Dinner in an hour

This is not a foodie blog and I do not have pictures to go with what I am about to post, but I figured it might be helpful to some mom out there.

We went to a lake to swim with some homeschool friends, so I did not get started on dinner till 4. I had it on the table at 5 (fine, 5:05 for transparency's sake). No, it was not take-out. No, it was not chicken nuggets or frozen pizza. It was a solid dinner: soup, main, starch, veggie. No, it was not a miracle.

This morning I pulled a bag of chicken cutlets from the freezer. Since I buy them at Costco, I usually divide the large family pack into two bags before freezing. This bag had breasts sliced in half, so it defrosted quickly.

At 4 I turned the oven up to 400, rinsed the breasts and put them in the pan. I sprinkled them with sesame oil, soy sauce, onion flakes, garlic powder, ginger and a drizzle of honey. Then I mixed them in the pan so the breasts were well-coated, covered them with foil and stuck them in the oven. Next, I rinsed one cup of rice in another pan, added 1 3/4 cups of water, a drizzle of olive oil, covered that pan, and stuck it in the oven with the chicken.

I usually make this quick zucchini soup. two onions, chopped, 4-6 zucchini, chopped into chunks, vegetable broth to cover, 1/4 cup of rice, bring to a boil, add seasoning, simmer for 20 minutes, puree with immersion blender straight in the pot, voila! Except that I like to doctor it up: add quinoa instead of rice, or throw in extra veggies. Today, as I was reaching for a bag of quinoa, I found a package of edamame noodles from Costco. They were brittle, they were green, and they had zero appeal of the noodles, so they were sitting in the pantry. An evil genius idea of a substitution: why don't I crumble them in instead of quinoa, then puree and nobody will know? Look at all the extra protein! Look at me salvaging what I'm sure were expensive noodles, languishing here! Hehe! So in they went. I made a mental note to remove any traces of what I did before the kids who will come to set the table express their opinion on my substitution without a taste test.

While the soup was simmering, I pulled out a bag of string beans and another pan. I trimmed the ends, tossed them with a bit of olive oil, spread them in a pan and sprinkled with salt. Then they went in the oven together with the chicken and rice.

I checked my phone. I stretched. This dinner was practically cooking itself. I uncovered the chicken so it could get dry in its sauce. I threw a bunch of parsley from my garden into the soup (it's about the only thing that grew in the garden, but it sounds very foodie of me now: freshly snipped parsley! In reality, I was too lazy to go and get scissors, so I twisted and yanked). I pureed the soup while adding cumin and curry and called the kids to set the table.

They fought. Just because I had dinner under control did not mean that they turn into angels. One child provoked another. By the time, I took a bathroom break, a steady wail in stereo leaked under the door. One child touched another. One child lost dessert.

It was dinnertime. Dinner was served.

They ate the soup with the green edamame noodles incorporated into it. Hint: soup croutons make all soup taste better. Some asked for seconds. They discussed how much fun they had playing with their friends, making elaborate sand dams.

Save this post for the next time dinner prep gets in the way of getting together with some friends and spending the day at the beach.

Second-best?

I have seen some talk lately putting down the lifestyle of baalei batim as a second-best choice to full-time Torah learners. Usually this talk comes from a more right-wing people, the ones who have someone else (or expect someone else) to cover their expenses while the husband sits down and learns full time. These people feel very uncomfortable when later on life they are forced to leave the cocoon of the kollel and face the realities of the world. Their wives feel that the sacrifices they make to assure full-time Torah learning makes them partners in Torah, and they are assured Olam Haba based on how many hours their husband spends in learning. They feel fake and lost once this learning ends.

During my high school years, I have discussed this issue, and firmly resolved not to get married to a full-time learner. I believed in being married to someone who has a work ethic, and who views himself as a family provider, while still making time for learning and maintaining a frum lifestyle. Good thing I met my wonderful husband before hitting the shidduch circuit.

This past weekend we drove to another city for my husband's medical conference. He needs continuous medical education credits, and being homeschoolers with a pretty open schedule, we can all come along. The only caveat is, usually doctors fly to these conferences in ritzy places, stay in quite decent hotels, and have a mini-vacation while rubbing shoulders with other doctors and watching some Powerpoints. In our case, the conference was over Friday-Saturday, so that posed some issues from the beginning. My husband found out that the hotel where the conference was taking place was within a walking distance from a local Jewish community. He came up with a plan: stay with a local family for Shabbos, and he would walk to his lectures on Saturday. (He made similar arrangements before). Learning from our last year's experience, I know that not everyone is able to put up a family of six, so I was a bit skeptical. He called up the shul, talked to the rabbi, and even made a deal that whichever money would go towards hotel, he would either give to the family or donate to the shul. There are a few kosher establishments in the area, and a few tourist attractions, so I was sold.

When we got to our destination, there was a layer of ice and snow on the ground, something that we did not experience this year. It was also bitterly cold. The kids were eager to go out and play, until they realized how cold it is, and how slippery the ice is. I got worried: how is my husband going to walk in all this? We did pack warm clothes, but they are not proper northern gear, as we usually have no need for such things.

On Friday, I dropped him off in the morning. We agreed to meet in the Jewish student life center for lunch, down the block from his conference, where there was a supervised vegetarian cafe. He came in between his lectures, and wrestled our baby so I could get some food in. Then, he went back. There was more winter advisory weather predicted, and the city was going into lock down. I was worried about him getting back before Shabbos, but he took a bus back, and basically turned right around, took our two older boys, and went to shul for Friday night. It was snowing, and he was already out walking in this nasty weather, but this was a chance to daven with a minyan (and I needed a bit of break after wrestling with all the kids in an unfamiliar place all day). At the table, he made an effort to engage kids in parsha-related discussions, even though he was the only adult doing so.

http://www.consoleandhollawell.com/law-blog/freezing-rain-and-multicar-pileups-kill-five/

The following morning we woke up to a freezing rain. I mournfully looked out the window: you will have to be walking for half an hour in this?! He just got up and davened, then he made kiddush so we would have at least a bit of a normal Shabbos family time, and then he offered to walk me over to shul (our hosts made it quite clear that the mom likes to have a quiet house on Shabbos morning while the kids are in shul, and that's where lunch was going to take place). I kept glancing at this freezing rain, at my poor kids who have to walk in it, and at my husband who will have a much longer walk than we do. I was glad that he walked us over, as the slushy ice made it hard to navigate with an umbrella stroller. Then my hubby turned around and marched to his conference, in the freezing rain.

The plan was for him to walk back over during lunch break, have lunch with us (if he got the timing right) and then go back to the conference. He had to submit his paperwork by the end of it to get credit for attendance, so he had to be there by 4 pm. He filled it all out beforehand and left it with a concierge (the hotel was outside the eruv, and the conference people are a bit picky about how they accept things). As this shul luncheon progressed quickly, I kept glancing out the door, hoping that my husband makes it back. I made a plate for him to take back, but without the hot options. As the hosts started to leave, I had no choice but to bundle up my kids and follow them. Just as we started trudging back, my husband returned, wet and cold. Without complaint, he helped navigate the same slush back to the house.

I offered him a meager shul lunch plate (bagels, cream cheese, tuna and egg salad). There was no lechem mishna, so he just washed on sliced bagel halves. He told me how the hotel people looked funny at him, coming in soaking wet, how passing buses splashed him with water, and how the conference secretary wondered aloud about provisions for such cases, like calling a taxi. Big0shot doctors are not supposed to be ding this! But he just shrugged his shoulders, finished his lunch, said mincha, and trudged back to the hotel. We agreed that I will try to pick him up when Shabbos is over. I joked ruefully how when we are home and he's on call, he has his cell on him, so I can call after Shabbos and reach him, but now that he was not on call, I cannot even get in touch. He smiled and said, don't worry.

As Shabbos ended,  he did call me from the front desk to be picked up. I was feeling how this was such a weird Shabbos, and so uncomfortable, both physically and spiritually. Yet, after we got kids into bed, I caught my husband sitting down to finish his shnei mikra.

Maybe he did not learn the whole day, maybe this was not a traditional shabbos, but whichever Torah he learned this Shabbos, despite the crazy circumstances, I will gladly accept as my ticket to Olam haba. I am proud to be married to someone who will no sacrifice either part of his identity for convenience's sake. And I am proud that this is the role model for my children.

taekwondo in the morning

I spoke to the boys' taekwondo teacher about organizing a homeschool class in the mornings, and moving them into two existing grown-up classes for two other times per week. The late night driving was killing me, together with not having an evening off, and preparing two separate dinners. It looks like it will be coming together!  The homeschool class will start next week. Today, we attended the morning class.

I was very worried, as 1 yo got woken up by his siblings at 5:30 am (and so did I). I really ripped into 10 yo, for getting out of bed, followed by 4 yo, and making noise. Boy, was I grouchy! Also, I was worried that 1 yo will fall asleep on the way to taekwondo, and be cranky, and then not nap at home (and my husband is on call, and it's a bath night, and it looked like a really long day, especially since 10 yo did not finish his schoolwork from yesterday...)

But, never fear, it all worked out.

Since 10 yo was up so early, I got him started on his schoolwork early. He finished everything by 10:30, the time we had to leave for taekwondo. 1 yo was melting down, badly enough for me to ask one of the boys to get him his paci (he only uses it for naps). He did not want to be held, or played with, or distracted. He kept sitting on me, screaming, throwing 10 yo's kippah. However, with paci, he calmed down. When I said it is time to get shoes on, he took the paci out, and handed it to me, since we don't leave house with a paci. He did snooze in the car for 5 minutes, but woke up as soon as we arrived at the dojang.

It was adult class, but the boys did really well, How do I know? Because that same kid who was so unbelievably cranky, sat on my lap, still as a leaf, for half an hour, Then he clambered quietly up and down the chairs in the visitor's area for ten more minutes, and then ate Cheerios in the lobby till the boys were done. I got to see how the boys stretch, how incredibly flexible 8 yo is, swinging from split to split, laying his belly down on the ground, how they listen and control their bodies, how they respectfully lined up, how they know their forms.

It was a sunny day, and the sun was warming my back, my baby quietly sitting in my lap, me, kvelling. I relaxed. I could see getting used to this.

The boys came out in high spirits. We drove home, and I put 1 yo down for a nap. I fed them lunch, and then 8 yo finished all his schoolwork, by 1:30. 10 yo was on Minecraft, while I worked with 8 yo, rather, I was sitting at the same table where he was doing his assignments, and was being consulted as need be. He melted down just once, when he got the spelling words wrong, again, but even that was a half-hearted meltdown. He did not seem to believe the words that he was using to berate himself, so he just chose to write down those troublesome spelling words in script.

Now he is on Minecraft. I will have to get my daughter soon, and the baby is still napping.

When I have days like these, I wonder, why do I complain about how hard it is (totally forgetting how this morning's early wake-up drove me to tears).

A friend posted "gam ze yaavor" (this, too, shall pass) poster this morning. 10 yo saw it, and said: the sign that will make a sad person happy, and a happy person sad. True, so true.

no reason to worry

My daughter is reading. Yes, we have been doing a Bob book here and there (she is on fifth book in the first set, I believe), and yes, I knew that she could sound out first letter of 8 yo's spelling words, and yes, I have been pointing out words that she asked me about. But I did not expect that she is much further along.

My future SIL gave her a set of sticker books for Chanukah. They are pretty simple, with sticker outline in the book and a sticker on a separate piece of paper. However, there are words under the outlines, telling which sticker goes there. I saw that she was reading/guessing some of those. Of course she did not know how to blend two consonants, or "e at the end makes the vowel say its name", but she was motivated enough to try to figure those out. Unfortunately, all of this was taking place in 20 minutes before I had to leave for taekwondo, so we parted in the middle of this activity. I should also mention a certain young man who was busily trying to peel off stickers and rip up the whole exercise. Before today, I spent a fair amount of time beating myself up for not reading those Bob books consistently.

Yesterday, I took three older kids bike riding. 4 yo inherited her brother's bike, which is sort of big. My husband attached training wheels. This was second or third time that she was riding it. She was so not sure of herself at the beginning, with boys zooming right ahead into the park and then returning to hustle us along. She was worried about going too fast. She was worried about not making it up the incline. She kept braking and stopping "to breathe". Considering the size of the park, I almost asked her whether she wanted to put the bike back in the car and simply walk. Yet she persevered. We made it to the playground, and there, after swinging and playing for a few minutes, she got back on her bike, to practice some more.

By the time we were done, she was quite a pro. She even started talking about taking off those training wheels. All of this blossoming of confidence and mastery took place over less than two hours.

1 yo is talking. He was quite a quiet baby, lots of expression, but almost no words for a long time. He got just about everything he wanted by pointing, saying "this", and making incoherent sounds. For a while, he would not imitate words being spoken to him. All my other kids started speaking pretty early or on time, so he was definitely behind. He was constantly being spoken to, and read to, so exposure was not the concern. Yet, over the course of a past month, his vocabulary exploded. I am not even keeping track of how many words he has, but all those words spoken to him are there. He has word combination, idioms, fragments of speech. His speech is purposeful and clear. I have no more reason to worry.

8 yo has been saying "al hanisim" the entire Chanukah. I know it was hard for him, as we read over it together a few times and he was not fluent. I was discussing with my husband how his chumash has not been happening over the course of a past week, but he pointed out that he is clearly working on all this davening. He has been going to shul, saying the entire shemone esre, and participating in shabbos mincha and maariv. The other day, he got to say birchot hashachar for the congregation. He glowed like a million bucks, although he said that it was no big deal. For a child who cannot sit still through long davening, all this hard work is taking place on his terms.

As parents, it is so easy  to look at all those other kids, and worry. It is easy to worry about kids walking, and talking, and reading, and mastering Judaics, and developing middos. It is easy to give up, thinking that kids will never say "please" without prompting, or they will never grasp algebra, or get to gemara, or stop harassing their sibling. Yet, one of the beauties of doing homeschooling ( or just spending so many darn freaking hours) with a child is the slow realization that most of these things will happen in their proper time, on child's terms. My job as a parent is to be a guide, and a support. I do not need to constantly cheer them on, I do not need to bribe or harass them. I do not need to punish them. I do not need to reward them, either. I just need to be present, available for help or consultation as it is solicited.

I need not worry.

enjoying schoolwork

This just happened, and I almost missed it.

The boys were taking a long time getting into bed tonight and I almost did not tuck them in. Then I had pity and went into their room to give them kisses. They already said Shema. As I am bending over to kiss 8 yo:

"Mommy, I can't wait for our trip. (We are going away for Thanksgiving). Why are we going?"
"We are going on a little vacation."
"Mommy, can I bring a little bit of schoolwork? I was thinking just chumash and a pencil and spelling. Oh, and a couple of math worksheets. Can I bring those?"
I am a bit stumped, as in struck by lightning.
"You like doing those school things, don't you?"
"Yes. So can I bring them?"
"Yes, let's make a list tomorrow morning so we don't forget."

Just this week a friend was telling me in the same sentence how she is burned out by homeschooling, and they are going away for a week, but she is planning on bringing some schoolwork. I was advising her to let it all go for a week, and give herself and her kids a real vacation.

My own kid proved me wrong. This child just requested to do schoolwork on vacation! So here is my revised suggestion: if your kid asks to bring schoolwork along, do it; if they don't, leave it at home.

And this is what child-led learning looks like.

morning rush

8 am dentist appointment

If you are a homeschooler, you are groaning already, just from reading a previous line.

Two weeks ago, I saw a dental appointment written into my planner. Six months ago, when I made it, it was perfectly clear (or I was too rushed to make a full note) who the appointment was meant for, but now, I just could not remember whether it was my cleaning, or the kids' dentist. My husband was also telling me how our dental coverage is running out at the end of the month, so whoever the appointment was for, another one would have to be scheduled before the month was out.

I guessed it was for the kids, so I called their dentist. Turns out it was for me, but the receptionist was able to squeeze all three of them into one morning slot. The only hitch was, it was 8 am slot.

My kids are generally early risers. The only one whom I ever have to wake up is 8 yo, and I try not to resort to that often, But what my kids do with their early morning does not involve rushing out the door. They lounge on the couch. They read. The eat slow bowls of breakfast. They unload the dishwasher. They decide whether to toast bagels, and how long to spend on spreading them with cream cheese. They learn how to make tea for themselves and mommy's coffee. And then, when the breakfast time is over, they get dressed and daven. We pit a premium on slow morning pace. Even with all that, we are usually ready to start on schoolwork by 9 am, earlier for 10 yo.

This morning, we would have to be there by 8 am. My kids love their dentist, and the office. They did not stall, but getting out the door that quickly was turning into a nightmare. I found myself constantly hustling them along: Eat already! Go brush your teeth! Why are you not dressed yet? Do you have enough time to daven? The height of ridiculousness was reached when I found myself saying: put on your feet! They all burst out laughing.


Then we got to the car and I found it covered in a layer of frost. The scraper was inside the house, and I literally did not have those extra five minutes for the car to properly defrost. I started driving, and then, with the sun shining on the ice crystals (which were beautiful, by the way, but I had no time to reflect on their beauty), I realized that I am driving without any visibility. We ended up stopping and I used the flat back of a tube of lotion to scrape a spot big enough to see.

People always think how homeschooling is so hard. I say, getting out of the house with all the kids early every morning is hard! I actually wonder whether part of the reason people resent spending time with their kids has to do with constant rushing and constant keeping up with the schedule. I heard of people putting their kids to sleep in clothes for the next day, or sending them to school with a granola bar because there is no time for breakfast. I heard of people dragging half-asleep kids out of bed to school because, well, they have to go! And what if they are late, and get enough sleep, and take their time? What if there is no time crunch?

I was thinking this morning how if I had to do this every single morning, I would go crazy. I would resent my kids, and they would resent me. It's a cliche about homeschoolers sleeping in  (and then doing school in their pajamas), but there is more to it than a simple laziness. It's a reflection of a different, calmer lifestyle. It's a progressive step in parenting. It's an adventure in self-regulation.

accidental find (photoblog)

This is what happens when I have an activity scheduled just for 10yo (homeschool day at Anne Frank exhibit) in a part of town where we usually don't go. I sort of looked at the map and saw two local parks, figuring one of them should have a playground. The younger kids insist on bringing their bikes, so we end up driving to the park with paved trails. We have never been there before, but we had time and were open to new experiences.

watching the ducks 

skipping stones

blue heron

goose feather

watching waterfowl

I always wonder: couldn't we do this if we weren't homeschooling? Couldn't we come here on a Sunday? But do we end up taking half a Sunday just to wander around and discover a new park?

I fret about wasting learning time. Then I see that they are learning and watching and observing and feeling, especially near a peaceful lake on a beautiful day. I see 8 yo calm down and focus. I see him observe. I see him wait patiently.

We all just need free mornings to go out there and explore nearby nature places. We all need rippling lake surface. We all need to be quiet enough to hear the calls of the birds and not to scare them off.  We all need freedom to just go out there, bike, and teach our kids to skip stones.

oh what a day!

There is this book called "The Schmutzy Family". Mama Schmutzy lets her kids do all sorts of creative and messy things, until it comes to Friday, when she notices how dirty the kids are, and they cannot bring in Shabbos like that. So they clean up for Shabbos and it's all sparkling and gleaming (with only two cups of grape juice spilled on the tablecloth). Then on Sunday they discover a mud puddle and Mama Schmutzy, while counting days till next clean Shabbos, dives right in.

I can appreciate her spirit. although I am nowhere near as brave.

The waiters are ready to take an order

This morning, as I was beating myself up for not writing down kids' schedule for the day, I saw how it slowly unfolded into a breakfast restaurant. They dragged in a bedroom lamp, for ambiance. They sat down and wrote a menu. 8 yo and 4 yo were racing in and out of the kitchen, reporting breakfast options to 10 yo. Unfortunately, by the time the menu was ready, I was mostly done with my breakfast, but the kids served each other, even taking orders down on post-it notes. 10 yo was ready to make french toast and pancakes. I might take him up on that tomorrow.

As I looked over the menu, I noticed some misspellings. I told him discreetly to look at appropriate labels and boxes. He fixed those. Then I sent him to the dictionary to fix "medeum". He shortened it to "med". I showed him an e-mail from a sofer that came in that morning through the shul list. It was full of run-on sentences and misspellings (flower instead of flour, whole instead of hole). 10 yo caught a few of those, and looked up the correct spelling. Then he made copies of the menu using printer.

My husband, a pretty conservative guy when it comes to breakfast routine, went with the flow, although he quietly remarked to me how hard it is to be more flexible with the lack of light and funny order of things.

Next "exciting" thing was my daughter slipping on a book that 1 yo dragged out and dumped in the middle of the floor. She slipped, fell over backwards and hit her head and elbow on a hardwood floor. I offered ice cubes. She went to snuggle with her blankie in her bed, a fairly usual response. She even came out to complain that 8 yo is being too loud and disturbing her rest. Next thing I know while working with boys is that she is asleep, at 10:30 am. She never sleeps at this hour. And being sleepy is a sign of concussion. And she did fall pretty hard... I was texting my husband at that point. He told me to wake her up in and hour and watch for nausea and vomiting.

She woke up on her own, but she did not look so hot. Rather, not only she did not look good, she felt very hot. I took her temperature and discovered that her "cold" of the past few days produced a fever. Most likely that was the cause of her falling asleep rather than the fall.

Meanwhile, 10 yo's mishna teacher rescheduled, and taekwondo carpool asked whether I can drop off today instead of picking up. Meanwhile, I was preparing to finish everything by 3 since a friend was doing me a favor and watching the kids so I can take 8 yo to psychologist for his appointment.

I was told this week that I am not used to being flexible and going with the flow. I think if I were any more flexible, I would be tying myself in knots.

This was our fourth visit to the psychologist. He has been pushing medication, both for ADHD and anxiety from day 1. The plan that he collaboratively came up with last week did not go anywhere. Of course, this new approach required half an hour of prep on my end, and one glance and refusal from 8 yo. The psychologist called it a "success" based on the fact that 8 yo is not tantrumming over that issue now. And I kept thinking: for now.

After today's session, when 8 yo did not exactly open up or offer any concrete suggestions on how he is planning to deal with things so that he does not get so upset, and when the psychologist dangled medication yet again, I said that we are trying to get into a different group, this one with both psychiatrists and psychologists on staff. I am not cancelling next appointment, but this guy is starting to veer into behavioral approach "good boy, woof" and I know that does not work on this child.

So I come home, rushing everyone to get taekwondo uniforms on. 8 yo remembers that his belt-tying patch came off in the laundry. I tell him that I had no time to sew it on (we only discovered that it came off this morning). He screams and stomps that he is not going. I still have carpool to pick up, so I am telling him that I have to leave. He is yelling, and I am losing it, as I notice that my daughter is now wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. She is cold. The whole car ride she is telling me how the carseat feels like her bed and she is sleepy. The baby does manage to fall asleep on the way there, but gets woken up by the boys exiting. He is yelling now.

We drive home. My daughter goes straight to her bed. I put the baby down and finally make it to the restroom. When I come out, I find him sitting in the middle of an oily puddle. He got into the pantry and dumped the entire bottle of canola oil. I have friends who bring their toddlers into the bathroom with them. I value my privacy, but this incident made me rethink whether my privacy is more important than my sanity.

swimming in an oily puddle

I carefully tiptoed into the puddle, lifted the oily child and carried him into the bathub, clothes and all. I washed him, first using soap to remove the oil, then using cream to moisturize his sensitive skin, thinking how insane this all is. Then I buckled him into the highchair and surveyed the damage. After using a few paper towels, I realized that time has come to google the best way to clean up a household BP-sized oil spill.

The best way: use sand, kitty litter, oatmeal or salt. Sprinkle generously over the spill, let it soak in, and then sweep away or vacuum. I had half a tub of oatmeal, but it was in the pantry, the entrance to which was blocked by an oil spill. I used up the entire container, then used salt on the spots that still looked slick. The baby was not used to sitting still for so long, so I gave him the empty oatmeal container. He started sprinkling water from his sippy cup into it.

oatmeal soaking up the oil

I tried. I really tried. Yesterday we went to a barbecue. At the end, they were selling leftovers: grilled chicken and hot dogs at very reduced prices. I snatched some up, feeling smug that a dinner will be ready.

Now I had to wade through oil to get to the fridge where the pan with the leftovers sat. I warmed some chicken up for 1 yo, but he would not eat it. He started throwing it on the floor. 4 yo came out from her room. I never checked whether she slept or rested. She just wanted to cuddle. 1 yo wanted out. I wanted this disaster to be over.

I binge-watched Jewish music videos with the kids. While they watched the screen, I started crying.

G-d this is hard. This is so not how I had planned this day. This is so not what I expected to happen. I just wanted to have a warm ready dinner, and relaxed kids because, for once, I was home instead of running to taekwondo. Instead we were sitting around a laptop in an oily kitchen, with cold food in a foil pan, my daughter's hot forehead on my arm while I was holding a squirmy baby.

That's how my husband found us. He got to cleaning up the BP spill. I got to cuddle in bed with my daughter. The boys were dropped off. My husband warmed up dinner. I put 1 yo to sleep. By this point, that barbecue chicken did not look good any more. The boys saved a hot dog for 4 yo, even though she could not eat it.

I sent them all to bed.

Tomorrow 4 yo was supposed to go to her playgroup, and I was supposed to take boys to a Percy Jackson-inspired field trip about Greek mythology. Then they were supposed to go to taekwondo. Instead, 4 yo will be staying home (and hopefully feeling better). The boys might make it to the museum, if my husband can take them. Obama is coming to visit CDC, which is directly on the way to taekwondo, and the traffic will be shut down. So I guess the boys will have to run in the backyard.

I am flexible, I am super-flexible.

What I need to do is to pray more. This is all so much out of my hands...

what unschooling looks like

 This morning, 4 yo asked me to show her how to draw a fish. I did. She tried making her own, but she was not happy with the result (crossed-out fish). I showed her another easy way. She took the paper away and practiced and practiced till a whole school of different fish were swimming.

(In coop classes, 8 yo had to quit a handwriting class many moons ago over his total inability to bring himself to draw a fish. He just could not do it, could not try, and stopped being receptive to the teacher as soon as she playfully asked her students to draw a fish next to letter "f". It did not improve the following week, so I had to switch him out.)

I was giving 4 yo a bath. Among bath toys we have a set of foam numbers that fit into a puzzle and stick to the tub walls. Some numbers are missing. When my oldest was a toddler, I lined them up and said their names out loud. When 8 yo was toddler, I was removing them from his mouth as he kept on chewing them. Sometimes I remembered to say their names, sometimes I did not. When my daughter was a toddler, I just let her play with them. When she started lining them up, I would tell her their names.

She knows all her numbers. Today she took 9 and 1, stuck them on the side and asked me which number they made. I told her, 91. Then she switched their order. I told her that now it is 19. She giggled. As she was getting out of the tub, she stuck 4 on the side, for "her" number. Then she took 0 and 1 and said that she will make someone's age. When she did 01, I told her it's just one. She changed them around to 10 and said that is her brother's age.

She picked Magic School Bus and the Electric Filed Trip as her good-night story. We did not get far, because on the first page Ms. Frizzle is making a list of all items in the classroom that use electricity. She remarked how N at the end of FAN does not look right. I asked her whether she could tell at the end of which word was this N. She read it: fan. Then she found fan on the page. She pointed to the bell and then looked for it on the word list. Then she said: clock, and stopped. I asked her to sound it out slowly, and she found it, too. She was a bit taken aback by "o" making "uh" sound. Finally, she pointed to the light with Lizzie on top and that one gave her harder time. She was not sure how "igh" in light would work, but I told her.

We had this book for a while. She picks her own books to look at all the time, including these ones. She obviously cannot read them, or can she? I have not been reading this one to her for the millionth time, and she normally just likes the story in Magic School Bus, not all the science facts and not even the dialogue boxes. When she picked out this book, I would file it under science, but we somehow ended up doing reading.

My wise older homeschooling friend is unschooling. She has been doing this for a while. She documents how she progressed in her thinking, and, as I follow her, I wonder: will I finally relax enough with the younger ones that they will get the full benefit of a mom who is not so worried about keeping up with the educational system "out there" to let her kids learn and grow as they see fit? 

I see my daughter benefiting from being a 3rd child out of four. I do not have time to sit down and carefully craft her curriculum, and I do not have opportunity to jump in and take over every activity that she starts. She is an independent learner. Granted, she is also a very traditional learner: she wants to be taught, and she wants to do seat work and worksheets. In short, her independent learning produces tangible results, which puts me at ease.

Yet I wonder: what will happen next year, when she will be of kindergarten age? What will be down the road? Will I hijack her learning? Will she continue to pine for school? Will I unschool her, something that I seem to have courage to do with the boys?

odd questions at odd hours

Friday night, 10 pm.
A very tired mommy is tucking the kids into bed.

8 yo: "How do you divide a not even number in half? What happens when you divide seven in half?"
Me: "Do you know how you call not even numbers?"
"No."
"They are called odd numbers. Can you think how to divide three in half?"
"Yes, each one gets one and a half."
"So what do you think happens to seven?"
"I don't know. I can't do it."
"How do you divide six in half?"
"You get three."
"So what happens with seven?"
"Oh, you get three and a half. Oh, I get it."

Even and odd numbers were covered in 1st grade, I think. We did not do multiplication and division. We did not do math the whole summer. Here, shoot me, we will have summer slippage. But last night, for some reason, the divisibility of odd numbers was on his mind, and he was interested and willing to work for an answer.

I could have belittled him for not remembering about odd numbers. I could have scolded him for stalling on going to sleep. I could have deflected the question till the morning. But I realized that he was ready for this little piece of learning at this point in his life, which happened to be at 10 pm when he was eight years old.

I spoke to a friend today about holding boys back a year, especially young boys. My husband chuckled that it is very un-Russian of me to advocate that. My Russian friends tend to brag about how their kids skip a year, are ahead of the class, etc. However, I see time and again that learning happens more effectively when it's later and the students are ready rather than earlier.

I will have to keep reminding myself to sit tight on that writing and spelling.

comic relief

My oldest, upon hearing me debate which browser to install instead of Chrome: "Maybe you should be like Shimshon and get Firefox?"

---

My daughter lost her sandal. I picked her up from camp with both sandals on. Sometime between her pick-up, boys' pick-up from camp, pit stop at home for a library card and the library's parking lot, her sandal went missing. She did not leave the car the whole time. I checked in every bag and dug under all the seats: no sandal. That's how she hopped to the library, on one foot. I hope one shoe satisfies "shirt and shoes required".

---

My husband overheard 8 yo tell that 4 yo promised never to tell on her brothers.
My husband: "That will not work, she is not required to do that."
8 yo: "She promised."
"I cancel her promise. It was in this week's parsha."
"She promised yesterday. You can't cancel it today, too late!"
"I just heard about it today, so I am cancelling it today."

---

The other day I woke up to a detailed budget of what it would cost to keep a dragon:










I am not sure that I am a dragon person.

two outdoor experiences

So we are unschooling, which probably causes more eye rolls: what are you teaching? What are they learning? And don't even dare complain how things might not be smooth and easy. Isn't all the pressure off?

This morning we were going to a community garden with homeschooling coop to learn about plants. The trip was supposedly geared towards younger kids, but it included the boys' age range, so I figured on taking the three olders.

The boys started up about not wanting to go about ten minutes before we had to leave the house. 9 yo was pointedly planning to spend the day playing DS, so he did not have a case. 7 yo had a more nebulous complaint. I was trying to get to the bottom of it, especially since we went to this place before, and there were chickens involved that he adores, and friends, so I sort of wanted to figure out why he is resisting, but I could not get that out of him.

So we went as we were. The boys quieted down in the car, and seemed fine once we arrived. They fed the chickens and gathered up for the class. 4 yo sat down with her friends. 9 yo and 7 yo sat next to each other. 7 yo came to me because he was worried about being stung by a wasp, but I said that it is too cold for the wasps to be out ( and hoped that it was true!) As the class went on, I was impressed with the level of info being introduced: plant parts, gymnosperms and angiosperms. It was all OK till 4 yo left the class to go dig in the sand pit, and the kids were handed out clipboards. Next thing I know, 7 yo is in tears. He has to write and he is not going to do it. I said that he doesn't have to. I said that I would help him. I tried asking him just to read what he has to write. But the child decided that he is bad at it, and he is not doing any of it. He did not write, we turned in an empty clipboard (I did it  quietly, without drawing attention). Moreover, for the next half an hour he refused to participate in any activity that the group was doing. Instead he spent his time crying and complaining how he wants to sit in the car and he didn't even want to go to this place in the first place. I was trying to talk to him in the sunshine on the corner bench, out of everyone's way, but he just needed a good wallow in his misery, and a good global misery it was! After listening, after talking, after trying to reason, after distracting, after deep breathing, he was still going at it. I ran out of patience. Glorious sunshine or not, this child had major clouds and he was spreading them around! I just told him that I am not interested any more, pulled out my phone and got engrossed. He moped for a minute, and went off to join the group. By this point they moved onto matching seeds to plants game and planting. Now he was happy as a clam, and I was left with his cloud of misery.

After the class, we drove home. The  boys each brought back radish seeds in a compostable pot. 7 yo said: "So you can eat radishes any time you want, mommy, cause you like them." Aww! Then his pot got knocked over because it was left next to a tether ball... and more anger and sadness followed.

I shut the door and called a play therapist that a friend recommended. Not reaching anyone, I left a message.

One of the deals of unschooling was that boys still continue doing chumash every day. I have done chumash with 9 yo in the morning, but not with 7 yo. Frankly, by this point, I was dreading it. He said that he wanted to do it after the baby went for a nap, and stalling was just fine with me. He ate lunch, played magic school with his sister, and I was quite surprised when he popped out of the sun room and asked when the baby is going to take that nap so we can do chumash?

I put the baby down, and he asked me to do it outside. He found his spot in the chumash, read and translated the previous pasuk, remembered the Rashi we did about the dots on top of "eilav". No, we are not doing Rashi inside, but he knows that Rashi answers a lot of the questions we might have and he actually wanted to know what Rashi had to say about those dots. He read the next pasuk, and translated it with some help. He knows what's coming next in the story and I think he finds it helpful, because it is easier to guess from the context what the words mean. He also instills his own drama into the proceedings: Sarah is about to laugh, they are about to tell them about Itzhak, tumm tumm. Overall, it was such a pleasant opportunity to sit out in the sunshine with this kid and hear him eagerly read...

Some days, I feel like I am crazy. I have this kid with this wide range of emotions, and they change so fast that often I catch myself still processing the last one when encountering a whole new wave. I do not want to be his therapist. I do not want to be always on guard. I do not want to be so flexible that I am negating all that I am feeling because my child is experiencing this, and I need to be in tune to this, otherwise, the whole world comes crashing down. In the parlance of Larry Cohen, I do not want to be a perpetual second chicken.

And I just want to experience sunshine.

they will surprise you

I was all organized, staying up late, writing up the plan for today.

In the morning, 4 yo decided to do water experiments in the sink.

She filled a few different containers, used a funnel to pour water from one to another, and dumped and measured and poured. She even made vacuum. When I protested about the mess, she calmly informed me that it is just water and it is only in the sink (true). The only inconvenience was walking around her chair and inability to use the sink, although she gleefully accepted any dirty dishes we put in there.

It rained last night, so giant, foot-long earthworms came out. 7 yo and 4 yo went to take a look. I did not have science on my agenda at all, but they were quite happy holding slippery worms, placing them from one area to another. 7 yo asked how he can tell which end is the worm's head, and I showed him the thickened part towards that end. I also said that he can just observe which way the worm is crawling, and that is the head end.

We have a book about worms, high school and college biology includes dissection of worms, but it take a personal close experience with one to actually wonder which end is the head. AT the end. the kids made a new home for the worms, where I hope they crawled happily ever after.

I heard Rebecca Masinter speak last night about homeschooling, and she reminded me how homeschooling is a movie, not a snapshot. She also brought up parsha and Shabbos d'var Torah. Ours have not been going too well, and last week I promised boys that I will write up parsha questions to ask on Shabbos, so they better come prepared. I figured that 9 yo will read Chumash (in English) and 7 yo will either read, ask me to read to him, listen to Rabbi Juravel, read a simple parsha book or refuse to participate. 7 yo did get all nervous about it, but his suggestion was for him to read from Artscroll Chumash and for me to write down a summary of what he reads. He wanted it to be very detailed, so that he would not miss anything. I said that he could just open Chumash and look things up, on Shabbos, but in his mind that would be cheating. Apparently, looking on a prepared sheet is not cheating, but using original material is. Mercifully, the baby took a giant morning nap, so we were able to sit on the couch, snuggling, and work our way through Vayakhel. To tell the truth, I never found Vayakhel to be quite so interesting until I had to slow down to the pace of summarizing. At some point, 7 yo gave me a bear hug and said how he likes doing parsha with me. If I would have chosen to enforce my original plan, we would have missed out on this great bonding and learning opportunity, not to mention that he did it on much higher level than I expected.

That's the devil with being flexible in homeschooling: you plan, they subvert your plans, and you have a choice: take a direction in which the kids are leading their learning, or enforce your original expectation.

expectations and anxiety

7 yo's best friend had a birthday party today. He has been anticipating going there for a long time. He checked for the correct date on the calendar. He was counting down the days. This morning, he made a card for his friend, without fuss. I thought it would be so nice that he gets to go without his older meddling brother, and have something cool and exciting just for him.

I drove him over, a bit late, but not too late. He has been to his friend's house dozens of times, so when he came inside, I drove away.

When I came to pick him up two hours later, I saw a bunch of people and kids mulling outside. I did not see 7 yo. I saw the mom, and we went inside to look for him. More people were there. I saw the father of the birthday boy. He asked me what was I doing there. I said, I was picking up my son. He said that he was not at the party. I thought he was kidding with me.

A minute later, 7 yo emerged, in tears, with the mom apologizing. He spent the whole party hiding out in his friend's room! He said that he EXPECTED the party to be outdoors, but it was inside, so he just left and hid out. Now I got it that the father was not kidding: he really did not see my kid for two hours.

7 yo also realized that the birthday boy did not even see him there. I prompted him to say goodbye and thank you, and he ran to the car.

He missed the whole party because it did not go the way he expected it to go. He said that he read books in the room. He missed cake, activities, fun, playing. He missed when the kids did go outside to play. How can a kid be so rigid? How will he function? He was so looking forward to the party, but once he had to deal with the actual party, he shut down, and sequestered himself.

Later, when I was tucking him in at night, he got all teary-eyed about the whole experience. He said that he feels stupid, but mostly he was still upset that the party did not go as he expected it to. He did mention that he saw kids working on a timeline and he did not want to do that, and that there was no space for him around the table, and nobody saw him, except for the birthday boy's older sister. Now I wonder whether I should have gone in with him, stayed, made space, pulled him out for cake... But he is almost 8. Shouldn't he figure out how to function on his own, and adapt in whichever way necessary?

He sighed in bed and said that now he will have to wait another year till his friend's next birthday. I bit my lip; his friend is possibly moving away.

It is so painful to see kids suffer. It is so hard to figure out whether my job as a parent is to swoop in and make it all better, or to hang back and let him discover the natural consequences. And it is also hard to figure out what to do about his anxiety. Lately, it has been getting worse. I have been thinking how unschooling is so good for him, but now I see that when a kid has this level of anxiety, he studiously avoids any activity which might push him out of the comfort zone.

Over the past few weeks, 4 yo not only demonstrated that she knows just about all letters, she even made her name from magnetic letters, and then attempted to write it down. She made a card for her older brother and wrote down his name on the front, unprompted. Quite a few letters were legible. 7 yo NEVER did that. Even now, just to write his name is a torturous process. He does not draw and doodle; he does not do Google searches; he does not illustrate. He avoids those activities that require writing/typing.

I have been told to establish a reward system for him. I always knew that it will not work. If a child forfeits a long-expected birthday party because he would have to encounter something unpleasant, would he work for a golden star?

why more sturcture?

Deep down, I hate surprises (ask the people who were unsuccessful in throwing a surprise baby shower for me when I was pregnant with my oldest; I was dead set to go to IKEA that Sunday and they basically had to sit me down to keep me from being absent). So having a plan is semi-essential to my being. My oldest is the same way; he always likes to know what's going on. 7 yo will quite often ask what's planned, too. With chagim, and a different schedule every day, and baby waking up at all hours, it was becoming a  mayhem. My friend likens a good messy unschooling day to a great party. I like my parties slightly less rambunctious, where guests clean up after themselves...

One of my biggest concerns with our unschooling period was what to do with 9 yo, as he clearly needed more structure to get anything done. He is brimming with ideas, but he is very disorganized, so he is having hard time getting anything done unless it is put down in writing somewhere and then reinforced. We had many a night when just as I was tucking him in, the regret of all the things he wanted to get done but did not get to came out.

On my end of things, I am very lucky to be guided by a few veteran homeschooling moms. One of the threads that resonated with me is that it is easy to unschool and then it is just as easy to see where there are gaps. Then you are willing to enforce those areas. I have kept up chumash with the boys over the summer, so we never unschooled that. I have decided that math is vital, so that was also part of the schedule since August. I saw that 7 yo had hard time writing, so Printing Power joined the list of daily exercises. Finally, as we were getting further in chumash, I saw a need to work on more grammar, so we picked up Lashon HaTorah. 9 yo was so lost after not doing it for 6 months! We were in the middle of a unit of tense-changing vav, and he did not have those verb conjugations down. However, after a week of working on it ( and printing out a basic conjugation chart), he is much more comfortable. 7 yo knew his prefixes well, now we are working on those suffixes.

Finally, Rosetta Stone was my offer to the boys, and they both took it up, for now. I am worried about conversational Hebrew. I was kind of hoping for getting some exposure to native speakers in a casual setting ( a Hebrew-speaking babysitter, perhaps?), but it did not happen.

Now, on coming full circle, 7 yo asked me today to pick up history and science. While on the surface this is a request for even more structured learning, it is also a child-led inquiry. In this regard, that little unschooling experiment was a success: when they are interested and ready to learn it, they will ask for it.

worksheets

We are unschooling, right? So why all of a sudden am I sitting at the computer on Amazon, looking up workbooks? Why does my cart have four of them in there? Moreover, why are two of them for my 7 yo, the kid, who time and again, let me know how much he despises workbooks?

A few times a year, I find myself on chinuch.org. It is an excellent website, brimming with ideas and resources. Then I am frantically printing out pages for my kids. The next day, they warily see the pile, eye it, maybe browse it, and we start the fine sport of head-butting over it. Usually, I give it up within a short time, but sometimes it takes me days to get to that point. Sometimes, I file unused pages away, in hope of using them someday, when everyone is older and more mature. Now, my filing cabinet is like a bottomless drawer: no matter how many times I organize it, and see all these great ideas, somehow the time is not right, so they just sit and fester there, making me feel guilty for not doing all these creative and amazing things with my kids.

By now I know that whenever I am feverishly scrolling through chinuch.org, it is just my anxiety talking. I can scroll for a bit, and then step away. I can stay up all night ruminating. I do not need to print. Usually, within a few days, my kids will ask or tell me something demonstrating that somehow they already know the material without the worksheets. The anxiety releases, or switches over to something else. With kids, there are plenty of things to worry about.

But the worksheets utter their siren call. They are cute, and colorful, all the things that were missing in my textbooks as a child. They are bright and appealing. And they teach! I mean, I need to sit and show how they teach. I mean, I have to tell my kids to drop what they are doing so that the worksheets can be pounded into them. I mean, what is the point?

STOP!!!

By now I feel confident that my 7 yo does not need phonics instruction, or a reading book. He reads plenty from the library, both fiction and non-fiction. He reads out loud. He tells me about the books he reads. He asks me to read to him. We definitely do not need workbooks for that.

9 yo does not need geography or history workbook. He might not cover grade-appropriate material, but he reads and discusses plenty. He draws connections, prints out maps, finds causes and effects of historical events.

I got Math Mammoth for 9 yo. All I need is some guide for what 7 yo is supposed to learn in math. So one workbook in math, just one. I would like to continue using Bring Beginnings and Lashon HaTorah for Chumash, so that's already three workbooks, and that is a lot for a workbook-averse kid.

Take a deep breath. Empty the Amazon cart. Save money. More importantly, save sanity, both mine and my child's. Teach each child according to his way.

on natural childbirth

This has nothing to do with homeschooling, but this is something I just did, and I am passionate about, so if this is not your thing, feel free to skip reading.

I gave birth to my fourth this past Friday. It's a boy! He was born on Friday morning in a very natural-birth friendly hospital. This birth experience was the closest to what I wanted ever since I got into natural childbirth. In fact, I think, this was pretty much it. I wanted a hospital setting, just in case anything goes wrong, but I also wanted a hands-off approach. I wanted to be supported during labor, but not have anyone speak for me. I wanted freedom to move around and to choose the positions which were most comfortable. I wanted to wear my own clothes. I wanted to be surrounded by people who have seen birth without interventions, and who believed that it was possible.

I am so happy that I got all of those. I am also grateful that this is my fourth baby, and by now I had no fear of giving birth. I trusted that my body could gestate this baby and that giving birth to him would not be traumatic to either one of us. I knew that I could do it, but it would be hard work. I did not think that giving birth is the most painful experience of my life, just one of the hardest.

A few things I did to prepare myself.

Read, read, read. With my first, I read "What to Expect When You are Expecting", and ended up with all the interventions which are so casually mentioned there. I recommend all Ina May books, starting with "Ina May's Guide to Childbirth". Watch The Business of Being Born to get a feel for the alternatives. Trace the development of current childbirth practices through Pushed and Birth Day. Find out what midwives really do in Baby Catcher. See the natural childbirth through a frum perspective in Labor of Love. I got most of these through my library, so if it's not your thing, you can always return it.

Take in positive birth stories. Read about them, listen to them, seek them out. My grandmother lost one of her babies in childbirth (carbon monoxide poisoning from a wood-burning stove) and she proceeded to tell me the story in great detail when I was just a few months' pregnant with my first. She was still shaking and crying, fifty years later. My mother did not have such a good birth story either, especially since it emphasized me choosing to get born prematurely, and me shooting out of her and tearing her up. That hang-up came out in this labor: when it came time to push, I lost it. I kept going through my mind, telling myself that I have to get this baby out, and then feeling that I am pulling back instead of pushing. I kept searching myself for what is preventing me to embrace what I have to do here. I felt that nobody is catching the baby, that the baby will "shoot out" (this is after three kids who definitely did not "shoot out" and neither did this one!). Afterwards, my husband was saying how interesting it was that this was my concern, but now I realize that some part of my brain got branded with this horrible possibility that a baby can "shoot out" and rip his mother. So I tried exposing myself to positive stories as much as possible, people relishing the experience, women trusting their bodies, having fun with their pregnancies, feeling empowered by childbirth rather than defeated.

Do psychological cleansing. For that I recommend "Birthing From Within". Yes, some of the ideas might be kooky, but the principle that psychology profoundly affects how one perceives childbirth is worth exploring. It also allows to zero in on what the hang-ups one might be having about childbirth, what one assumes it will be like, and what can be done to work through them. I liked the idea of birth art. In fact, this time around about a week before I gave birth I got this image into my head. I am not an artist, in fact, I paint so infrequently that when I finally sat down to execute the picture, I discovered that a bunch of my acrylics have dried out. Nevertheless, the picture was gestating in me, so to speak, and one I completed it, I went into labor the next day. I used it during labor and it helped me focus.

Create affirmations. I had a few for myself (wow, this was a good contraction, it is helping me open up; I can ride this one; my body is meant to do this) and a few as a pep talk to the baby ( c'mon baby, come on out; I want to to meet you). When I was pregnant with my second, I created a set of cue cards in Powerpoint, and I browsed through them in labor to see which ones spoke to me. Again, there was a lot of psychological prep beforehand.

Research what's safe. This is where it is important to separate fact from fiction and to realize where one's wishes might contradict reality. For example, during the last two pregnancies, I had low platelet count towards the end. It was not too low, but I was notified that if I wanted an epidural, it might be an issue. Thankfully, I did not want an epidural, so that was not a concern. I ate and drank during labor (water, tea, juice, crackers, toffee which I made as my labor was getting started and we brought it to the hospital to nurses' desk). I went to the bathroom often so that my full bladder would not get in the way. I skipped an IV and even a Hep Loc (IV access) this time.

Get support. I hired a doula, who was essential this whole experience  She walked with me, squeezed my hips during contractions  talked me through transition, kept me focused, suggested breathing patterns when the going got tough, fetched pillows, water, washcloths etc. She was the calming presence that I craved. I am usually a do-it-alone kind of gal, but for labor, she was the steady support that I needed.

Expect the unexpected. I have a birth plan. I created it with my second, tweaked it with my third, and... forgot it at home with my fourth! I was just ready to go with the flow, let happen whatever happens, and not expect things to go one way or another.  In order to give birth, one has to let loose, let go, and for me, the meticulous planner, this was the ultimate letting go. Thankfully, the hospital was so laid-back, that it did not matter that we had no birth plan; they have seen it all, and just let me be.

Is giving in worthwhile?

Two moments from this Purim.

We were supposed to make groggers, We were supposed to make them from the beginning of Adar. 6 yo asked to make groggers. When we got to the specifics, he wanted his to be wooden, with a gear inside around which the rest of the grogger turns. Well, we do not have any like that. I even Googled it, and it required power tools whose names I did not know, let alone how to use them. I kept hoping to make it to Michael's and see if they, by any chance, sell wooden gears, but it never happened. We were in the middle of making a paper towel roll grogger, when 8 yo said that we need to poke it with toothpicks and make it like a rain-stick. 6 yo listened to his brother, it did not work, the toothpicks fell out, and now the paper towel rolls was pockmarked with holes. I tried taping up the ends, but this was not satisfactory. Bottom line, I assumed that we will survive without groggers.

I was proven wrong on Shabbos, when 6 yo innocently announced that he does not want to go to a megillah reading because he does not have a grogger. Oops.. and we cannot make one on Shabbos. He was willing to stay home. I was planning on splitting up the kids with my husband, especially since they all decided to have a sleepover in 3 yo's room on Friday night and all were woken up at 5:30, so the chances of everyone being human by 7:30 pm were slim to none. Except that my husband got called in to a delivery around shalishudes time, which meant that if I wanted to hear a megillah, I have to make it to shul by 7:30, with all three kids in tow, and keep them quiet. That is hard to do when two of them are on men's side. And one of them was quite clear that coming to a megillah without a grogger is unacceptable.

Shabbos was over at 7:10. I grabbed three plastic cups, dumped some kidney beans in each, told boys to grab scissors, and traced three circles for the openings. I told the boys to cut theirs out, while I was cutting 3 yo's. By now I know better than not to make something for her when the boys are doing a project. Then I grabbed packing tape and taped the circles on the cups' openings. Most creative grogger ever? I don't think so. More like quickest grogger assembly.

We got to the megillah reading just in the nick of time, huffing and puffing. And I was so pleased to see that some of the kids' friends had very similar groggers (two cups taped together)! The boys sat quietly, and gleefully shook at Haman, 3 yo bounced between my lap and the floor space, and also shook while everyone booed.

In the morning, we went to a megillah reading after shacharit. Since parking can be an issue, we decided to go all together early enough for my husband to daven. This meant that there was a good 40 minute davening before we got the the megillah. This time I only had 3 yo to watch. I did get to daven, but she was getting a bit restless. I showed her Torah, pulled out her books, gave her a few little toys. All was going well till the actual megillah time. I was holding a Youth Megillah, the one she barely glanced at the night before. As soon as the reading started, she decided that she HAS to hold it and look at it now. I could not talk, so I was trying to give her another book, or somehow indicate that mommy needs this book. She was starting to get whiny and that whine was about to escalate into a scream. But I needed a text to follow... suddenly I remembered that I had a Laffy Taffy in my purse from the carnival the week before. I quickly gave her the candy, hoping to distract her temporarily. She asked me to open the wrapper. I slowly unwrapped it, still thinking where can I get the text to follow. She got busy with the candy, and I had fifteen seconds, during which I spied a megillah in the next pew. Yes, I fed my child candy at 9 am. But I was able to reach for that megillah and give up the decorated one, and there was no screaming and interrupting everyone else.

I used to think that both of these moments would show me to be a weak mother. A 6 yo should understand that not making a grogger beforehand will result in no grogger on Purim. A 3 yo should understand that now Mommy needs this book. But then I am thinking about the conflict that would create, the tears, the screaming, the disruption, the hurt feelings. Is it more important to be right, or to make the best out of the situation?

There are other times when I can teach my kids the consequences of their (in)actions or the appropriateness of their behavior. But in these circumstances, giving in seemed like the best response.

Occupation?

At some point we all have to fill out some forms: name, address, phone number, followed by occupation and employer. Ever since I started staying at home, this question bugged me. The easiest answer--homemaker-- rubs me the wrong way. I immediately picture a shapely lady in a button-down dress with a frilly apron, a duster in one hand and a perfect perm being held up with another.

No, that is definitely not me.

Homeschooler? That sounds like I am the one who is being taught.

Homeschool teacher? A bit too pretentious, and this conjures a blackboard, American flag, and a whopping three kids lined up behind desks.

So who am I? And, more importantly, what do I occupy myself with?

When my oldest was just a few weeks old, my mother came to visit. I was in the midst of graduate school in biology, or, more correctly, in the midst of quitting graduate school. I knew even before I had my baby that being gone for twelve hour stretches was not what I was aspiring to do, even if my research was going well, even if I was a very good student, and even if I could find a way to balance motherhood, lab work, stipend for an income and random babysitters. My mother was very disturbed by this. I remember a conversation where she was pushing me to define myself, sort of in the way that those forms want you to describe yourself in one word. She said that she is a doctor, and my grandfather was a veteran. I, fresh from yet another nursing and diaper change, and a whole new mommy brain, which felt like being stuck in honey after high-flying intellectualism of scientific papers, said that I am a mother. My mother laughed, and said that it's something you do on the side, and the kids grow up and they do not need you and you need to be something else.

Almost nine years into motherhood, I beg to differ. It is easy to dismiss motherhood as yet another pursuit, but it is impossible for it not to redefine you in such fundamental ways, that both of your ears are left ringing. On the other hand, those professions and occupations come and go. My mother became a doctor because of a certain degree of family pressure, and while she found what she likes, I often think about how many other things she could have been pursuing, were she not so rigidly defined by being a doctor. My grandfather was an organizer of veterans from WWII, but, I am sure, he would have been much happier if the war never happened, and there were no veterans to organize. Would his life be incomplete without them?

What am I? I was a foreign student, and that defined me for a bit. I was also a very good student. I was type A, always driven, always organized. I still approach any sort of testing or personal learning that way. But life threw enough curve balls already, that I learned to mellow out, let go, and not always strive for an A when B would be just fine, and NOBODY is grading anyway!

I am a life-long learner; just as I audited physical chemistry in college, so I took a graphic design course, and so I read midwifery books, and so I started my Nach Yomi and so I keep on learning alongside my kids. I am also not shy to try something new, push a different button, move out of my comfort zone.

I have been working on my character traits, because there are six eyes constantly learning from me, especially when I am at my worst. When you are home with your kids all the time, you cannot blame others for the way they are turning out. So personal growth is on my agenda.

I can make a dinner in 15 minutes, if need be. I can get the kids out the door in 15 minutes, too. And I can watch your kid if you give me a 15 minute notice. I can also have a friend over, for tea, for a talk, just to drop in. My house will not be spotless, but whatever needs to be picked up (to my standards) will get done in 15 minutes.

I can read a book to one child while nursing another. I can resolve conflicts, chauffeur, grocery-shop with kids in tow, sneak in math, teach aleph-bet, answer questions about foramen ovale and why is Shaul after Dovid (chasing, that is, not chronologically). I can wipe tushies in the middle of the night, chase away bad dreams and soothe a child back to sleep. I can teach how to ride a bike and fly a kite, how to read and multiply, how to apply for a library card and write an apology letter.

Is there a name for all of this? Moreover, as I am filling out yet another form, is there space for all of this?

Most of this falls into the category of conscious motherhood. Yet I strongly doubt that writing "mother" as occupation, and "being my own boss" as employer is what those forms are after.

What defines you? What occupies you? And how flexible are you willing to be with your self-definition when the circumstances change?