And She's Off!

Little sister is happier than ever as she learns to crawl and explore her world, leaving big brother reeling from the five stages of grief, grappling with the end of his long reign as "King of the Mountain".

I was so focused on wanting Katie to crawl--she was so frustrated by her lack of mobility-- that I forgot to account for the big changes in store for Andy.  For almost eight years, Andy's been able to leave his toys on the floor and trust that they'll still be there waiting for him, undisturbed (unless I was inspired by a fit of housekeeping).

Apparently, the folded, gummy mass of Wiki Sticks that sister scattered around and stuffed in her mouth were, in fact, an intricate and labor-intensive design of tables and chairs. Impossible to duplicate! Ruined forever!

After much screaming and lots of tears, Andy decided the only thing that would make him feel better was watching the episode of "Dirty Jobs" where Mike works with sled dogs in Alaska. I relented, and calm was once again restored to the household.

Just when we were settling in to finish the last of A Voice From the Redwoods for book club today, Andy looked up to discover that sister had destroyed his domino fortress full of Lego people. More wailing. More grief. I could forget about reading, writing and math... at least for now.

I'm so glad another homeschooling mom told me that the gateway to reading for her son was Calvin and Hobbes and other "graphic novels". Andy is now happily reading Garfield, and I'm enjoying this bit of writing therapy. I don't feel guilty that we didn't accomplish "school work" this morning, because I know that we're all learning so much--about life and each other.

 It occurs to me that the challenges of homeschooling are no different than the challenges of parenting, they are just more intense, with less distractions.

I'm hoping to regroup with Andy soon, and come up with a plan for keeping his stuff safe from our newly mobile little girl. 

Opportunity

I liked believing what I'd heard, that the Chinese word for "crisis" contained the character "opportunity" as well as "danger".  Turns out that this definition might be a bit of New Age fiction.  Regardless, finding the opportunity in a crisis is an incredible gift.  Too bad I can only seem to search for that hidden blessing after the worst of the danger has passed.  In the thick of heavy negative emotion, especially fear, seeking the silver lining seems difficult, if not impossible.  I've always marveled at how easily Mike seemed to find it.  His recent bout with unemployment gave him some insight into how much of a struggle seeing the glass half full is for most of us.

In hindsight, it's easy for me to see that if Mike hadn't been laid off, a number of wonderful things wouldn't have happened.  First, we wouldn't have had almost six months of extra time together as a family.  Sure, some of that time was spent job-searching, fretting, and bickering as we inhabited each other's roles and shared more space--I took on more students, and he took on more household tasks.  Yet Mike was able to spend precious time with Katie during her first year of life.  We went on many free outings together: trips to the Farmer's Market, library story hours, the beach, and the park.  I don't think we would have braved camping in Yosemite without that bonus time.

Second, our unemployment crisis forced us to evaluate what's important to us in life.  Financial uncertainty led us to cut back on what wasn't essential, and let go of expectations about where we needed to live or how much we needed to possess.  For the first time in his life, Mike suffered a crisis of confidence, each rejection triggering feelings of worthlessness and despair he'd never experienced before.  Because of his openness in sharing all that he was feeling, we grew closer.  I admired his ability to mourn each loss, yet remain eternally optimistic that something better would come along--and it finally did.

And certainly, without losing the job, he wouldn't have found his current, happier position. Instead of being isolated at his home office, he's now collaborating face to face, a few days a week, with colleagues he enjoys and respects, continuing the benefits of telecommuting on the remaining days.  We were pushed to lease another vehicle-- a fun, hybrid electric car that makes us smile every time we plug it in.


I guess I couldn't let Mike have all the excitement of a work-related crisis.  Just two months after he started his new job, I started a new school year, and immediately faced some criticism and pretty devastating disciplinary action. It felt completely unwarranted.  I cried for a couple of days, and then resigned.

Yet, if I hadn't been treated unfairly, I would most likely still be there, stressed and miserable--juggling all the balls of family life and work responsibility in a highly dysfunctional organization.

A few weeks have passed since I left.  Now that the waves of sadness, anger and indignation have subsided, I am GRATEFUL to my former supervisors for their poor treatment.  They gave me the push I needed to pursue something better: BEING HOME WITH MY KIDS! Should I send them a singing telegram as a thank-you?  A fruit basket?

The final crisis I am thankful for is Andy's first grade year from hell in our local public school.  It led us to homeschooling.  I know for certain, no matter how little we manage to accomplish at home, he will be much better off with his sister and me, out and about in the world, than in the alternating chaos and rigidity of that classroom.  Everyone assures me that the perfect storm of last year is unlikely to be repeated, but I still feel that the problems facing our school system are as deep and wide as the culture at large.  And our culture is not changing any time soon, unfortunately.

The FREEDOM I've felt this week has been unbelievable.  It's slowly sinking in that I can create the life I want to live, for me and my family.  I'm learning to let go of the fears that kept me working for others--first, that we won't have enough money, second, that I will lose my identity and be swallowed whole by the demands of motherhood.  Third, that I will lose any sense of normalcy--all of my peers are struggling to work and raise children, and most everyone we know is schooled.  How will it feel to live differently?

Instead of fear, I'm learning to TRUST.  Trust that we will find a way to survive on one income, at least for now. Trust that I can meet my kids' needs and also meet my own needs, by asking for help.  Trust that we will meet the people we need to meet to support us on our journey.

On the way home from the County Fair this week, as Katie slept in her car seat, Andy and I reminisced about all the adventures we had that day.  A serendipitous meeting with another homeschooling family.  A man with a sequined vest on a unicycle, making balloon animals.  Tiny pink squealing piglets, romping and nuzzling each other, suckling from their porky, passed out mama.  Chocolate ice cream turned by an old-fashioned crank, powered by a popping diesel engine.  Sea lions clapping, barking, balancing colorful balls on their noses.

"I want to make a flag to say we're happy to be homeschooling," Andy piped from the back seat. 

YES.  Yes, yes, yes!  We're finding our path.  And we're letting our "freak flags fly".