School started a little late today for a variety of reasons. Within seconds of getting upstairs one of the big kids’ heads started spinning and the other began spitting blood and I thought “Not gonna do it” in my best mental impression of Dana Carvey as George Bush the First.

I sat the kids down and we made a list of all the things that had happened in our school. Let me tell you, that was some list. This immediately quieted them. We recorded: ( and we weren’t just talking about the student body)

yelling
throwing things
disobedience
destruction
hard work
interruptions
kind words
screaming
disrespect
apologies
hand raising
pushing
laughter
gentleness
messes
hatred
respect
boredom
forgiveness
surprises
learning
distractions
inattention
treats

Once we compiled that we voted on the things we wanted from now on.

We elected:

hard work
apologies
hand raising
laughter
gentleness
respect
forgiveness
surprises
learning
treats

At this point we were really feeling good. The votes were unanimous and this was sounding like SOME school. And then Christopher bounced on the couch and my cup of coffee spilled all over me and the list.

It was perfect. That was what I told myself as I got up and went downstairs to throw my clothing in the wash, change and mop up the list and the book I had used to support it.

The kids trailed after me, Christopher apologizing copiously. I told them to head back upstairs and wipe up anything that had spilled on the couch.

It was quiet while I took care of my end of things and as I headed upstairs I congratulated myself on responding without blowing my top. Then I saw Christopher reading on the couch that had not been wiped up and flew to his side.

I managed not to yell, but my tone was quietly intense. He started to wipe up the mess and say, “You are scaring me.”

“No,” I said. “we aren’t going to do this. You made a big mess. I did not freak out. I asked you to clean something up and you did not obey but chose to read a book. I am not yelling. You are fine.”

He agreed he was.

We settled back onto the couch and made another list. This one was titled “What we are willing to do to have” with a big arrow pointing to the things we want in our school.

We will: (we knew we were looking for verbs because they are action words)

obey
concentrate
stand firm in faith (this from C. !)
do everything in love
respect each other
forgive
persevere
encourage each other
think of others
be gentle
be kind
make requests

All of these were their contributions except the last.

Then we talked about my choice to stay home with and teach them and that I had other options. We have already talked about their choices, but reviewed them. They were clear that they wanted me to stay home and continue to teach them. I told them it was a privilege to attend our school and if they were unwilling to be the way we had decided we needed to be in order to to have school we wanted, then they couldn’t come to it. Instead they would go to their rooms with their assignments and do them on their own. This was shocking but they agreed to it.

Tomorrow we are all going to write out our declarations and hang them on the wall.

It only makes sense to articulate what we want and then figure out what it is going to take to get it. This is our plumb line. If our behavior or attitudes don’t measure up to what we say we want then we can change them.

I am 35 and just learning this.

I am working really hard to help my kids learn this sooner.

After nursing Lydia through the late hours of Thanksgiving, I succumbed to the same virus in the early hours the day after. How humbling is sickness…

Paul had been sick too and just as he started to feel human (around 1 a.m.) I picked up the baton and continued the race.

I just need a good night’s sleep. Apparently my body didn’t get the telegram and I woke up at 3 for no apparent reason.

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On a happy note, the Bean is plugging away in her “big guhs” There have been accidents but she is taking them in stride.

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Lately I have really been appreciating the way that C. Riley has been treating Beanie. He is constantly giving her piggy back rides and talking sweetly to her. My heart just fills with delight when I see her smudgy little face next to his, her arms wrapped around his neck. And to hear him using this gentle, inviting tone, “You want another ride, Eden?” – it’s like Mom Crack, the drug, that is.

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I will write another time about what we were thankful for on Thanksgiving, since we chose to disrupt a quiet, peaceful meal with what we hoped would be a time of grateful sharing. Dream the impossible dream and sometimes find yourself jousting windmills.

Anyhoo, I’m back…and yes I think my tone is not unlike Jack Nicholson’s in the Shining. Perhaps a little more subdued…slightly… I am tired.

Johnny Cash died less than a year after my dad died when all our hearts were still so sore. We siblings never talked about it, but Johnny Cash reminded all of us of our dad. I know this because once he died there was a flurry of phone calls across the country that went a little like this:

“Johnny Cash died!” The speaker usually said this with a wail and often dissolved into tears.

“I know…he always reminded me of Dad.”

“Me too!”

And then we would talk about Johnny and Dad and mourn them both.

1. This evening my mom was going to spend the night so that Paul and I could go see a movie and not worry about keeping her up late.

2. But then the movies were before the kids were in bed and after I wanted to be starting a movie when we are still catching up on sleep from when our friends visited.

3. We tucked Birdie in with the Puke Bucket because she was complaining about a sick stomach. When she got up at 9:00 and then 9:30 to throw up, I was so glad it was on my watch and not my mom’s.

…I asked her if she had slept at all and she said, “Well I started to and then I thought, ‘I better stay up so that I can be alert in case I throw up.'”

She’s eight, God bless her.

Someone has been wearing big girls (a.k.a. underpants) ALL day. This morning she asked to wear them so I put them on her. She stayed dry until her nap when I switched her into a diaper but she was dry when she got up from her (admittedly short) rest.

Cue the music, “It’s a whole new world…”

My other kids I trained late but it only took one day. I have been trying to summon the strength to lock myself in the bathroom with the Bean and rave enthusiasm and encouragement for several hours. I was hoping she would just train herself, which, apparently, she has.

God bless her.

She is feeling pretty fantasgic since she knows she gets to take a gymn class when she is potty trained. This starts after Christmas, right before she turns three and is a Big Girl. All day long I have heard, “I’m a Big Guh. I’m wearing my big guhs.”

We won’t talk about the little poo that sqeaked its way out into her panties while I raced her to the bathroom.

To endless days of a dry Big Girl and her big girls!

A happy happy Thanksgiving to you too.