Today we’re getting started on making our backyard accessible to Abe. The surveyor is here, the kids are excited – let’s get this project started!
This is the last time the back of the house will look like this…
Livvy helping out…
Gratuitous pictures of cute kids…
We have been very busy over here trying to get things organised for Abram’s Bowl-a-thon on September 17th. We’re hoping to raise $5000 to make our home wheelchair accessible for the Abestermeister – check out the Get Out & PLAY! page to find out how you can help Abram keep up with his sisters when they Get Out & PLAY!
The Spousal Unit got tired of hearing me cry about not having a nice homeschool room, so he built me one. (Well – it didn’t quite happen that way, but I’ll pretend like it did.) We basically gave up our never-used-anyway dining room and turned it over to all things schooly.
Here’s a little tour.
The desk to the left is mine – I don’t necessarily sit there when we’re doing school, but I can if I need to. We use the computer for research and watching movies (yeah – school room/media room, cool, no?!) and also the occasional game of Poptropica or Wizard101… The desks to the right of that are Livvy and Ella’s right now, but the drawers in the middle can come out and Mollie can pull up a chair too. The table is for group projects and playing games. To the far right is the bay window which we use as a book area. I need to figure out a better storage solution for our books – especially library books. (In this house running to the library real quick to pick up a book is code for camp out at the library for as long as you can while asking the long suffering librarian as many questions as you can all while simultaneously checking out enough books to keep a survival fire going for several days. Mind you, the last time we were there she got her own back – she took the kids up to the adult section to find a Calvin and Hobbes book Livvy wanted. When they got back Livvy was panting – librarians are quick little buggers – who knew?!)
This is a close up of the elfa workstation. Andy made it using a combination of elfa components and stuff from Lowe’s, so it worked out a little cheaper than buying everything from The Container Store. straight elfa products. (I was reminded of this when Andy saw my post – “there’s nothing form Lowe’s in that set up!”) I’m still working on organization, but we’re getting there.
This is the preschool area/reading nook. I really like the idea of tot tray activities, so I’d like to have some activities here for Mollie (and Poppy when she gets older) to learn with. Until I get that figured out though, this is where I put some books and games tailored toward Mollie specifically. The shelves above are for extra storage and some preschool activities that I don’t want to be out all the time. I’ve caught Livvy and Ella here lounging on the bean bag and reading, so I guess it’s at least doing the job of luring them in!
This is the place where all the books get chucked library. I need some good organizational hints for this area. Curious about the chicken? Nothing to do with homeschooling. It’s to remind me to smile. (And yes, I know I have a one legged chicken. That’s because I have a three year old that loves things just as gently as The Abominable Snow Rabbit.)
I stay at home with five kids. They range in age from 8 down to 11 months. They all need stuff. A couple of them are totally dependent on me for every need they have, three of them are less dependent but still like to find stuff for me to do anyway.
I like staying at home with five kids. I like homeschooling said kids. I’m actually looking forward to the adventure of figuring out how to meet the educational needs of *all* of them this year (well, the baby’s needs are pretty easy – smile, tickle, play with, change, feed, don’t allow to chew power cords, repeat).
The thing that is hard? I’m never alone. Ever. I might be down by a kid or three every now and again, but I’m never actually kid-less and alone. Well – let me clarify. I do play the occasional gig now and again, and I leave the house alone and drive there and back alone, but I’m not alone while I’m there. I’m talking about being alone alone, with the sole intent to be alone and do something that you can’t really do when you’re not alone. Reading a book maybe? Ooooooo – could you imagine?!
Goal for this coming school year? Find some time to be a.l.o.n.e. on a regular (hopefully) basis!
“Mom, why is it that parents don’t believe kids when they tell them about unicorns and magic and stuff?”
“Well Liv, those movies are fictional – there aren’t really wizards and witches and the like.”
“Wow. Well hat busted my bubble… Ah well – I may not have Harry Potter, but there’s always Daniel Radcliffe!”
??!!??!!
A friend shared this blog post with me recently. I’m going to copy it here. After I read it, I felt a sense of relief. We are making the right decision for our family when it comes to homeschooling Abe. We just are.
A dear friend shared this email today and I am passing it along just as I received it.
It’s today’s gift for those of you going through withdrawal (like me). Get out your tissues.
Subject: A message to schools (esp. for parents of little ones)
Imagine the following: for as long as you can remember, nearly everything you do is observed, evaluated, scored and categorized. All of the things that you are “good at” are put in one column. All of the things that “need work” are in another. This is not done just once; it is a life-long process.
Now imagine that all of the things you are good at, and perhaps even enjoy doing, are considered non-essential because “you can already do them”. Everything else, all the things which are difficult for you, that create stress or pain (either physical or emotional) becomes the major focus of nearly everything that goes on in your life.
This is in many ways the life of special needs child if they are lucky enough to be receiving “services” in the community and/or in the school setting. And as the parent of a disabled child, it feels on so many levels, the right way to go. Because we are afraid. We are afraid our children will not get what they need, what will help them most. That they will not be “ok”. So you go along with this pathologizing approach to parenting where your child is looked at as a set of challenges, problems or in nicer terms, goals to be met. And you see nearly everything in life as an opportunity to help, fix or improve the life your child lives, or even the child herself. There is an underlying sense of urgency and hypervigilance that surpasses that of typical parenting that can be crazy-making. You don’t buy a toy because it will be fun, you buy it because it will be “meaningful” or “therapeutic”. You don’t pick activities solely for the love of the thing, but also for the “benefits” it can bring.
And it is almost all focused on things that “need work.” Through it all you try to remain hopeful yet realistic about your child’s future, most of the time without any overt awareness that nearly your entire focus is on a half-empty glass. And the message that is covertly being communicated to your child is “if you were just less disabled things would be better around here”.
And in the midst of all of this, you are dealing with professionals who you desperately want to trust because you hope with all of your heart that they know more than you (way more). You want to keep them on your side because you fear any possible fallout toward your child. But you don’t want to hand over all of your control because you have had to give up so much control already. You spend your life trying to celebrate milestones which comes easily and naturally to other children, dealing with the irony that comes with the loss connected to that very celebration. Who else has to celebrate these simple little accomplishments? That hardly seems fair (Fair? What’s that?) But to not express gratitude seems even worse, and many people live in that place of being grateful for every little step. I admire them and sometimes can even be like them. But mostly what I am is tired. Tired of the struggles, the sadness, the pain, the constant thoughts and machinations that go into figuring out and finding what is best for my child.
So to those of you to whom I entrust my precious child, I ask this: Please be patient. See the child, not the list of “issues”. Trust that I know my child better than you even though I may not know what you know about how to help her. Do YOUR homework. Find out more about my specific child and her needs than just any special needs child. If she has a diagnosis, read about it, learn the best ways to help her, don’t try to fit her into what you assume, what you have done before or what you may think is best. Ten years into your career, please don’t assume that things are still done the same way; stay current. Our knowledge-base is constantly developing; things that were a given when you were in school may be seen completely differently at this point. Understand that I know you want the best for her but partner with me about how to accomplish that. Don’t tell me what we are doing, discuss it with me. Honor my input. Don’t label my child or me based on limited information. If we have a difficult interaction or even several of them, understand that no matter how fierce I may appear, or how timid, or whatever, I want the best for my child. And I spend more time and energy on taking care of her and trying to make sure others do, than you can ever, ever imagine. And please work with us from a place of caring and compassion, not just “what the district” offers, says, does, or requires. I don’t care what the district says. I only care about what my child needs. If you try to see everything from that perspective, we will probably get along just fine. Oh, and don’t feel pressure to be “the one” who will figure everything out and make it all better. That isn’t going to happen – this is a complex, lifelong journey and it is minimizing to think any one person is going to wave a magic wand or find a perfect plan without a REAL team approach.
Parenting a special needs child is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Trying to do it without the support and understanding of the people educating her has caused tremendous pain. Doing it with that support and understanding impacts not only her schooling, but her entire life–and the life of our entire family. If you have any questions, ask me. If I have any questions, please let me know I am welcome to ask them. And finally, I would ask that you do two things: take this very seriously – there is a life at stake. And at the same time, for the same reason, lead with your heart.
Well, it’s August again. Time for the temperature around these parts to reach 1000 degrees kelvin before noon with 99.9% humidity. (That’s a slight exaggeration, but when you’re born and raised in England summers in central Ohio do appear to have it out for a person.)
It’s also time for me to start thinking about a new homeschooling year. We’ve been officially (reporting to the school district) homeschooling our oldest for the last two years. She will be turning 9 this fall, and now we’re adding our 5 year old into the mix too. (We don’t have to report to the district that we’re homeschooling her until this time next year. She is more than ready to start some formal lessons though, and is dissing me to all that will listen about her inability to read – “Yeah - well – I really DO want to be able to read my OWN book but **MUMMY** won’t TEACH ME!”)
Nothing like being shamed into action, eh?
Another thing we’re doing this year? Pulling our son from pre-school and educating him at home. Abe is 4 and lives with Cerebral Palsy. We have been living with a foot in two camps ever since we started homeschooling. Abe would go to school outside the home, we’d educate the other kids at home. To say that has been hard is an understatement. I envisioned a life where I would be educating all my kids at home, not sending some and keeping others.
We were sending him for extra therapy opportunities – which has been great – but when your head tells you to do one thing and your heart says another? There are just times in life when you have to go with your gut. (Or your heart – whichever makes that last sentence work better!)
So – here we are. I’m ordering equipment that Abram needs, I think I’ve found a good support person to work with me in this venture, and I feel at peace with my decision. All that’s left is to put my money where my mouth is and get on with it. Yup. That’s all… nothing hard there then, right?!
