This post of celebration is a few days late, but there is still cause to celebrate! Caroline, who was eight weeks old yesterday, has begun to separate night from day!
On Sunday night, she slept for seven hours straight for the first time. The next two nights she slept for five hours and last night it was three hours and then four hours. These longer stretches of sleep have been wonderful for this mama. I was beginning to feel a bit insane in the two or three hours sleeps I was getting. After almost two months, such sleep deprivation is quite discouraging. Now I feel like a human again. Monday I celebrated by cleaning the house.
Yesterday I fell asleep again mid-afternoon. I hate taking naps like that! It feels great at the time but then I wake up feeling groggy and lazy. I don’t get things done that I intended! Ryan says drinking lots of water helps stave off sleepiness. Do you have any other suggestions?
Caroline smiles regularly now. It’s such a pleasant thing to go to my baby and be greeted with a happy face of delight. I have been awful at taking pictures of her. I find I’d much rather hold her and cuddle and coo with her than run get my camera! Caroline notices toys and has begun to enjoy her mobile, much as Paul enjoyed it at the same point in his life (see his video here!)
Caroline lays there staring at the mobile without moving. Then I turn it on and she smiles or kicks or flails her arms. She definitely likes it!
Here she is in a new dress getting ready to go to church! (April 15)
I had the force the toy into her hand but she grasped on to it for a while. I love her expression in this picture. (April 14)
I’ve been pondering home schooling for about a year now, although Ryan mentioned it to me as a possibility long before that.
“Oh, no. I could never do that!” I argued. I’d be too tired, I don’t know enough, it would be stressful.
Then last summer Paul taught himself to read. He’s probably at a second grade level now, at least if the text is large. (If it’s small text or too much on a page, then he still “can’t” read it.) If it was only reading, I may have let it rest. But that was not all.
Using his fingers, he began to put together the rudiments of addition. And because he has an analog clock in his bedroom, he wanted to learn how to read it. He loves putting coins in his piggy bank, and I found myself explaining how each coin has a different value.
In the fall, he started requesting books on different scientific subjects, firstly the planets. From October through December, he wanted to read everything he could find about the planets.
In about November, he began expressing an interest in the human body, probably because my body has been changing with baby growing. He became fascinated by digestion (pee and poop!) and by the heart (I feel my heart beat! I’m alive!) and his bones, which he can feel through his skin.
Around the same time as these science topics began to fascinate him, he began asking about maps. We printed a map to the church, and he wanted to follow it as we drove; he has always been fascinated to watch the GPS cursor on the map in our car navigation system. We’ve learned about map legends, the four directions of the compass, map scales (this is still a bit confusing to him), and some other things.
Because of his fascination and because he seems so advanced in his interests, I thought I’d experiment a little bit with just how interested he is: what can I manage to do with him as a stay-at-home mom? Could I possibly homeschool him?
I bought a handwriting book about ABCs and Numbers. It has a “Kindergarten” label on the cover, so Paul, being the reader he is, decided he was doing “Kindergarten School at Home.” We decided to collect his worksheets in a binder, and thus began Paul’s homeschooling. Now that we moved my office into the same room as Ryan’s office, we also added a space for Paul to be his “work space” or school desk.
We’ve been through two phases of home school now. The first phase lasted about two months, and it was exhausting. Paul wanted to spend every afternoon doing all the different subjects: ABC worksheets, number worksheets, more advanced math concepts (money or time or something new), science, and maps. Every day he wanted some of everything. It was so much fun! He didn’t want to stop for dinner! Needless to say, this was exhausting. We literally spent three or four hours every afternoon doing more and more worksheets. I couldn’t keep up in finding or creating interesting age-appropriate worksheets.
We’ve moved in to a new stage now. I should clarify that before we began “school at home” and before Paul practiced writing on the ABC worksheets, he found writing itself “too hard.” We set up a desk space for him. The numbers and the ABCs in caps and lowercase are on the bulletin board for him to refer too. Now, he does not mind writing, and in fact likes to spend an hour a day writing his own games and worksheets and activities. Some of these are for me to do, others are just for fun for him. He loves it!
A skeleton worksheet Paul made me: I was to label the body parts/bones!
So the new stage is much more balanced between Mom’s worksheets every now and then and Paul’s imaginative writing and creating. We still do some more “formal” school at home.
He loves finding things on maps, and we have been learning how there are seven continents. This month we have particularly been focusing on Antarctica and penguins for science and geography. (The human body is still on his radar, but he’s a little tired of it at the moment. Every few days he has a question and we find pictures in a body book.) In mathematics, we started learning about adding one to a number, but it hasn’t clicked yet that he doesn’t have to start at the beginning (1, 2, 3,…) to add just one more. (He regularly figures out basic adding on his hands, though.) We’re still practicing patterns, and he often makes up his own, which I hear is good for early math skills. He loves to do mazes. We’re learning about “greater than” and “smaller than” maybe once a week, and we practice reading clocks on the hour and half half hour about as frequently. Sometimes we get out the pretend money and set up a store where things cost pennies, nickles, and dimes.
And I’m trying to introduce him to the concept of “history.”
Although he still is intensely interested in learning, we’ve mellowed out to about 30 minutes or 1 hour a day of “school at home” before he’s ready to do his own writing or learning projects.
That’s just perfect for a four year old. He has preschool twice a week still to keep him social. He has gymnastics and swimming lessons to keep him physical. And he’s hard at work at challenging himself to learn and practice in his own imaginary activities as my teacher.
In the state of Illinois, school is legally required for all children beginning at age 7. Home schooling parents are not required to submit grades to the state, but they need to have records of some kind to show children are learning according to the state standards.
Paul, then, has another two years and eight months before I’m required to officially home school him. At this point, this is my plan: for the next two years, I’ll follow his lead. We’ll (probably) do three-day-a-week preschool again next year. The following year, I’ll either send him to kindergarten for 2 hours a day or I’ll join a co-op where he’ll play with kids his age. (I’m leaning toward the co-op, as I imagine that half-day kindergarten with 2 or 2.5 hours a day will not provide much time for socialization.) When he turns seven, and when kids his age are in first grade, I’ll determine just what kind of “curriculum” he needs and we’ll implement it. I suspect he’ll be far above first grade Illinois state standards come that point, if his present interest in learning about the world continues. And if he does slow down, I suspect we’ll be able to get in to a slightly more formal school routine (especially with co-op friends to support us) without too much trouble.
At any rate, I’m really excited to see where “school at home” takes us in the next two years. There are so many possibilities!
Paul asked me this as we passed a flag on our way to church this morning. I told him that ten years ago today some bad men stole an airplane and killed a lot of people. We fly the flag half way up to remember that lots of people died.
“Who were the people that died?” he responded. “Tell me their names.”
I didn’t have any names for him. I didn’t, in fact, know any of the 3,000 people who died that day. I didn’t even see the television coverage until after I returned home from campus a few hours after the fact. I found out about the towers as I walked in to my economics class at 9 a.m. Mountain Time, just 20 minutes after I’d finished reading the New York Times and heading out for class.
It struck me, though, that his first reaction is to connect with the people who died. He could have said, “Why would bad men do that?” but no, he knows that some people are bad in the world. He just wanted to remember along with me and all the others that put our flag at half mast. I had just told him that we lower the flag to remember. He was remembering through me.
(Ten years is, he informed me a few days ago, the definition of “old.” One is not “old” until they are ten. Then they are old. He is still not old. Apparently, the attacks in NYC are now “old.”)
It was somewhat reassuring that this year I didn’t have to have a discussion with him about the bad people. “Terrorist” is still not in his vocabulary. But “remember” is. We can all do that each September 11. Let’s focus on the good. Let’s remember.
Well, about these girls. They came as they were, unique, wonderful spirits and my blessing was to just unwrap the package to see who they were and to help guide them into who they could be. I didn’t ever feel like I had to mold them or make them into somebody different than who they were because they were so great when they came. It was a fun discovery to learn who they were. They are different, different people, but they are delightful fun daughters and I always enjoyed our children.
Julie B. Beck on her two daughters
I want to say that about my own children. I never want my son to think I don’t appreciate his own personality. I don’t want him to think that I expect him to be something he is not. That would be a painful thing, to feel like a disappointment. I don’t want my son to feel he disappoints me for being himself.
This means I need to never talk about his faults, or things I disapprove of, in front other people. I need to avoid criticism when he does things differently than I would do them. I need to make sure I don’t manipulate him into doing something I want, when his personality would do something differently. I need to always remember that he came to me a precious spirit, with his own personality. He will make choices different from those that I’d make, but that’s a part of his precious personality.
As his mother, I can help guide him into who he can be. I can help him discover his potential.
I don’t need to mold him: I need to unwrap him.
To listen to the entire conversation between Sheri Dew and Julie B. Beck and her two daughters, visit Mormon Channel.
In Paul’s primary talk, he said, “Jesus rose for us.” He then, in a different context, saw the picture of the Risen Lord appearing to Mary and said, “Look, Mommy! Jesus rose-ing!”
Normally during Sacrament Meeting, Paul sings “mah blah blah mah!” as loudly as he can in time with the music, as he or I points to the words on the page. Today, the speaker introduced the song, “Behold, the Great Redeemer Die!” Paul sang along with the correct words for the first two lines. I was amazed: he knows that song. I know that is because we go to church every Sunday.
Regularly, Paul stops playing to say, “Mommy, I say unto you, I love you!” This is how I know he really does hear the scripture study we do together, even though it seems he’s not paying attention.
Paul is regularly teaching me a lesson in humility and generosity, from his sharing his fruit snacks to his outpouring of love. From his example, I better understand the Savior’s injunction to be as a little child. I’m to approach life with sincerity, to love and give without thoughts of “scarcity” and selfishness, and to be honest in my thoughts, words and deeds. (Although I should mention that Paul has learned to lie, he is still for the most part a very truthful, loving, sensitive child.)
The other day, Paul, who is obsessed with the ABCs and sings the “ABC Song” a dozen times a day, said he’d say the prayer for lunch.
“This is the new prayer, Mommy.” And then, in the melody of the ABCs, he continued, “ABCDEFG, Thank you, God, for everything.”
“That’s not reverent, dear.” I responded. “We don’t joke about prayers. That sounds like the ABC song to me.”
“But that’s my prayer,” he insisted, frowning when I asked him again to say a proper prayer.
Today, when I dropped him off at preschool, I was telling his teacher about the ABC Book he made, and how he just loves the ABCs.
“Oh, we have a new snack prayer they just love,” she said. Then she sang the song I’d heard from Paul, except at the end it said, “Thank you, God, for feeding me.”
“Oh, I get it now!” I responded, “Paul had told me that but I hadn’t believed it was a prayer.”
“Oh, well, it has the ‘Thank you, God’ so it is the snack prayer,” she responded.
And since then, I’ve been pondering prayer. Does really saying “Thank you, God” make something a prayer? To me, a casual “Thank God” sounds like taking his name in vain. People say that all the time, and how often are they sincerely thanking him?
That said, everyone prays differently, and I certainly don’t believe God ignores sincere prayers. The Lutheran service that my son sang at during the fall was a “contemporary” service, with a rock band. Yet, I still felt the spirit as I listened to the pastor talking about how we can all be more loving to each other. Just because something is done with a different degree of reverence does not mean there is no spirit or sincerity.
But to my sensibilities, it is irreverent. In my home, I don’t want my son praying by singing an ABC Song prayer that sounds like it’s using God’s name in vain. I want him to bow his head, close his eyes, and pour out his own words of thanks to his Heavenly Father, speaking to him as the son of God that he is. I don’t want my son sitting at the piano, making up a melody for a song with the only lyrics being “God, God, God.” (He wanted to sing that for Family Home Evening this week.) To me, that is irreverent. I’d rather he sing of his relationship with his Heavenly Father through primary songs.
I just signed him up for his second year of preschool at the Lutheran preschool he’s been going to. Now I’m wondering if he’s just going to be confused. He’s already learned the distinction that, “At home I pray to Heavenly Father, but at preschool I pray to Jesus.”
Is learning reverence for our Heavenly Father, especially during prayer, something I should worry about? I do want him to learn the gospel of Jesus Christ correctly, and maybe the Lutheran influence will only confuse him.
It’s only for two nights. It’s nothing, but I still miss my husband tonight! I keep thinking of things like “oh, I have to take out the trash” and “Oh, right, I need to make sure all the doors are locked before I go to sleep.” Etc. It’s amazing how quickly I got used to having him home! (And I just talked to him and he apparently <sarcasm>really missed</sarcasm> all the fun that is O’Hare Airport.)
I was feeling sad as dinner came around. Trying to cook for two (and Paul doesn’t like to eat my dinners so it’s mostly for me) does not feel worthwhile. Plus, we had leftovers in the fridge, so I decided the lazy side won out and went for those.
Then I had a brilliant idea. Paul loves going to a restaurant, and he always orders Mac and Cheese. As soon as I say “restaurant,” he yells out “I want Mac and Cheese!” So I told my son we were going to a restaurant for dinner. I welcomed him to the restaurant, sat him at the table, handed him a “menu” (really a piece of junk mail that was sitting on the counter) and asked him what he wanted: Mac and Cheese (left over from the other night when we did go to a restaurant) or Chicken Nuggets (other leftovers I had in the freezer for just such a night). He had a big smile as he pretended to read, then said, “Mac and Cheese!” I gave him two crackers to eat while he waited and a cup of milk with a straw (since restaurants always give him a drink with a straw), and he happily waited.
Then, out of the blue, Paul said, “Mommy, it’s a train restaurant!” A few months ago (a year ago?!) we went to a restaurant with Grandma and Grandpa in Naperville that did have trains. We sat around a counter and a train “delivered” the food to us. He loved it. So tonight I agreed our restaurant was a train restaurant, and got some GeoTrax from the basement. Soon, we had a small circle track for our battery-operated train. But I wouldn’t turn it on until he took a bit of food! Turn off, and repeat for each bite.
I had mentioned that maybe after he ate we could have dessert. After a little while, he asked me for the “menu” again, and then he said, “I want some blueberry yogurt for dessert, please.” I hadn’t even suggested it, and I had been thinking of ice cream, but it was fun to know that for him it was a treat to have yogurt.
I noticed a lot of interesting things about this. I was treating him as if I were a waiter (“Hello, young man. What can I get you today?”) and acting all polite. As a result, instead of demanding as he usually does (“MILK! NOW!”), he mellowed out. “Can I please have some more milk please?” Was it the fact that we were in a restaurant (where he normally is more well behaved since it’s in public) or the fact that I was treating him nicer than I normally do? Probably both. I should treat him nicer more often.
At any rate, it made for a fun dinner and it got him to eat more than he would have eaten if I was grouchy as I had been when I was feeling sad that my husband was gone!
When I picked Paul up from preschool, day 1, I realized that I have loved being a part of his every moment since his birth. I have been able to always know what he does, what he says, what he learns. Even when I didn’t want to, I have cared for the inner workings of his body, from his ear wax to his bowel movements (is it not so?). His life has been an intricate part of my life for three years.
From now on, from the moment I drop him off at preschool until I pick him up, there are regular hours of the week that I am not a part of. He’ll say cute things that I’ll never hear. He will have fun activities that I’ll never hear about. He will fall down and hurt himself and cry, let’s hope learning how to calm himself (he’s rather sensitive about “owies”). He will take care of his own toileting needs. And that is how it should be.
Being a stay-at-home mom has its share of ups and downs. I have not loved everything in the past three years and I have my own short fuse for certain annoyances. But it was important for me to send him off to school. I’ll better appreciate the time we do spend together. He has long realized he’s distinct from me, and I need to do a better job of letting go and living my life without following his every movement. I have to trust that I’ve taught him what he needs to get along in the world, and when we are together those are the things I need to make sure I’ll teach him.
In a Relief Society meeting on motherhood a few months ago, the teacher talked about how all six of her children live far away from her. She is sad because she doesn’t see her children and grandchildren as often as she’d like but she can see from associating with them from a distance that she knows has succeeded as a mother in teaching her children to be independent, happy, and well-adjusted in the world, despite the fact that they are so far away from her.
My job as a mother is to help Paul to learn what he needs to learn to be his own person like that, from developing his own testimony to coping with the physical and emotional challenges that come. What an honor that I can do so full-time, and I’m glad to see him branching out on his own, even though it makes me sad just a little bit.
Paul is so old. He has not had a toilet accident in more than a week (and only two or three bed wettings in that time, trust me that’s an improvement over last week since he has insisted on wearing underpants and not pull-ups even to bed). He’s beginning to say “I’ll do it all by myself.” He wakes himself up in the night to go potty. He asks to use a “big boy plate” at dinner and at least one meal a day I give him a cup that is not a sippy cup and he does not spill.
I have just tucked him in to bed after a very fun third birthday. I gave myself a rule this morning that I wouldn’t let myself be distracted by the chores (Thursday is normally my clean the whole house day) or blogging (I like to blog on Rebecca Reads far more than here, if you haven’t noticed) or reading my novel (sometimes I admit that a novel is in my hand as I play with him. It’s amazing how much one can read in the in-between moments every day).
No, instead, today was his day. I gave him my undivided attention. Even as I cooked dinner (his favorite and his request, Cream of Pumpkin Soup), I was still giving him attention as much as I could. And it made for day of delight. I’m just as tired as the toddler, since we played his new Busytown Game for five hours (it requires crawling from one side of the six-foot game board to the other through the course of one game) so I know such one-on-one time is not doable every day. But it was so nice to enjoy my son thoroughly.
I absolutely loved the newborn stage. I loved that I was able to cuddle him constantly and no one tried to take him away from me and I didn’t want to let anyone take him away from me (I was not yet burned out, I suppose). I loved that only I could nurse him. He needed his mother regularly through the day and it was such a special time, even in the middle of the night as we dosed off together. I loved that he was innocent and learning how to control his arms, his legs, his head. Everything was so wonderful about newborn Paul. Even the spit-up I didn’t mind so much as Daddy did.
I haven’t loved the other stages. Once he started to crawl and walk and talk, I found myself wondering why I’d been so excited for those milestones. I didn’t like his inability to communicate and his out-of-control self, even as he thought he could do things. But now, in the past few weeks, I feel Paul has crossed a new milestone and I love this one. This new age, age three, the preschool years, is a remarkable one. My parenting book, which I haven’t looked at for probably two years but recently referred to, calls the twos the “terrible twos” and the threes and fours the “magical years.”
I can really see his world becoming “magical”. He still cannot control his emotions very well (especially at the end of the day, when he’s been up for the full 12 hours) and he certainly has his opinions on what he wants to be doing and what he wants me to do (“come play with me, Mommy! Right! NOW!”) But suddenly he has imaginary friends, he gets wide-eyed as I tell him fairy tales, and he asks questions and tells stories about the past, present, and future. He’s putting things together, and learning at an exponential rate. He reads his numbers, one to 13; he knows the phonics of every letter, although he doesn’t read words yet; he knows right from left; he knows both of his parents names; and we’re almost there on his phone number. (If I tell it to him, he knows it is his phone number, and if I stop part way through he can finish it, usually).
Today we were driving and he was calling out the numbers on speed limit signs.
“4!5!” he said.
“Yes, that’s 45,” I replied, turning left on to a side road.
“3!0!” he exclaimed.
“Is 30 slower or faster than 45?” I asked.
“Slower” he said, noting the slowed speed of the car.
“Yes! 30 is a lower number than 45, so 30 miles per hour is slower than 45 miles per hour.” We played with our basket of apples when we got home and talked about how three apples is less than four apples. And two and one are both less than three. He doesn’t really get it (well, he probably did for a moment but has already forgotten) but it was so fun to see that the he’s learning and that we can talk about real things. The world is magical, but he’s learning that it can also be explained if he just learns how.
