Goals for the New Year

Oof. After passing a few days (weeks?) in a general glow, tonight I am slammed with fatigue and a bit of blues. And after I just crowed about how my One Thousand Gifts project is better than Zoloft.

Oh well. There are days. And there are days. And today was probably a great example of why I shouldn't fit in so many things without scheduling in downtime.

So guess what I'm going to do? I'm going to share my list of goals for 2011! Isn't that a perfectly logical thing to do when you're feeling a bit piqued?

Here are ten I came up with, in no particular order:

1. Finish a half marathon.
2. Finish the Life-Study of Matthew. And Life-Study of Mark.
3. Start a book club.
4. Master three good company dishes, so I don't make up excuses for not inviting folks over to dinner.
5. Start a family travel blog.
6. Write a family mission statement (we've done the brainstorming, but not the crafting.)
7. Learn to make a great salad (sounds lame, but I have salad-phobia. I make the world's most boring salads, and therefore I hate making them. It's a sickness. Please send help.)
8. Take a family vacation that is relaxing, memorable, mind-expanding and fun.
9. Take a class. Any class.
10. Do something regular with my partner-in-crime to care for the younger moms in our church community.

Oh, and here's one more that's embarrassing: Overcome phone phobia. I have a chronic reluctance to make phone calls, for reasons that are both logical and crazy. Also, I'm not great at checking voicemail. Hence, I exceed my text message limit. There. Now you know. And let's not even get into my other bad habits such as walking through the yard in sock feet, etc.

This post on SimpleMom today reminded me that to achieve goals, we just have to take that next baby step. The enemy of the big goal is the small procrastination, the elusive "tomorrow." What one small thing can you do today that will add up to a 2011 to remember?

Multitude Monday IX: Walker Wedding Edition

Time to get back into the Multitude Monday swing. Honestly,  y'all, this is probably one of the best things I've ever done for my mental health. Like Zoloft, but better because look Ma, no unpleasant side effects!

If you've been reading this for a while, you probably know that the dominant event of 2010 for our family was Caroline's swimming pool accident. Although God has been gracious in healing us in every way from the incident and we've been able to move forward, I feel like there's so much I no longer take for granted. And certain events throw our blessings into stark relief because of their connection to that June evening.

Friday night we attended the wedding of our friends Trevor Walker and Aubrey Tidwell.

(I know; what a shame they're such a homely couple ...)

We met Trevor the night of the accident. He was one of the ones praying inside while our teenaged friend breathed life back into our daughter's lungs. Less than 24 hours later, he showed up at Caroline's hospital bedside.

There are no strangers in the Body of Christ. Only family. 

Trevor joined a weekly dinner and Bible study in our home  during the fall, and brought Aubrey to dinner. Our kids fell in love with them both. 

So today I'm grateful for ...

95. Seeing my daughter, she who came back to us, dancing with the groom -- and both can really boogie! Knowing how close we came to this moment never happening makes it so precious ...

96. ... as was the Daddy/daughter dance. Aubrey and her dad graciously shared the floor. 

97. Dancing with my son during the mother/son dance ... even if he kept stepping on my toes and acting totally embarrassed. (Yes, we have reached THAT stage. I am no longer allowed to tell cute toddler stories, either.)

98. The impossibility of a perfect family photo. In everything give thanks. 

(Want to navigate somewhere at night using that reflection from my forehead? Be my guest.)

99. The groom's tearful vows, possibly the loveliest handwritten ones I've ever heard ... including the promise to be a loving father to their [future] beautiful children. These two have a passion for Jesus and for each other that's, well, electric.

100. Knowing there is One who will sustain them through whatever trials lie ahead, just as He has done for our family. 

One hundred gifts so far! And so many more to come ...

A Day in the Life 2011

Today over at Simple Homeschool, there's a call for posts about readers' typical homeschooling days. It's been a while since I've done one of these, so I thought I'd jump in.

Basically, we wake up in the morning, spend time in intense individual Bible study, and then float blissfully -- and harmoniously -- from discussions of free indirect discourse in Moby Dick to the making of scale models of the pancreatic system. Here and there, we conjugate Russian verbs, rehearse the violin concertos my eldest has composed for our family quintet, and fingerpaint geometrical proofs onto giant wall-sized murals. Then we have lunch.

No. Not really.

A fellow homeschooling mom, let's call her Shannon because that's her real name, recently confided wryly to me that she heard another mom refer to her home school, in all seriousness, as "The Peaceful Cottage." Shannon felt that a more apt term for her own environment would be "The Romper Room." I think it's fair to say that we're somewhere in the middle.

No day is exactly the same around here, so I'll describe the mythical "template" day. Ready? Here goes.

I wake up, feed my spirit with the Word of God, roll creakily out of bed, and go running or use the elliptical machine, unless we're going to the Y later that day. I shower, make the bed, start a load of laundry, etc.

The children stagger out around 7:30, and the girls (ages 5 and 7) usually kick the day off with a good little bickerment about something or other. I interject the customary pep talk about respect/kindness/peace while fixing breakfast. For some reason, fixing breakfast takes a while.

Around 8:00 or a bit later, we sit down to eat. At the table, we see where This Day in History leads us. Then, we read a chapter from Egermeier's Bible Story Book, discuss a bit, and pray for the day. We choose our chores and I send them off to do their morning lists (teeth, clothes, etc.) while I clean up the kitchen. We all do our chores.

Around 10:00, what we call "Kidschool" begins. (On a good day, I've written the day's order of events on our whiteboard.) Ian (age 10) usually has a list of to-do's, which may include some or all of:

1. An exercise from his Singapore Primary Mathematics 4A Workbook

2. Reading (Middle Ages-related literature; right now it's Otto of the Silver Hand.)

3. History: Currently he reads 2 pages of his  Kingfisher History Encyclopedia and marks 3 events on his timeline. 

4. Writing: Both he and his sister do one lesson a day from The Complete Writer: Level Three Workbook for Writing with Ease (Eliza does Level One)

5. Memory Work: AWANA, possibly a poem

6. Science Activity -- we do this all together from Pandia Press' REAL Science Odyssey

The girls don't have lists to work through, but we always have a daily read-aloud going (right now it's The Fledgling ). Eliza reads one page in her chapter book, which is a big deal for her but was her own idea, and Caroline does a lesson from Reading Made Easy or reads me a Bob book. Eliza does her Writing With Ease lesson (10 minutes tops) and maybe some mapwork from the country we're studying for geography club or from our The Story of the World chapter. She loves coloring maps. :-) Other than that, the girls like to do crafts, bake things when my sanity allows, or play imaginary games together, which I try not to interrupt. 

Around 12:30 or 1:00, we have lunch. One of the kids helps me fix it, and I'd love to say we all sit down to eat together while I read poetry to them or show them some paintings online, but in reality, that happens irregularly. 

After lunch, we have an hour of Quiet Time. In a perfect world, the kids read or listen to books on CD in utter silence, never interrupting my time to check email, write on my blog, read, etc. Note that I said "in a perfect world." 

After Quiet Time, we often have somewhere to go -- taekwondo at the Y twice a week, Cub Scouts two or three times a month, a get-together with friends, etc. Some days the neighborhood kids are over to play. And again, some days the schedule's a bit different because our extracurricular happens earlier, but in general I try to be home in the morning so we have a good rhythm to the day. And we often use the driving time for listening to The Story of the World or a longer book on tape.

Then it's home for dinner (we eat around 7:00), a quick cleanup from the chaos we've created along our journey of wonder and excitement (we often set the egg timer for 10 minutes), stories with Dad, a math lesson for Ian and Dad, and bed. Yeah, they go to bed kind of late. Later than I'd like, really. But since we rarely have somewhere to be first thing in the morning, it all works out. And we still get an hour or maybe two of downtime before adult bedtime, a.k.a. "Mom is Now a Zombie Time."

There you go! Your spy mission in our household has been successfully concluded. Thanks for coming along on today's Adventure in Dillerland! 

You Must Remember This

Note to self:

When they fight over who gets the green (old, plastic, Ikea) plate ...
who adds the cheese packet to the pan of Annie's Mac 'n' Cheese ...
who gets the prime real estate on the couch first thing in the morning ...
or who uses the straws from someone's Brand New Box (because as we all know, straws are Very Valuable Stuff) ...

You must remember this. 

And this. 

And this. 

Forever and ever, Amen. 

The Inn at East Hill Farm

As y'all  know, I'm very bossy and like to tell you where you should take your families for day trips or vacations. Prepare to be bossed right now. Because I simply must tell you about the pinch-me-is-this-for-real weekend we spent in Troy, New Hampshire at the Inn at East Hill Farm.

Unfortunately, not only am I bossy, but I'm also a bloomin' idjit. Can you believe I left my camera battery charging happily away at my parents' house in Massachusetts while we drove up to New Hampshire for two days?

Fortunately, the nice folks at the Inn agreed to let me lift a few photos from their Facebook page. Also, I took photos with my phone, which should no doubt win some travel photography awards.

We arrived New Year's Day, right in time to catch the second half of the Inn's special New Year's Weekend for families (they have lots of Special Weekends for Families). And when I say "we," I mean the Professor, myself, the three little wanderers (ages 10, 7 and 5) and my brother and his wife. Here's what we did during the first 24 hours:

1. Eat (all meals were included in our room rate)
2. Make food sculptures (an organized activity for the girls' age group)
3. Drink hot chocolate and eat homemade doughnuts at a campfire in the woods.
4. Dip candles
5. Feed the goats, sheep and pigs with bags of day-old bread
6. Eat
7. Learn to contra dance -- yes, the whole family. My brother is currently down on his knees thanking the good Lord that that camera battery was AWOL the whole weekend. (But I loved how eager guests of all ages plunged into these activities!)
8. Play board games borrowed from the front desk
9. Sleep
10. Eat
11. Check for eggs in the henhouse
12. Enter a snowman-building contest (the boy)
13. Ride ponies (the girls)
14. Eat
15. Milk the cows and goats
16. Try snowshoeing in the woods with rented equipment, until the familiar yowls began: "My legs hurt ... Can we go baaaaaaack?" Kids these days.



Then, on Sunday afternoon, every single other guest left the premises. One minute they were there, filling the dining room with boisterous life, and then the next minute, it was just us, rattling around with the innkeepers. Innkeeper Sherri very nicely upgraded us for free to a deluxe suite of rooms where we had our own fireplace. Now, we're not really that hard to please? But let me tell you: We were very, very pleased.

We spent the next 24 hours or so continuing to eat -- alone in the huge dining room with our friendly servers -- and swim a little in the indoor pool, but otherwise hanging out by the fireplace, reading books, and playing board games. It felt like a family retreat: no distractions from chores, Internet, cell phones (limited service up there in the woods) -- just us cozied up in a room with the pleasure of one another's company. I think the memory of that time, and the perfect balance of wholesome, low-tech activity and warm repose will certainly endure.

Note #1: My grandmother took my family to this Inn when I was about nine years old. My brother and I were gratified to find that the important things (fritters at mealtime, for example) hadn't changed. Now my kids will have their own set of delicious memories, and they're already clamoring to return!

Note #2: This was not a sponsored trip. We were just regular guests, paying our own way, and no one at the Inn asked me to review the place. Just so we're clear. Over and out.

Well, This is Cool

Egads! My world is rocked. Why? I just discovered that Amazon seems to have cleared the final hurdle to Kindle ownership for so many of us on one of those pesky book budgets.


YOU CAN NOW LEND AND BORROW BOOKS WITH OTHER KINDLE USERS. It's like a giant library of mutually plundering bibliophiles! Yippee!

If you don't have a Kindle, try to get one. (I know, I'm so helpful with my suggestions.) Or download the free Kindle software, as I did, onto your portable electronic device -- iPod, iPad, whatever. Or even use it on your computer. Then, follow the lending instructions here. I notice that they use Mockingjay as an example. Good idea!

You can join a Facebook group of people who list what they have to loan or would like to borrow here.

Here's another cool thing for iDevice users: Streaks. Do you make resolutions for the New Year? I know some folks do; others think they're akin to the last plague in Revelation. If you're leery of making resolutions just for fear of breaking them, read this post and perhaps reconsider. But anyway. Streaks is great for working on new habits. If you're like me and have difficulty forming new habits ("This year I will work with the kids on their AWANA verses every single day at breakfast!"  A week later: "Verses? What verses?") you'll appreciate the neat visual tracking of your habit development. The kids and I each have at least one goal calendar, and Eliza has taken it upon herself to make sure we maintain our streaks every day.

"Did you do your exercises yet today, Mama?" she demands, finger poised over the calendar.

Ah. Just what I need. A tender martinet.

(STREAKS image from Fresh Apps)

I Love January

The transition from December to January always throws into stark relief for me that sense of change, of the rhythm of the changing year. December seems to draw us together with its festivities, its sense of anticipation. January is a time for turning inward and moving forward, for fresh starts and clean slates. For reflection, for purpose.

I've been thinking a lot about goals and resolutions for the new year, but before I press forward, I have to glance backward and preserve the turn of the year for posterity. So, without further ado, a special New Year's Edition of the One Thousand Gifts project, which was sadly neglected during my stay in Boston. (Not sure why the writing well always seems to run dry when I cross the Mason-Dixon line.)

Grateful for (and it's not even Monday!):

80. Warm holiday memories, including our unbeatable annual family gift exchange with the Diller side.

81. Snow in Massachusetts -- after we arrived safely.

82. The craft area my mom set up for the kids.

83. Feeling like a Yankee Momma, buying my son his first snow boots at the L.L. Bean store.

84. Coffee at "our" place with my breath-of-fresh-air friend Caroline, and her encouragement to keep writing.

85. Trips to the gym with my sister-in-law and then my brother -- no, I can't run in the snow. Also, the way those two characters took so much time to spend with us out-of-town folks when they could have been canoodling on the couch in front of a Patriots game or waxing their floors with lemon oil.

86. Treadmills (see above).

87. My dad's soundless, tearful laughter when my little Caroline stopped mid-song to ask, "What does 'hark' mean? And the angel's name is Harold, right?"

88. The high jinks of our second annual New Year's Yankee Swap. Eliza was thrilled to end up with this plate. 

89. Learning to play The Settlers of Catan with Jed and Grace, Paul and Betty.

90. Ice skating at the rink where I learned as a child -- like the Great Gatsby, we apparently beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

91. A husband who takes care of my dad, even when it means lost sleep.

92. A visit to Orchard House, home of the Alcott family.

93. The fact that my 86-year-old grandparents know how to Skype, and that their well-worn banter never ceases.

94. Coming home again. Aren't the best trips the ones when you're sorry to leave ... but happy to come home? Especially when your housesitter has left the premises spotless? Answer: you betcha.