…because it all blew by with almost no posting about it.

I wander through every summer saying, “isn’t summer break supposed to be relaxing?!” But this year, this time I mean it. As much as I could have used a little more down time, I am secure in the knowledge that we wrung as much out of the last two and a half months as we possibly could.

We had a wonderful but chilly Independence Day with food and family, carnival fun and friends.

I saw a friend for the first time in almost twenty years and found out how quickly that time becomes moot. It was so awesome to hang out with her again. (Can you believe I got not even one picture? Not even with my phone.) She and her hubby are starting a new life in the army and I am so glad I got to see her before things got busy.

We went to the annual barn party. Not only did we have the usual sticky, dusty fun with food, singing and hayrides, but I got to shake the hand of a man who has every single episode of the original Doctor Who series on tape. He was a little freaked out by my enthusiasm at first, but then I got him talking and found out he has lots of issues of the fan magazine from way back, too. Proof that connecting with an older generation is rewarding…who knew you could geek out with someone twice your age? At a pot luck hymn sing, no less.

There was a week of VBS for the Bigs. This year it was about Joseph in Egypt, and every night I was amazed at the dedication of the grownups who make it possible. Walking into the church lobby was like entering another world. The Princess got to be a helper instead of an attender (a first for her) and learned a lot about what it means to serve. The Bear found out that he loves dried figs. (And eyeliner. It was from a booth that was supposed to be an Egyptian beauty salon, but he looked like he was headed for a Joy Division concert.)

The hardest thing all summer was sending the Princess to a week-long sleepaway camp for the first time. I helped her pack, shopped for things she needed to take, and spent the whole time in denial. By the time I dropped her off, I had so much pent up angst, I had to basically bot her out of the van and drive away before I made a scene. It was a long week of no contact at all, and of everyone and their uncle asking me how I was doing while giving me significant looks. The biggest surprise was how much The Bear missed her; he thought he would have a fabulous time of freedom from bossing but he ended up pretty lonely. And his relief kept him from annoying her for, oh, about ten minutes after she got back.

We got a dog. After months of looking for the right one, and after repeated contact with the local basset rescue, we adopted Petey. And “adopting” isn’t a euphemism anymore, either. We drove three hours to have our initial meet-n-greet at his foster mom’shouse. After we were screened, there was the home visit. Hello? Yes, this is me, and I’d like to remind everyone that this is a DOG. Anyway, we are very blessed – he has had no trauma, no abuse, just no steady home. The cats have finally come out from under the bed and are slowly reclaiming the house. And we are all learning that only dog food goes into the dog, lest things come out of the dog that require FEMA assistance.

Add into that all the stuff we put off all year, late movie nights snuggled up on the couch, lesson planning for the coming school year, beach time, park walks, and a dash general aimlessness, and that’s a wrap on summer.

There is a rumble and a loud THUMP in the hallway, followed by the Princess yelling, “Hey!”

“Bear! Get upstairs! Now!”

When I get him alone, I give him a good talking to. “You have got to stop attacking your sister! Be nice!”

“But I missed her!”

“That is really sweet, Bear, but next time if you miss your sister, give her a big hug and tell her how glad you are that she’s home.”

…

“No! I missed her. I attacked her and missed! What is the problem?”

Obviously, I am totally clueless when it comes to boy psychology.

I had forgotten how much I love Shakespeare. In the day-to-day hurry of things, I lose track. A gigantic pile of laundry doesn’t whisper to me in iamb. (Although it is, technically speaking, a tragedy.)

Then came my newest adventure in college, a survey of Shakespeare’s plays, and I have fallen in love again. Oh, how I wish people really talked like that. I wish my life had such a well-composed plot. On the other hand, I’m glad I have never known anyone who got revenge by feeding someone her own children in a pie. Ew.

My biggest hitch is the same problem I had in last semester’s English lit class – I would like to have a little peace to stew over each play, but there are these assignments that the syllabus says must be done. Here I am, pondering away like Tom Cullen (M-O-O-N, that spells Hamlet), and then I have to snap to it and write a paper. Even with a year to complete the course, I’d better get going.

All in all though, it is a wonderful problem to have: gulping Bill’s brilliant words instead of dainty nibbling.

For the second year in a row, we went to the Washington Homeschool Organization convention. We leave at o’dark hundred Friday morning to drive the three hours to get there and then have a blowout time until we drop.

This year I went with a list, which helped my keep my head, at least for most of the first day. But it is hard to stay sane when you are surrounded by all those books and gizmos. Besides all the obvious big names you can think of, it is a huge chance for independent authors and developers to get exposure. We found lots of awesome  resources that I hadn’t heard of before.

• Value is a bingo-style game that was created by a former elementary school teacher. We got it last year, and I love that it reaches across different ability levels. It makes for a welcome break from the workbook grind.
• Inside Story Flashcards look like a deck of cards from the outside, but each card has a word, its definition, and a photo with a humorous caption. I have one stuck with poster putty to the fridge and change it every few days. The cats and dogs deck is my favorite.
• Word FRENZY is ruthless and fast like playing spoons, (like playing these spoons…not these spoons), crossed with Scrabble. And if you use the funky foam blocks as prizes, they don’t hurt as much as being clopped in the knuckles with a metal eating utensil.
• Brain Box games are in all the smart toy catalogs, but this was my first chance to see them in person. What an easy way to plug factoids into your noggin! Lots of subjects and age levels, too.
• Crazy Aaron’s Thinking Putty is like Silly Putty, but so much cooler. They make heat-sensitive color changing putty, or metallic, or oil-slick illusion, even magnetic! I got a tin so that the Bear can get some of the wiggles out of his system while I read to him.
• I’m not sure what it has to do with education, but the Airzooka was really cool. They were selling it at a booth that was chock-full of sling shots, rubber band pistols, and huge wooden broadswords. I wouldn’t have even noticed this goofy gadget, but I thought someone had patted me on the back and when I turned around, the vendor from that booth was holding one and doubled over with laughter…30 feet away.

One of the top things we were looking forward to was stopping by the Greathall Productions booth, because Jim Weiss was going to be at the convention this year. (If you aren’t familiar with Mr. Weiss, stop what you are doing right this second and go get some of his CDs from the library.) He tells stories mainly from classic literature, reads the audio-books for Susan Wise Bauer’s Story of the World  series, and is overall the most captivating storyteller, ever. We made his booth the first stop when we arrived at the event center. You know how sometimes you are so excited to meet someone you have admired for a long time, but there is that small bit of caution…just in case they are not who you imagined? To tell the truth, it would be pretty hard for him to measure up to how the Princess and the Bear had built him up in their hearts.

He was all that and more. We were blown away by what a genuinely nice person he is. Getting to talk with him ended up being the high water mark, not just for the kids, but for all of us as a family. He’s that wonderful. The workshops he spoke at were informative for me as a teacher, and for the Princess as a writer.

Another memorable bit was getting to hear John Taylor Gatto speak. If you don’t know who he is, you have got to go read up about him here and here. When I was asking around about homeschooling when the Princess was a toddler, his book The Underground History of American Education was one of the first titles handed to me. It solidified where I was headed. His books are phenomenal, and hearing him speak in person was unforgettable.

The Bear’s ears perked up when he heard that there would be chess boards set out in the main hall for anyone to play. He got to play his daddy on the giant board while being coached by a national grand champion, which meant finally winning against his arch-nemesis. (Insert evil boy cackle here.) “At last, we meet again, Daddy! FOR THE LAST TIME!”

As for independent authors, some you might enjoy:

• Circle C Adventures Series by Susan K. Marlow. If you have a girl who loves horses, this is great fit! My oldest practically slept with these books when she was in her horse phase.
• The Vadelah Chronicles by Julie Rollins. I had never thought about sci-fi as told from a Christian perspective. I haven’t read them, myself, but the Princess is quickly becoming a science fiction nut and is well on her way to wearing out these paperbacks already.
• Hercules of the Revolution by Travis Bowman. The story of Peter Francisco as told by his sixth-generation descendant. Francisco was a plantation slave who fought in the American Revolutionary war. He carried a 6-foot broadsword. I can’t wait to read this to the Bear, who can’t get enough of battles and justice.
• America’s True Heroes by Nicholas Rider. The author began collecting autographs and stories from veterans when he was eleven years old, and has now collected them into two volumes. This young man’s project reverses a lot of my stinky opinion of where the world is headed. This would be a great supplement to a U.S. History study.

We also got to meet the family that runs Timberdoodle. (Go get some Bubber. Seriously.) Moo tried to escape our clutches on a plasma car. I got more catalogs and homeschool porn than I could carry. The Bigs drove RC motorboats. I lived on rice crispy treats and french fries. Mr. MG’s right arm – the one that pulls the big red wagon – got more muscley and two inches longer than his left arm. And we packed a week of fun into two days, which took three days to get rested up from.

We are already looking forward to next year.

Tuesday night the Bigs took part in the spring piano recital – the first with their new teacher.

What I notice as I watch and listen:

• Oh, my goodness, those are some very purple socks.
• I love that their instructor insists that everything is adjusted to the size of the kid. It reminds me a bit of Stella from Silverado.
• It’s really, really time for a camcorder.
• He was very nervous leading up to the perfomance, but he nailed it. You can tell he is having a great time up there.

He plays piano for fun. When he is overwhelmed by emotion or energy, he wanders into the piano room and will run through different pieces, sometimes changing the octave or the timing. He genuinely loves it.

What I notice here:

• Gadzooks, what happened to my little girl?!  She still has the hallmark gallumphiness of a kid in transition, but it’s starting to fall away and there’s a poised young woman waiting underneath.
• No nerves at all. I told her before she went up that she’d do great. She looked a little taken aback and said, “Oh, I know.”
• That second bit of music makes me forget she is eleven.
• Next recital, I will check footwear before we leave the house so she doesn’t perform in her muddy Vans. Yech.

I love that they fill my house with music. Whatever they are gaining through learning and playing an instrument, they are giving back with interest.

 Not the Oscars or BAFTA or United Stinky Cheese Awards…AWANA awards night. Well, nights, since Sparks and T&T have their ceremonies on separate evenings. Which means two post-awards trips to Dairy Queen. Woohoo!

The Bear and his book two ribbon. See the look on his face? Typical. The kind of look that says, “Yeah…if you knew what my powers could do to you, you’d stop snapping pictures and let me eat my cookie.”

He finished the book two, and the review, and the extra workbook. He also had one of the most incredibly cool cars for Drive In Movie night, thanks to his daddy and grandpa.

My Princess continued to amaze me this year. She finished her book, then did the silver and gold reviews. They had to order the silver and gold buttons for her badge, because no one had ever finished those reviews in our club before. Get this: for the final section in the gold review, you have to recite 32 verses. Thirty-two! They are from all over the Bible, and you do it in response to a number of questions, and it’s all in one sitting. If she does all her review next year, she will be the first kiddo here to do every book and review possible from kindergarten through the Timothy award, seven years’ worth.

What I was most proud of, though, was that this year she did it all on her own. I told her in August that I was through with nagging, so if she wanted to do well in AWANA this year, she had better push herself. She asked me to draw up a schedule so she would know where she should be in her book throughout the year, and then I stepped back. All the memorization, tasks, and activities were accomplished of her own volition. That was amazing to watch.

She is also very silly. And always has a spare eye roll for me.

Then it was time to celebrate with ice cream and french fries and laughter, followed by three months off before doing it again next year.

I was shocked – shocked! – when the ultrasound tech said the words, “No doubt about it, that’s a boy.” I was supposed to be a girl mama. Mr. MG reassured me, and reminded me that in any classroom, it was the little boys that I gravitated toward. As usual, he was right; having a boy was a fantastic gift.

The Bear is completely out of the baby stages, now. He is wiry and whippy and full of mischief. This year he discovered comics, both the newspaper-strip kind and the super-hero sort. It shows, too. He is a perfect mix of Linus, Calvin, Batman, Wolverine… and a little bit of Joker thrown in, just to bother his big sister. But this same boy who will tackle you and headbutt you and declare WAR! on anyone who crosses him also has incredibly thin skin and will whine and cry until you beg for death.

My Bear, he has such a big heart. He is a sharer, giving away his candy and toys and could quite possibly bury you in a flurry of his drawings. His heart turns toward God all day long, privately praying for a good attitude in the face of school work and randomly popping up with spiritual wisdom beyond his years. He nagged for months until I finally took him to talk to the pastor about being baptized. He talks to God about everything, including our possibly moving and a particularly awesome turn when playing Fate.

He is a noisy, stinky boy. He is a gentle soul. He still finds a way to curl up on my lap to be held. He is the gift I didn’t know I desperately wanted.

Happy Birthday, my sweet Bear.

Tonight is the Bear’s first little league game. As you might expect I will be at home, nursing a sick child back to health. But I got to help him dress and pack for it. He vibrated with happiness.

“Now I really look like a super hero, Mama.”  Which is about as American as it gets, baseball super heroes.

He doesn’t realize how much restraint I was employing. It took everything I had in me not to grab him up and smooch him to death. He feels like a super hero, but I see my sweet boy lit up and about as cute as a wiry, ferocious boy can be. Nom nom nom!

He would blast me if I tried anything mushy, of course.

Every four years or so, Mr. MG is up for orders. The navy is kind enough to give us a window of opportunity to choose from what’s available, but it’s a bit like “Let’s Make a Deal.” The new billets come out once a month, and you get three months to make a decision before they choose for you. Do you take what seems to be your best bet this month or pass it up, hoping something better might come along? There’s a little more to it than that, but that’s what it boils down to.

Through a lot of haggling, negotiating, and Mr. MG sacrificing his sanity, we have been in the same town for ten years. Both sets of our folks have moved here. (Which – among other things – means I have never had to hire a sitter.) I have a talented hairdresser, a truly gentle dentist, and an honest mechanic. If you’re not military, you may not realize what an anomaly this is. We are a navy family with roots.

But it is looking like our streak is at an end. For a while it looked like our choices were Southern California, Virginia, or Japan. Tense doesn’t even approach the feeling floating around right about then. My nerves were like piano wire with a 50-pound weight dangling on the end. But now we are finding it will most likely be a closer move – about three hours from where we are now. I am so grateful to still be near family. I am relieved that we don’t have to part with our felines and cut our library in half. And I am happy to remain in my mossy, green, adopted home state of Washington.

But I am still in mourning. I’ve waited for years for my kids to be old enough to go to our church’s truly fantastic youth group. (It’s that awesome.) I hate the loss of having family five minutes from my front door. I am not a people person, so living that far from friends and connections is horrible to think about. And I love this house. I had hoped to live here past paying off the mortgage, until it fell down around my ears.

I know I am being whiny and more than a little ungrateful. Three hours’ distance is a whole lot better than across the country or across an ocean. And it’s not a done deal, yet. Until orders are signed, we could pretty much end up anywhere.

I tell our kids that if this place is so incredible, and yet God sees fit to move us away from it, how amazing will be the next place he puts us. I am trying to believe it as much as I am asking them to.

But that doesn’t mean I have stopped praying that we will stay put.

Last Thursday was the final recital with Mrs. J (the Princess’ teacher for five years, and the Bear’s for two), one that we had been looking forward to for weeks. Months, really, since there wasn’t a Christmas recital this year. (I was also dreading it quite a bit. With my penchant for getting drippy, I was going to wish I has a ski mask in m pocket by the end of the evening.) Both the Bigs had their pieces memorized and ready to go.

Then the Bear and Moo popped up with sizable fevers and it was clear they would have to stay home. What’s more, I was feeling yucky, too. Mr. MG had school that night. Grandma and Grandpa were on vacation. So the Princess went with Grammy and Grandad, and the rest of us missed it. She got the finale slot, her favorite.

(Thanks, Dad, for recording it for me.)

He felt too miserable to care at the time, but a couple of days later it occurred to the Bear that he had missed out. Poor little guy, it just tore him up – no clapping, no rush from the performance, and no cookies and treats afterwards. Having his mama take a video at home just isn’t quite the same, but it will have to do until the next recital in May.

(On a side note: boy, is it time to upgrade to a real video camera. The video mode on our 2003 Kodak Easyshare is really terrible.)

So I missed seeing the Princess play and I didn’t get to give big hugs to Mrs. J, but I also escaped blubbering the entire time. An ill wind, and all that sort of thing.