Ground, and the Old North Church (all parts of the illustrious Freedom Trail), it was finger-numbingly, seek-shelter-and-hot-drinks-NOW cold.

A note about the Paul Revere House: the older two kids were quite entertained by what we saw and heard from the history interpreters (I found what I want to be when I grow up!), and afterward, we got to chat a bit about what people might think if, two or three hundred years ago, they were to enter a house that had been perfectly preserved from our own time. "This is the Diller House, where Ian and his sisters grew up," they might say. "And these are real Legos from the actual time period, with which the children may have played." It was fun to imagine what artifacts might tell these future people the most about how we live today. No question, they'd be a lot more complex than chamber pots!

Getting on the T today at Alewife station as we headed into town, I had one of those moments. Ian was walking beside me, and and I had a sudden flashback to the time, nine years ago, when I would enter this very station every day, bound for the office, with a much tinier Ian along for the ride inside me. The fact that once I was finally looking pregnant, there was never a time when a fellow commuter failed to give up his seat for me, tells you something about my native city. Sure, people may be friendlier in Texas, and I love living in Austin. But this place, and the way people look and the way they talk -- not just the endearing accent but also the mannerisms (see the wonderful movie Miracle for some delightful examples), not to mention a certain sense of Yankee decency, have woven themselves into my history in a way that will always feel and sound like home.

Vacation Dispatch

You know, I'm trying -- really hard, honest -- to raise kind, respectful people. Persons who use their words to connect, rather than divide. Persons of emotional intelligence.

Progress is slow.

For example. Last night, the adults in our little vacation party (namely, husband, SIL, BIL, and self) were enjoying a lovely dinner al fresco on the balcony of our vacation condo. Our position overlooked a golf course, the edges of which were being plumbed for stray balls by a gaggle of frolicking children.

Historically, the gaggle of frolicking, golf-ball-seeking children has been our own. But last night, some other children dared to horn in on what, apparently in the mind of a certain three year old among us, is OUR territory.

Said child approached the railing of the balcony and surveyed the horrors below. Strangers! Searching for golf balls! Stealing them from our perspective clutches!

"YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A BUNCH OF ROTTEN POTATOES!" she shrieked over the railing.

Excuse me? Rotten potatoes? How does she dream this stuff up?

"Caroline!" I gasped. Of course, we had a little chat about not insulting people. Of course, she immediately hurled the zinger again. Of course, she was hustled indoors. But the point had been made. And we're all resolved to stay on her good side. I mean, rotten potatoes? What's next -- moldy heaps of warm compost?

Yes, it's been a very relaxing time here. And how's your spring break going?

'Tis Friday

... and the beginning of spring break!

Ironically, although my children need not follow a school schedule, our family still adheres to the academic schedule most of Austin follows, because my HUSBAND is in school. Funny, huh?

So tomorrow we head to San Antonio with relatives for a few days of fun in the sun-for-which-we-still-wait, and then we'll spend the second half of the week shivering in Boston and remembering why we usually love March in Austin!

This week we wrapped up our relaxed study of the American Revolution with a mini-celebration. Using Google Images (I'm in looooove!), I created Bingo cards with images of Paul Revere's Ride, George Washington, John Paul Jones, the Liberty Bell, etc. I'd give clues like "I'm famous for saying 'I have not yet begun to fight!'" and the children (mostly Ian) would call out the answer and cover a square.

We also made peanut butter cookies of no historical significance, and watched the old movie "Johnny Tremain." Oh, y'all. SO cheesy. So inferior to the book. But the young'uns liked it, especially the re-creation of the Battles of Lexington and Concord, so there's value in that.

I'm off to shepherd my herd into packing, with help from these lovely things. Does anyone else, even when packing with list, still suffer from this unreasonable anxiety that you're forgetting something very important and irreplaceable? I think once as a kid, I forgot to pack underwear or something, and life has never been the same.