Metamorphosis

"Mom, when can we buy a butterfly kit?"

Gracie has been asking me that for over a year, and I always say, "soon". And I mean it, but it's one of those things that slips my mind. She asked again a few weeks ago, after she saw another commercial on Sprout. You've probably seen them too; the kit comes with a "pavilion" and caterpillar eggs, and costs $24.95.

                                                                        
                                          
I made a mental note to order one soon... and promptly forgot.

A few night later we were eating dinner on the deck. Gracie noticed a big black caterpillar climbing up the side of the house.
"Can I get a jar?!"
(there is always something in a jar in our house)
"Okay, but you can only keep it for a day or it might die". Gracie caught the caterpillar, which looked rather menacing with its spiky black back, and added some leaves for his jar-dwelling comfort.
"What if he builds a cocoon and turns into a butterfly?!"
I was really close to saying, "aww sweetie that would be nice, but it won't happen", but I bit my tongue. I didn't want to sound discouraging, so I just said, "maybe..."

We put the jar on the kitchen counter. I forgot about it until later the next afternoon when I was cleaning the kitchen. "Oh boy," I thought, "I wonder if it died?" I picked up the jar, but I didn't see the caterpillar. I held the jar up...and saw a cocoon!

                                                                                 

I couldn't believe it! How cool is that? I called Gracie, and she said, "I knew it would make a cocoon!"

But, we still didn't know what it would change into. We tried to find pictures of black caterpillars to compare it to, but with no luck. We also didn't know how long the metamorphosis would take. We just had to wait. Gracie started a journal so she could track what happened. Her butterfly field guide said some butterflies take from 7-10 days, other species take 10-20. And what if it was a moth? We checked the jar everyday, and finally, on day 8, there was a big, black, beautiful butterfly sitting in the jar.

                                                                                 

We got out the field guide and finally determined it was called a "Mourning Cloak". It said they eat fruit, so we gave it some apple slices and it climbed all over them! (did you know butterflies have taste buds on their feet? I didn't either, but somehow Gracie did!)

                                                                                 

We kept it in the jar another day or two to observe it, then it started fluttering a lot so we thought it was time to let it go.

                                                                              

                                                                                   
                                                                It flew away so fast!

Later that night Jeremiah called me into the kitchen. "Look out the window," he said. The butterfly was back, sitting on our deck! It flew away before I could call the kids.

Watching the caterpillar change was a really cool experience; it was so much more fun because Gracie caught it and we didn't know when or what it would change into. Later Gracie remarked that she couldn't believe such an ugly caterpillar could change into something so beautiful- which was a really great time to talk about how God cleansed us from our sin and turned us into something new.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new." 2 Corinthians 5:17

Get Real

For the past two months, my kitchen floor has been covered in measuring cups from the time Luke wakes up until he goes to bed. His most favorite thing in the whole world is pulling all the cooking utensils out of every drawer and carrying them around the house. Last time I used the mixer, I had look for my paddle. I found it behind the couch!

Babies and kids love real things. I noticed this as soon as Gracie was old enough to play. The plastic keys are fine- until they catch sight of the real set in the diaper bag. If you let a little girl choose between a plastic Barbie tea set, or playing with your tea kettle and mugs, she will go for the real stuff every time. Mickey Mouse cell phones are great, until dad comes home and sets his work cell on the counter. Plastic tool sets are just a disappointment. Caleb wants to hammer some real nails. Same goes for the kitchen set. My kids want to really bake something.

I think this is because kids want to be part of the real world. It's kind of insulting if you think about it. They want real things, important things, meaningful things. They want tools to get the job done. And we give them plastic ones and tell them to go play, because they're not big enough to use the real thing. What harm would come from letting them loose with some real stuff? Let them bake some cookies. Let them use the coffee mugs. Give them some real shovels and let them dig in the garden. Help them hammer some nails into a board. Then channel their drive and the skills you are teaching them into doing something productive- helping make dinner, helping with the garden, helping dad build. They'll have a deep sense of accomplishment, and you'll have a lighter work load.

Scaredy Mom

I remember being a teenager, talking with my friends about what kind of moms we'd be. I always envisioned myself as a laid-back, unstressed, anything-goes kind of mom. But now that I AM a mom, I feel like the complete opposite of what I thought I would be.

Gracie is invited to a birthday party at a bowling alley this weekend. The only problem is, Jeremiah is busy, so in order to stay with her, I would have to entertain two squirmy boys at the bowling alley. Do I have to stay? Can I drop her off? What if something happens?

I worry so much about my kid's safety. Probably too much. My kids have never slept with their windows open, because I'm afraid someone will kidnap them in the middle of the night. I even went so far as to get alarms on the windows so they can sleep with them cracked, but if they get moved an alarm goes off. Is that going overboard? Probably. But I can't sleep otherwise.

I grew up outside of Wildwood, and every summer we went to the boardwalk. We also went to Great Adventure and Busch Gardens. I loved the rides, especially the roller coasters. But now that I have kids, the idea of strapping them into a seat that propels them 60 mph through the air is unthinkable. I read an article this afternoon about a girl falling off the ferris wheel on Morey's Pier. She died.  I let them go on the little stuff now, but when they're old enough for roller coasters, forget it. I'm sure they will hate me for it, especially when all their friends talk about it. But it just seems unnecessarily risky.

Once when Gracie was a baby, I dreamed she was drowning in the ocean. When I tried to save her, my body was like cement and I couldn't move to her. I could see her smiling face in the waves, until it went under and I woke up in a panic. Then when Caleb was a toddler, I had recurring dreams about him falling from horrible heights. I would be at the top and I could see him going down, down, down, and when he'd hit the bottom, same thing, I'd wake up in a panic. These are the kind of irrational fears that plague my psyche.

They've never had babysitters besides family members and one or two very close friends. It would be really convenient if I could hire a really nice teenage girl. But what if they choke on something? What if Caleb jumps off the top bunk and breaks something? What if Luke pulls a knife out of the dishwasher(it's happened before). What if she has a friend stop over and they do something horrible? What if, what if, what if?

What if Gracie goes to the birthday party and someone steals her from the bowling alley? What if she goes to use the bathroom and someone hurts her? What if?

Somewhere in the midst of my what ifs, I saw them for what they really are- a lack of faith. God gave me these children, but ultimately, they are His. I am called to do the best I can for them, but I can't control everything that happens to them, no matter how hard I try.

So I will let Gracie go to the party without me. I've been friends with the mom for years, and I know she'll take good care of her. I will trust that God will keep her safe.

But roller coasters are still out of the question.

Learning Pockets

I've just stumbled across Evan-Moors "Pockets" series. These things are awesome! I feel like, "Why didn't someone tell me about these?" so I am telling you!

Pockets come in "History Pockets","Literature Pockets", and "Theme Pockets", and are available in different grade ranges. The History Pockets cover an event/time period, i.e., Colonial America, Exploration, The Mayflower, and include facts, a picture dictionary, craft ideas complete with reproducibles, writing assignments, like "pretend you're on the Mayflower. write a letter home describing your voyage" (I made that up but you get the idea). Then you assemble all your work together into a folder, or "Pocket".

The Literature Pockets include topics like,  Caldecott Winners, Aesop's Fables, Folk Tales and Fairy Tales, and Nursery Rhymes.

"Theme Pockets" cover the months, seasons, and weather.

These are exactly the kind of things I've been looking for. I prefer to read the kids library books as opposed to textbooks, but I need some sort of guideline so I know I'm not forgetting something. Now I can get the Pocket, check out corresponding books, and the cool crafts are already included!

The Pockets run between $10-$15.

Amazon's "Buy now with 1-Click" is very dangerous for me.

 you can get Pockets by following this link: gimme pockets!

Drop some A-bomb in your baby's mouth

Our rejection of traditional schooling as a family really has less to do with school itself and more to do with the machine running the school: the state. Call us crazy. Call us conspiracy theorists. Call us paranoid. We just don't appreciate big government telling us what to do, what to think, and especially...what to feed our kids.
So I was a little troubled the first week of kindergarten when Gracie brought home a permission slip to go to the nurse's office for weekly fluoride treatments. It just seemed very...Orwellian.

I've never given my kids fluoride. My mother fed me little pink tablets every morning at breakfast faithfully, starting when I was three years old. You know what? Almost every tooth in my head is filled. So when I had kids, it wasn't so much that I was opposed to fluoride; I just didn't think it worked. But when the doctors wanted to prescribe my baby drops containing the stuff to squirt in her mouth, it made me uneasy. Maybe it was the warning on the toothpaste label not to ingest fluoride? hmmm...I started researching it on my own, and everything I read confirmed my suspicion that I shouldn't feed this to my babies. But I'm just a dumb housewife, what do I know? At every well visit the doctors tell me I should get a prescription for Poly-Vi-Fluor, and every time I say no thanks. It's been like this for years, but they won't relent. One time I assured the doctor that even though I didn't give them fluoride, they still took multivitamins. "Well great!" the doctor snorted angrily, "but that's NOT going to help their teeth!"

Last week I took Luke to get routine bloodwork. To my surprise, the doctor called me the next day and said he was slightly anemic. His iron was off by one point. Ok, I thought, I can puree up some spinach and cook him eggs for breakfast... the nurse said they would prescribe him an iron supplement. I picked it up two days later.

Poly-Vi-Fluor with Iron.

Big Brother strikes again.

I told myself it was really no big deal. I took fluoride and I don't have cancer(yet). He's not going to die on the spot if I squirt some fluoride in his mouth.

I opened the package.

I looked at Luke.

I can't do it.

Call me crazy, but I can't squirt rat poison in my baby's mouth. Did you know fluoride is one of the main ingredients in rat poison? But don't worry, there's only a little rat poison in fluoride supplements. Stalin used fluoridated water to subdue prisoners and Hitler followed his example after he saw the mind-numbing effects it had on people. It was also the main ingredient in the atomic bomb. The government started marketing fluoride to the public as a cover-up to avoid pay outs for damages caused by fluoride during the making of the A-bomb. By making everyone believe it was beneficial, there was no case left against them. And what do you do with all the extra fluoride left over after making an A-bomb? Dump it in the water on military bases, of course! And so public water fluoridation was born.

Fluoride is a proven carcinogen, causes brain damage, bone damage, lower IQ, bone cancer in males, ironically- tooth damage- the list goes on. I know I should probably cite all kinds of sources here, but I'm lazy. Of course, all the sources I've read may not be true. I got a lot off the internet. They could all be fabrications of conspirators like myself. What makes me believe they are true? The FDA's track record.

Interestingly though, the American Dental Association has publicly announced that fluoride should not be given to infants under one.

I called Luke's doctors back and they were helpful. Even though I feel like they push it sometimes, I do like them. They do respect my decision and gave me some alternatives.

Here's a link you can read for yourself, recommended by me, the homeschooling-anti-fluoride-take-down-big-government-let's-go-shoot-some-guns-wacko:

http://www.fluoridealert.org/

The Name War

The moment I found out I was pregnant with Gracie, I knew two things: I was having a girl, and we would name her Gracie. I don't know how I picked her name. I didn't go through a list or agonize over it like I did my boys (we decided on Caleb's name in the hospital parking lot), I just knew it. I never considered any other names. But as my due date grew closer, we decided we should make her given name Grace, because it would sound more mature when she grew up, and call her Gracie. So from day one she was Gracie to everyone but the doctor's office, who have to call her what's on the birth certificate. No biggie.

Fast forward to kindergarten.

At kindergarten orientation, her teacher gave me a name tag that said Grace. I took it and said, "Oh just so you know, she goes by Gracie." She looked at me very seriously and said, "We don't use nicknames. Children need to know their proper name."

Oh.

So all year the school called her Grace. I continued writing Gracie on everything- backpack, lunchbox, notes to the teacher, permission slips- but they refused to call her Gracie. Now I know technically, I named her Grace. But can't I call her whatever I want? What about all the Roberts called Bobby? Or the Williams called Will? the Amandas called Mandy? the Katherines called Katie?

But now kindergarten is behind us. We have no one to report to, no stuff to label. Gracie doesn't even write her name on her papers. I could call her Boogerhead if I wanted. Sometimes I do.But guess what? Gracie will not stop writing Grace. Or introducing herself as Grace. She has been reprogrammed that she is Grace.

I gave her the choice. I asked her which she liked better. She shrugged and said, "either one's fine". So I told her to stick with Gracie, but she still goes back and forth.

It really bugs me. It's not the name itself so much as the knowledge that someone from outside our family made her switch. If she decided all on her own to be Grace, I would have no problem with it. But it was kinda forced on her. I've actually entertained the idea of legally changing it to Gracie, so there would be no more debate. But really, what a waste of time and money over an "i".

Now -this may sound like I'm making a huge deal out of nothing- but it seems to me like a good illustration of how school as a state institution undermines families. It's like while she was in those four walls I didn't even have a say in what her name was. And if I don't have a say in something as deeply personal as that, what else don't I have a say in?

Butting Heads

I've been having a frustrating day. No, week. Month. Actually, it's an issue that has always been present, it just "flares up" more from time to time. When it flares up, it skews my view of my kids, myself, almost my whole life. I guess that sounds dramatic, but it's how I feel from time to time.

Caleb is my little buddy. He worships the ground I walk on. In his eyes, I can do no wrong. According to him, I make the bed good. My hair "wooks" good. He actually thanks me after I wipe him in the bathroom. He holds the door for me when I unload groceries, without being asked.  He is all hugs and kisses to me. His name is the literal word for "dog" and carries the idea of faithfulness. That's Caleb. If  anybody crosses me, they better watch out. They will have 30 lbs and 32 inches comin' at them.

Gracie on the other hand, seems like she is always out to prove me wrong. She loves letting me know when I forget things. She loves correcting me if I misquote someone. She is a know-it-all, and loves to be the boss. Sometimes I feel like she's just waiting to throw me under the bus. The problem is, we are too much alike. We both have strong personalities, and as a result, we butt heads a lot, and it makes homeschooling really difficult sometimes.

Just this morning, she was working on a craft. She tried to glue something, turn it over, and then color it. The glue was running everywhere, and she was frustrated. I tried to show her that she had to let the glue dry, and I got excuses why it would work the way she planned. I told her to practice piano, and when I corrected her hand position, (at her teacher's request!) I got excuses why it was too hard that way. And so it goes for most of our life- if I correct handwriting, she says she's doing it the way her teacher in public school showed her- if I correct math, she will explain that, in fact, when she used the counters, the sum WAS nine. She is so very worried about being wrong, that she will just give up and not try. If she doesn't know an answer immediately, she doesn't want to think through and venture a guess. She wants to to be right. She cannot, she WILL NOT, be wrong. And it gets under my skin like nothing else. It makes me angry, and disappointed. It makes me want to scream and punish.It makes me feel like a horrible teacher, and a horrible mom. It makes me feel like giving up and sending her to school.

But then I think, What would that solve? What would that teach her, except, "yeah mom is wrong and you need a school and teacher to learn things"?  Or worse, "mom gave up on me"? As frustrating as it is, I think it shows that she needs homeschooling more, so she can learn to respect me. And I think she does, for the most part. I think the problem is maybe more about herself than me. I think she has a pride problem. I think she's also a perfectionist and being wrong embarrasses her. I think as she matures and grows in the Lord she will learn, as I did, that she doesn't know everything, and she'll experience the freedom that realization brings. I think I'm probably an easy target for her know-it-all-ness. I think we all probably treat our moms the worst of anyone in our lives, because we know they are the one person, the only person, who will truly love and accept you just the way you are. The only person who will forgive you for all the times you dump on them.Your dad, your siblings, your spouse- they all have their limits. But your mom never moves, no matter how hard you push her.

I don't have the solution. There probably isn't one. This is who Gracie is, and this is who I am, and all we can do is work through times like this. Deep down I know I'm not a failure, but I sure do feel that way sometimes. And I know Gracie loves me and looks up to me in a lot of ways. But she can frustrate me so quickly!

Ironically, Gracie being proud keeps me humble, and Gracie being a know-it-all shows me...I don't know-it- all.