The Many Faces of a Sigh

     Daniel had taken my sweet boy to the library so it was just me and baby girl. I was working in the garden and she was playing on the back porch. I would look up at her as she toddled around. The sun was warm but there was a cool breeze, the sprinkler was on and I could smell the delightful dampness in the air. As I pulled weeds the crisp scent of the mulch and fresh earth made me feel at home and occasionally I would brush a tomato plant and it would give off that yummy real tomato smell that you can't find in the store bought ones. The dirt was cool and wet in my hands, easy to work with and brimming with the promise of healthy green plants. The birds were singing and the gentle patter of the water falling on the grass drowned out the sounds of the neighborhood and the street so that the only other sound was the sweet chatter of my toddler. It was the kind of moment that makes me think of heaven and believe that all these sights and sounds and smells must be there somewhere.

Disarming Cuteness In Action 

    Baby girl walked over to where I was and sat down in the tall grass beside me. She smiled at me and I breathed a sigh of amazing contentment...
...and then she stuck a clod of dirt in her mouth and began to cry as mud began to run out the corners of her mouth. I rinsed her mouth out, in as much as you can, and took her inside for a bath. She was too upset to console and cried all through getting her undressed and as tears mixed in they make her already dirty face an even muddier mess. The mud on my hands smeared on her face and clothes as I hurried her into the tub because we were shedding smaller dirt clods all over the bath mat. It isn't until I put her in the tub and she notices the running water that she calms down and begins playing with it. My beautiful baby looks up at me and grins, happy once again...
...and that is when I see that she has dirt stuck between her bottom teeth and all I can do at this point is, once again ... sigh.

Who Knew School Was A Heart Issue?

   

"Making the decision to have a child- it is momentous.
It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body"
- Elizabeth Stone

I am the product of nine years of homeschooling. I attended a large public high school and taught science in a rather large public high school for four years. I feel like I am not unfamiliar with education, both public and privet. My son is close enough to school age that I have really spent some time thinking about what I want his education to look like.

Many others look at my teaching credentials and assume that I am going to home-school  Some look at my dislike for the current teaching model and assume I am going to home-school. Some look at the fact that I want my child to succeed academically and assume I am going to home-school.
Daniel and I even had a long conversation where he suggested that I might should give it a try. And several of the people closest to me think it would be the best idea for the future of my kids.

As for my son? He is bright, social, and adapts well to new situations. All the signs are there that he should have no trouble whatever we decide. So since those things aren't factors I looked at the other circumstances of his life and decided that I am not cut out to keep him at home.

I want to be clear that these are my thoughts about me, personally, as a homeschooling parent, not about the practice in general...

I get twitchy with too much routine, I am easily distracted, I am not patient with early learning skills, and there is a reason I taught high school, it is my comfort zone. Small children make me nervous in educational groups. Don't misunderstand me, I do fine with my kids and even a handful of kids that I am close to but it is just not my area of expertise and I get all knotted up inside even when everything goes right. My sweet boy loves routine, is easily frustrated when things don't go right, and is a tad bit stubborn, especially with me. I look at this and I see a recipe for disaster, tears, and much yelling. As far as his education, my boy is smart enough that I am sure he would make head way but I would be a walking, twitching, time bomb.

So I sit, and I worry, and I peer into the depths of my heart for why I feel such reticence to even give this a try and I often come to tears over this issue because in many ways it comes down to...
     I DON'T WANT TO.
I dread the thought of trying, I am terrified of trying, everything within me screams that I would be miserable if I tried. I can't breathe and I kind of panic at the thought of giving it a try and when I wonder what I would do if there were no other acceptable options.
And somewhere inside me a voice says "If you were a good mom you would." or "What? Aren't you willing to sacrifice your wants for the 'good of your child'?" or "How selfish are you to say no just because you don't think you are cut out for it, man up and give it a try."

And I weep with shame and frustration as these two parts of me go to war. That is what is going on in my heart, a war. And this war is all about fear, feeling inadequate to the job God has given me, and trying to balance between the pressure to look like a good mom and actually being one. The casualties are my sense of confidence, my self worth, and joy in the moments I have now.

So, what do I do? Some days, when my soul is feeling less battered, I console myself with the things I know, and I am not proud of this order but in all honesty this is how they come...
     First-
     How far he goes in his education has as much to do with my involvement and encouragement as with where he goes to school.
     Second-
     In the end the choice to succeed will be his no matter where I put him.
     And Third, though it should be first-
     God has a plan for my son and in the end all the "control" I think I have is vanity, a "chasing after the wind" to quote Ecclesiastes.

But on the days when this war has ravaged my heart... I just cry, and worry I am all wrong.

     Pictures by Emerald Lemmons Photography