the death of me...

I swear, it's going to be Mercy.  There is a compelling reason God gave me that name for her.  It is because I need an arsenal of HIS GRACE & MERCY to keep her alive until she turns 18.  

That child.  

Seriously.  I could say just that and it should suffice.  All of you have raised/are raising/are related to (have disowned...) a sweet little thing like Miss Mercy.  

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."  Is it bad that I want to yell that at her at least 10x daily?  Probably.  If I was still Catholic, I'd probably hit confession for that one.  (Shoot, I was for 36 years, I can still confess, right?)   

"MERCY ELAINE MCCAWLEY..." followed by a barrage of questions in regards to the latest adventure she has embarked on that results in the demolition of my MAC make-up, the destruction of my beloved school whiteboard, the flurry of salt on the school room floor (mixed with glue...), the PERMANENT stamp ink on the floor/wall/her clothes, the defacement of my walls..furniture...schoolroom...YOU GET THE POINT.  

Oops, I should have named her IVY MARIE WETHERILL!!!!

Ha.  

2 peas in a pod.  

But, stink.  She is so sweet, precious, loving, complimentary, gracious and cute.  I just can't stay mad for longer than, say, 23 out of 24 hours.  So, that ONE hour that I'm not ready to jettison her to boarding school?  IT more than makes up for all the crazy that is my Mercy.  

Occasionally, I'll be so up to my eyeballs that I'll actually make her lie down for a nap.  (I do this knowing full well that she will be a pest when I put her to bed for the night, but I do it to SAVE HER LIFE.)  The other night, after she had napped, I was innocently watching brainless TV.  I hopped up to go borrow some milk from my neighbor and, as I turned to leave my room, I just about died.  There she was...a little statue, silent as stone, sitting in my doorway.  SCARED the stink out of me!!  

"MERCY ELAINE!," I hollered.  Then I picked that sweet little bean up, tucked her back in bed and changed my drawers, since I think I might have peed my pants...

I love that child.  

love, 

me

"Charley, Charley, Charley, CHARLEY...

look at that big, big cloud. It's SO BIG!  Charley, Charley, Charley....LOOK!" hollers Sam from his seat as we're backing in the driveway, heading in from bible study.  His arms pointing, his face alight with the thrill of discovery, unbridled enthusiasm in his voice.  My sweet baby is so grown up... *sad face...*
He potty trained himself in the last few days.  I didn't use a timer, I didn't have a party, I didn't do a single thing except bribe him a bit with M-n-M's and convince him that since he was wearing Scooby undies, he shouldn't poop on Scooby...
That conversation went a little like this...
Me: "So, Sammy.  Look!  Your underwear has Scooby on it!  I have a question...Would Scooby poop on you?"
Sam: "NO!"
Me: "Well then, you certainly shouldn't poop on Scooby then!  It would be really rude."
Sam:  shaking his head yes and looking very serious...
Me:  "Where do you put your poo poo?"
Sam: "In the toilet!!!" (pronounced emphatically...TOY-let!  love this kid...)
Me:  "Will you poop on Scooby?"
Sam:  "NO!"
Me:  "If you go the whole day without pooping on Scooby, I'll buy you a light saber!  And I'll buy Max one too so you can battle each other!"
Sam: "Mommy, I have my light saber now?"
Me: "Only if you don't poop on Scooby!"

End result?  One whole day of no pooping/peeing on Scooby which resulted in $40 spent on light sabers...
Today?  Scooby got pooped on.
I am laughing my butt off right now, since I was happily shopping alone at the commissary while my sweet, unsuspecting husband was trapped in the PX food court bathroom with our 2 sons, one who had pooped on Scooby and the other one who just has to poop in public.  (Flashback to yesterday when I was trapped in the Rack Room Shoes bathroom while both my boys AND MERCY had to poop.)

I am seriously not making this up.  I could not possibly make this up.

I really do love my life.  Especially now that it doesn't involve diapers...
Maybe it's time for #6 & 7?
I'm leaving the little years kicking and screaming, so if anyone would like to send me #6 & 7, please feel free to drop them off with a change of clothes and lots of little angel kisses.

I think I am officially insane.

Happy August! Enjoy the last moments of summer, they'll be gone in a flash!  Just like my little years.
*sad face*

love,
tiff

Homeschooling is...

a funny thing.
I know, I know.  I say lots of things are funny things.  Well, having 5 kids has robbed me of my ability to use a thesaurus correctly, and despite my year of teaching my child to write rather eloquently, I can't seem to find a better way to say it.  SO, Homeschooling really is a funny thing.  (Note the use of the capital H, indicating Homeschooling as proper noun.  As it should be, since I consider homeschooling to be a special, properly crazy thing to do...)
Well, let me begin again.  We are fixing to head into our 4th, (yes, I made it this far...) year of learning at home.  Ironically, it will be the first year I am teaching 4 students.  Yup, just like my family expansion, I am doubling my number of students...Does this mean I can double my wine consumption?  (Well, that's a given.  DUH.)
Having just wrapped up our 3 day practicum with our homeschooling group, Classical Conversations, I find myself in an unexpected place.
I actually didn't NEED this practicum to get motivated this year.
Huh?
Now, let me just preface this by saying that I am not going to write one of those irritating, "Oh my goodness, homeschooling is just the best thing ever and I am just so lucky to be doing this!!!" blogs that make most of us homeschooling harpies want to vomit.
Homeschooling is HARD!  Exhausting, overwhelming, frustrating, time consuming, expensive!
But...it's also pretty stinkin' wonderful.  I (mostly) love spending my days watching my kids learn the things that God designed them for.  I love watching the "lightbulb" go on when they get it.  I love the fact that Charles & I determine the rhythm of our days and the priorities of our lives.  Most of all, I love that I get to follow God's design for raising "arrows."
But, I'll be truthful here...it's taken me almost 4 years to get to the point that I don't need anyone to motivate me, I don't need to dissect the classical model into 800 little parts and I certainly don't need to understand the Quadrivium, (I'm still trying to figure out the bloody Trivium...) to get me all pumped up so I can survive another year.
I'm good.
We (Charles & I) do this because we feel called to!  And... I finally accepted the fact that because He called us to it, He is seeing us through it.  He has surrounded me (& my family) with an extroardinary community of Christian families who endeavor in the same way, for the same reason, to the same end.  We do this because we believe God has called us to.
We do this to raise our children to know God and make Him known.
And, finally, we believe that raising children to love to learn and have the tools to learn whatever God leads them to do is our greatest calling.
Somewhere along the way, in this slightly odd summer, I got it.
So, thank you, Classical Conversations, for your wonderful parent practicums and your amazing staff...but...
This time, I could have just gone to the beach.
And that, my friends, is the best feeling ever.

love,
tiff
p.s. disclaimer here...I love the CC practicums, I love the community, the wealth of knowledge we share, the time with my friends, the joy of a common goal & the time to refresh and recharge, I'm just super pumped that, for the first time ever, I was motivated anyway! HAHA!