Body Worlds RX: A Review of McWane's Newest Exhibit

My son raises his hands, formed in the shape of a heart, to my face and says, "Mommy, it's not shaped like this at all.  Why do people say a heart is shaped like this?"

We are examining an actual heart that has been preserved by Plastination.  It is clearly in the shape of a fist, not the traditional heart-shape we've all come to associate with love.  "Well," I respond, "I'm not sure where that depiction came from.  As you can see, a heart is more in the shape of a fist."  My son shakes his head and moves along to the next exhibit.

The human heart is just one of many fascinating organs on display at the McWane Science Center's "Body Worlds Rx: Prescriptions for Healthy Living" exhibit.  As a homeschooling mom, I'm often looking for ways to bring science to life in a meaningful way for my children; in this exhibit, science leaps from the pages of the textbook into a network of displays that could capture children's interest for hours.  As a long-time visitor to the McWane Science Center, this is easily my favorite of all the exhibits I have visited at the museum.

The kids had the opportunity to touch an actual brain and heart

"Body Worlds Rx" is located on the third floor.  When visitors enter the exhibit, they are greeted by the displays of actual human bodies, which reveal different organ and body systems.  Anatomist Dr. Gunther von Hagens, who invented a way to preserve the human body in such a way it can be displayed for viewing to the general public, has paved the way for an innovative way to educate the public on the intricate, delicate workings of the human body.  His science is called Plastination, which hardens the different parts of the body.  This new science was unveiled at McWane on January 27th.

My children pose with one of the models.  This model illustrates the network of bones and muscles in the body.

Visitors begin their tour of the exhibit with a close-up examination of the bones and muscles then travel through the different body systems, including circulatory, digestive, endocrine, neurological, respiratory, etc.  Each of the organs on display is an actual, preserved organ, not simply a man-made model.  The exhibit also highlights different ailments that afflict a body when it isn't properly maintained.  "Body Worlds Rx" presents an explanation of each body system that is easily comprehended, and even offers actual models of diseased organs and systems, often comparing them to healthy ones.  It is an exhibition that is perfect for educating young and old on the importance of healthy living.

A look at the large intestine

An up-close look at the organs and their actual location within the body

The exhibition includes many displays that are simply viewed, but there are plenty of hands-on activities including a dummy for practicing CPR and a working blood-pressure cuff.  The exhibition merges physical displays with technology, including an interactive display that shows what happens in the body when movement occurs.  Entertaining videos, perfect for children, further explain complicated body systems and the diseases that affect those.  My favorite section is on healthy eating; this exhibit captivated my children and clearly illustrated the importance of healthy eating in an impactful way.  While the idea of looking at preserved specimens of an actual human body might leave some squeamish, the exhibition is kid-friendly, especially for elementary and up.  I can't emphasize how ideal this exhibit is to use in conjunction with a unit on the human body.  I can't imagine a more realistic, impactful opportunity, outside of a university medical class.  Parents should rush their children to view this imaginative, if not astonishing, exhibit.  The first visit is free for members but costs $2 for subsequent visits.  Non-members can expect to pay $5.00 plus museum admission.

Watching one of the many short videos

A simple, but effective explanation of cancer

My children, captivated by a video on healthy eating

The importance of healthy eating

A pictorial display on the what people in other countries eat

Display of nervous system

Do-over Please?

I walk into the dining room, which also doubles as our classroom.  The table is barely evident for the stacks of books and papers that cover it. I announce it's time for school to which my daughter rebuffs, "I'm not doing school today."  Her eyes narrow in determination and her arms cross her chest in defiance.

"That's not a choice," I respond.  "Now, where's your math book?"

"I'm sitting on it."

"A, come on, hand me your math book and let's get started."

"You can't make me," her voice is quiet and cold.


That helpless feeling fills my body.  She's right.  I mean, I could physically move her body from the book while she kicks and screams, but I can't force her to actually do the math.  "Well, if you aren't going to complete your school work then you can vacuum.  I lean over to pick something up as she tosses a book in frustration.  I look up just in time to catch the corner of the book in the cheekbone.  The culmination of a long morning of defiance and a rotten attitude.  I jump up and grab my face.  Tears of pain spring to my eyes.  "What is wrong with you!" I shout.  Jesus, help me, I think. I don't know how to parent her when she's like this.  "You," I say, pointing wildly like some deranged lunatic.  "I need you to go to your room."  My finger flies toward the stairs as if she needs directions to her bedroom.  "I don't want to be around you right now."  My stomach sinks.  I know that wasn't the right thing to say, but I'm truly at a loss, and my eye is throbbing so intensely I swear it's visibly pulsating.

I walk downstairs to alert my husband, who's helping our son. that I need to leave for a little while.  He looks at my eye, winces, and let's me know he's on it.  I jump in the car and erupt into sobs.  This is probably not the right course of action according to all of my parenting books on strong-willed children, but the introvert in me desperately needs to create distance and to be alone to process everything.  I drive a mile to McDonald's and order an large unsweet tea through heavy, wracking sobs.  I pull to the drive-through, eye-swelling, tears pouring.  The cashier is probably so unsettled by the crying maniac at her window that she refuses to make eye contact.  I know I need to deal with this properly, so I offer this prayer on the way back home:  Lord, I'm weary.  I'm baffled.  I don't know.  I just don't even know where to start.  Help.

I arrive home to see my husband teaching Annie multiplication of two by two digits.  "I'll take it from here," I whisper.  A looks up, tears brimming, and says, "I'm sorry the book hit you, Mommy."  I'd like to say the day improved from there, but alas, we had already pulled the thread and unravel it did.  My daughter, who is lovely 85% of the time, has difficulty pulling the emotions together once they start to get out of control.  Thank you, pre-teen hormones combined with a naturally spirited-temperamental personality.

An hour later, I find myself locked in another battle with my headstrong daughter.  "We need to leave for piano in ten minutes."  I walk into the dining room to find her desperately trying to complete fifteen minutes worth of written piano homework.  "A! You've had seven days to complete that."

"I know," she cries.  "I'm not going to finish."

"That's a consequence of your poor choice.  It's time to go."  I'm met with frantic wails, but I reiterate that she must face the music.  Minutes later, her piano teacher opens the door to greet a sobbing nine-
year-old and a harried mom with a bruised cheek.  I shake my head and assure her we're fine, just a little battle weary.  While A is in piano, I decide to walk the neighborhood and reflect on the day, otherwise known as beating myself up for all the parenting errors I made that day.

I was giving myself a good mental lashing when I heard Luke 22:31 (not audibly-the day hadn't been that bad) "Simon Peter, Satan has asked to sift you like wheat."  How strange?  What has that to do with a bad parenting day?  I thought about it again. "Simon Peter, Satan has asked to sift you like wheat."  Now, I don't know what happened in the heavenlies that morning when I asked God to guide each step of my day, but it certainly felt as if Satan had been sifting me, more like holding me upside down and shaking me by my ankles.  My thoughts drifted to Peter's denial of Jesus just hours later. Peter screwed up big time, but......but, Jesus forgave him.  Jesus gave Satan permission to sift Peter, perhaps, because Jesus knew that's what it would take to strengthen and to prepare Peter for the work ahead.  Maybe that's where the Holy Spirit was leading me. Because when it comes to parenting, I wish I just failed three times a day rather than ninety, and I don't always feel up to the task.


With each step of my walk, I recalled every mistake made that day.  Pushing too hard, shouting, emotionally distancing myself because sometimes it's just so hard, and that's how I protect myself from the outbursts of an emotionally charged child.  Peter failed Jesus in Christ's darkest hour.  He even denied he knew him, yet Jesus lovingly rebuked Peter simply by asking three times if he loved Him.  Gentle Jesus who's mercies are new every morning.  Jesus, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry for all the ways I fail you, fail her.  Help me. Help me be the mom she needs, the mom you created me to be.  Washed in the cleansing balm of forgiveness, I continue to think about my beautiful, tough-as-nails daughter.

I'm an eternal optimist.  A sometimes makes Eeyore seem downright jovial.

I'm a people-pleaser.  She seriously could not care less who she pleases.

I'm a diligent hard worker.  A seeks out the path of least resistance.


I was expecting a min-me and God blessed me with something wild, wonderful, and unpredictable, yet to a woman who does not like her clear-cut goals and plans interrupted, that's scary.

A and I are so opposite, yet God gave me her because He knows we need each other.  I'm not going to lie.  It is sometimes so difficult to parent her.  There are days that though, I love her madly no matter what, I mean wildly love this bronco of mine, there are days, it breaks my heart to say it, that I don't always like her.  Just fleeting moments of this child isn't very nice.  Of course, parenting her is usually a delight, but on those days it's hard, it's back-breaking, bone-weary hard.  All those qualities that will create a wildly successful adult who refuses to accept rejection and laughs at the idea of following the crowd; those qualities are wrecking her mama.  Yet, I won't give up on me or on her.  Just as He's perfecting me and making me new, He's doing the same for her and has trusted me with assisting Him in the process.  I slow my pace as I near her piano teacher's house.  My grace is sufficient for you because My power is made perfect in weakness.  That's really what it's all about isn't it, Jesus?  In parenting, in marriage, in life.  God uses all situations to bring us to faithful dependence on Him.  He supplies strength to the weary, especially the weary mamas of the world.

A walks out of her lesson.  I greet her with a smile and take her arm as we walk to the car.  "I forgive you for hitting me with the book and for losing it over school.  Do you forgive me for not handling your defiance in the best way?  I'm sorry I yelled, but I though my eye was going to fall out."  We giggle.  I stop her, turn her to face me, kneel and take her shoulders.  "God tells us His mercies are new every morning.  Let's pretend it's morning and have a do-over."  I pause then continue, "You know I love you more than life, right?"  She nods.  "I mean it."  I feel the tears sting."

"Mommy, let's go.  You're being embarrassing."  I stand and she takes my hand.  Once in the car, I start to turn the ignition when I hear, "Mommy, I love you."  I don't bite back the tears but allow them to flow.  Parenting is literally the hardest job on the planet, but never forget, it's without a doubt the most rewarding, especially when you remember that God, through you,  is creating a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Working and Homeschooling: Finding Balance

I toss a stack of books into the leather ottoman that discreetly stores my children's textbooks.  A and C gather pencils , clean excess paper and schoolwork off the dining room table then rush off to read silently for half an hour while I dress for work.  My husband and I discuss dinner and practice schedules, and I leave a few last minute instructions with the kids before I head out to the library where I will spend the next five hours tutoring.  My husband steps in to handle the afternoon duties of shuttling the kids to practice, feeding them dinner, and preparing them for bed.  When I return home from work, I will run upstairs where my two little ones are waiting patiently for books and good night hugs, thus ending another day for our homeschooling family.

An oft-repeated comment I hear from moms who wish to homeschool is "I'd love to homeschool, but I have to work."  I'm often greeted with looks of surprise when I share that not only do I work but so do many of my homeschooling friends.  Working mom and homeschooling mom need not be mutually exclusive.   In fact, working while homeschooling can provide real-world learning experiences for your own children.

While working and homeschooling is possible, it isn't always easy.   If you decide to tackle working while homeschooling, you might need to rethink your vision of work.  It probably isn't realistic to assume you can maintain a career as a full-time doctor or lawyer and adequately school your children without reevaluating your schedule, especially when your children are young.  In my family, my husband and I both run businesses from home and are able to swap easily between work and school.  My son often works on his math and spelling while my husband fields business calls in his office.  C enjoys watching his dad in action.  If you happen to be a nurse, you could possibly schedule shifts for weekends or evenings and school on off days and in the mornings.  As children become more independent in their schooling, which is ultimately the goal (self-directed learning), schedules can resume a more traditional path.

Finding balance in work and homeschool is often the most difficult challenge, and some careers more easily allow this balance.  Here are a few traits, compiled from conversations with working homeschooling moms, that successful homeschooling moms tend to share.

1.  They work from home or work in careers with flexible scheduling.  

I run a tutoring business and meet with students in the afternoon and evenings.  This leaves the morning free to school my children.  I also schedule one weekday free for field trips and have chosen not to work on weekends to protect family time and worship.  I also teach one day a week at a co-op that allows my children to come with me to work and even provides childcare.  If you excel in a certain subject area and enjoy working with children, tutoring is an excellent career.

My friend, Jennifer, works the early morning and evening shift at a local YMCA.  She's home during the middle of the day with her children.  Any job that allows a split-shift is ideal.  Retailers will often allow this.  My friend, Michele, is a rep with Premier Designs.  Most of her work is completed at night, and she simply schedules jewelry showings around her children's schedules.  With a little research, you can find many careers that allow for flexible scheduling.  I have friends who monogram, friends who bake, friends who edit copy.  With ingenuity, most hobbies can become entrepreneurial endeavors.

2.  They include their children in their work.

If you run a business from home, your work provides an ideal learning experience for your child.  What better real-world experience than to allow your child to watch and to even participate in the running of your business.  Michele, a rep for Premier Designs, allows her young daughter to place labels on catalogs and assist in creating hostess packets. She even incorporates her business into their homeschooling lessons.  I, too, try to incorporate lessons from business into homeschooling.  Recently, my daughter was learning about sales tax.  My husband displayed several receipts from his business and illustrated for my daughter how his business charges and pays certain taxes in transactions.  We were then able to discuss how the government uses our tax money. 

Early in my homeschooling career, I bemoaned the fact I had to work, feeling it took time away from my children.  Now, I view it as an opportunity.  My children
experience a true laboratory of learning as they observe my husband and I tackle the day-to-day challenges that come with running a business.  They understand how entrepreneurship works.  As society changes, more and more people will work from home or will run small businesses.  They will learn how to better balance aspects of home, work, church, and family from experience rather than theory.  Michele's older children have shown an interest in entrepreneurship as she's shared her business with them.  In fact, several young homeschoolers run successful businesses now.  They are already honing the skills necessary to developing a successful career.

3.  They create balance in their lives and have a support system.

The key to successfully creating an ideal work/homeschool environment is balance.  When I first began homeschooling, I had just started my business.  I was trying desperately to build a network while also trying to both research curriculum and create a homeschool.  I was teaching 18 hours a day, either my own or children of my clients. I experienced burnout and was staring down the long, dark road of depression.  I realized that to adequately provide for my family, I needed to find balance, so I decided to trust God's promise to provide and prayerfully considered what was absolutely necessary to include in my day.  I narrowed the focus of my business to just include ACT/SAT tutoring, I turned down several volunteer and work opportunities, accepting only those I truly felt called to do, and I decreased my work hours.  Within months, I felt my health and faith restored, and my children learned a lesson by watching their mom evaluate her schedule and make difficult but necessary choices to improve her family's quality of life.  I also taught my children that it is okay to say no, even to good things because better opportunities lie ahead.  I hope I also taught them a lesson in having faith.

The moms I know who handle this successfully also carve out time in their day for themselves.  This may be a bible study, hour at the gym, or twenty minutes with a book.  It's also important to spend quality time with your spouse.  Give your children positive associations with work.  Michele places ten percent of her jewelry earnings in a "fun jar" and the family reaps the benefits of her hard work together in an enjoyable activity.  This, too, is an example of balance.  Money is tithed, saved, spent, and enjoyed.

Successful working homeschool moms also ask for help and delegate responsibilities to their children.  Your child is capable of cleaning the bathroom and of preparing simple meals.  Enlist the help of your spouse.  My husband is a true partner in our homeschool and folds laundry with more precision than I ever could.

So, yes, if you feel led to homeschool but feel that it's impossible to reconcile that calling with your need to work, know it's possible.  There are thousands of moms balancing work and school and not at the expense of their children but to their benefit.  Though it isn't always easy and requires a true evaluation of priorities and expectations, there are many fulfilling careers that fit your desire to contribute to your family's income with your desire to homeschool.  

The Right Fit

I walk in the door from work to discover A sitting quietly on the couch.  Her bright smile that usually welcomes me home has been replaced by a look that clearly conveys hurt feelings.  "Hi, Pumpkin!" I greet her.

"Hi, mommy," is her quiet reply.

"What's wrong?"

She presses her face into her beloved Sparrow, a stuffed African wild dog, that has been loved within an inch of its life.  If the Velveteen Rabbit were a true story, A's puppy would be well on its way to becoming real.  Sparrow, dressed in a dinosaur t-shirt and rainbow-colored tutu, accompanies my daughter everywhere, including soccer practice, from which A has just arrived home, so I suspect that may be the cause for some of her distress.  "The other kids made fun of me for bringing Sparrow. Some little boys I don't know were saying mean things and grabbing her."

"Oh," is my profound response.  I weigh my words carefully.  This is the first time my daughter has been teased by someone other than a cousin or sibling.  Part of me wants to tell her that if she just kept Sparrow at home and played like the other kids then no one would make fun of her; problem solved.  But, that response gives me great pause.  The past year has seen Sparrow become practically an extension of A, much like her hand or foot.  She's a child who loves her buddy and carrying a stuffed animal everywhere is just part of who she is.  Sparrow has replaced A's American Girl doll as her current object of affection and even has it's own wardrobe and car seat.  This love of her stuffed animal has never been a point of contention until now. Having Sparrow accompany her gives her a sense of security and makes her happy, yet I see the impracticality of having a stuffed toy at soccer.  I also think that because A is home schooled, she might not experience the hurrying into maturity that sometimes accompanies children in public and private school, which means she might mature more slowly than other kids her age and cling to dolls and stuffed animals longer.  This is something, though, that I don't personally see as a problem, except for the fact that it might make her the target of some teasing.

I realize this shouldn't be such a big deal, but my words matter here because I don't want to ask my daughter to keep her stuffed dog at home, simply as a means of conforming, so she will be like everyone else, and no one will tease her.  While I could easily address the fact that Sparrow is a distraction and needs to be kept at home,  I still need to address the teasing and its cause.  As a homeschoooling mom, I already worry that my daughter has a target on her back, a universal expectation of social awkwardness, simply because she is home schooled.  That, though, is ridiculous.  I attended public school for 12 years and am the most socially awkward person I know.  Plus, research has found that the type of socialization that school provides is often less than ideal.  A is quirky, unique, and adorable; she isn't afraid to walk to the beat of her own drum, and I don't want that to change, simply because others might tease her.  I want to affirm who she is and for her to feel secure in being herself, regardless of what others think because living her life based on the whims of the opinions of others will become exhausting and frustrating, so yes, this is an important conversation to have with my daughter.

My response reveals what I value and what I want A to value.  Do I want her to fit in to save herself a little discomfort, or do I want her to maintain her convictions and be true to God's design for her?  As a child, I also tended to walk to the beat of my own drum, not always fitting in.  It wasn't just my short blonde "Annie" curls, red-framed glasses, size gargantuan feet, and braces that made me appear awkward.  I was much more at home with a book or a journal than with a group of friends.  I kept a log where I wrote down the definition of one new word each day.  I watched Jeopardy most afternoons, competing by phone with a friend.  Let's just say homecoming queen was never my destiny.  But, I was comfortable in my own skin and found friends who accepted and even loved my quirkiness.  It was when I grew tired of being different and just did what everyone else was doing that I felt this great sense of loss, a crisis of identity, and found myself compromising values I had previously held dear, all to fit in to someone else's expectation mold.  Suddenly, I found myself jumping through hoops to please others and to be liked, and I was miserable.  It's when I'm true to myself that I feel the most freedom and the greatest sense of peace.  It's this knowledge that I want to share with my children.

Because A has been educated at home, she hasn't really had to experience the taunts of children who target differences.  She hasn't been faced with the prospect of changing herself to blend in to the crowd.  She's always been surrounded by friends who love her exactly as she is, who accept that she loves Minecraft, history, NASA, stuffed animals, and Legos.  As she steps out into the wider world, she will find it harder to be true to who she is, that sometimes it's easier to just follow the crowd.  As someone who works with teenagers, I see this happen all the time.  I watch bright young men and women mask their intelligence because it's not "cool" to be smart.  I've especially seen girls compromise their values and hide their delightful personalities to fit in with a certain group.

I think, unwittingly of course, we as parents sometimes subliminally encourage our children not to stand out.  We buy them certain clothing, toys, electronics, and cars, so they will fit in.  We express relief when they outgrow idiosyncrasies that set them apart, rather than celebrating their uniqueness.  We teach them, sometimes by our own example, to look outward for affirmation rather than upward to God and inward to themselves.  I know I'm guilty when I post every accomplishment on Facebook, seeking validation for everything from my parenting to my cooking.  I've perused Pinterest for hours, beating myself up because I can't even get store-bought cupcakes home without turning them upside down and getting the icing all over the top of the box, much less pull off a Thanksgiving feast complete with a homemade centerpiece.  I set the example, and I'm afraid it isn't always one to be commended. That's why, as I sit, watching my daughter wonder why anyone would care whether or not she brings her stuffed friend to watch her practice soccer, I pray for the right words.

This is a conversation I want to get right.  I want her to know that being herself gets harder, but it's always worth it.  She needs to know that there's a billion people out there swimming in the same direction, and that to swim against the stream takes courage, but it's those fighting the current who change the world.  It seems safe on the shore with everyone else, but it's the few exploring in the deep who are really living life, who are overcoming challenges, and depending on God to guide them into the adventure of a lifetime.  That doesn't happen when we're so busy worrying about what everyone else thinks of us that we miss His call.  I want her to know that no two people share the same set of fingerprints or DNA; that God created each of us as individuals with a special purpose and that purpose probably doesn't involve hiding who we are to please others or blend in with the crowd.  She needs to know that she's loved and accepted exactly as she is.

I can't shelter her from the world, from the sad fact that when we're insecure about something in ourselves, we often lash out at others, teasing them, sometimes even bullying them.  Something in our human nature feels threatened when it encounters someone who is completely secure in her own skin.  Perhaps it magnifies our own insecurities.  I can't always protect her, but I can prepare her, teach her how to respond, and give her a soft place to land.  So, this first experience of her being teased  also gives me the opportunity to talk to her about Jesus's call to pray for those who persecute us and to love our enemies.  I know, teasing isn't exactly persecution and elementary-age boys aren't the enemy, but it probably feels that way to an eight-year-old girl.  It gives me an opportunity to teach her to show love and respect even when she'd prefer to lash out and tease back.  I can also use this as an opportunity to remind her that as followers of Christ, we are called to no longer conform to the pattern of this world but to be transformed by the renewing of our minds.  While I want to protect and shelter her, this experience can be an opportunity to teach my girl about herself and about how to respond when faced with something that hurts her feelings. It also challenges me to practice what I preach.

So, I gather her in my arms and ask, "How did that make you feel?"

"Sad," she responds.

"What do you think you should do?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I like having Sparrow there."

"I know," I respond.  "And that's really all that matters.  It shouldn't matter what others think as long as what you're doing isn't wrong and doesn't hurt anyone.  But, do you think it might be safer for Sparrow if you kept her home?  I wouldn't want anyone to take her or tear her.  I also wouldn't want her to distract you from focusing at practice."

A ponders this for a moment and agrees it might be wise to leave Sparrow at home, but we agree that Sparrow can attend the games and sit with me.  We talk for a moment about the importance of being ourselves and how it's okay to have different interests than her friends.  We also discuss how our words can wound and how we should always be respectful, even praying for people we might not like very much at that moment.  As she leaves to get ready for bed, I realize this won't be the last time we have this conversation.  There will be broken hearts, broken friendships, and broken promises, but each time my daughter comes to me in these moments, it offers me the chance to affirm who she is and to encourage her to be who God created her to be in a world where we so often try to hide what makes us unique, simply so we can fit in.  I will remind my girl and my boy that God calls them to stand apart from the crowd and to shine like stars, illuminating the world with their individuality, and I will remind myself to do the same.

Morning Musings

A slows her pedal stroke to match my running cadence.  "Mommy, who was your best friend when you were a little girl?'

"My cousin, Leslie," I blurt breathlessly, winded from trying to keep up with a bicycle.

She wrinkles her nose and responds, "Your cousin was your best friend?  Did you have friends who weren't part of your family?"  I sense her concern that her mom merely survived childhood as a lovable loser who could only find friendly companionship among those obligated to love me.

"Yes," I manage.  "I....also....had...a best friend....named....Hallie...in school."  Each word spoken between gulps of air.

Oblivious to my inability to run at bike pace and maintain an actual conversation, A continues to chat about best friends, earrings, and whatever else comes to mind.  She grows tired of talking with someone whose responses sound more like they're coming from a beached fish, so she picks up speed and rides ahead. The trees on the trail bend gracefully over the path creating an archway of green.  Rays of sun filter through the leaves, illuminating a small field of wildflowers and highlighting my daughter's blond hair as it streams behind her.  I seriously expect Tinkerbell to zoom by on her way to Pixie Hollow.  Suddenly, I find myself breathless, once again, not from the running but from the gift that pedals gracefully before me, and even though my side aches and I physically can't get enough air into my lungs to qualify as breath, I treasure this moment.

A and I make it to the last mile of our four mile loop.  "Mom, can we sit on that bench for a moment?"  She nods her head toward a worn, wooden park bench, aged by the rain and sun.  "Sure," I respond casually fighting the urge to shout, "Yes!  For the love, yes!"  After three miles of sprinting behind a bicycle, I can no longer feel my toes or the tips of my fingers. Instead, I say, "we can work on multiplication and spelling."   She removes her bike helmet, checks for bugs, then sits.  I join her.  "Wow!  Did you feel the bench bend when you sat? I hope it can hold us."  Apparently, I need to participate in more sprinting.  I laugh at her candor, clearly inherited that from her father.  We review our 2s through 4s and her spelling words from the last few weeks.  A decides to run a loop on the small path to help her think of the answers.  I ask a question, she runs and returns with the correct answer.  This continues until she tires.

When she begins to ask a question unrelated to math or spelling every time I attempt to recap a phonics rule, I realize she's had enough, so we begin to chat.  A grabs my hand as she talks, signaling that though she's grown three inches in a year and has begun to use phrases like "boyfriend", that she is still my little girl.  I watch her closely as she talks, her innocent blue eyes mirroring the crystal sky, a smattering of freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. The frenetic pressure of a schedule eludes us, as we relax beneath a grove of towering pines and sycamores and watch a line of ants carry their treasures across the path.  I dazzle A with my knowledge of the tiny insects, "I think ants can carry like 50 times their weight or something crazy like that.  What do you say we look it up when we get home?"  And birds, "What kind of bird is that, Mommy?"  "Um, a little one.  It's not a robin, cardinal or blue jay.  We'll get a book on birds at the library and maybe set up a bird feeder.  That would be fun!"

Thirty minutes pass before we both agree it's time to finish our workout.  Plus, the feeling has returned to my hands and feet, so it is probably also now safe for me to run again.  I relieve the bench of its burden and make my way over to help A fasten her helmet.  Part of me wants to freeze this moment forever, yet the other part can't wait to watch my amazing girl grow into a young woman.  We pick up our pace and sprint back to the car.  "Mommy?"  "Yes, sweetheart."  "I love you."  "I love you, too, Punky."

At this time yesterday, I was questioning my sanity in choosing to home school as I watched my frustrated daughter writhe in the floor whining, simply because I had asked her to write a paragraph.  Today, I'm reminded why.  I'm reminded of what a gift and privilege it is for my husband and me to guide this little girl into womanhood and her brother into manhood.  I'm reminded that childhood flies and that I don't want to give the best parts of my daughter's day to someone I barely know. While many students sit in a classroom, often preparing for or taking a standardized test, on this gorgeous day, A watches wildlife in action and searches for answers to the questions her observations raise.  After lunch, we'll gather strawberries from the garden with her little brother and learn why some insects are helpful and others are harmful. We'll examine how a flower becomes a fruit then we'll multiply and divide rows of produce.  She will spend a beautiful spring day outside reenacting a scene from The Chronicles of Narnia, as she attempts to understand how the book is an allegory for our Christian faith because children learn and process best through play.

A has the freedom not only to understand the world but also to discover it. To me that is worth all the sacrifices and frustrations that inevitably accompany homeschooling.  Homeschooling isn't for everyone; it really isn't.  But, it's for my family and fits us like that favorite black dress that works for every occasion. It provides unassuming moments like a simple run alongside my children as they bike.  Here, I unearth the true treasure that homeschooling gives.  It's these moments stolen from the cultural demands to maintain a ridiculously harried schedule that drive us to demand a simpler lifestyle.  Sure, it sometimes requires hours of planning, reading, and studying to stay one step ahead; it's rearranging my life and being brave enough to start my own business.  It isn't easy, but to our family, this is worth every moment that leaves us questioning our sanity.  A simple bike ride where my daughter reveals her heart and easily shares her soul, a morning where I'm present, not buffeted by alarms, traffic, and the other strictures of modern society, a desire to live more intentionally:  this is why I home school.

Learning the Hard Way

After navigating "tax-free" weekend bumper-to-bumper traffic for thirty minutes to travel three miles, after staring at thousands of options for home school curriculum, after waiting in line for ten minutes, I place my items on the counter and triumphantly pull the coupon I remembered to print from my purse.  I check to see if I have spent the amount required to use the coupon and notice it has expired.  I clench my fists, roll my eyes, sigh, and dramatically place the coupon back in my purse.  After watching the grown-up version of a tantrum, the clerk asks, "Has it expired?"

I pause, breathe, and say shortly, "Yes, it has."

 "Oh, sorry," she coos, "I can't help you.  They're so strict on our coupon policy here."  I glance longingly out the window at a nearby Chick-fil-A, wishing they sold school supplies because their coupons never expire.

I should have stopped with my curt "yes," but respond sarcastically, "Well, I tried to use it a week ago when it was in-date, but your store won't accept coupons via phone, even though I pulled up a perfectly good copy on my email.  I went home, printed it out, and when I could finally manage to get back here, it has now expired."

Looking as if someone has just stolen her last cookie, she quietly says, "There's nothing I can do about it. The company has a strict coupon policy."  Behind me stands a long line of antsy customers, customers she's been helping non-stop all day during the store's busiest season on one its busiest days of the year, and I hear the hint of exasperation and exhaustion that has crept into her voice.

"Well, it isn't good customer service," I snap, grab my bag, the hand of my daughter (oh, yeah, she was there, too), and walk out of the store and.....I.....feel....horrible.

I sulk to the car, wait for A to buckle, then turn on the ignition.  I feel the Holy Spirit nudge, reminding me of all the beautiful verses I love to quote but just failed miserably to follow, so I say, "Okay, God.  I know," and turn off the car.  "What are you doing, Mommy?" I hear from the back seat.

"Mommy needs to go apologize.  I was rude to the lady at the counter."

"You were rude, Mommy."  Oh, my sage seven-year-old.  A takes my hand, and we walk back into the store.  I get back in line looking very inconspicuous with my merchandise-free hands.  The lady in front of me has decided to purchase all of her classroom needs for the entire decade at one time, and I fidget as the sales clerk rings a pile of posters.  I hope she doesn't notice me until she's finished, so I can whisper my apology as indistinctly as possible.  She looks up and asks, "Did you forget something?"  Rats.  Why, yes, my manners and dignity are right there under that giant stack of Pilgrim posters, and I'd like them back. Christmas may no longer be allowed in public school, but by George, Thanksgiving is getting celebrated in one classroom.

I stand for a moment while the clerk and now, the pilgrim-poster lady, both stare waiting for my reply.  "I would like to apologize for my rude response.  I know it is not your fault that my coupon expired, and I directed my frustration at the wrong person.  I hope you will forgive me."

She politely acknowledges my apology with a cautious nod, then says, "It's no big deal.  I didn't take it personally."

"Well, it was rude, and I know you didn't need that on a day like today." or any other day.

"Thank you for coming back and apologizing."  I say, "You're welcome," smile then leave and send the home office an email that outlines my frustration as politely as I can muster.

Few things are more humbling than having to admit you were wrong in front of an entire store of shoppers on one of its busiest days of the year.  It's hard to admit a mistake let alone make sincere amends for it in front of an audience.  Even if I had a legitimate beef with the company, I didn't handle it in a Christ-like manner; add to that the fact that my daughter was watching and absorbing the scene.  Granted, even though I didn't shout, swear, or lose my cool too much, I failed to handle myself the way I'd like or the way I'd like A to handle a similar situation one day.  As if it isn't difficult enough to make sure our children are fed, showered, educated, and well-rested, we're also called as parents to model and to teach our children to love God with their whole heart, soul, and mind and to love their neighbor as themselves.  I've really been convicted lately about being the kind of person I want my children to become.  There's a great picture making the rounds on Facebook of a boy praying beside his father and the text reads something like "Your children are watching.  Be the man you want them to become."  That's daunting.

Of course, I'm not suggesting that we become perfect parents.  That's impossible.  Actually, the above scenario prompted a rather odd reflection.  It caused me to wonder how often do we allow our children to see us make mistakes, and how often do we allow them to see how we respond to our failures?  My reaction to frustrations or failures is to so often hide them from my children, from the world.  I tend to hide my true self, covering everything with a "mommy's got this" smile.  Mom gets disappointed, burns dinner, dislocates her toe, gets a call that a student actually lost points on the ACT?  I'm smiling; I'm happy; I'm good.  Mom isn't sure how to handle a challenge that arises?  No worries. The kids decide to give the dog a bath in your shower while fully dressed minutes before you're expected for family photos. (It hasn't happened, yet, but I fully anticipate it.) Super mom will grab her cape and be right back.  It's disingenuous and chances are my kids see right through it.  How unsettling to have a mom whose reaction to everything is to grin, bear it, and try harder.  Never let them see you sweat, right?  While I don't think it's healthy to lose it when things don't go my way, I do think it's okay to express disappointment in a Christ-like way.  Jesus expressed frustration on more than one occasion in scripture.

As a homeschooling mom, I have the unique vantage point of watching my children as they learn and practice new educational concepts.  I've noticed my daughter has developed quite an aversion to making mistakes in her work.  If she doesn't get something on the first try, she tends to close her book, push away from her desk, and exclaim, "I'm not doing this.  It's stupid."   Effective, I know.  I'm bothered by her notion that it isn't okay to make mistakes along the way to learning a new concept, that she has to get it right on the first try.  As her teacher, I usually encourage mistakes and try to explain that it's through our mistakes we learn how to do something correctly.  She's grown tired of the tales of how many strikes Babe Ruth had, how many failures Thomas Edison encountered on his way to the light bulb, and how many races Danica Patrick has failed to finish.  I encourage her to try and if at first she doesn't succeed to try again.

I teach her how others have responded to their weaknesses, failures, and mistakes, but how often do I model that for her myself?  When something fails to go my way or I get overwhelmed and my daughter asks me what is wrong my usual response is, "Nothing sweetheart.  Mommy just has a lot to do today."  Wouldn't that instead be a great opportunity to model for my sweet girl what true dependence on God looks like, to say, "Mommy is overwhelmed with planning lessons for a new school year and isn't sure where to start, but you know what, I 'm going to pray and ask God to help me come up with a plan."  How exciting to share with her as God does help me develop a plan and overcome a challenge as I lean into Him for help and for direction.  Sharing challenges that she's mature enough to handle and that would serve as good examples, I can model what Christ's strength in our weakness really means.

While I'm disappointed in myself for losing my cool at the store this weekend, I'm actually glad my daughter was there to witness the event.  She saw Mom have a real reaction to a stressful situation, she watched as I followed the prompting of the Holy Spirit, she observed Mommy swallowing my pride, humbling myself, admitting a mistake, and asking for forgiveness from a complete stranger.  Plus, A helped me come up with ways that I could have better handled my disappointment.  When God called us to be parents, I don't believe He called us to be robots who never make mistakes.  Rather, I believe He expects us to be (appropriately, based on their ages) real with our children, to teach our children what it means to truly depend on and follow Jesus, to show them that we make mistakes, we fail, but in His infinite mercy and grace, God forgives us and guides us.  We can discuss with our children how to handle their frustration, failure, and disappointment, but showing them how we handle our own frustration, failure, and disappointment in a way that honors Christ carries so much more impact.  It's a lesson that is difficult for our children to grasp if they never see it
in action.

Life Unplugged

 It only took four weeks to decide on an appropriate time to begin the media fast portion of 7.  The first criteria was it must be spring.  I refuse to be trapped inside on cold, dreary days with two children and no computer, I-phone apps, PBS Kids, or Veggie Tales.  March Madness frenzy must have subsided into one team crowned the NCAA basketball champ of the world.  And, the Duck Dynasty season finale must have aired before I commit to life without Si Robertson.  With my priorities clearly in order, I'm ready.....to unplug.

Let's just say day one gets off to a rocky start.  There is some weeping, a little gnashing of teeth, and that is just me.  After trying unsuccessfully to dry my hair without someone attached to my ankles whining about how bored he/she is, I march downstairs and politely mention to my two that if everyone is so bored with the playroom full of toys then perhaps they could pass the time by filling the garage sale basket with all the items that are producing the boredom.  Because that awesome parenting strategy always produces such quality results, I plod back up to the bathroom with two wailing children now attached to my hips declaring how mean I am. Meantime, I mutter how it should be against the law for mothers to have to work.

Back upstairs, amidst the anguished cries of my children, I look longingly at the television for ten minutes wondering how Curious George is faring without the inquisitive eyes of my little ones, I suggest that A and C dust off their imaginations, now dormant from hours of mindless screen viewing and video-app playing, and create something fun to do while Mommy finishes getting ready for work. Yes, I am aware of the danger in such a request, but desperate times....  Minutes later, I hear giggling and lively chatter.  Curious, I walk into the playroom and discover my children locked in conversation, while A paints her brother's toe nails....wait, is A painting C's toenails?  My daughter has her Hello Kitty manicure/pedicure kit out on the playroom floor, and C has his feet propped on a book.  Innocently, I hear, "Mommy, do you want a pedicure before work?  It's just a dollar."  "Did you charge C?"  I ask.  "It's just a dollar, Mommy," she affirms.  Price gouging and robbing her brother's piggy bank are not exactly what I had in mind, but I do admire her entrepreneurial spirit.  Finally, we get into the car to head to the home school co-op, where I teach two days a week, when I hear, "No TV was fun, Mommy."

The rest of day one continues to improve.  A, C, and I read books, finally get around to exploding the volcano we had molded the week prior, and complete one of the science projects in our new science curriculum.  Tucking A in bed later that night, she confesses, "Mommy, TV is boring.  This was much more fun."  My husband and I close out day one of our media fast with bible study and meaningful conversation rather than sitting on opposite couches lost in Twitter.  Perhaps there's something to this fasting from media, after all.

Day two begins much more smoothly with my two immediately going into the playroom after breakfast to find something to play rather than mindlessly lying on the couch watching Super Why.  I join them for a few books and a game of My Little Pony before taking C to preschool.  The rest of the week progresses in much the same way.  A and C grow more independent in navigating life without a screen and less dependent on me for constant suggestions.  Life without television, social media, or apps becomes quite marvelous, and as always, God uses this fast to teach me, to convict me, and to love me.

I've never been much of a "fast-er."  I've always been more of a freedom not law kind of girl when it came to something as inconvenient as a fast.  Previous posts reveal that I can be quite legal in other areas but fasting, eh, is that necessary anymore?  The lessons learned from 7 shout a resounding, "Yes!"  Fasting is a very effective Christian discipline, one God is using to change my life.  I believe fasting jars our routine, shakes us from complacency, and issues a wake-up call to a sometimes lethargic approach to our relationship with Christ.  A fast wakes us up, drives us to our knees, shakes us to our core, reveals sin yet to be repented, teaches us about our weakness and true dependence on God, and draws us close to the One who loves us more than we can imagine.

To be honest, this was my favorite fast.  I'm an avid reader, so I loved the opportunity to share more books with my children and to read with my husband in the evening after my little ones had been tucked tightly in their beds.  Granted, he would probably have preferred not to have me share every detail of my book, so he could enjoy his in peace.  This was nothing like the despair of giving up chocolate and iced tea (maybe despair is a bit over-dramatic).  Rather than spending days in the same outfit, hoping I didn't stink, I truly enjoyed my children.  Sure, there were times when I needed a moment to myself and wanted nothing more than to switch on Bob and Larry, but overall, what I gained from this fast was more about conviction and less about self-denial.

This fast became uncomfortable when a wave of conviction fell on me about how I have been over-using television and social media.  Don't get me wrong.  I am pretty strict about what I allow my children to view.  Our parameters include no television programs with advertisements, and most TV viewing should have spiritual or educational value, which means a lot of PBS Kids, Veggie Tales, Magic School Bus, and Adventures in Odyssey, balanced by a healthy dose of viewing for family fun and entertainment.  Who doesn't love Brave, How to Train Your Dragon, and Despicable Me?  We have even disconnected cable, preferring to top our home off with 21st century rabbit ears for over-the-air television, which for the record means no DVR; I'm just saying, rather sadly, by the way.  And while TV does offer an opportunity to discuss how to handle real-world situations with grace and respect, I found that my little ones were watching an hour of PBS kids in the morning, an hour while I made dinner or squeezed in a workout, and a half-hour before bed.  That doesn't seem over-the-top, but it adds up to about 2 1/12 hours a day or 17.5 hours a week, which is like an entire day of television watching per week. While much of that time isn't active television watching, it is still on in the background subliminally entering our subconscious.

This figure also doesn't count Leap Pad or I-phone in the car.  Has media become my crunch baby-sitter or substitute teacher?  While educational videos and apps have value, how much trouble would it be to set up a craft or project for my little ones before making dinner?  It is just inconvenient, and let's face it, being a homeschooling/part-time working mommy can sometimes be exhausting, but it's really not about me.  This season is short and the values I pass on to my children are invaluable.

As we practiced this fast, a few verses kept coming to mind:  "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is, his good, perfect, and pleasing will."  Romans 12:2 and "Finally brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things." Philippians 4:8  Whether we like it or not, as followers of Christ we are called to guard not just our hearts but also our minds and to be savvy about what enters our thoughts.  What we watch, read, and hear affects our thoughts, often more than we realize.  Just ten minutes on Pinterest and my thoughts are no longer lovely or admirable.  Comparison Callie takes over, and I begin a conversation with myself about the chasm that exists between me and the apparent super-creative-skilled mommies who create picture perfect rooms, meals, and children to pin on their boards for all the world to see, while also heading Fortune 500 companies.  Then, I hop on Facebook and discover that someone who days ago gave birth to twins has managed to make homemade dinosaur cupcakes for a birthday party that would make Martha Stewart want to bury her head in a fossil.  But clearly, I have no issues with social media or self-esteem.

All joking aside, Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest are all lovely ways to be inspired and to connect to friends and family, but they can also be a major waste of time, a black-hole vortex of time waste.  Two minutes to scan your updates can easily turn into forty-five minutes of liking, responding, and reading articles, and the next thing you know it's time for bed and the mountain of laundry you dumped out to fold before morning is still majestically piled to the ceiling fan.  Television can have the same effect.  An hour of The Voice, thirty minutes of Duck Dynasty, and an hour of the Braves adds up.  The next thing you know Mt. Laundrymanjaro has become Everest  I've heard of someone, we'll call her Jules, who once spent three hours a night after her children went to bed catching up on two seasons of Downton Abbey,so she'd be caught up for the season premier of season 3.  While there's nothing inherently wrong or ignoble or un-praiseworthy about the content of these programs, the time wasted is shameful.

What if I spent that time reading and learning, or what if I spent that two hours of night-time viewing catching up on my scrapbook, or here's an idea: preparing a meal to take to an elderly neighbor or planning a day to give an overworked friend a few hours of free childcare.  Social media and television, in an attempt to connect us to the rest of the world, have disconnected us from each other.  Wouldn't an evening of visiting with neighbors in the front yard be more worthwhile?  When Jesus gave his final command, he told us to go and preach and spread the gospel and make disciples.  How often do I complain of not having enough time for service when I have enough time to post 70 pictures of my children dancing to hamster commercials and hear stories about a "friend" spending 18 hours in a week catching up on Downton Abbey.  Shame on her...  We are quickly losing ground with spreading the gospel in our own country.  Could it be that we're so absorbed in our own little media worlds that we've lost touch with those hurting right outside our doors?  Are we missing the best moments with our children because Dora is on, my Facebook notification just rang, and Alabama is about to score a touchdown? (Sorry Auburn, we have three combined SEC wins for all our sports this year?!)

Again, it's not that these things are inherently bad, but what if it's becoming an idol?  I recently read Kyle Idleman's gods at war, where he shares a story of traveling to India and being surprised to find every chair in the small house he visited being turned to face an idol on a shelf, which may seem ridiculous to Christians in America, that wooden idols would hold power.  Yet, he then shares coming home to his den, where every chair in the room faced a large rectangle with colorful moving pictures poised in the middle of the room.  His remarks are both telling and convicting.  Have we foregone good old-fashioned backyard barbecues and neighborhood block-parties for American Idol and Twitter?  Has our love of celebrities and instant news and mindless entertainment become our god?  I've often gone to bed after watching a program thinking, "What have I accomplished with that moment of my life?"  And while I realize it's impossible to be moving at full-force day-in and day-out, and we need time to unwind, those moments add up to become hours and days.  I've felt compelled this week by the Holy Spirit, not just to evaluate my media choices, but to evaluate how I spend my time, and I think that has been the most eye-opening element of this entire experience.

What we consider unwinding, too, may actually be winding us tighter than that little pink bunny with the drum.  According to Jen Hatmaker's 7, "juggling email, phone calls, and other incoming information can change how people think and behave.  They say our ability to focus is being undermined by bursts of information.  The stimulation provokes excitement-a dopamine squirt- that researchers say can be addictive. In its absence, people feel bored......And for millions of people...these urges can inflict nicks and cuts on creativity and deep thought, interrupting work and family life" (102).  So, we are actually altering our brain chemistry and not in a good way.  We've become so wired that unplugging can cause distress and withdrawal.  That really disturbs me.  When I consider that God created us for meaningful fellowship, that our life mission as believers is to spread the gospel, and that we are crumbling as a culture faster than overcooked cookies makes me want to do more than just pull the plug on cable.

Of course, we, as Christians, also need to be relevant and aware.  Christ's call to be as gentle as doves is also coupled with shrewd as serpents.  We need to understand what's happening in our world to better serve and minister in our world.  Striking balance is critical but not impossible when guided by the loving hand of the Holy Spirit.  While this week wasn't overly difficult for me, it was a wake up call forcing me to evaluate my use of media, particularly where my children are concerned.  So, sure, there were moments when I almost broke down and allowed Curious George to explore the Johnson household, I found that when I plugged into my imagination, fun and creativity often followed.  My children rediscovered their own imaginations and favorite toys and books and even began to depend on each other more for entertainment.  This week became a turning point in their brother/sister relationship.  It also allowed my husband and me to actually sit and listen to each other without the din of television in the background.  The lessons learned from this week our family plans to incorporate into our lives, like media-less days twice a week.  So if I don't return your email for a few days, don't panic; I'm just unplugging from media for a little while and plugging into my God and my family.

Gardening for Dummies

So, I know nothing about gardening.  Seriously.  I know more about rocket science, which makes me an excellent candidate for attempting to grow a garden this spring.  Like any good gardener-wannabe, I purchased several books on gardening, read ten pages, understood nothing, and decided how hard could this possibly be.  I mean, come on, doesn't food just spring from the ground.....naturally....in some places?

Rather than shoot for the moon and because my husband, well aware of my track record and black thumb (I managed to kill a plant the nursery assured was impossible to kill), strongly suggests I aim a little lower, like the back porch, instead of digging up our entire beautifully landscaped backyard, I opt for a container garden.   I did manage to grasp from my books that I need self-watering containers and seeds, so I load my two junior gardeners into the car, and we head off to navigate Lowe's, which requires a separate book.

I am familiar enough to know where the garden department is, so Annie, Connor, and I decide to tackle plant selection first.  "Mommy, you have to get strawberries!"  Anna exclaims.  "Ok," I respond, while pulling Connor's hands away from a shelf of tomatoes he is seconds away from wearing.  I walk to the lettuce section and mull over the thousands of options:   Bibb lettuce, Romaine lettuce, butter lettuce, arugula, Swiss Chard, spinach, wait, that's not a lettuce, or is it?.  Why?  Why are there so many choices?  "Mommy, strawberries.  Are these strawberries?"  "No, Annie, those are blueberries."  Ooh.  Blueberries.  I love blueberries, so I select a blueberry plant and walk away to process lettuces and look for strawberries.  As I walk away, I overhear, "Blueberries need another type to cross-pollinate."  Cross-who?  Edging closer to the couple who exude gardening confidence, I pretend to be looking for that cross-pollinating blueberry plant, so I can soak in any other gardening hints they might drop.  A frustrated, "Mommy!  Where are the strawberries?" interrupts my eavesdropping, so I begin to seek out strawberries, when I overhear a sweet voice from the buggy ask, "Mommy, can we get macaroni seeds, too?" It seems I'm not the only busybody because laughter erupts from my blueberry gardening experts, as well.

After an agonizing twenty minutes of choosing seeds, I mosey over to the soils, stand, and stare, blankly.  "What are we getting now, Mommy?" asks Anna.  "Um, we need soil for the plants." Soil, soil, where is the vegetable garden soil?  I mean seriously, how difficult would it be to put large carrots and tomato plants on  on the correct bag.  An associate clearly senses my ignorance and agony and whispers from behind, "Do you need help?"  "Yes!" I shout with such emotion she stumbles backward.  After explaining my dilemma, she shakes her head with pity and says, "This isn't where you need to be.  Let me show you what I use in my garden."  Of course, she has a garden.  Clearly, I'm the only gardening ignoramus in Birmingham.  I follow her to the gardening soils, which in my defense, are near where they keep the trees.  With soil marked off my list, I head for the containers, where Annie and Connor, in an attempt to be helpful, pull every possible container off the shelf and shove it into the cart, while I desperately try to read the information on the self-watering containers.  I choose the one that has vegetables on the label and clean up the aisle of containers over a chorus of, "This one will be good for the strawberries."  "No, that's too big.  This one, Mommy."  I race to the checkout and head home for phase 2.  Planting.

I lug all of our supplies out of the car and set up a makeshift planting station in the front yard.  Determined to make this an excellent science lesson for our home school, I assign each child a job, which is met with, "But I wanted to do this instead."  "Why does he get to water?  I want to water."  Connor picks up my pruning shears and exclaims, "I want to cut the sticky things off."  What?!  I finally convince each child to pour a package of seeds into a row, cover them, then add water.  I send A and C off to play but to "under no circumstances play in the water" so I can finish planting and watering and clean up.  A few minutes later both walk up to me soaked and whining, "How much longer?  I want a snack." Aaah, this lesson is going exactly as planned.  It's Earth Day, we are one with the soil, a real-life hands in the dirt, open air project, and my two just want to squirt each other with the water hose.

Knowing when I've been defeated, I throw the last remnants of seed packets into the trash and have the kids follow me to where I had just thrown out some old potting soil.  We dig through the soil and discover four worms hard at work tunneling.  I explain how worms help the earth and am surprised when Annie picks one up, names it Rosebud, and takes it over to our container.  "Mommy, you know what else we need to do.  We need to start saving apple cores and banana peels."  "That's right," I respond, wondering how on earth she knows about composting.   She runs off to search for more pets...worms, and my cell phone rings.  Travis, at Lowe's, picking up all the things I forgot to purchase because who knew you needed fertilizer or a watering can, is calling to confirm my list.  Connor grabs the phone, and I hear him tell his dad, proudly, "We planted seeds, Daddy.  We have to wait, but then they'll bloom and we'll have food that we can really eat."  Maybe the lesson is sticking, after all.  The kids' sudden excitement has me believing for a moment that these empty containers may actually soon be filled with real vegetables.  Just maybe......

The Next Martha.....

I blame Parents magazine, really, for planting false seeds of creativity in my mind.  Their captions cajole, "It's So Easy; Projects to Do With Your Kids; Fun and Memorable."  If I remember correctly, the caption under our jack-o-lantern project of choice read, "so easy to make, it's scary."  The only thing scarier was manuvering the hot glue gun, while watching my preschooler cut poster board with safety scissors on my carpet.  What better way to spend an October afternoon following a morning of homeschooling than on a pumpkin project?!

After gaining a dose of confidence for so easily navigating the aisles of our local craft store, I came home full of optimism and even said to my children as I lugged our pumpkin into the house, "Take that, Martha."  This, of course, was greeted by questioning looks of who's Martha? Martha, I'd like to take this moment to apologize for my vain outburst of pride.  To the other Martha-wannabes who were born with my inability to do something as simple as tastefully decorate a Christmas tree, allow me to share some of the lessons I learned, so you, too, don't think that following the large, clearly marked aisles at Hobby Lobby also make you a craft expert.

1.  Two months of preschool does not make your son an expert in using scissors.  On a project that should have taken twenty minutes start to finish, I spent forty of those minutes cleaning up tiny slivers of green streamers and poster board shavings, yes, shavings.

2.  The adjective, hot, in hot glue gun is a descriptive term.  Just ask the large blister on my forefinger.

3.  If your parenting magazine of choice says a project is "kid friendly" have a good chuckle and be prepared to say, "Don't do that." "Don't touch that."  "Yes, the glittery craft foam is for the pumpkin; that's why we bought it.  No, I don't think there will be any left because Mommy used forty square inches trying to cut a hole in the middle of a square for the belt buckle."  "Yes!  The glue gun is hot."  "Those are Mommy scissors not little boy scissors." and so on.....

4.  Your three-year-old son's idea of neat and your idea of neat reside in separate, distant universes.

5.  Your six-year-old daughter will grow bored with watching you attempt to glue streamers and a flat hat to the top of your very round pumpkin.

6.  Repeat after me, "I am not Martha Stewart, I am not Martha Stewart."  Don't be disappointed if despite your best efforts, your witch pumpkin looks just like your kids constructed it.

Actually, when all was said and done, the kids and I had a great time, and our witch pumpkin looks, well, like a witch pumpkin; granted in the time it took us to build ours, Martha could have whipped up pumpkin witches for the entire state of Connecticut.  But, perfection was never the goal; it was to enjoy the afternoon with my sweet little ones.