My Kids' Encounter with Jim Crow

Today I read the kids this book since we covered the 14th amendment, which made all former slaves US citizens and paved the way for the Civil Rights movement (are you CC-ers singing the history song yet??).

Reading the description of Jim Crow law to the kids provoked such disgust from my 7 year old. She squished up her face saying such sweet but ignorant things like, "If I lived back then, then I would want to change my skin to black."

When my 11 year old saw this picture of Rosa Parks being fingerprinted, he remarked how ashamed the  police officer must be now.

I agree.  Not only those who were photographed must be embarrassed, but I'm guessing any man who ever asked a black woman to give him his seat must feel like a cad too.

Diversity is On the Job Training

I wrote this last month for a friend who was highlighting diversity in February.

February is known as Black History month.

I won't lie to you and say that during every February I parade the great black Americans for my children to learn about. Are you kidding?  That would mean I'm on top of things.  That would mean that I plan ahead for holidays and special events.

As I write this today, it is Chinese New Year.  In my head I had an egg carton dragon craft for the kids.  But that idea stayed in my head. I bought frozen potstickers to feed my kids like I do every week.  But they remain in the freezer as if today is like any other. The tea still remains wrapped in it's plastic packaging. The clean pot hasn't held any hot tea today.

So, I stink at special occasions.  Yet despite my lack of planning for the big events, my kids manage and get along.  Even though I never told them to call black people African Americans, they just picked that up from the culture.  Well, eventually they picked that up.

Before they knew what to call African Americans, they described them as people with brown skin.  Or grey. Or really, really dark brown almost black.  They had no idea that the level of melanin classified people into groups.  Because I didn't point anything out, they ended up noticing nothing.  They saw no difference between anyone.

That experience made wonder if in our culture's attempts to make everything equal we inadvertently highlight and perpetuate the inequality. Are we actually schooling our kids in how the world represses people in our diversity celebrations instead of truly celebrating the fascinating differences? I don't know.

Like most questions, I observe the problems more than I can offer solutions. This is why my children are very fortunate to live in such a diverse area of the country where we are in almost daily contact with people of other cultures. Since their mother forgets to deliberately guide them in the ways of accepting people from all walks of life, I can only actively be their example.

I hope my kids never confuse this guy with the other guy who
nailed the 95 These to the Wittenburg door.

Moon Landing

Who knew that the splint would be better? On Saturday, my daughter broke her ankle.  Since about Monday, she was complaining about the looseness of the splint.  How she fantasized about the new cast. Everything would be better.  The cast would be snug.  No longer would she fear people bumping her foot and hurting her.

On Wednesday, the orthopedist surprised her. Instead of a cast, he fit her with a moon boot. A heavy, cumbersome, doesn't fit through any pant leg, moon boot. Instead of a cast that her friends could sign, she was fitted with plastic and straps. None of her friends could decorate it, but they could add stickers.

Saturday Part III

Saturday was supposed to be my day to do one really fun activity with the kids for the weekend.  We were going to expend our energy, the 3 year old was supposed to take a good nap, and we were all going to attend the youth group activity, something we all enjoy doing together.

But the best laid plans are something, something. I can't remember the expression.

By the time I arrived back from the ER, it was late afternoon, my 13 year old was suffering from the pain of a broken ankle, my 3 year old was taking a late nap after falling asleep on the living room floor, and I was already tired enough for bed.

Thankfully, my parents came to my aid. They shuttled my nephews home and provided a way for my 13 year old to attend the youth group meeting that she loves so much. She grit her teeth and pushed through the pain to enjoy seeing her friends.

After she left, I decided to tidy the place a little bit.  Eight kids had done everything from sleeping to eating to playing in our disheveled home.  Kids hate putting their things away, so I figured my 7 year old was trying to get out of work when she began crying about her tummy hurting.

Being the tenderhearted mother that I am, I told her to get back to work and pointed to the trash can telling her that she could relieve herself there if something came of that "tummy ache."

During dinner, she didn't want to eat.  After dinner she couldn't be made to feel jealous at our drinking hot chocolate because she still complained about her stomach.  She was a crumpled mess on the couch while we watched TV. Then when she should've been brushing her teeth, I heard her scream for me from the bathroom upstairs.

Up there, I found she had made it to the bathroom.  She'd made it to the toilet. But her vomit didn't make it inside the toilet.  Instead, a big, wide puddle of pink, chunky vomit lay at the base of the toilet on the floor.

I could smell the stomach acids as I ascended the stairs. The overpowering smell in the bathroom immediately brought tears to my eyes as my body began gagging uncontrollably. My gagging was so intense that my throat hurt and I feared I was going to add to that puddle.

Over and over I ran out of the bathroom for air.  I was crying.  How would I clean this up if I couldn't control myself? My oldest normally cleaned puke for me but she wasn't home. Besides, she had a broken ankle.... I couldn't ask her anyway, right?

Online I looked up what common household items absorb vomit. I found a website that promised to tell me what absorbed bodily fluids.  Ewww, that grossed me out.  However, that site was very useful. I   lugged my partially used 13lb bag of Costco baking soda upstairs. I figured that the remaining 10lb would be enough for the job.

Armed with a can of Lysol and a bandanna around my face, I sprayed the bathroom as I entered. I dumped the baking soda and then left while the magic began. I wanted all of that vomit to be absorbed and deodorized.  When I came back, I again sprayed the Lysol, donned plastic gloves, and scooped up the nasty baking soda into the trash. Since I clean with the antiseptic vinegar, bubbles fizzed after I sprayed down the area.  This was the small pleasure in my disgusting task.

At the end of the night, my babies were tucked in for the night and I fell asleep effortlessly.

Just enough baking soda to absorb the pool of vomit.

Saturday Part II

After the trouble of filling out the forms at Rebounderz, the kids and I were thrilled to change into our special trampoline shoes and helmets.

As soon as we entered the trampoline that is bigger than some people's first floor of their house, my 3 year old clung to my neck screaming, "I skeeeered! I skeeered!" He had no interest in jumping high, doing flips, or bouncing off the trampoline walls.  Once I did break away to do a flip into their pit of foam blocks. But if I didn't hold the little scared boy, then he was running off to the arcade. His true love was anything that required tokens, not jumping.

One of the times that I was retrieving him from the arcade was interrupted by my 11 year old son running and screaming for me. My 13 year old was hurt.

I picked up the 3 year old and ran to find her.  As soon as I saw her crying, I knew that cry. She had broken a bone.  Because she couldn't walk on that broken ankle, I picked her up and carried her to a bench where we waited for a wheelchair.

Rebounderz was prepared for handling broken bones and that is why they wouldn't let us jump without all of our paperwork on file.  That 1/2 hour of paperwork before bouncing came back to my mind.

The boy behind the wheelchair had no idea how to be gentle. He used her foot to open a door and didn't break for any bumps. Her pain was intense.

After dropping off my other kids and nephews at home where my friend watched them, we headed over to Fair Oaks hospital's ER.  A place I visit a little too often.

As far as ER visits go, this one was quick and uneventful. Seeing her xray thrilled her as she plans to show it off in Science class on Thursday. The Disney channel played reruns of Good Luck Charlie which provided some distraction for her. The nurse cut off her jeans in order to apply the splint. And two doses of morphine wasn't enough to even get a giggle or a funny hallucination out of her. See? This ER visit was textbook.

I thought for sure that I'd finally hit my statistic and was done with anything bad happening for the rest of the day.  Silly me.

Saturday Part I

Sometimes you just have "one of those days." You know what I'm talking about. Even though you love your kids, you still feel a bit out numbered on "one of those days."

Yesterday was one of those days. Having invited 2 of my nephews to spend the night with us, I thought that the addition to 2 boys would be my tiny bump in Saturday's road. These boys are great. Coming from  an even larger family than ours, I can ask them to help us with whatever chores we are doing. Always they jump in to help without reluctance.

But, like I said, they are boys. Get a group of boys together who get to do what they love and you've got noise. And since the Xbox is in my main room, I get to hear every decible of their pleasure.

I had to tear them away from their game in order to force them to eat before what I thought would be the only adventure of our day. Our big activity for the weekend was to try out Rebouderz in Sterling with some other students from our Classical Conversations campus.

Upon arriving there, I was informed that I needed waivers for my nephews. Waivers signed by their parents. Neither being the aunt nor letting the workers talk to my brother on the phone was sufficient proof of consent.  They needed a paper on file.

It took us about 1/2 an hour to straighten this out. My brother had to deal with a difficult website, work around a virus on his computer that wouldn't allow him to scan, and then resend the fax after the worker saw where my brother didn't give his second signature on the second page of the waiver.

After all that mess, I felt like I'd gotten over my hurdle for the day. The rest of the day would be smooth sailing.  Silly me.

Valentine Mail Call

As a child, I loved Valentine's Day. Every year I would convert a shoe box into a mailbox to receive all of the little store-bought cards from my classmates. I'd place my decorated mailbox on the corner of my desk and walk around to deliver all of my cards to my friends.

Here in my own one-room schoolhouse, the effect is lost since there are only 6 of us here at the house all day. There aren't enough of us to arouse suspense. What's the point of delivering mail to a handful of people?

Even though we go to classes once a week, I still thought it would be fun to participate in a nation-wide card exchange. While the weekly class may not be setting up mailboxes to receive cards, we do have a real mailbox outside to collect real mail. With real stamps.

Responding to a tweet from a homeschooling mom in Washington state, I received a list of addresses for us to send cards to 10 families in 9 states. I divided up the names of the children and assigned 4 cards per child. Then we sent our cards in bundles to each family.

Going through the mail.

On Wednesday the cards started coming in. How thrilling to receive such pretty mail! The envelopes were covered in cute stickers, and some were lumpy with gifts inside.

Excitedly, the kids opened the envelopes. The creativity and thoughtfulness displayed really made my kids feel guilty about their own contributions.  

"Our cards were so lame!"


"Yeah, how embarrassing! The cards we sent weren't as good!"

"Wow! Look what they included!"

The balloon next to it's little home.

One reason my kids felt like under achievers was a very fun gift which came from both NY and CA. Inside a small mylar package was a hear-shaped balloon, ready to be blown up. To inflate the balloon, the kids shook the little package before slamming it down on the table. Instantly the mylar package began to grow until the inflated balloon popped out.

Since this was a school project mixed in with the fun, we didn't forget the school element. Using post it notes, the kids marked where each of their cards came from and where we sent ours. I managed to include geography, art, and handwriting all in one activity!

Forcing the Kids Outside

Even though I may grumble about the upkeep of my 2 acres, make no mistake. Seeing children run around the property truly makes me feel so glad. Large tracts of land are part of the fabric sewn into a child's quilt of memories.

In the outdoors, creative juices flow. Imaginary houses are built. Epic battles are won. My driveway becomes the waterway for Viking explorers to claim our land.

Typically the kids would be outside in the snow this time of year. During our past snow-laden winters, the kids have begged me to stay outside all day. But day after day without snow this year has my kids bored with the outdoors. No matter. Whenever it is a warm day like today (meaning above 40 F), I require my kids to play outside for at least 1/2 hour.

Yup, I said require. Usually, we begin the time with their protests about the cold or wanting to return to some game inside. Most days, however, they end up complaining that I didn't let them play outside long enough. "We just started playing! Why are you calling us in now?"

Today started out the same way. After our usual routine of morning school lessons, we ate lunch,  and I forced them outside during the remainder of our lunch break. But unlike the other days, today we had friends over.

Two rickety old playgrounds whose legs pop out of the ground whenever the kids swing too high offer the kids nothing out of the ordinary. Add a few friends, though, and viola! These playgrounds become exciting again!

By the time my friend called her kids to leave, all of the kids moved from their climbing games on the playgrounds and were playing other games behind the fence in the "back 40."  My friend and I might have barred them from the house to force them to play outside, but, in the end, that's exactly where they wanted to stay.

The Goonies

Honestly, I can't remember much of this movie, but I know I saw it as a kid. And I only saw it thanks to  my sister's best friend who lived down the street. Since her parents had cable, her dad and brother recorded every movie shown. They had bookcases full of VHS tapes.

Because of their diligence, I was able to watch The Goonies. Watching it on one of our sleepovers meant that I didn't watch the whole movie.  As usual, we started the movie late and I fell asleep.

This movie is timeless. My kids have not made one remark about how old fashioned it is. Instead, they are all in wrapped attention. They laugh, scream, and tense up at all the right times.  They love this movie.

With all of the adventures in this movie, I'm surprised they've never made an amusement ride out of it. Climbing through the tunnels under the country club? The huge water slide after the pipe organ? The huge ship after said water slide? The amusement park attractions just make themselves. My kids assure me that I'm on to something here.

While we might want to see this fun movie featured at a place like 6 Flags, the kids reaction to the movie isn't the same as mine. After this movie, my friends and I dreamed up adventures of gold that might be hidden in our neighborhood. Not so much for my kids. When asked if they would like to go on an adventure after watching this, they told me, "Naaaahhh."

Back to the Party Lines

I'm sitting here on the computer alongside my two oldest kids who are playing Xbox with a bunch of their friends. There's a lot of laughter and excitement. It's your typical rowdy kid get together. Except that none of their friends are here in the house with us.

Instead, my daughter's cell phone is pinched between her head and shoulder as she talks on a three way call. Similarly, my son has his headset on to talk to his friends and relatives that are connected through Xbox Live. He shouts commentary about the game to the people playing the game with him.

Both of my kids are frantically using their thumbs and index fingers to control their Halo-Marine-guy's hands around a bomb they must carry to their opponent's side. (I'm a bit confused. This isn't really like Capture the Flag, is it?)

From my son's headset, I can hear the squawks of the other players responding to his conversation.

Squawk, squawk.

"I just met him, but don't worry, he doesn't cuss."

Squawk, squawk, squawk.

"You were playing against a Mythic and you won? I lost against a Recruit."

Squawk, squawk, squawk.

"Ha ha ha, Leroy Jenkins!"

Sometimes my son will laugh then complain that he can't understand what anyone is saying because they are all talking at the same time. From what I can surmise, he may be connected to 5 different people, but those 5 people may not all be connected to each other if they haven't friended each other on Xbox.

His confusion on the headset reminds of the old telephone party lines. Multiple people could be on the line listening to someone else's phone call. Unlike the busy bodies of old who hid their presence on the line, these boys all make their presence known. Loudly.

This busy-body would probably hang up on the current
Xbox party line for lack of juicy gossip.

These Kids Go to 11

Contrary to promises from other families that have gone before me, my older kids do not talk for the 3 year old nor do they interpret his speech or have any clue what he tries to say.

Only in the past month or so have the kids and I repeated my baby's words over and over until we figure out what his garbles sound like.

Our wee one has conditioned us get him a glass of milk when he asks for "water hunk." To him, water is a cup (like a cup of water). Hunk is how he says milk.

In his very serious voice and face, he takes his decisions seriously. When he changes his mind, he'll say, "Ochee noh," instead of saying "actually, no."

Over the past year, he's been enthusiastic for "Deego," which of course is the obnoxious television show called Go, Diego, Go!

And like Captain von Trapp's whistle, we each respond to his peculiar call for each of us. Mine is, "Agee."

He's taking his time with his speech, which is fine with me since I'm already in high demand from my others that can talk. Besides, he's a toddler. I'm constantly either following him myself or sending one of my scouts out to retrieve my wanderer.

The longer he takes to talk, the longer the volume will remain at 8 until it is turned up past 10 to 11.