Oh Geez--there's a blog called Nan's World that isn't mine. I don't even know the name of my own blog. They say that you lose brain cells with each pregnancy, but really.... It's amazing I remember my own name most day. Oh, yeah--it's "Mommy!"

Today I paid $440 for a repair on a car that, predictably, by the time I reached the Mazda dealership, was no longer acting broken. And because I have followed all that advice in books about how to become a millionaire without leaving my armchair, I up and lost my credit card a few months ago and never bothered to report or replace it. This meant that we will be eating a lot more 10 for $10 Hamburger Helper for the rest of the month because our checking account was feeling rather sorry.

I was naughty today--yes, this is motherly martyrdom talking here--and did not intervene when the toddler took a 2 hour nap from 5:15 to 7:15. After nine years of motherhood, I know not to mess with a good thing. I also know the value of an hour of time with a friend without severe interruption. And I know, how exactly did it become my fault that he chose not to nap earlier in the day when it would have been more chronologically convenient? At any rate, this story has a happy ending, since he was asleep by ten o'clock, nothing far from usual.

My life is currently being sucked away by an unhealthy voyeuristic obsession with an email list I've recently joined for parents homeschooling supposedly right-brained children. Between the reading and then the dialogue with myself in my head that goes on for an hour afterwards while I slowly make myself and anyone else who will listen crazy, I'm finding little time for finishing the books that don't seem to be engaging my interest very well. Or for eating. Or for making sure my children eat.

I had the unpleasant experience of taking a child to the pediatrician this week for a "well" checkup and discovering that I had neglected to force him to eat. And it was 3 p.m. There's this part of me that wants to quietly say, "But maybe he wasn't hungry?" So now I'm way into shoving food at him numerous times a day and recording that fact. Is he eating this food? Well, he's making a little show of eating the sandwich that has only two bites out of it. Or the scrambled eggs that I call in the dogs to clear from the floor. But the truth is clear: I AM A BAD PARENT BECAUSE MY CHILD ISN'T HUNGRY!

More from the bad parent files: I did a great deal of steam cleaning of carpets today because of two unfortunate incidents involving poop on the stairs. Meanwhile, my half-naked pooper was walking around in traffic outside, supervised by none but a couple of pre-tweens. Yesterday, while friend was over, a nakey butt that was...unclean...went scooting down a few steps and left its mark. Then today, the olders felt that it was prudent to encourage Rutledge to sit on his potty in the hallway. So they undressed him, took off his diaper, and the poop hanging from his bottom left little presents all down the hallway, which he and they stepped in. It was memorable. Special, even. Believe it or not, we don't have this kind of stuff happening every day, so two for two is rather spectacular. I'm wondering what it means that I'm doing that I shouldn't be, or what I shouldn't be doing but I am, or....well, nevermind.

I feel like were barrelling toward the zone of the busy weekends. Saturday is my final tennis match for the regular season with our combo league, but not perhaps the end of our team if we progress to the championships in October. We'll probably squeeze in one more trip to Busch Gardens or to Yorktown after that (maybe both?). Next weekend is our camping trip at Camp Bethel in Fincastle. The next weekend after that we go to Philadelphia to see the King Tut exhibit at the Franklin Institute, and the weekend after that one is the family reunion in Isle of Palms, SC. Amazingly, we seem to have a weekend off in there, and the month rounds out with another weekend camping trip with our homeschool group. What I'm reading here: if you want to do anything, you have the next three days. Otherwise, ain't gonna happen.

Frightening moment of the day: overheard the amount this family with seven children may be paying to the gymnastics studio every month this fall.

Plans

Tonight was our annual August planning meeting for our homeschool group, and wow was it well attended! 18 people (we currently have 27 on our rosters and 5 of those are either no longer homeschooling or live hundreds of miles away, so this is an excellent showing), including four potential members. We have a pretty full roster of activities. Not necessarily the weekly type, the type, but a variety of things going on that will fill in our year with possibilities we can take or leave as we figure out what we need for ourselves. That's the ticket for me these days...opportunities will come by again and again, so there's no compulsion to do everything all at once. Yorktown will still be there. Ice skating will still be there. There will be another play next season.

I'm on a roll with tennis these days. This morning I was fairly on--not stellar, and definitely still self-conscious when I'm consciously working on too many things in my head and not just letting go, but I am so eager for tomorrow morning. I'm playing with some friends, and I expect it will be a good time. Then Friday is our twice-weekly round robin. And Saturday is the big match with ACAC, the one where we defend our #1 position in the combo league. I'm feeling more confident as this league goes on, I'm feeling like I'm wrapping up points and games a little better than I had been. I love this game!

Today I played tennis in the morning while Frances and Rutledge were in the nursery and Walter and Ollie did their best to stay busy next to the courts. Then we turned in our Notice of Intent to homeschool at the county public schools office, since today is the deadline for filing the paperwork and stay legally compliant. Then it was off to a pool day at a friend's pool with our homeschool group. We got home with some time to do a little bit of schoolwork, and then the kids went to the pool while I went to the meeting. Tomorrow is free ice skating day at two local rinks, so I think we might head over for the afternoon. And summer rushes right on.

I'm still struggling with how we are not exactly doing the things that were on my mental list of activities this year--a music lesson, an athletic/physical activity, an art class, and a foreign language. We're doing okay on the physical activities, at least Ollie and Frances are. Walter and Frances are doing art. No one is doing a foreign language at this point. And we're not doing so well either with the music thing. I'm still tossing around the idea of trumpet lessons, private trumpet lessons, or asking if we can move the time of the trumpet class. Need to discuss it with Kerry.

I'm tired. I'm trying to read a book by Chris Bohjalian. Trying to get things ready so that we will have a smooth morning tomorrow. Wondering whether this is just what life is like and whether I'm just being whiny.

Mid-late summer

Here we are, winding down the official summer vacation according to the vast majority of the American world...whatever that is. Around here, we're taking in these final lazy days by being a little less than lazy. I'm actually feeling like a big 'ol slacker these days. Not exactly creating opportunities for us, not really taking full advantage of the freedom that we have homeschooling. We should be doing exciting things, searching for unique learning opportunities, or at the least making use of our weekday freedom, and here I am, doing little more than going to our local pool, playing tennis, and spending too much time in the car according to our audio book count. We're halfway through Silverwing, which is 7 hours long and we just started yesterday, I think. That's bad news for our car time!

Frances has a buddy at gymnastics, a buddy who shares her on again/off again relationship with the sport. Eve and Frances look very similar--tiny with blond bobs--and they are separated during training because they prevent each other from learning with their shenanigans. Story of my life, actually. Nancy and Alison. Count off to find your groups--1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 1.... I am promoting the concept of a "Gymnastics Treat" similar to the old "Ballet Treat" that motivated Frances during the first year when she desperately wanted to take ballet and we had paid for the semester but she kept refusing to actually go out onto the floor with her class. Now she is saying that ballet is her one true love. And it's not as though I insist on gymnastics being her one true love, but darnit, we just ordered the new sky blue sparkly leotard, and it would be nice if she didn't drop out 6 weeks into the year. It is her belief that gymnastics practice prevents her from going to birthday parties and having fun. A misperception that probably isn't helped by the fact that she keeps getting separated from the person who makes gymnastics an entertaining venture for her. But the logic of people trying to get cooperation and "learning" has never been what I'd consider flawless.

Today Ollie has been hooked on www.brainpop.com. He must have watched at least 25 mini-video lessons on topics ranging from internet safety to Adolf Hitler to twins to the Vietnam War to genetic mutations and aliens. He gets a kick out of the quizzes, and with his tenacious memory, this is just the right fit. His amazing desire to scratch the surface of every topic on earth is also fed by the bite sized portions of facts and exposure. Walter...well, he's Walter. He can watch one or two things, miss 8 out of 10 questions on the quiz immediately afterward, but boy can he entertain himself with a boatload of action figures, a tub of Legos, and his quirky imagination. And his openness to new math concepts far outdoes Ollie's whimpering at having to actually do a problem on his own. To combat my own lack of patience, I am implementing a new system where I do the writing again for Ollie's math work and I sit with him in a comfortable spot and we do the problems together. My master plan is to take this approach for as long as makes sense and then transition to him doing more of the work on his own, culminating in him eventually doing the work independently without tears and without my blood pressure rising. I'm realizing this may be further away than I think.

I'm finding myself swinging back toward my longstanding approach to our schooling, which is to have a moderate agenda of my own but to primarily allow the children to direct their own learning and their time in it. One of the primary factors driving this approach for me is the fact that no matter how much I might want to do something like read (or do!) history with Walter, if it isn't sinking in, it isn't sinking in. And if he doesn't want to listen, he doesn't want to listen and is going to be distracting. Trying to force him into the box that I want him in, no matter how attractive the box and how much of a case I can make for him needing to be in it, isn't making any of us happy and isn't making him learn what I'm attempting to force-feed him. He is learning what is important to him, and I'm going to remain by his side and make sure that he receives what he needs to follow what inspires him, and this is enough for now. Will he ever grow up? I don't know. I really don't know at this point. But I can't re-engineer him, and that's a good thing. He's fine being himself.

Nine

Nine years old. Obviously, one bundle of a couple hundred days before double digits. And halfway to 18. And more than halfway to driving. And nearly ten years since I was pregnant with them. Nine years ago I had just come home from the hospital and was overwhelmed with two adorable little burrito bundles of screaming joy. One 4.5 pound loaf of bread of a guy, and one 5.5 pound jaundiced "Moose" who seemed so enormous next to his tiny brother. No preemie clothes. Just big, long onesies, my favorite two at the time being the rather small-sized newborn Babar onesies from France. Even newborn socks just hung off their feet like huge shoes. Now they're still tiny little things, but nonetheless tall enough to go on roller coasters, outgrowing their pants from last year.

Tonight was the smallish birthday party we had. Three families and one friend from down the street who is probably moving back to Connecticut. It was just enough and no more. We had a dual almost theme of Harry Potter and gnomes. I made a Voldemort pinata that I never did get a picture of before it was smashed to pieces with a baseball bat, and we had wizard hat cupcakes and a gnome party cake. Somehow, between cleaning and decorating cakes. it took me all day to prepare. I need a break now!

Walter is at Lego Machines and Robots camp in the mornings this week and geology camp in the afternoons. I don't hear much about what he does while he is there. It is at the Mathematics and Science Center, which is operated by a consortium of school districts in the area and takes place in an actual school. It's a cell-block sort of school with five wings, labeled A-E, and there are no interior doors--everything opens to the outside. Walter especially enjoys going to the bathrooms, lunchtime, the vending machines in the cafeteria, and fire drills. Sounds like school to me! For me, having him ready to go in the morning and with a lunch and two snacks packed is a lesson in how much of a challenge it would be to do this every day for most of the year. I have resorted to tiny bagged snacks so that there is minimal prep for me.

As I've noted in the past, he is very open to learning in a new environment. The first day he came home talking about metamorphic rocks, where at home he often is paying so little attention that he doesn't even know what continent he lives on. But then again, I really hear much, much more about who is working with whom, what mistakes other people made in their projects, the very exciting bathroom, and what other people had for lunch.

My summer started out looking so blank, so boring. Now here it is August already, and I feel like I've been continuously busy. We've gone nowhere--I mean, I've gone to the beach twice for a few hours and then come home, and we've been to Busch Gardens about 10 times, but other than that, no trips, no overnights, no vacations. I've spent every single night in my own bed. It's kind of interesting, and yet making me feel rather itchy to travel somewhere, anywhere. We do have a two day trip to Philadelphia planned for the second week of September, and then later that week we are going to South Carolina for five days for a family reunion (although except for my Dad, I've barely ever met anyone else who will be there), so there is something to look forward to. I guess I'm just looking for a break from the relentlessness of the daily life-with-a-toddler, which is so draining. I have been wondering, am I just coping especially poorly, but I've realized that this is the longest extended period, at least for quite a long time, when I've been the sole person in charge of just about everything having to do with keeping life going with all four kids. No relief when I have an appointment of some kind, an outing that isn't compatible with Rutledge, or need to run an errand that is going to be ten times harder and longer if I have to take everyone. I think the cumulative total of all of these things is wearing me out. I'm finding that I have to sit down some, especially after 5, and I kind of hit a wall more days than I used to. With more opportunities for a break, especially a break that allows me to accomplish something other than playing tennis, I'd probably be a little more patient with everyone and have a little more energy in general. But it looks like I'm just going to have to buck up and embrace the new reality and realize that Rutledge won't be this age forever and that the others certainly can't go on crying or screeching for hours. I'm going to have to figure out some way to stamp out the unattractive behaviors so that we can all coexist more peacefully.

We have listened to some good books in the car this week while spending so much time going to Mechanicsville to camp. We finished Wolf Brother, listened to Bridge to Terabithia, then another book about a dog by the same author, the 21 Balloons, and Anastasia Krupnik, which I found to be a very perceptive little book about children around the age of mine. It was quite a pleasant listen. Now we are listening to Tuck Everlasting, and I'm not sure how long this is going to last for us. Ollie didn't seem too into it, but we've only listened to about 1/3 of the first tape. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we're not getting any further along in Harry Potter. And here I am writing here instead of reading there. At this rate, I'll never be done. Oh well.