I look at my son. He has chocolate all over his face, remnants of the reward for helping me in the yard. His face may be the cleanest part of him. I say, “Guess who needs a bath today.”
He studies his hands for a moment and says, “Well, I’m clean.”
Dirt, it appears, is in the eye of the beholder.
I ranted today about depression and processed food over at my farm blog.
The Reader’s Digest article about our farm is posted on the RD site.
My dad informed me that he also passed along the info and it was mentioned in his hometown (Magnolia, Arkansas) newspaper and the staff newsletter at Yuba City High School.
I’m not sure it gets any better.
Tomorrow we are converting one of our old chicken hoop houses to a greenhouse. That is the plan anyway. Talk about a learn-as-we-go experience! I can’t wait!!
We don’t have TV. That isn’t exactly true, as we still have one sitting in the living room, not connected to anything, not even electricity. There is another small one on our porch that the kids watch an occasional movie on. I was ready to chuck that one, too, but Brian talked me out of it as he also likes to watch a movie now and then.
Apparently “volunteer week” is coming up on network TV. Sounds great, huh?
Sherry and I are both members of an online writers’ group. She often inspires me with her words. Her post today was great. Here is part:
All of life is not blog, twitter, face book, IM, text or YouTube worthy.
So read a story to a child not because it will improve their test scores but because you think they’ll like the book. Brush their hair and put in the ribbons if they love them, even if they don’t match. Allow an older one to take a break from studying even if there’s more time, and break out the Rock Band. The pseudo accomplishments of play that aren’t taken seriously have serious benefits that no ribbons, trophies or public “Like this” thumbs up can match. Play for fun. Write for fun. Create a hearth out of your home and do all the things you do, because you would do them even without the A’s, without the accolades.
Life is not just about showing up, but about being present. Not about being noticed, but noticing others.
The rest is here.
Seems like every day there is another crazy story about zero tolerance policies run amok. Yet another reason to homeschool.
Here is the latest–Eagle Scout suspended for 20 days for having a 2″ knife LOCKED in a survival kit in his car.
This is from my column this week:
I have always been an avid reader, but I don’t really understand the attraction of reading in the bathroom. I guess I figure that if you need that much time on the toilet, you might want to call your doctor and make sure everything is working properly. Of course, if you are in the bathroom right now reading this, please go ahead and finish. You’ve made it this far in life, another few minutes won’t kill you. Probably. Remember what happened to Elvis.
My ban on bathroom reading does not work in a marriage because men are different. When we put an addition on our house, Brian was lobbying for a full library with a toilet in the center. I vetoed that one, but did agree to keep a basket in the bathroom stocked with appropriate reading fare. The unforeseen benefit to this plan is that the kids know where to put magazines, and all of them eventually make their way into the bathroom.
I like to read books and magazines on the couch, partly so my kids can see me reading. The newspaper is best at the table with a cup of coffee, though I confess I still haven’t gotten over the switch from afternoon to morning delivery. I often read the paper in the afternoon, but it is not so much from protest as from practicality: the little ones nap after lunch.
Given my love of reading, I’m happy to see my children developing an interest in reading and writing stories. They happily plow through books and occasionally fight over who gets the next turn with a book.
A lot of my reading these days is on the computer. I enjoy corresponding with friends by email and I follow several blogs. I also am a part of an online writer’s community and one night, as I was up late pretending to write, someone posted a request for information. The writer was looking for stories about changes people had made as a response to the recession.
It was late and the skeptic in me had already gone to sleep, so I typed a few sentences. I explained how we started farming to save money on food and to know where our food comes from and that venture turned into a business that involves the children. The next morning, I had a reply from one of the editors at Reader’s Digest. I answered some questions and half wondered if it was a friend pulling a prank.
A few emails and phone calls later, it started to sink in. It helped, too, that they commissioned a photographer to come out and take pictures of us. Meeting Darcy Padilla, we would not have guessed up front that she was an award-winning photographer. She blended right in to farm life, and we even talked her into milking the cow—for a moment.
The kids instantly liked Darcy and showed her all over the place, arguing about who got to hold her hand or sit by her at lunch. She stayed for several hours, took 800 or so pictures, and left, peeling my children off as she walked to the car. The younger girls proclaimed that they, too, would be photographers when they grew up.
My children saw this experience as completely normal. They know that stories about them make it into the newspaper, and in their mind, the Reader’s Digest is no different from the Appeal-Democrat.
The November issue is on the way, and we can’t wait to see how it all turned out. One more thing to read in the bathroom.
Today we had a lovely chicken and noodle stew for lunch, using one of the chickens we’d raised here on the farm along with some fresh veggies. We used regular spoons, but we could have used any sort of utensil we wanted to because we homeschool (and because we have some measure of common sense).
This little guy in Delaware got suspended for bringing a camping utensil to school. He wanted to use it to eat lunch because he is in kindergarten and having a utensil that is a fork/knife/spoon is really cool when you are a little guy. I can just see Max getting all excited about something like this.
Fortunately, the school board reconsidered. Zachary won’t have to spend 45 days in reform school after all. Seriously. That was the original punishment.
A mom in NY is fighting the school for the right to ride her bike with her son. Before and after school, outside of school hours, not on school property. The student handbook says it is against the rules to bike to school. Once again, a school decides that parents aren’t bright enough to make decisions for their kids.
“They really don’t have the right to tell me how to get my kids to school,” Marino told FOXNews.com, emphasizing that she always accompanies her son and is “very safety-oriented.”
“This just doesn’t seem right to me that the school district would have that kind of authority over a parent,” she said — noting that students have been asked not to walk to school. “We’re not hurting anyone — we’re just riding our bikes.”
Even though administrators have tried to stop the Marinos from biking, school officials say they don’t actually have the right to bar parents or students from walking or biking to school, and that the policy itself has been widely misunderstood.
“The existing policy is worded in such a way that it may lead one to believe that we’re prohibiting biking to school,” said Saratoga Springs superintendent Janice White.
The one-sentence clause in the school board handbook looks clear enough:
“The riding of bicycles by elementary pupils to and from school is prohibited.”
Some folks seem to think we should drop off our kids at indoctrination centers schools at birth and pick them up at 18.
Got a question? Something you want to bring to my attention? E-mail me!
