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.

getting creative

It is November. As one of my veteran homeschooling moms reminds me (every year) it is a time for burning out, wanting to throw in a towel, or storm out of the house, get on the first bus to nowhere, and disappear off the face of the earth. It is also a prime time of year to see other people boast about what their kids are accomplishing, and to feel like a total failure.

I am suffering from burnout. I am also suffering from unsaid assumptions that I can take on other responsibilities, and put up with grown-ups behaving like kids. If it wasn't for my brutally honest homeschooling friends, and for some other friends who are willing to put up with my insane mood swings, I would be on that first bus.

I have set a new limit this week: I am off after 2 pm. That means that all the schoolwork that requires mommy's checking or assistance has to be completed by that time. It is probably not the best thing for my kids, for me to be unavailable like that. It is probably another cause of anxiety for 8 yo. But it is a much-needed mental boundary for me. Therefore, now it is 2 pm, 1 yo is still napping, and I can sit down and write a blog while I still feel sane rather than at 10 pm at night.

This new boundary is liberating. I might regret it, and I might not stick with it, but, at the moment, this is what I crave the most.

I love drinking tea and coffee. I allow myself one cup of coffee a day (some days it has to be two, if I don't want to fall asleep while driving). But I drink cups and cups of steaming decaf tea. The sad story of moms and hot drinks is that, often, too much time passes between the time the drink is poured, and mom can actually drink it. And I feel cold, always. Even being pregnant does not warm me up. But coming back to these lukewarm cups of beverage seems to add to misery rather than soothe me. This morning, I poured my tea into an insulated mug. Ah, a moment of inspiration! It has a lid, so the drink stayed warm all while I could casually sip it. I am on my third hot cup, and I am feeling peaceful.

Last summer I got into watercolor painting. I enjoyed it tremendously, and got basic supplies while the kids were in camp. The baby, who was a few months old napped, the kids were at camp, I painted. I also dabble in acrylics, and some pottery painting. The problem, all these lovely hobbies take time and creative energy. All of them are incompatible with an active and demanding toddler. And all of them lose all luster at 10 pm, I am a morning person. That's when I get desire to shake things up, create, give to the world. By the evening time, I am wrung out. I do not want to give, and I do not want to produce. I want a warm blanket on a couch, and a good book.

I found that the longer I went without doing those creative things, the sadder I got. I saw how days went by, but there was nothing that I could show for them. Finally, I just used my babysitter time to go and work on a trivet at a pottery painting place. I happened to pick a pattern which is very heavy on details, so it is taking me multiple sessions to finish it. It is probably not the wisest use of my time, but I am finding that no matter how efficient and productive I am, there is always more to do, and none of that "to do" was going towards my sanity or self-care. Somehow, doing those little curlicues is like a balm. I am not kidding myself into thinking that I am producing a great work of art, but I am relaxing.

What little creative things do you do to boost your mood?

P.S. I am finishing this blog post at 9:30 pm. Sigh...

snippets of unschooling

10 yo insisted that we start on Vaigash, even though he did not finish reviewing Miketz. I read the first perek and casually told him that we will not be doing a lot of Rashis, as they seem to contradict p'shat. In p'shat, Yehudah is begging Yosef for mercy, in midrash (which he was aware of), Yehuda is powerful and threatening. I thought 10 would rejoice, but he insisted on doing those Rashis inside; he was intrigued by what was that hidden drash. We finished the first perek.

-------------------------

Tonight, at dinner, 4 yo asked me what's six plus three. I mindlessly told her to try to figure it out. She declared that she wants to do math, now. I asked her what she wants to use for counting, assuming it will be blocks, beads, or books (her recent choice). She chose her fingers. I was in the middle of washing dishes when I realized that she was counting out six, on two hands. Then she added three, and then she added them all together, all on her own. She was very satisfied with nine, and that was the end of math for tonight.

------------------------


I got a video out of the library on math tricks and card tricks. 8 yo picked it to be watched tonight. I thought it would be more about math strategies than card tricks, but I was wrong. The last trick, called "The Mail," he did not get. It is actually a pretty silly trick, so I asked him whether he wanted me to show it to him. He was agreeable, so we practiced it two times, and he finally got it that there is no trick, just an assumption. The real show of confidence and understanding would be him performing it for others.

---------------------------

1 yo pulls a step stool up to the kitchen sink, climbs on it, and says: "Wash!" He is finally talking, although there is still a lot of gibberish. However, he is clearly learning the ways of a Jewish home.

unexpected

I am expecting.

I am not a fan of such public announcements. There is a part of me where I would want to see you in person and tell you myself, or let you notice my expanding belly and comment on that. But there is a large group of people whom I would want to notify, but we do not live in the same city, and we have not seen each other in years, so they would not know unless I tell them.

I can wait till I have the baby, till it's obvious. But there is something else that I need to share.

We have four kids. Somehow, when you have four kids, people feel that it is their business to ask, right off the bat: "So how many more are you having?" In this scenario, and in a frum world, it is not a surprise to be having another one. People expect it, almost, same way as they expect their unstable relative to ruin the holidays, or for a toddler to throw another tantrum. It's easy to roll your eyes, and twist your finger at the temple afterward.

With each one of my kids, we had good fortune of deciding: "Honey, let's have a baby", and then get pregnant right away. (I will throw it in here that I did have one miscarriage, and I am familiar with the painful, dark place which brings up all sorts of feelings of inadequacy.) But this time it was different. This time, I felt like I am already drowning. This time, I was in the midst of figuring out what to do with 8 yo, school-wise. This time, we were using birth control, and no human error occurred. This time, it was: "Honey, we are having a baby. AHHH!" This time, my logical self demanded another pregnancy test, because it was just too weird. I was not supposed to be getting pregnant at this point in the game.

Why am I confessing to having an unplanned pregnancy? Because 50 % of all pregnancies are unplanned, including married people, including families, including people who already have kids. And the feelings that come with an unplanned pregnancy are very different.

We love smirking at unwed mothers; we love feeling superior to teenagers who somehow managed to get pregnant, and more than once. We love feeling that we, as stable married people, know better. We also love that we do not have to fess up if there is an "accident".

Before anyone goes on a rampage about how all life is precious, and all babies are meant to be, I want to share a little experience. When my daughter was born, I had boys out of diapers for months. It felt good not lugging a diaper bag and a change of clothes everywhere I went. We planned for my daughter, we were thrilled to have her, and I knew by that point what taking care of a newborn looked like. Still, having to go back to elaborate packing routine just to get out to the park after not having to do it for a while felt painful. It felt like a setback. It felt that we were almost at that threshold, and then we took a step back. On this day, we made it out to the park. At that park, somehow, the conversation among mothers turned to some poor woman who discovered that she was pregnant, again, at her postpartum visit. The lady telling the story regaled how she was sobbing her eyes out, and the whole block knew. She finished by saying how one just needs to spend some time with women struggling with infertility to realize what a wonderful blessing it is to have another baby so easily.

I was about 6 weeks postpartum, and I remember thinking: if I found myself pregnant at that point, I would probably sob my eyes out, too. It would be a wonderful world where women suffering from infertility would put their energy and mothering emotions into helping other overwhelmed mothers who just need an hour of sleep, of sanity, of peace. Yet it does not work that way. Once you have too many kids (and that number varies by culture and by place), people look at you and expect you to solve this puzzle all on your own. And those women struggling to conceive will not help out, they will just look at you with jealousy or anger, since you have it so easy.

So let's quit pretending that only unwed mothers end up with unplanned pregnancies. And let's validate emotions of women who do find themselves accidentally pregnant, no matter what are their circumstances.

As for me, I am still taking time processing how this will affect our life. I know exactly what it's like to have two kids two years apart. I also know that it takes about 18 months postpartum to reach the point of trying to plan anything in life which is not directly tied to the baby. It takes another 18 months till those plans can be achieved. The youngest has to be about 3 for a mommy to get her energy and life back. I am recognizing that after my headstrong and curious 1 yo I will not get that space, I will sail straight into another postpartum. I am just getting a smidgen of those grand ideas going now, and I know that all of those will need to be on hold for another 3 years or so. I am making peace with that.

The story of my life is learning to let go of being in control, and being forced to take the journey wherever it might lead me. I often think that I internalized that lesson. Yet, time and again, I find out that I did not absorb it enough. Having an unplanned baby is the ultimate surrender of control.

Credit: http://www.anythinglime.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/heart_hands_pregnant_belly-1024x682.jpg

Unplanned, yet wanted.
Unplanned, yet the kids are overflowing with joy at the news of another sibling.
Unplanned, yet teaching me already some valuable lessons.

The road less traveled... made all the difference.

elusive nannies

Hiring a nanny online is like online dating. I was always thankful that I met my husband in the "olden days", before online dating was a thing, and I did not have to suffer through the uncertainty that nobody can vouch for that person, that I will be stood up, that the online profile will not match with reality.

When we spoke to our friends with any experience about hiring help, everyone told us that they use care.com. Ironically, this is the same organization that a school suggested for hiring a shadow, so I figured they must have  a very wide pool of applicants. I took a plunge, wrote a posting and got my husband to look it over. He said: "It sounds nice, but where are we going to find a person like that?" I sent it out there into the cyberverse, together with a small prayer.

Within 24 hours, we started getting responses. There were people out there who were interested! And some of them sounded normal enough and qualified enough. Some were weird, some sent a generic response, some did not have hours that matched our needs, and one person was almost stalking. But there seemed to be people who looked promising. Now, as with online dating, there was a question of safety, and a question of disclosing a bit too much information too soon. I tried playing it safe: meet at the park, and try not to disclose my phone number.

We scheduled the meeting time for this morning. I figured that there were no coop classes, and my husband was off, so it should work for both of us to be at the park, for the kids to play (hopefully with other kids), and for us both to feel out the candidates.

The first blow was the realization that one out of three did not respond that she is willing to meet us. Then, I heard from a few homeschool moms that they will not be making it, so no friends for kids to play with. Next, as we were getting ready to go, the sky grew dark, and unmistakable rain came down. I figured, I will call the first person and ask her to meet us in the rec center instead, so the kids can stay indoors. When we got there, there was no sight of her. I tried calling her; no response. I left messages, my kids played Foosball, 1 yo played with his usual toys. At least the rec center staff was nice about us just hanging out there.

Then I tried contacting the second person, for whom I did not have a phone number. I sent her a message through the website, telling her that we are waiting indoors. Time was ticking by. My husband said that we should wait the full half an hour, give her a chance.

Oh, this was ridiculous. We do not have so many mornings off, and I felt stood up, just like on a date. We could have done so many things with those killed hours. Moreover, we are exactly where we started, looking for that outside help.

In the defense of the second person, she did call me later that afternoon, apologizing, and saying that she had car trouble. We rescheduled for Friday morning. I will not have my husband along, which increases my anxiety about making a a desperate choice, and just grasping the first person who bothered to show up as promised.

So we are back to online dating (for nannies). We are scared of what it will cost us, but we seem unable to get to the point where this would figure as part of a discussion.

--------------------

In a funny twist, after all our morning adventures,  8 yo did his usual allotment of work in record time and with positive attitude. It took him less than an hour, maybe even half an hour? So pleasant, and so surprising. 10 yo, meanwhile, decided that HE will play the role of an uncooperative child, sulking and complaining, with outbursts about "grueling work". I cannot have it nice on both fronts, can I? Maybe, when 8 yo cooperates, 10 yo has a space to release his frustrations. But why do they all get released on me?

not a success

I Saw this today on someone's Facebook wall and my first reaction was, Oh yeah!

And then it turned into : what a bunch of baloney.

I was waiting for today, really waiting. Today was supposed to be an appointment with a psychiatrist for 8 yo. This was through a group recommended by another mom whose son also struggles with anxiety. It took us literal months to get this appointment, and lots of phone calls from my husband.

I was anxious about it. Last therapist was not doing much headway, but he was strongly advocating medication (and public school for services). My pediatrician said that they will not prescribe anti-anxiety meds. So we needed a psychiatrist.

Meanwhile, as long as I do not expect anything from 8 yo, things are peachy. However, any expectation is an assault on his freedom, and I am out of patience. I have not been giving up on this child for a long time. I am tired of being told that I just need to spell out conditions and expectations. I am tired of being told that I just need to be firm in my consequences. I am tired of being told that we need a reward system in place. I do not think it is vaccines or sugar or gluten or food coloring.

So a lot was hinging on today. I sat last night and finally faced the intake paperwork, a small mound of it. I gathered whichever documentation necessary. And I lined up a babysitter whom I was willing to play through the nose, just to get to this appointment.

Midday, I got a phone call from my husband that the doctor had a family emergency and the appointment is cancelled. Oh, and since it is at a teaching facility, we might be seen first by a resident, then by a fellow, and then, maybe, by a psychiatrist. He pushed very much for us to be seen by a psychiatrist. Meanwhile, it will have to be rescheduled for mid-November.

This bit of news came on the heels of not one morning meltdown, a meltdown over same old multiplication and "I'm scared!" and all the usual pencil throwing, and time out outside and apologies and then more of the same.

I am tired of all this. I am giving up.

A friend who is being very honest about her bipolar disorder shared how hard it is to have mental issues and for others not to understand, How hard it is to be on meds, and dealing with the fact that meds are needed. I needed to see that bit, to realize that what I have on my hands is not just a brat, or a case of bad parenting, but an honest situation which requires more than I can give,

My 4 yo probably knows more Hebrew words than 8 yo. My 1 yo wants to name the few letters that he recognizes. Both of these kids want to learn and they get to learn, 8 yo is faced with a brick wall of anxiety which suffocates any desire to try, to be challenged, to be open to new possibilities. His anxiety is setting my bar so low for the rest of the family, for the whole day, that I cannot commit to anything getting done. Will we get out of the house? Or will we spend the whole morning managing a tantrum?

So I am not a successful mom. I am giving up on my child, I am giving up on my situation. I dream of a camp, a farm, where kids with anxiety can go and pet goats, have chores, do manual labor, and be left alone to do whatever calms them. I dream of an alternative where there is only 8 yo, and we can pursue only what he wants to do.

But I can dream all I want. I can share those pep talks how everything will be ok. I can even revel in the lies that we whisper to each other, to soothe. I can keep on focusing on the positive. But the stark reality is that I am giving up.

first day back to "school"

We took off from doing formal schoolwork over Yom Tov (although 10 yo still managed to review the whole masechet Succah and read a ton of textbooks during that time). I wanted the first day back to be gentle, all the more so since I had a morning dr appointment and I was not sure when we would get back.

making "moshiv haruach" signs

First thing that I wrote down for everyone is to make posters/reminders to add "moshiv haruach" (a special prayer for rain). I spoke a bit about it to 8 yo. The older boys copied the text from their siddurim and I was pleased to see that, for once, 8 yo was fine copying Hebrew and even spent some time decorating his wall hanging. 10 yo went all out, with block letters. I printed out a dot-to-dot umbrella for 4 yo, which contained letters of the alphabet, and a regular umbrella image for 1 yo. For a whole five minutes everyone sat at the table, coloring. I even managed to snap an idyllic picture of how it could be...

Then the boys did mineral testing for my geology class. They described their rocks, tested their hardness and magnetism, checked for reaction with vinegar and finally, smashed them with a hammer to see how they cleave. Finally, they got to try to identify their rocks using guides and Internet. I am not sure how correctly they identified their rocks, but they surely had fun!

testing rocks

checking cleavage/fracture

Tums in vinegar

 4 yo said that she wanted to do her own experiment, so I gave her Tums tablet and told her to drop it into leftover vinegar. She giggled that bubbles appeared and took time shifting it around the container. 1 yo was trying to get in on the action the entire time, snatching rocks and other supplies. It is hard to do any experiments with toddlers around, especially with toddlers who are very interested in grabbing, but not so much in looking. I almost wish he was old enough and patient enough to watch TV, so I could buy some time while he is awake to work with others.

I did some math review with 8 yo. We are in the middle of memorizing multiplication tables, and we are at sixes. We did them before the break, but every time I try to review them, he just totally melts down. I do not have a full plan for how far I am planning to review: only sixes, flashcards for sixes, flashcards for all the tables that he already knows, multiplication worksheets... I am open to getting wherever we get on any given day. Most days, unfortunately, we did not get to even looking on the chart which is prominently hanging on the wall. He just drops to the floor: "I don't know it, I cannot do it!" and that's the end of it. I tried persisting, I tried hanging back, I tried pushing, I tried talking, I tried punishing.

Larry Cohen in "The Opposite of Worry" talks about the edge and how to approach it. My child is over the edge at the mere suggestion, and he is not interested in getting back. He is in free fall, and he does not want to practice calming down techniques. He does not want to be hugged, he does not want to be held. He is not interested in learning how not to end up in free fall.

This is the point where I am finding myself despairing. I do not want medication for this child, but, often, we have no functionality. We are to meet with yet another mental health professional, in hope, yet again, that this whole process will go somewhere. I was told how all Jewish kids have anxiety. I know that I have it, and I see where my other kids have it. It is just not debilitating, same way as someone who likes to wash their hands thoroughly is different from a person suffering from OCD who cannot tolerate hands not washed to some utterly unrealistic standard.

So yesterday, I mentioned those sixes and 8 yo promptly dissolved into a puddle on the floor. I said that he should review them from the chart. 4 yo came with me and we went over that row, with him screaming behind us. Then I told him to go outside and not come back in till he's ready to review them. I offered him his shoes, but he preferred to sit on the door mat, sulking. I went on with my activities.

After 20 minutes, I heard him knocking. (The door is unlocked). I let him in, asking whether he is ready. He said that he does not want to do them. I said, I understand, but are you ready to try? He moseyed on to the chart and reviewed them. Then we reviewed them out loud, together. Then we reviewed them counting backwards. Then I pulled our just flashcards for sixes and we did those. Then, seeing that he really does know them, I said, let's go over the rest of the deck, and when I hit a card that you did not learn yet, you can yell: "I do not know it!" He giggled, but he chose to tell me politely the ones that he did not know.

He knows them all.

He knows all the multiplication tables that we have studied.

Some part of him is not ready to own up to the fact that he knows it all.

I was struck by this week's parsha, Breishit. Adam and Chava ate from the Tree of Knowledge because they wanted instantaneous, magical knowledge of the matters which one normally would acquire through a lot of effort. My son's line is that he just wants to know it already. He wants the tree, and he wants the fruit. Consequences are irrelevant.