I want you to love this. So I'm going to force you to do it.

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Confession: I have watched the movie The Sure Thing approximately 8625 times (give or take a thousand) There was a point in time when my sister and I could sit and recite the entire movie back and forth, without missing a single line. We're geeky talented like that. Also on my watched againandagainandagain list: When Harry Met Sally, The Breakfast Club, Real Genius, Some Kind of Wonderful, and Say Anything. Yes, I am aware that they made other movies both before and after the '80s, but that shall forever remain my favorite movie decade.

I love movies. I love them for their storytelling, for their settings, and for their dialogue. I love the cinematography. I love thinking about the screenplay (and being reminded of my all-time favorite class in college). I love the soundtracks, and how the music makes you really feel what you're watching. I love that I can watch a movie over and over, and still notice something new every time. I love watching the characters in the background, and seeing how much they add or detract from the main action. I love catching when they've made a mistake of continuity in the editing. I love that a favorite movie can bring me out of the doldrums like nothing else.

Because I love them, I naturally share that love with my kids. It just sort of bubbles out of me. We talk about movies, I tell them about my old favorites, we watch together, we look up the actors we like to see what else they've been in.  I don't know that they will all grow up loving movies as much as I do... but I do know that they enjoy and appreciate them.  They're something fun that we all take part in, both individually and as a family, simply because I couldn't help but share this part of myself with the people around me.

You know what I don't do?  I don't force them to watch movies.  Ever.  I don't require them to watch movies.  I don't set aside a certain part of the day for watching movies.  I don't tell them how much it would mean to me if they loved movies.  I don't make them watch movies when they'd rather be reading, or playing ball or taking apart an engine.  Doing so would then make movies an unpleasant chore... the exact opposite of my intention.  It would likely make them in fact strongly dislike movies (and possibly also strongly dislike ME in the process).  At a minimum, it would make them resentful of my insistence, and all but ensure that it becomes a past time that they would then never willingly pursue or enjoy of their own volition.

Doesn't that just seem like common sense?

Why then, do people hold the belief that they can foster the love of reading (another of the great loves of my life) through force?  Through requiring children - whether they seem ready or receptive or not - to sitting down, and practicing, practicing, practicing... as though it were an arduous and grueling task instead of what it actually is:  a useful and often pleasurable skill, one that should be enjoyed and embraced by the individual doing it.  Let me ask you, how much enjoying and embracing are you going to be doing if someone is standing over you with an iron fist?   How much more would you enjoy that chapter book, or National Geographic, or car repair manual (this is what my 14 year old reads for fun) if you're the one choosing to pick it up?   How much more would you appreciate having the skill of reading in your life if you came by it naturally... by having the people you love and trust sharing their joy of reading with you?  By being read to, by being surrounded by the written word, by playing games and asking questions and being curious?  NOT because you turned 4 (or 5 or 6 or whatever age schools these days are trumpeting as the 'right' age to start) and having it proclaimed to you, "Okay, time to learn to read!!"

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You may think it's unfair of me to compare movies with reading.  One's a necessity, you're thinking, and the other is mere entertainment.   I disagree.  Both are forms of conveying information and telling stories.  Reading is an invaluable and important skill to develop, absolutely.   Reading opens up many doors, and makes us able to learn about anything that we desire, yes.  Reading helps us navigate through the world, and allows us to better understand what is happening around us, of course.  But if life is to be lived  (and heck yeah, LIFE IS TO BE LIVED) equally important is beauty... whether it comes from movies or books or poetry or dance.  Enjoying life is important.  Having passion for something is important.  And a great way to make sure that your child does NOT have passion for something - at least the positive kind - is by forcing them to do it against their will.

I recently received an email from a friend (a friend who I've long suspected is an unschooler at heart, even though her daughter currently attends school).  She told me about her daughter, a little seven year old, the same age as my Everett.  She's a girl who loved to read, and who'd often steal away to her favorite corners of the house to curl up with a book.   She then started second grade, where it was required as part of her homework that she read out loud for ten minutes every day.  In a matter of weeks, this little girl completely lost her love of reading, and instead began to dread it.  This from a child who actually liked to read!   What about the kids who are still learning, or who are focusing on other skills, or who just aren't ready?  Pushing them is going to, well, do just that:  push them further away.  It's not going to help them appreciate reading, and it's certainly not going to instill a love for the process.

Too many traditional schools are focusing more and more on 'academics', and at a younger and younger age.   They want kids to love reading so they.... try to force it?  They're going in the wrong direction.   Kids needs to PLAY, but because of increased pressures to ready them for standardized tests and college and SATS, there's no time for play.  No time for recess, or art, or music, or gym.  They must learn to read!  And they're going to enjoy it, dammit! 

The ironic part to me is that the system as it stands clearly isn't working.   Albert Einstein said that the definition of insanity is "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."  This is even worse than that though, because it's taking that same thing over and over and doing more of it.   More pressure.  More structure.  More homework.  More testing.  Meanwhile, more kids are depressed, angry, burnt out, exhausted, bullying others, getting bullied themselves, and getting put on all kinds of psychotropic drugs.   I can't be the only one who sees that there's a problem here.

Want your children to love reading?  Let them see that YOU love it.  Share with them.  Help them.  Support them.  Want your children to love learning?  Let them know that it's not a chore, or a burden, or a headache... but simply what we humans do.  Let them see that learning is all around them, and not something that happens at certain hours in certain places.  Want your children to be happy?  Let them be children.  Let them run and play and mess up and touch things and taste things and try things. 

Let them know that life is about joy and freedom and choices, not about getting forced into someone else's boxes. 



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Making Peace with a Schedule

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A few weeks ago, I got an email from someone looking to flesh out the concept of unschooling a little more. One of her (paraphrased) questions was "Do you ever feel like you're just spinning your wheels, and/or putting out fires all day?"

My answer: Yes. And when I notice it's happening frequently, I know it's time for something to change. More specifically, I know it's time for me to make a change. It's not a good thing for me OR the kids if I'm scattered all day, flitting here and there and not really present for any of it. Unschooling shouldn't be about reacting, but about being there, right there in the moment.

Since getting all renewed and re-inspired at the conference, I have sadly realized that I really have been doing all too much wheel-spinning lately. Further, I've realized that I have done the same exact thing when each of my boys was Tegan's age (3) as well. When my kids are around 3 - not quite babies anymore - I sort of have a little life crisis. They are more independent, and playing on their own more often, and needing me in very different ways than before. I start to feel that itch of wanting to take on a new hobby, or start a new business, or devote some time to a certain passion. The difference this time though is that when the boys were her age, I was either about to have another baby, or I'd just had one. So the feelings would go away, and I'd happily immerse myself once again in diapers and onesies and dimpled elbows and chubby feet and sweet smelling baby heads. This time there is no pregnancy and there is no new baby. Which is in turns heartbreakingly sad, and strangely exciting.

Lately my heightened crisis has caused me to become suddenly interested in 20,000 different things. And of course I still want to be present for my kids, and fully invested in unschooling and hands-on parenting. I want to figure out this whole "homemaker" thing, and make (and keep) a nice home for my family. I also want to have some time for myself, and some time for blogging, and some time for pursuing my own interests. As a result, I'm sorry to say, I feel I've been only a little bit good at all of the above. I've also been anxious about the new season, which is suddenly thrusting us from having zero standing weekly plans to having basketball, gymnastics, scouts, church, and bible study meetings.

And so, I've decided to get organized and make a plan. Instead of a zillion personal pursuits, at the moment I'm going to focus on one. And you're reading it. This blog is my fifth baby, my heart, and my soul. I don't know what is going to happen in the future, but for right now, this is what I need to be doing. I need to be doing it so badly that I actually made myself a schedule.

I'm not a big schedule person (in fact I sort of hate them with a passion), but I also know that they work really, really well for me. They help me focus on what I'm supposed to be focusing on, and they help my scattered brain get a little less scattered.

Here then, is my - always flexible, always subject to change - schedule:

Morning: Coffee, emails, empty the dishwasher

Rest of the day into the afternoon: Leave the computer alone (instead of checking emails/Facebook in 2 or 3 minute little bursts all the live long day). Be present and focused and available for the kids.... for playing, for projects, for questions, for reading, for talking, for hanging out.

2:00-4:00ish (still working on this): Take time for myself to blog, answer emails and comments, and work on other writing-related stuff, without feeling guilty about it.

4:30 Pick up our messes for the day to get ready for the evening

5:00 till whenever we go to bed: Dinner, dishes, activities, television, playing, and hanging out (and maybe I'll check emails and Facebook somewhere in there too :)).

The idea is that when I'm with the kids, I'm WITH them. When I'm doing something for me, I'm doing something for me. And so on. It's still very much an experiment, because honestly, it's something I've never really tried before. I had grand plans to start it yesterday, but instead had an unexpected (and welcome) outing with friends we haven't seen for 3 months.

So we started it today. I did pretty well with ignoring my computer until 2:00, although I'm thinking I'm not so great with the cold turkey thing. The kids were all 100% on board with giving me my time at 2:00... but I spent 10 minutes of it in the tub with the girl, and another 5 explaining to the 14 year old about researching "completed" listings on Ebay to help price something he wanted to sell... both of which were momentarily more important than my own needs. At the time of this writing, it is 3:00, and all four kids have settled into a happy, comfortable groove. I'll commit myself to giving it an honest try, and a fair amount of time, and we'll see what it brings. I'm kind of excited at the prospect though, even if it means some adjustment, for all involved.

If you're a stay-at-home parent, do you have some sort of schedule for your day? How does it work for you?



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Good Vibrations: Finding my Tribe

This past weekend we joined over one hundred unschooling families for the Good Vibrations Unschooling Conference. I don't want to get too mushy and sentimental about it, but here's the thing:

I don't really fit in with most moms. Not moms from homeschool groups, not moms from little league, not moms from scouts, not moms from church. Sure, I've become reasonably adept at smiling and small talk and chit chat, but when the subject shifts (as it always inevitably does) to things like curriculums, limits, punishments, and coercive parenting in general, I'm met with a stark reminder. "Oh yeah, we're different."

Make no mistake... I like being different. I love the lifestyle we've chosen to live with our family, and I truly couldn't imagine living any other way. I am so happy, and so filled with peace with the decisions we've made - and continue to make - when it comes to education, parenting, and just LIVING. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that at times it can be.... isolating... having an all but completely nonexistent local support team of people who "get it."

Enter the unschooling conference.

And of course, the conference was lighthearted and fun. I mean, where else can you:

Go swimming
Make fairy wands and upcycled tutus
Carve sponges
Break boards
Play dress-up
Learn about nature drawing
Hula hoop
Have Nerf gun wars
Watch movies and listen to concerts by the pool, and
Take surfing lessons,

All in the same weekend?

There's no denying that it was a great time. But it was more than that. It was like a breath of fresh air to be around so many unschoolers, to - even if just for a few days - not be the odd one out. To know that my three year old is welcomed anywhere that I am, to know that my seven year old will be taken seriously, and that my 11 and 14 year old won't be asked what grade they're in, or what their favorite subject is or whether or not they're allowed to watch television or play video games. To see adults, teens, and kids of all ages playing and chatting and just enjoying each other's company, as if it were the most natural and normal thing in the world (which, of course, it is)

Being an introvert who's married to, well, an even bigger introvert, we're not always so good at the mixing and mingling. We tended to do more hanging back and observing, while our unsocialized kids happily and easily made friends with everyone they came in contact with. But even from our "quietly taking everything in" stance (although, I feel compelled to make it known that I DID both break a board and hula hoop in front of a bunch of people, thankyouverymuch); even from that perspective, the amount of support and validation I received from everyone there was immense. I gained and learned so much just from seeing the examples of kindness and respect with which other parents treated their children, and with which they treated my children. And the parents I did get a chance to talk with? It was privilege, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

Shortly before we left for home, I witnessed someone yelling at a child, and demanding that he get out of the pool. It thoroughly jarred me out of my conference bubble, and I suddenly realized that I'd just gone four whole days without hearing a parent yell (which is really pretty amazing when you consider that I was there with over 100 sets of parents, and I can barely make it through the grocery store without hearing at least one parent yell, or punish, or humiliate their child.) Disclaimer: This is not to say that unschoolers are perfect parents or that they don't make mistakes or sometimes have bad days. It's also not to say that there aren't wonderful parents who don't unschool. Of course there are. It's just that being surrounded by so many many parents who are consciously choosing a path towards a more peaceful and harmonious relationship with their kids is a pretty powerful and invaluable thing. And, well, it DOES make me want to get mushy and sentimental.

Because those are my people. That is my tribe. And even though we're back home now, scattered amongst the country once again... I'm going to hold on tight, and thank my lucky stars that thanks to the wonder of the internet, my tribe is still with me.



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Won't they just eat junk food all day?

This is all unschoolers eat, right?

"One question that I have from reading your blog, is how you reconcile your nutritional beliefs/values .. with the concept of unschooling - I ask this because this is a really difficult issue for me - letting go of media/bedtimes/respectful parenting, we are already somewhere down the line with all of this, but I cannot see myself buying "junk" food/keeping it in the house - I was just interested in your take on this."

If you've ever watched one of those unabashedly biased nightly "news" pieces about unschooling - or read any number of unschooling articles in the mainstream media - you'll know that unschoolers are often depicted as eating nothing but junk food all day.  Since they're given the freedom to choose, they're feasting on donuts and chips and sodas at all hours of the night and day... because that's what a child would choose, right?  Because of pervasive misconceptions such as these, the above question is one that I receive often, in various forms.  Is that one area where you just don't give them freedom?  Don't you worry that they'll choose nothing but junk food?  I know my child would just eat candy all day...

Let me start by saying that as someone who has studied nutrition, I do think it's important to know about food.  Absolutely.  Parents are doing themselves and their children a disservice if they're not educating themselves at least on the basics.  We should know what's in the food we're eating, and why some choices are better than others.  Why the white flour products don't have the nutrition of their whole grain counterparts.  Why commercially grown produce is so inferior to that which is grown organically.  Why packaged "kids" foods like Goldfish crackers are no different nutritionally than feeding your kids cookies (in fact, as long as I'd made them myself, I'd much prefer the cookies).  As parents we should know why it's not a super idea to be serving up hot dogs or boxed macaroni and cheese or chicken nuggets with any regularity.  If for no other reason, because we can't expect our kids to understand what it means to eat a clean, healthful diet if we don't understand it ourselves.

From an unschooling perspective, I also believe that eating is personal.  Just like adults, kids should have autonomy when it comes to what they do and do not put in their body, at what time, and for what reason.  THEY are the ones who know when they are hungry, when they are full, what makes them feel good, and what doesn't... not their parents, and not the clock.  And yes,  I believe in freedom and choices when it comes to food.  I believe that eating should be both functional and pleasurable, not something to be used as reward or punishment or fodder for a battle.  None of the above is healthy (either physically or mentally) and it hurts me as both an unschooler and as a nutritional consultant to see the pressure, control, and stress that parents will sometimes place on their children over the issue of food.

So to answer the original question from up above:  how do I reconcile the two perspectives?  I buy lots of interesting, real, whole foods.   We don't eat fast food  - no one ever asks -  and we rarely buy boxed, bagged or otherwise processed stuff.  We involve the kids in the entire process, and everyone gets an equal say in what we'll eat for the week.  We look up new recipes together.  We talk about the pros and cons of various "diets" our friends or families are trying.  We give the kids freedom, choices, and information.   They know why we buy what we regularly buy, and they also know that on those occasions that they ask for chips, candy or other "extras", that the answer will be YES.  They are welcome to eat anything in the cabinet, refrigerator or freezer anytime... whether it's before dinner, after dinner, or during dinner.

I think one big misconception that people have about this is that giving kids freedom and choices means just leaving them the heck alone, keeping the pantry stocked with Cheetos, soda, and Ring Dings, and letting them have at it.  That can't be much further from the truth.  We maintain an open line of communication about food like we do everything else, and we stock the house with the things that they love, enjoy, or want to try.  Nine times out of ten they're snacking on fruits, vegetables, and nuts because that's what they choose.  But if they're craving cookies, we'll make some.  If they're craving cupcakes, we'll make those too.  If they're craving cheap, sugary, artificially dyed confections from the dollar store, I'll drive them.

The question remains though.... What would I do if it went too far and one of my kids suddenly wanted to eat nothing but junk food, white flour, and candy?  It's honestly never been an issue.  They know real food, and they know that that isn't it.  They know that those things don't make them feel good.  And sure, they enjoy candy now and then.  They like ice cream as much as the next guy.  And would they happily eat pizza, pretzels, and potato chips at a Super Bowl party?  You bet.   But because none of it is "forbidden", and they know that they're always free to choose, they've learned to trust themselves, trust their bodies, and trust their instincts.

And I trust too.



I also wrote about food freedom in this post. 

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I CU

I CU = Intensive Care for the Christian Unschooler. 

I've been ignoring this weekly meme for awhile now, mainly because at the time I first read about it, it felt like another thing to add to my to-do list.  I know me, and I know that if I did it even once, I'd feel the need to do it again and again (not unlike the weekly Plank Pullin' posts, which I finally did just to "try it" and somehow continued, week after week, through some kind of force akin to compulsion.)  But I digress.  It's still a fun idea, and this week I decided to participate because 1)  I've been feeling more than a little uninspired, and could use a writing prompt, and 2) I'm in desperate need of some intensive care.  So without further ado, my first I CU...

“This week we want to…” get healthy!!  Although, that's using the word "we" loosely.  I.  I want to get healthy.  But I'm sure the kids would like it too, because it's a whole lot more fun having a mom that's up and about and running around, than one that's sitting on the couch feeling miserable about the fact that she feels miserable.


“The kids are…” discovering new passions, and re-discovering old ones.  They have been making boffer swords, and have recently gotten out their guitars again.  Spencer's still researching small engine repair, and our kitchen counters are once again taken over by disassembled Nerf gun parts.  Everett is looking forward to scouts and basketball in a couple of weeks, and the girl is excited about gymnastics.


“I am learning….”  that I'm still learning.  And that just when I think I have things figured out, I get a giant, metaphorical, "Ha ha, fooled ya," and I realize that not only do I NOT have it figured out.. but I that I don't even know what it was that I was supposed to be figuring out in the first place.  I'm also learning that the times when I'm experiencing the most growing pains are the times when I'm doing the most growing.


“I am struggling with…”  balance.


“This week is the first time….”  I've shown the movie Gremlins to the kids.  I love that they loved it. 


“I am grateful…” that my caffeine withdrawal headache has finally gone away, after 3 days.  I'm grateful that my coffee beans, grinder, filters, and maker are still there - waiting - for when I'm ready to embrace them once again.


“I’m looking forward to…..”  the Good Vibrations unschooling conference, a week from tomorrow!!  It'll be the first time we've been around a whole group of unschoolers in 5 years, and I cannot wait.



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No thank you, we'll stay plugged...

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Addiction -  noun -  the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.  (From dictionary.com)

The CBS show, The Doctors says:  "Studies show that one in 10 kids is seriously addicted to videogames and media, and those who watch more than four hours of TV per day are at greater risk of heart disease as they grow older."

I heard this on their show yesterday (it's also printed on the synopsis on their website) and aside from an initial feeling of annoyance that television is being vilified again... you know what?  Not annoyance.  Boredom.  I'm bored from repeatedly hearing about this kind of study, and frustrated that they don't have something more worthwhile to share with us.  Aside from that, what  immediately comes to mind is questions.  Lots and lots of questions.  Exactly what kind of "studies" did they do?  Over what period of time?  And on whom?  Are these all school children who spend most of their day behind desks before they come home and play videogames or watch TV?  Did they include homeschooled kids?  Are they otherwise active?  Do they have other hobbies?  What is their diet like?  What is their relationship with their family like?  How are they defining "addicted?"  

Quite simply, there's not nearly enough information there for me to take it seriously.   But what's really disheartening to me-  about this as well as similar anti-media messages - is that it is based in fear.  So much of what we hear about television, video games, and media in general is so very steeped in fear.  They are evil.  They rot your brain.   They make you violent.  They make you hyper.  They make you lazy.  They cause blood clots and heart disease and obesity.  Not long ago, I left an unschooling group after being told that because I did not limit screen time, I was "encouraging slothfulness, which is the worst kind of sin."  Fear.

I never want to make any decision for my children based on fear.  I never want to place limits on tools and resources (yes - televisions, computers, and video games are resources) that are as valuable as any other, simply because of some vague - albeit widely held - misconceptions about how 'bad' they are.

I don't need to know about facts, figures and studies to be able to learn from what I see and experience in my own home.  In my house, my kids are as free to use the computer, play video games, or watch television as they are to do anything else.  And the truth is, they are not intelligent and creative in spite of it;  they are intelligent and creative in part because of it.  Computer skills in general are an invaluable, and in most cases necessary, facet of our adult lives. We use computers for everything from gathering information to communicating with others to paying our mortgage. Video games are great for practicing cooperative play, critical thinking, math, science, and problem solving. 

And television?  I could write an entire series of posts about what we've learned from television, and still barely scratch the surface.  Television brings an entire world into our living room.  We don't have the means to travel to obscure and beautiful countries... but we can watch Bear Grylls do it.  We don't have the experience or the facilities to scientifically test the validity of widely-held myths... but we can watch the Mythbusters do it.  It can show us how to cook, take us inside an operating room, and let us feel like we're a part of a police investigation.  Or a commercial fishing trip.  Or a journey to the bottom of the ocean.  As for those 'other' shows... the sitcoms, the dramas, the next top model bachelorette housewife idols of America... The great thing about modern day television, and the advent of DVRs, is that we get to choose what we do and do not want to watch.  And aside from entertaining us and making us laugh (which, if you ask me, is no small thing in and of itself), even shows like this are often a catalyst for great conversations with the kids:  about people, about life, about the difference between reality and scripted television.   Learning is truly everywhere.  Television is not an exception.

One of the reasons that a lot of people give for not allowing television is that they want their kids to use their imaginations;  they want them to be more focused on creative play.  But the two are not mutually exclusive!  By all accounts, my kids are some of the most creative kids I know.  My 3 year old can (and does) spend an entire afternoon playing with a leaf, or a baby doll, or her play kitchen.  My 7 year old has never met a science experiment or a magic trick that he did not like.  My 11 year old just took it upon himself to start fashioning swords out of pvc pipe and foam.  My 14 year old likes to take apart and rebuild nerf guns and lawn mowers and engines just for fun.   These aren't mindless zombies who are slaves to electronics... but smart, well-rounded kids who recognize media for what it is:  no more or less than a really cool and useful tool;  one that we're lucky to have. 

Could we live an unplugged life?  Sure.  We do it every time we go camping (and it should be noted, not one of us suffers "severe trauma" because of our cessation) We could live without electronic media. We could live without books too. And music. And poetry.  And running water.  But just because we can, doesn't mean it's somehow preferable.

We live in a world that allows us to surround ourselves with all kinds of things from which to learn:   from people and places and experiences, to books and art and music, to computers and video games and televisions.   It wouldn't make sense to me, living in 2011,  not to avail ourselves ... to learn from, to grow from - and to enjoy - all of the above.


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I peed on the potty, YAY!

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Do you use a toilet?

I'm going to take a stab and say that if you're reading this that 1) you do in fact use a toilet and that 2) you generally make it to the toilet in time, without anyone's reminder or assistance (barring any illness or special circumstance).

Do you know when it was that you started using it? Do you know when your friends or coworkers or classmates started using it? Again, I'm going to take a stab and guess that you do not. Even if we *did* know, it's not something we really talk about. (Well, wait. I do know a few adults who talk about bodily functions more than is normally considered socially acceptable... but that's neither here nor there) It's just a normal, biological, every-day sort of thing that every man, woman and child takes time out of his or her day to attend to. It's of absolutely zero importance when you started doing it.

So here's what I'm wondering:

Why, when we know that it's something that everyone's going to eventually do anyway, do parents make themselves, their child, and oftentimes everyone around them crazy over the process of potty training? Why act as though it's some sort of contest? Why the pressure, the sticker charts, the rewards, the punishments, the rush? What on earth is the BIG RUSH?

I have four children. As of just a few days ago, all four of them use the toilet all day, every day. Like with anything else, it was an individual journey for each of them.

With #1, I think I got lucky... I didn't really do anything that I'd now consider "right", but I didn't really do anything I'd consider wrong either. He easily made the transition when he was around 2.5

With #2, I bungled it six ways to Sunday. He simply wasn't ready at the same age as my first. He passed three. He passed three and half. He adamantly refused to even try it. It stressed me out. I stressed HIM out. I tried many of the things I mentioned above (things I cringe to think about now): I cajoled, I bribed, I made sticker charts, I pressured. The more I pushed, the more he resisted. It wasn't until he turned four that I finally asked myself, "What am I doing?" Was his being potty trained by a certain age (which wasn't happening anyway) more important than our relationship, or more important than treating him with respect, or more important than allowing him his right to autonomy over something as personal as using the bathroom? I let go of the stress, released him of my pressure, and said what I should have said all along: He'll do it when he's ready. And very shortly after that, he did. I promised myself that if I was ever blessed with more kids, I wouldn't make the same mistakes again. And true to my word, when #3 and #4 became toddlers, I remembered what I'd learned.

Everett's been using the toilet for a good 4 or 5 years now, but since the girl is still new to whole pottying scene, I thought I'd share the intricate method that got her there while it was still fresh in my mind.

Ready?

1. I waited until she was ready.

2. .... that's it. I waited until she was ready.

A few weeks ago, we forgot to buy diapers and we ran out (and when I say forgot, I mean we literally forgot, not a calculated, purposeful "forgot") I don't remember the exact circumstances, but they were such that we couldn't run out and get her more diapers at the moment, so we told her she'd need to use the toilet. And she did, all day, without a problem. After that, she still wanted her diapers, but she started to use the toilet more and more. She was proud of herself; she told me how easy it was. She started wearing underwear just as often as diapers. This past Tuesday, we all went out to an amusement park. She was all dressed, wearing underwear, and I asked her if she wanted to change before we left (she'd never left the house without a diaper before) She told me no, and I told her to let us know if she had to use the bathroom when we were there. She used their bathroom like she'd been doing it all her life, and that was that.

She's been in underwear ever since.

We bought her a new doll she's been wanting in celebration... not in a "if you keep your underwear dry, we'll buy you a baby" kind of way, but in the same way I'd bake cupcakes for my husband to celebrate a promotion, or any other life event that he's proud of. She is proud, as it's still a big deal to her. I'm celebrating that, and enjoying that, because I know it won't last long. I know that it'll just be a matter of time before she's as blasé as the rest of us. (When was the last time you heard an adult proclaim, "I peed on the potty! Yay!"?)

As much as parents can stress about it when it comes to their toddlers, and conversely take it for granted when it comes to adults, it's a milestone. One that she met easily and naturally in her own way in her own time, because she was given the space to do so.



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Children Are Not Baked Goods

So you want to make a cake.

You consult your recipe, you lay out all your ingredients, and you preheat your oven. You meticulously follow each and every step... carefully measuring, pouring, and mixing. You dot your i's and cross your t's and lovingly place it in the oven.

With a little bit of luck, your cake will rise. It will be moist and springy, flavorful but not too sweet. You'll look at its beautiful exterior and lightly golden hue and you'll pronounce yourself a fabulous baker. So fabulous, in fact, that when you want to make the exact same cake again and don't have the same ingredients, you'll try to wing it. You'll leave out the eggs. You'll substitute oil for butter. You'll use flour made from almonds instead of wheat. You'll sweeten it with honey instead of sugar.

It won't work.

But I'm such a great baker! I had such a terrific recipe! I had such high hopes!

The fact is, you can't bend the will of a set of ingredients to make them into the cake that you envisioned. It doesn't work that way.

And parenting doesn't work that way either. Children are not baked goods. They don't come to us as a set of raw ingredients that we then fashion into something of our own choosing.

Children are fruit.

An apple growing on a tree knows what to do. It grows, all on its own. It does not exist to serve as a potential pie or cider or muffin, but rather as a perfect piece of growing fruit right. now. From the moment that it came into being, it already knew what it was going to be... how big or how small, how red or how green, how tangy or how sweet. It's not ever going to be exactly like the one next to it, and we wouldn't expect it to be. It is unique and beautiful and whole just as it is.

(source)

Our job then isn't to try to mix it and change it and create something with it... our job is to simply nurture it, and let it do its thing.

Our job is to give it warmth, shelter, and nourishment. Our job is to lovingly tend to its needs, protect it from harm, and ultimately give it space to grow. Sometimes.... well, sometimes we get to sit back and just... watch. Watch and enjoy how big and how strong and how amazing our little apple has become.

And an apple (or a child or a street sweeper or a brain surgeon) that's appreciated and valued and accepted for what it is - and not what we try to make it - will always be infinitely better, and happier, than anything we could have possibly created from the sum of its parts.



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Blame the Video Games

Photo by phr3qu3ncy

Chris Staniforth was 20 years old, loved playing Xbox, and had been accepted into a Game Design program at Leicester University. His recent death, determined to be from a pulmonary embolism, came after what was described as a "marathon session" of gaming.

To be clear, the unexpected loss of a 20 year old is a tragedy no matter what, and my heart goes out to his parents and loved ones. But I see headlines like this, and I can't help but think there's an injustice being served.  Doing a quick Google search of his name brings it up again and again.  "Xbox addict."  "Game addict." "Halo addict." Addict, addict, addict.  Article after article warns against the dangers of excessive game playing. 

Deep vein thrombosis, which caused the pulmonary embolism that killed Chris Staniforth, can occur during long periods of immobility, such as bed rest, long flights, or simply sitting in the same position for a long time.

When I was a kid on summer vacation, I used to spend entire days (days upon days) sprawled on a hammock or lawn chair, reading a book.  If I didn't have four kids and adult responsibilities, I still would.  Does that make me a reading addict?  Does that make reading dangerous?

My husband has had a desk job ever since he entered the work force nearly twenty years ago.  Sometimes when he's involved in a project, he doesn't move from his chair for several hours at a time.  Does that make him a workaholic?  Does that make working dangerous?

Yes, I could have gotten up occasionally and taken a break from reading.  Yes, my husband could walk down the hall occasionally and get a cup of coffee.  Yes, Chris Staniforth could have interspersed his video game playing with shooting basketball or walking around the block.  But what happened to him was a rare and tragic accidental death, one that could happen to anyone, doing any number of things.  It's not the fault of the video game.  It's also not the fault of his parents (something I saw over and over in the comments of these articles)  They should have stopped him from playing so long!  They should have made him do other things!  Besides the fact that this was a 20 year old who should have been able to make his own decisions, we know nothing about his parents other than the fact that they are grieving the loss of their son.

He was following a passion. This poor kid was not doing drugs, not doing anything illegal or immoral or wrong, yet his death is being used as a dire anti-video game cautionary tale.  He was an addict, these articles warn.  Don't let this happen to you! 

I have a child who is passionate about video games.  At ten, he already knows that he wants to study video game design, just as I already knew at ten that it was the written word that I loved.  I want to support him in that endeavor, just as I would in any other.   I know people who work in this field for a living... people who love what they are doing.  People I respect. 

But video games can kill you!  Absolutely they can. So can riding in an airplane, stepping off a curb, or slipping in the shower.  The video games are not at fault here.  Neither is the airplane, the curb, or the shower.    These are accidents.

I wouldn't want Chris Staniforth's death to be in vain.  I want to continue to have awareness, and knowledge, and common sense.  Of course.  But I never want to live in fear, and I never want my kids to do so either.



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Why I Don't Pick My Battles

I recently received an email from someone looking for some gentle suggestions for her two year old, who'd been continually testing limits and responding to requests to do just about anything with a resounding, "no."   It is a question I get a lot, and believe me when I say:

I understand.

I do.  It's hard to be 2, 3, 4.  Hard on the child, and by extension, hard on the parents as well.  I don't think any age has taught me more, inspired me more, and challenged me more than the toddler and preschool years.  Those are the years that I most have to practice patience.  Those are the years that I most need to count to ten (or 392) before responding to certain behavior.  Those are the years that make me a better mother.

That's nice, you're thinking, but what do I do about it?

A big problem for the littlest kids is a sense of frustration at not having control over a world where so many decisions are made for them.  A lot of people will advise that you "pick your battles"..... decide what areas in which you can give your child some freedom, and what areas in which you need to stand your ground.  And for a long time, I would have told you the same thing.   Seems like sensible advice, right?

But I don't pick my battles anymore.

I don't want to view any interaction with my children as a battle.  A battle implies that it is me versus them, and that there will ultimately be a winner and a loser...  I get my way this time, and they get their way next time.  What I want instead is to find our way.  I want my children to know that I am their partner, and that I am on their side.  Is it just a matter of semantics? Maybe. But if my goal is to have a closer, more harmonious and connected relationship with my children, I can't imagine that thinking of a word as acrimonious as "battle" will help me get there.

When I find that I'm going through a more difficult patch with any of my kids (and it happens sometimes, especially when they're little) the first thing I try to do is to take a giant step backwards to look at the situation with a fair perspective.  I focus on the child - and our relationship - rather than whatever the behavior is that I'm finding frustrating/annoying/hurtful.  I know that when I'm uncharacteristically snapping at my kids, picking fights with my husband, or generally pissed off at the world, there's a reason for it. Address the reason, and the issue will go away... address my behavior, and it's only going to tick me off more. Why would we think kids would be any different?  If it was in fact me with the "bad behavior" I would want someone to listen to me, and empathize with me.  I would want someone to sincerely ask, "What can I do to help?"

I want to be that person for my kids.

So often with my three year old the problem is one of two things:  either she's not feeling connected to me, or she's feeling frustrated from a lack of autonomy.  Maybe I've been too wrapped up in other things.  Maybe I've gotten complacent and have been giving her too many knee-jerk responses.  Maybe I just haven't been there the way that I should.  So rather than "pick my battles" I do very nearly the opposite:

I get re-connected.  I renew my commitment to being as present as I possibly can.  I make our relationship (not my desire to have things done a certain way) the top priority.  I say yes.  When I remain open, flexible, and creative, I can meet her needs and mine, without ever resorting to a battle.

She doesn't want me to comb her hair?  No problem.  We'll do it another time, with lots of conditioner and lots of laughs while she plays in the tub.

She doesn't want to put on her shoes?  She doesn't have to.   I'll bring them along, and put them in the car so she has them when she needs them.

She doesn't want to sit at the table at dinner time?    That's very normal for a three year old.  We can make her a monkey platter, and she can eat from it when she's hungry.

She wants to wear rain boots, tights, a tutu, and her brother's t-shirt... all on top of a Spiderman costume?  Her choice to make.

And when those times come when I truly do have to say 'no'?  She accepts it, because she knows that what matters to me most is not blind compliance, but her.  She knows that I will always strive to meet her needs, to listen to her wants, and to HEAR what she has to say.  Which, after all, is all she really wanted in the first place.

Isn't that what all of us want?




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I Choose "Yes"

When I was in high school, my favorite pair of jeans (ever) were stolen from the locker room during a soccer game.  And once, I lost an earring - one with great sentimental value - never to be found again.   Both were very upsetting to me.  I want my kids to be prepared for upsetting things to happen to them too, so sometimes I take their favorite things and throw them away... because they have to learn about disappointment.

Another time, I ran out of gas.  It was long before cell phones, and I was in a rural area, so I had to walk for help.  I want my kids to be prepared for that too.  So we periodically drive into the middle of nowhere, park the car, and have everyone walk back to civilization.  We don't pack water either, because they might get caught without it one day, and they need to learn what it's like.

The past few years I've had some health issues that have resulted in three different surgeries.  I feel my kids need to learn what that's like too (it could happen to them someday!) so I periodically arrange to get them beds in the local ER, so they can hang out and get the experience first hand.

I once had a verbally abusive boyfriend.  He liked to tell me how ugly I was, how much he hated my hair, and why I needed to lose weight.  I had a mean and angry boss once, too.  She was the kind of person who wasn't content to just be miserable by herself, so she shared her misery with everyone around her.  Both made me feel terrible about myself.  I know my kids could encounter people like this one day too, so I make sure to insult them from time to time so they'll learn how to deal with it. 

Does any of this sound.... illogical... to you?

That is exactly how I feel every time I hear the familiar adage that states that, "kids need to hear the word 'no'."  Experts and parents alike worry that they'll become spoiled and entitled if they're not told no often enough. We shouldn't "give in" to too many of their wishes because life is going to be full of rejection, and they need to get used to it now.

The logic is lost on me.  Purposely doing something unpleasant because they may experience the same unpleasant thing in the future makes no kind of logical sense to me.

I choose to focus on joy.  I choose to say, "YES."  Yes to what, you ask?  Yes to anything and everything I possibly can!

Yes to cupcakes for breakfast.
Yes to jumping in mud puddles.
Yes to wearing pajamas to the store.

I just say yes.  I want their lives to be as rich and as full and as interesting as I can possibly make them.  They didn't ask to be here... I CHOSE to have them.  And now I choose to share with them as abundantly as I possibly can.   I want them to enjoy life, to embrace life, and to know that it is full of possibilities.  I want them to know that they are heard and respected and a valued member of the family.  I want them to know that they can do anything and be anything that they desire.

But come on, you argue, sometimes you have to say no.  Of course: sometimes safety, logistics, or respect for others precludes a "yes."   But all too often a parent's default response is" no" for no good reason.  We're too tired.  It's too messy.  It's inconvenient.  We don't feel like it.  And besides, we reason, it's good for them.  Kids need to hear the word no!   How else will they learn to handle it when they hear it later?  Won't they have a hard time accepting it?

Actually, kids who aren't given arbitrary "nos" tend to be very accepting of the necessary ones.   When I tell my children "no", they know that there's a reason for it, and they respect it.   But my life, and theirs, became infinitely better the day I decided to start saying "yes" more often.   And the more yeses that they hear, the better equipped they are to deal with the occasional nos.

Because I'm not arguing that there won't be some inevitable 'nos' in life:  Of course there are nos, from small to large:  "No, you can't come in the store barefoot."   "No, you didn't get the job as there was someone more qualified."

I would argue that the ones who are best able to deal with it are those that are happy, confident, and fully engaged in life.  Those who realize that life is living, and that it is full of choices.  People who are secure and well-adjusted don't have a problem with a "no shirts, no shoes, no service" rule (or any kind of logical rule for that matter). People who are confident and self-assured don't let one potential employer's rejection stop them from pursuing their dreams. 

I don't give my children arbitrary nos just because I can.  (I also don't steal their things, drop them in the wilderness, take them to the hospital, or treat them unkindly.)  What I do do, is treat them the way that I'd like to be treated.  I treat them in such a way that they are growing up happy, and confident, and self-assured... so that when those inevitable bumps in life do come, they can say, "You know what?  I can handle this."

And it starts with saying yes.

Life is short.  Life is so short!  We're not guaranteed another day with our children.  We're not guaranteed another hour with our children.   I don't know about you, but I don't want to have the regret of not giving enough to my children when I had the chance.... not enough of my time, not enough of my attention, not enough of ME.  This is it.  This is the time we've been given. 

If you're reading this, I want you to do something.  If your child asks you to do something today that you'd normally say no to, if there's no real reason to say no (and there probably isn't), just this once,

JUST SAY YES.



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How Housekeeping is like Advanced Math

Photo by Minibe09

On the heels of my little cleaning freak-out the other day, yesterday I decided that I needed a new approach and a fresh perspective.   I would set a timer (a la Flylady) for 10 minutes, and 10 minutes only.  I'd give my full attention to picking up, cleaning up, and generally getting things done cheerfully for those 10 minutes, then I'd take a break.   I asked the kids if they would join me, and they were very willing (probably because I asked like a friendly mom instead of a crazy person).   We did our 10 minutes, and later did the same thing twice more.  

That combined 30 minutes of cleaning was a million times more productive, and honestly more enjoyable, than my entire previous day of frustrated huffing and wandering around, picking up this and that, and overall spinning my wheels.  Why?  Because 1)  I was ready to do it, 2) I wanted to do it. 3) I was motivated to do it, and 4) I was willing to give it my full - positive - attention.

Really, isn't everything like that?  How much more efficient, and productive, and useful is our time when we're doing something that we willingly choose to do, that we're personally invested in, and truly motivated to do?

It's the same exact concept I learned 20 years ago in my advanced math class my senior year of high school.  I've written about that class before, but the short of it is that it was a class that made me all kinds of miserable.  A class that I wasn't interested in.  A class that I felt I didn't need (and I didn't).  A class that I struggled with to the point of tears.  And after a l.o.t. of torture, frustration, and a fair amount of humiliation, I dropped it.  What I didn't mention in my first re-telling is that before I could drop the class I had to be passing the class, which meant that I had a whole lot of make-up work to do.  I'd pretty much stopped doing my homework, for the simple reason that I didn't understand my homework.  

My teacher suggested perhaps having another student tutor me during a study hall, and in desperation I took her up on it.  Pete was a straight A student, and was one of those people, like my husband, who finds math - even in its advanced varieties - easy and fun.  He patiently sat with me during one study hall, and went through the work point by point.  And for the first time, it made sense to me.  For the first time, I actually saw a glimpse (though a teeny one) of what math-inclined people find so cool about all those numbers and formulas. 

I learned more in that one 45 minute tutuoring session than I had all semester.  

And it wasn't because he was a better teacher than the teacher.  It was because I was ready to learn it.  I wanted to learn it.  I was personally motivated to learn it.  For a myriad of reasons, I needed not to be in that class anymore.  In order to do that, I had to finally learn what I'd resisted learning for most of the semester.   Once I had that motivation, the learning came quickly and relatively easily. 

The same is true for learning anything, and is a big factor in why I unschool.  The only time we truly learn something is when it "arise(s) out of the experience, interest, and concerns of the learner." (John Holt)  The rest of the time?  The times when we're daydreaming sitting through classes that don't interest us or are not meaningful to us, or wandering around our house pretending to clean when our minds are clearly somewhere else?    We're wasting our time.

I recently learned that the teacher of that math class has since passed away.  I was genuinely sad to hear it.  Like any good teacher, she wanted to me to do better, and try harder, and live up to my own potential.  I think I'm finally doing that.  And as it turned out, I did learn a lot from that class.  It just didn't happen to be about math.




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I'd Rather Be With My Kids

Top ten reasons why I'd rather spend time with my kids than with most of the adults I know:

1. They're cute

I mean, come on. Do any of your adult friends look like this?

2. They appreciate the little things in life

I know very few adults who derive as much - or any - joy from rainbows, mud puddles, or caterpillars.

3. They still know how to play

Not everyone loses this ability as they get older, but so many do! I want to be around people who still see the value in an impromptu game of hide and go seek, or blowing bubbles with a straw, or putting on a Spiderman costume at 2:00 in the afternoon, just because.

4. They're REAL.

My kids are authentic, always. They don't play mind games, they don't act a certain way around certain people, they don't just tell me what I want to hear. Happy, sad, silly, frustrated.... they are wonderfully unmistakably themselves, and they express it. And as a bonus, I'm more real when I'm around them, too.
 
5. They always give me something new, 

When it comes to a life with kids, it's nothing if not full of surprises.  I never know what each day is going to hold, and I love that!

but at the same time,

6. They're always comfortable and familiar

I know my kids better than I know anyone on the planet.  I've been there since their very first breath.  I know every story, I remember ever wound.  They truly are my heart and my soul walking around outside my body.

7. They're great conversationalists and even better thinkers 

You know how 2 year olds constantly ask "why?"  They're not doing it to annoy you;  they're doing it because they're learning how the world works, and they're looking to you - their most trusted and loved ally - to help them figure out.  Kids are naturally open and curious and questioning, and they are not held back by the preconceived notions of so many adults.  Some of my very favorite times with my kids are in the car, discussing anything from armpits to snakes to heavy artillery.    Their perspective is always fresh, honest, and enlightening.

8. I enjoy their company

Whether I'm catching an episode of Dr G with the 14 year old, discussing music with the 10 year old, making simulated blood with the 7 year old, or playing dolls with the 3 year old... or doing something more out of the ordinary...  I'm having a good time.  I love my kids - of course - but I like them too.

9. They're funny

No one makes me laugh harder than my kids.  Period.

10. They teach me more than anyone or anything else combined 

No, not about isosceles triangles, or finding the value of 'x', but about LIFE.   They teach me the things that matter.  They teach me about love.  They teach me about living in the moment. About being honest with myself and others.  About not sweating the small stuff.  About being REAL.  My kids teach me everything I need to know about what kind of parent I want to be, and what kind of person I want to be.  

They teach me about smiling...

Even when I'm faced with the metaphorical business end of life:

And you just can't put a price tag on that.




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Cleaning Fail? Parenting Fail? You're both right.

Not even two weeks ago, I blogged about how much I needed a break. I was exhausted, I was stressed out, and I was panicking about getting read for our upcoming trip. I took exactly two days off from blogging, missed it terribly, and jumped right back in.

Yesterday, I was back in panic mode. We leave for our trip in 12 days, and it still feels like there are mountains to climb before we do. Making matters worse is the fact that I'm the only one who feels that way. Mike simply doesn't stress out about much of anything, and the kids are just looking forward to a fun vacation (as they should be)

Sunday night was a rough night. I wasn't feeling well; Everett had a nightmare very early on, and was in our bed the rest of the night; Tegan was tossing and turning and kicking even more than usual; I ended up sleeping in a ball on the end of our bed. The big boys were up past 2:00 (which is not unusual for them) but were woken by Tegan far too early in the morning. Everyone was tired and grumpy, and what I should have done was given us all a free day... a no obligation, lounge around, rest and recoup kind of Monday.

But, oh no. We had 13 days left. We had to CLEAN!

I started with my own desk, and instead of leaving well enough alone, I then decided it was imperative that I tackle the computer room.

This is the 'after' picture, but the girl had already dumped something out again.

This room has been a thorn in my side since we moved in to this house nearly 5 years ago. It looked like it was originally a formal dining room (judging partly from the big chandalier that once hung in the middle of the ceiling), but the previous owners didn't seem to know what to do with it either. When we first toured the house, it was mostly empty, save for a little couch in the corner. For us, it has always served as a computer room slash project room slash collector of random, miscellaneous stuff. It's always a mess, and yesterday I was going to clean it.

I asked the kids to help me, but they were too tired. (Of course they were too tired; No one got any sleep). I asked them again. Spencer was half asleep on the couch, Paxton was engrossed in a computer game, and Tegan and Everett were chasing each other around the house. No one really answered me.

And again, I should have taken the hint, followed their lead - and my own level of exhaustion - and rested. Instead, as if possessed by some mop-wielding inner demon, I became that mom. The stomping, huffing, sighing, "fine, I'll do it myself", martyr of a mom. For the next hour, I was noisily moving chairs and bookshelves, digging stuff out from beneath the desks, flinging sweeping wayward toys and papers and books and tools to the center of the room to sort through. Spencer had fallen asleep by then, Paxton was calmly moving out of my way as I cleaned around him, and the little ones had wisely moved their play to another room, lest they accidentally witness the embarrassment of their mom in the throes of her tantrum.

It really wasn't my finest moment.

I was tired, I was irritated, and I couldn't even enjoy the fruits of my labor once I'd finished.  Who can enjoy something they'd done with the wrong attitude in the first place?

I do still want to get the house clean before we go.  But not like that.  Today, I will get a grip and remember what's important.  I'll listen to my kids, listen to my own body, and save the cleaning for another dang day if need be.

And if all else fails, I'll stick to the kitchen side of the house, and avoid the computer room completely. 




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Schedules and Blackboards

I'll admit it, a lot of mainstream articles tend to confuse me. I recently read this one, about designing a home school-friendly floor plan in your house, and I was left shaking my head (after I picked it up from my desk). It advocates school rooms and schedules, signs, announcements, and special posters. I can't help but wonder: If you do make the choice to home school, why on earth would you want to re-create the very place that you've decided to opt out of?

Here is a breakdown of some of the piece's key points, followed by what I would do differently:

Situate your home school in a dedicated space of your home. Turn a spare room or part of a guest room into a classroom.

Recognize that when you opt out of school, you've made the entire world your classroom. There is learning to be had in every room of your house... in the living room, in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the bathtub, in the backyard. And that's just at home! There are parks and playgrounds, museums and libraries, lakes and forests, stores and post offices.  Learning.  Is.  Everywhere.

Hang a schedule of classroom hours to send a message to family members regarding your availability for non-school issues.

What happens if someone has a non-school issue during school time?  What happens if someone wants to learn something during non-school time?  What happens if someone has a non-school issue during non-school time, but you are still unavailable because you are busy planning for the inevitability of non-school issues disrupting your upcoming school time?

The beauty of being home with your kids is that you can be with them.  No need for schedules, no need for trying to divide your day into school and non-school hours.  You can curl up on the couch to read to a little one at 2 in the afternoon.   Or play blocks with a toddler at 10.  Or look through a microscope with a teenager at lunchtime.  Or watch a movie with your whole crew at 11.   Learning isn't something that happens between certain hours in certain places.   As a homeschooling parent, you have the unique opportunity to enjoy your kids, enjoy their company, and enjoy learning with them and from them as you go about your day.

Make the home school area attractive for you and for your students. Hang a bulletin board, large calendar and posters related to the courses you plan to teach.

Make your whole house attractive and interesting for you and your kids (and they're your kids, not your students)   Sure, hang a bulletin board if that's your thing.  Put up a calendar to keep track of play dates and baseball games.  Hang up a poster if someone wants one.  But forget about words like "courses" and "teach" and be with your kids!

Provide your student with a desk and a comfortable chair. Place a desk for yourself in front of the student's desk.

This one's a joke, right? Unless you're living in an old schoolhouse in an 1800's episode of Little House on the Prairie (in which case, I suppose you'd have bigger things to worry about) there is absolutely no need to think that a school desk plus a teacher's desk equals learning.  I understand that schools have limitations and need to do things a certain way.  I do.  But you made what one would hope would be a conscious, well-thought out decision not to send your child to school.  Why, with all the freedom that you've purposely gained, would you want to replicate the very thing you stepped away from?

And again, he or she is your child, not your student.

Use the worktable as a lunch table.

Or eat in the kitchen.  Or on the lawn.  Or in the tree house.   Or have a carpet picnic.  Or skip lunch altogether and make homemade ice cream.

Establish a library in your home school.

Books are great!  So this one I actually agreed with.  Until I got to:

Include grade-appropriate textbooks, fiction and non-fiction reading materials.

When you home school, you can remove the phrase "grade appropriate" from your vocabulary altogether.  When you're out of the school environment, grade levels and artificial age expectations no longer exist. You can pay no attention to recommended reading levels, and instead look to YOUR child.  What would he or she like to read?  Is he into Dr Seuss?  Does she like mysteries?  Do they enjoy books about history?  When you let your children follow their own unique interests and time-table, you eliminate the stress and frustration that comes with trying to conform to someone else's idea of what they should do when. 

Your seven year old might not be reading yet.  Your ten year old might be reading Chaucer.   Both are fine and normal!

Provide a break or recess area for you and for your student. Stock magazines, comic books and games to entertain during down time.

Do I really need to say it one more time?  It's your CHILD, not your student. 

And absolutely, get magazines if your kids like them.  Buy comic books, stock the shelves with games.  Fill your house with craft supplies, tools, science kits, building toys, DVDs, video games.  Recognize the recreation and the learning that is in all of the above.  But mostly make your home a safe haven... a place where your kids can be themselves.  Where they can play and grow and learn... in their own time in their own way.  A place where they feel engaged, confident, and loved.  Where they can make noise, make mistakes, and make a mess.  Where they are truly free.  Free to just..... be.

"What is most important and valuable about the home as a base for children's growth into the world is not that it is a better school than the schools, but that it isn't a school at all."
— John Holt

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