heroes

Our friend Ritu sent us this friends book. You fill out personal information about yourself and your buddies. One of the questions was about your heroes, or who you look up to. Punk's list was short - his parents at the top, followed by two others - one of them an uncle.

Kooka's list was longer, and if you know her, you can guess who she named. She had friends, relatives and one teenager. Guess who did not make the list . . . her MOTHER! Granted she had a pretty good crew picked out - she could do much worse, but it wasn't until I asked "what about your mom?" that she covered her mouth with her hand and said, "Oh, would you like to be on the list?"

Um, yeah.

And then she says, "OK, wait until I finish. You can be at the end."

Some of you are getting your visiting priviliges revoked - you know who you are.

the freak factor

If you know us well, you already know what this is - the thing we've been avoiding like the plague for three years - the thing that seems to follow us no matter where we go - the homeschooling freak factor.

Now as much as my homeschooling friends would like to think that there is no such thing - we all know better. Imagine two 8-year-olds sitting at a lunch table together: One is wearing a GAP hoodie and cargo pants, he's got pizza lunchables and a juicebox. He knows who Zac and Cody are and he's got hair just like them. Child number two is eating hummus and whole-grain pita bread with a side of vanilla soymilk. He can tell you about the recent plight of diseased honeybees, but has no idea who Hannah Montanna is. He's got high water jeans, and has never had "product" in his hair. Which one is the homeschooler?

See what I mean?

And while we love homeschooling, and other homeschoolers, we (well, I) have spent a fair amount of time trying to make sure we don't seem like homeschoolers. I don't know why, but I always breathe a gianormous sigh of relief when somebody says to me, "Really? You homeschool?" It's like - Whew - one more person who didn't peg us as freaks right off the bat.

And it's not like we really fit the stereotypical mold anyway. We're not school-haters. (On the contrary - I positively loved school). It's just that we're fun-lovers. We eat processed food - and we love it. We watch cartoons and PG movies. We do not own a bread machine. We have never been to the local nature center. On flip side, we don't have cable, or watch much TV for that matter. There are 8 caterpillars and various frog spawn in our kitchen. We volunteer. Our kids think the "S" word is "stupid." We're not homeschool-ey enough for most people, and normal enough for the rest. So where does that leave Punk and Kooka?

I worry about it - a lot. Punk actually had a very good friend whose mother cut him off right after pre-school. She stopped letting him come to Punk's birthday parties, and did her best to keep them apart. She had mentioned before, in an offhanded way, that it was extremely important for her kids to be "cool and popular." Apparently hanging out with a homeschooler will make you neither. (Joke was on her when Punk showed up to speak at her kid's school, and her own kid came home and told her how cool Punk actually was).

Will my kids be cool? Will they be liked? Will it matter?

I don't know. So for now, we will keep plugging along - avoiding the freak factor as best we can. Punk knows how to to use hair gel. Kooka will continue to watch Saturday morning cartoons. But she also loves hummus, and her brother has taken a liking to chocolate soy milk and Bocca Burgers.

Punk has ordered his "back to school" clothes, and while there are no highwater pants on the list- every shirt is covered with a save the planet logo. And I love that - because freak or cool kid, he is true to himself, and I guess that was my master plan all along.

book review

I just finished reading a book called Ribsy by Beverly Cleary. It was awesome!!!!!! It has such descriptive writing, and it was so satisfying to read. I think Beverly Cleary is even a better author than Roddy Doyle or J.K. Rowling. THAT'S how descriptive this book is. My mom is going to read it now. You should read it too. It's really good.

by Punk

nightmares

Punk can tolerate almost any animal - but I think we have finally found one that even makes him squeamish. Check out his Weeping Rhinos blog to read all about camel spiders. Yuck.

broken bones

It always happens when it shouldn't. And needless to say I cannot be the most coordinated dance teacher if I keep breaking things. But I did it again. Broke my foot - the top of it. I think this is number 5 - not counting broken toes. The first two times I dropped giant shampoo bottles on it while unpacking groceries. This time I was walking - just walking. How can one person be so klutzy?

Punk and Kooka are thrilled to have a break from my theater class today - so I guess it was good for something.

fairy godfathers

It is not often that Kooka gets the chance to direct playtime around here. A large portion of it is spent doing what the big brother decides, but today was different. Today Punk consented to play Sleeping Beauty with Kooka. They both decided to be fairies and spent nearly a half an hour re-enacting the scene where the fairies are making a dress for Princess Aurora. They love the part when the fairies (Fauna, Flora and Merriwether) point their wands at each other and shout, "It should be pink!" "No - blue!" "No -Pink" "No- Blue."

The fairies always have British accents, and speak with a just a hint of refinement in their voices. After about 20 minutes of "arguing," I hear Kooka's voice say, "I am the head fairy and I say PINK!"

There was a moment of silence, and then a very dignified, James Bond like voice responds, "Well then Merriweather, I'm afraid I'm just going to have to kill you.'

Aaahh - nobody knows how to ruin a perfectly good game of fairies like a big brother.

chicken pox

Punk and Kooka both got the chicken pox. They both were vaccinated, and they still got it. Kooka first - then the Punk. Kooka had about 30 chicken pox, and we took Punk in for a booster as soon as we found out. And as worried as he was about that shot, I would do it all over again - even he admits he would do it all over again.

He got 3. Three chicken pox. Neither kid had much of a fever, or was very uncomfortable. Punk went to bed early one night (9:30 is early for him) and Kooka took a nap one day. Other than that - nothing.

When I had chicken pox I was out of comission for two weeks. My family dumped me at Grandma's and took off on summer vacation without me. I still have scars on the inside of my elbow - it was bad. But even with 30, Kooka just looked like she'd spent a few days at mosquito lake - you couldn't even tell she had them.

Then again, I'm sure I'll get e-mails reminding me of how my grandchildren will be born with 6 heads, unable to do cartwheels or be held back two grades just because we had a chicken pox shot . . .

harry potter

Last night, after a very long week for all of us, Punk and Kooka headed to the Barnes and Noble Harry Potter party in full force. Punk chose to dress as "The Greatest Wizard Who Ever Lived" and his very favorite character - Dumbledore. Kooka, of course could go as none other than the smartest girl at Hogwarts - Hermione Granger. Kooka had by far the best Hermionie costume (courtesy of our amazing seamstress friend Christina), and Punk managed to pull off his snazzy cloak with one of mom's old prom dresses, and some $7 half-moon spectacles. Both kids were stopped frequently by people who wanted to take pictures of (or with) them and happily stopped to pose in character with whomever asked. Punk in particular seemed to glean a lot of attention from the high school girls, while Kooka garnered a bit more from the grown ups. Both kids made the finals in the costume contest. Punk eventually won for one of two best kids, while Kooka eventually lost to a girl with a brown mop on her head who won by audience applause.

Thankfully we thought to take the pictures before we left. The bookstore was packed. Uncle Cares-a-Lot and Auntie M. weren't even allowed in the building when they got there and had to gaze at the children's costumes through the bookstore window. Finally we got permission from the police to exit and re-enter the building fo a brief visit. Aaron and Kooka decied to stay outside, while Punk and Mom headed back in to wait, and wait, and wait . . . .

Now that I'm done reading, I can say it was worth the wait - sort of. Nothing I hadn't already figured out on my own though.

a short story by punk

Mooka was a dragon. One day he was caught by a boy who was looking for a dragonfly. So Mooka deep-fried the boy. The boy's family was sad, but they knew every family must have an unfortunate event. The funeral was dead silent. But the dragon family was busy having a feast! They asked, "So, what's one more human gone?"

note to self

Quit teaching hip-hop to 15 year olds. Your knees are too old, and it takes at least two weeks for you to find a decent song that doesn't have the a-word in it.

Do not let your own children watch you teaching this class. They will want to get up and join in. They do not know how to hip-hop, so it will just look like they are mocking you.

They probably are.

But at least they look good doing it - you've taught them style if nothing else.

Revel in the fact that for now - you are still pulling it off better than most of the class. But tomorrow you will be walking like a crippled old lady.

Teach your children something useful like accounting, knitting or telemarketing so they will not suffer the same fate as you.

earning his keep

Not all beagles are like Snoopy. Kooka learned that the other day, when a leashless beagle charged her while on an evening stroll. Ozzy, who until this point has cared about absolutely nothing except who is throwing his frisbee, or pouring his next meal, surprised us both with unsuspected guard dog powers. He stayed between the beagle and Kooka, taking about six bites in the ribs and back in the process, but he wouldn't let him near her. He managed to hold the beast off, until the owner finally sauntered over shouting, "Barney stop!" She then explained that he didn't like children. (So, um, maybe don't leave your mentally disturbed animal unleashed in a yard that adjoins a public PARK!) She then said that she'd "hold onto him until we left."

I don't know what happened to the family that was behind us: Mom, baby in stroller, Dad, two kids on tricycles. There's no way they all made it out alive.

Good thing we had Ozzy.

strange things

Mom: "You know I'm gonna stop reminding you to brush your teeth, and you'll be mad when they all fall out."
Punk: "My teeth fell out because they were loose - NOT because they were mistreated."


Kooka: "If you want to be healthy you really just need love and corn on the cob."

summer school

For Punk and Kooka summer usually means late, late nights, comic books galore, and tons of free time. But not this time around. Thanks in part to their mother blowing her own mantra (the one she never listens to anyway . . . I will not overcommit, I wil not overcommit), Punk and Kooka's summer is filled with activity.

But none of us are complaining this week because all three of us are busy with the youth choir's mini Musical Theater Workshop. While mom makes up crazy Lion King dances, Punk and Kooka get to rock out with their friends AND get amazing music lessons from Ms. Liz. With 26 kids, dancing and roaring and swinging pirate swords, how could we not have a blast?! And since Ms. Liz is one of Mom's most favorite people to work with in the whole wide world, everybody is having a fabulous week!

Punk's princess is in the class too, and I snapped the best picture of the three of them during vocal rehearsal. And no . . .I didn't set this up - they just really like each other that much.

this is what happens

This is what happens when a certain aunt comes to play. A full scale waterballoon fight, with enough ammo to soak the entire neighborhood. Needless to say - everybody loved it. It was a perfect end to a broiling summer day.

my fun day

On yesterday, my friend Medea came to take me to a special lunch. I ate egg rolls and onion rings and noodles and ice cream and won tons and chicken and fruit - it was so good. Then we went on a special explore, and we went to the fountain and put in our feet. Punk had a special lunch with Schroeder - that is Medea's brother. They are nice friends to us.
Then my grandma came and took me to see Punk's play. I stayed awake for the whole thing. We had cake with the actors when we were done.
by Kooka

gaping gaps in the curriculum

We study history - a lot, it's actually one of Punk's favorite subjects. And Kooka's pretty good for a pre-schooler. The trouble is that we study chronologically. We started with dinosaurs and are at medieval England right now. So, although we've touched on the basics of American history, we haven't gone in depth too much - which became painfully obvious this morning.

We were discussing the fourth of July, and I asked Kooka if she remembered why we celebtated the fourth of July. She said, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I get it." I asked her to explain it, and this is what she said:

"We celebrate it because that's like when the President goes on vacation or something, and so there's nobody here in America to BOSS us around, and so we let off fireworks and stay up late and eat cake, because there is nobody here to tell us no."

"What?!"

"That's why we can make so much noise - because he's not here to tell us to go to bed and stuff."

We obviously have to hit the books a little harder - let the homeschooling smack talk begin.

punk's play

Punk left his play tonight depressed. He sat in the back of the theater transfixed by the story - didn't want to "miss a single minute" (2 1/2 hours - even I could've stood to miss a few minutes) No 8 year-old needs to be watching Arthur Miller plays anyway, but the end here was a little too intense for him. He knew the story, knew exactly what was going to happen, but it didn't quite prepare him - we'd never watched the whole thing. When his curtain call was over he just walked downstairs to get his stuff shaking his head and muttering, "That was terrible, that was so terrible. I mean, he really loved him and he just . . . .ooooh mom that was just so awful."

I asked him if it was too terrible. He said no, he loves his part, but that tomorrow he doesn't want to watch the whole thing.

Just a note to the rest of you - save your money. It's not bad, but it's too long. You get 2 1/2 hours of slow moving mystery with way too many theater majors doing way too many dramatic pauses. On top of it, you'll leave kinda depressed.

gym rat

Kooka says: My gymnastics club is really fun. The teachers there are really, really, really nice. I like to do bear walks on the bars, pike jumps on the trampoline, and grapevines on the balance beam. I really love my velvety costume too. It fits me just right. Being in gymnastics makes me feel strong - like I can do anything I want.

Mom says: Even though you must sign a waiver saying that you understand death is a possibility when participating in this sport, it still seemed like a much safer option than "fitness club."
(see earlier post)

opening night

Punk's show opens tonight. He is a little bit nervous. Among other things, the guy who is supposed to catch him and swing him around on piggyback, dropped him at dress rehearsal. There is also a gunshot, that they have not quite worked out the logistics for, so Punk has yet to hear it. Other than that, he's excited - he's always excited for a show. And the best part is that he doesn't even have to wear eyeliner for this one.

Tickets are on sale at the door. If you come, sit stage right (audience left) for the best view of Punk (they've blocked him mostly facing one way.) The show starts at 8, call if you need directions.

the very best day

It was the perfect fourth of July. (Well except for the part where Punk nearly passed out and had to be ferried through town in a police car - but even that sounds worse than it was). First there was a parade for Punk & princesses, then a kiddie carnival, then root beer floats. We followed that up with a swim at Punk and Kooka's favorite summer hangout - Katie's pool. The day was made even more perfect by the fact that the city fireworks display was exploding right over our neighbor's house. Our front yard was the place to be - best seats in town. And we were extra happy that some of our very favorite friends (and Grandparents) could come to join us for star spangled cake, soda, and giant platters of taco dip. Punk and Kooka were in heaven!



It was a perfect fireworks show, but it has not escaped our attention that the city always SHOOTS the fireworks so the people in the new housing developments will have a great view, but they always POINT the fireworks towards our neighborhood, so if anything misfires or or tips over and explodes at least it won't hit anything important.

enough

Sometimes I think we've carried the whole homeschooling bit too far. Everything's a learning experience, no educational topic is tabu, everything is a teachable moment - which is why there is a live toad in my living room.

Toads are gross - they are.

Spiders don't bother me, I didn't even screech when the bats were swooping in Crystal Cave, and I actually like those little red eyed tree frogs, but toads - come on.

It was Kooka who rescued it. She plucked it from Ms. Liz's pool where she and Punk were swimming. Both kids were fascinated and asked Ms. Liz if they could keep it. I hoped Ms. Liz would say something sensible about the delicate ecosystem around her house, or that it was a very rare toad that could only survive in her nutrient-rich soil, but no - she eagerly went to get a bucket, picked it up with her own hands and bequeathed it to the toad whisperer and her eager assitant Dr. Doolittle. Thanks Ms. Liz.

I mention the poison glands that toads have. I reiterate the gross factor, the fact that the dogs will get sick if they eat him . . but they are not swayed.

So we're in the car heading home, when Punk asks if we can make a terrarium for the little guy to live in. I take him to the pet store, and suddenly realize that we are fresh out of toad chow. The pet store lady informs us that he probably needs to eat crickets, grubs, or maybe wingless fruit flies. WHATEVER! Like that is going to happen - I figure Punk will balk at the mere mention of live food, or plucking the wings from an inocent fruit fly, but nooooooooo, Captain Planet says, "Well, that's how nature works."

We finally compromise on some frog & tadpole pellets, and decide if he won't eat those, we'll set him free. The pet store lady asks what the toad's name is. Kooka says, "Well you know, most amphibians start out as girls, and some turn into boys, so naming him will be hard."

Punk is anxious to get their little buddy into his new digs, and get him out of the little cup of pool water. "We need to get him out of this chlorine, frogs & toads drink through their skin and it's like he's drinking poison."

"How do you know?" I asked him - I didn't know that.

"Um," he says, "I read."

It's a good thing they're showing some autonomy in ths department. They won't be getting any help from me.

Toads are gross. Did I mention that?

good search

We found this site called "goodsearch." It's yahoo search, but the charity of your choice gets about 1¢ per search. (it's actually some percentage of advertising revenue - but I can't remember what). Anyway, if you make goodsearch your homepage like we did -you have a chance to do some good just by surfing the net. Here's the link: goodsearch If you don't want to set your own home page up to use it, you can use our links. Ours is set up to benefit the National Adrenal Diseases Foundation (which supports research on lots of diseases important to us).
When we figure out how to do two links off one computer, Punk's blog will benefit the wildcat sanctuary in Sandstone Minnesota.