Sunday, February 28, 2010

the great american road trip 2.0 - day 2

It is way too late to post anything. Nobody should spend 9 hours a day in the car - nobody . . . especially me. The kids and Rick were fine - I was going absolutely ballistic. Here are the highlights of day 2 (not many - because did I mention - NINE hours in the car?!)

• Left Fremont, Indiana, drove 1 mile north just to say we hit Michigan, then barreled through Ohio.

• Stopped for lunch in Pittsburg - french-fry sandwiches (yeah - they were as good as they sound) at Primanti Bros. Dessert at Fudgie Wudgie - blueberry fudge for Rico, Punk and Kooka, and a homemade peanut butter cup for me.

• The trip up and down the Monongahela Incline, was punctuated by Rico's impromptu performance of the Macarena in front of an unsuspecting priest, 3 goth teenagers, and a group of college kids. It was a bet, he couldn't explain himself, just perform. He was paid with a sliver of Kaia's fudge - which he insists, was worth every second of humiliation.

• Hours later, we pulled into DC - a quick dinner, a quick swim, and we are all in bed (finally) watching the History Channel.

• Tomorrow we are off to the spy museum - Kooka can't wait.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

the great american road trip 2.0 - day 1

Not much to report - just a really, really long day in the car - 10 hours.

There was a quick stop at the Mouse House Cheese Shop, for candy cow pies and fresh cheese curds, and then it was three more hours until our next destination.

We had lunch at our favorite spy restaurant - Milwaukee's Safe House. Kooka was amazed at the secret moving doors, two-way mirrors, and tricks around every corner. We won't dare give away all of the secrets of this place - half the fun is figuring it out yourself, but we will fill you in on the menu: thick cheeseburgers, baked mac and cheese, pita chips with warm garlic dip, french dip sandwiches, German root beer and cold lemonade - all of it amazing!

Now we are all in bed somewhere in Fremont, IN. Eight more hours until we reach DC.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

blast off

Three days until blast off.

It's been a goal of mine since Punk was born - both kids should see all 50 states before they turn 18. Thankfully, both kids have adopted this goal as their own, and are very willing travelers.

Kooka in particular has really taken this to heart, and made it her New Year's resolution to knock off another state this year. Punk followed suit, and so, in an effort to help them both achieve their goal, we are heading out on yet another road trip.

If we're lucky we'll hit about 6 new states on our way to Washington DC.

We'll keep you posted.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

i'm on a horse

This has nothing to do with homeschooling, or my family, or my life in general . . . but this commercial cracks me up.

Friday, February 19, 2010

priorities

I don't have all of the answers when it comes to homeschooling.
Sometimes it feels like I don't have any.

I think we all just do the best that we can, hoping and praying that at some point our kids do learn how to throw a baseball, use hair gel, and buy new pants when the old ones come up past their socks.

When we started this adventure - back when Punk was only three, there were goals: allow our kids to explore the world beyond the classroom, encourage them to learn at their own pace, teach them the value of work, build their social confidence among all age groups and make learning fun. We still have the same goals. I still contend that those are probably the most valuable skills a person can glean from any education. However, after 18 months in the public school system, I find myself constantly second guessing the best way to achieve these goals.

Is it better to use multiplication flash cards, or to have the kids make a triple batch of brownies? Do organizational skills start with a clean room, or a well written daily planner? Do we learn geography best from a map, or cruising across the country?

Although I suspect that the truth lies somewhere in the middle, the reality is - I don't know. I won't know until Kooka is finishing her dissertation and says, "I hated when you made me write my spelling words, but I have not misspelled 'embarrass' since the fourth grade." Or when I ask Punk if he knows the capital of Colorado, and he says "Is that the place where we rode up the mountains on that really scary tram?"

Only then, will everything come to light.

So in the meantime, I'm asking my friends for assistance.

If you were to homeschool your child and had a bit of extra money after covering the basics, what would be the best way to invest in your child's education - great books and curriculum; extra curricular activities - music lessons, karate, dance class; travel experiences; or technology (computers, software, etc). Again - I assume that the best scenario is to share the wealth - spread it out a bit, but every family has their priorities, and I am curious to find out yours.

The poll is in the upper corner of the blog - it's completely anonymous. Thanks!

Monday, February 15, 2010

seriously?

I am just going to take 10 seconds in this public forum to point out, that after mocking my choice of "Teddy Roosevelt" glasses last month, Punk proceeded to choose a pair of wire rims yesterday. Wire rims that look exactly like Benjamin Franklin!

My selection was at least a century cooler. At least he agreed with me on the Michael Buble' haircut, and styling putty - at least his hair is looking up to date.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

valentines day



It is a tradition at our house:

After a special family dinner, each person takes a turn to pass out their Valentines, and have them read. Then, starting with the oldest member of the family, we each receive one red or pink present.

This year was extra special - because it was the first Valentine's day that Rico shared with us. Punk's note to him was especially touching - actually, all of Punk's notes were beautiful - hand drawn charactitures of each of us, and a lovely paragraph about what he loves most about each person. Kooka's were hand-made as well - intricate pop-ups with dainty pink and red designer lettering. The kind of things I'll save forever.

Rico was the first to open his gift - a plush red, fuzzy blanket, perfect for napping by the fire. Then came me - a red crystal charm for my very favorite bracelet. Punk was next - and the look on his face was priceless.

He opened his gift to find a shirt that read "I love Mommy." There was borderline terror in his face, when I told him that I could not wait to see him wear it to school tomorrow. He didn't say no . . .he just kept saying "Thank you mom - it's great for wearing around the house." He was so polite about it, and really didn't want to hurt my feelings. "Is this homemade?" he asked with all of the fake enthusiasm he could muster. He only relaxed when I tossed him the bag of velcro letters that came with it. It was a shirt by "Shout Out!" - which is a company that sells the coolest customizable t-shirts ever.

Thankfully, by the time Kooka opened her "I love my mom shirt" she was in on the joke (though I suspect she would have minded much less about parading it around).

They both spent the better part of an hour rearranging their new gear. Punk has since switched his to read "This is what cool looks like" and Kooka's says "Almost Famous."

We finished the night with caramel brownies, snuggles, hugs, and sweet dreams.


Thursday, February 11, 2010

kooka


My photo downloader thingy is broken, and I just realized that although I have tons of photos of Kooka, I have not given her her fair share of props as far as the writing goes.

So here is a quick Kooka update:

• According to her teacher's conference report, she is a "bright star in the class room." She has tons of friends, (both 2nd and 3rd graders - she's in a mixed classroom), and is reading and performing math above grade level. In her free time she likes to read the dictionary, to learn "more intriguing words."

• She has become a crazy inventor. With her box full of supplies, she is always creating something. This week is was glove with a spoon for each finger, which allows the wearer to either scrape the cake batter from a bowl more efficiently, or feed five American Girl dolls at once - take your pick.

• She went to help teach a chess class last week, and loved it.

• She is learning to play the marimba in music class.

• She is thrilled at the prospect of becoming a big sister. She sings to baby Yoda all of the time, and is keeping her fingers crossed for a girl (as long as the new baby doesn't horn in on her girl nights with mom).

• One of her goldfish, Minnow just died.

• She is very excited about our upcoming roadtrip, and the fact that she may get to see a real spy museum!

• She just finished reading The Giggler Treatment and book 1 in the Sister's Grimm series.

• She provided all of the artwork for our Valentine this year - and even compared to her brother, this kid can hold her own with a set of Crayolas.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

the vet's home

I got another invitation to be admitted to the Veteran's Home today. The last one came on my birthday, and asked if I was prepared to be admitted now, or would like to defer the opportunity.

Since the closest I have ever come to serving in the armed forces was when I used to drink Shirley Temples at the VFW bar with my granddad, I decided to defer. Besides, I was six at the time - and even though I admit to suffering a little post-traumatic- shock, from being forced to listen to repeated rounds of "Rhinestone Cowboy" and "Hot Child in the City" on the jukebox, eventually I got over it. Furthermore, it took the VA three decades to hunt me down, and when they did, they didn't even offer me free tickets to a pancake breakfast or anything - just straight to the home for me.

This information was a bit disturbing.

So you can imagine how startled I was to receive today's news. Today the mailman dropped off my enrollment papers. They said I had been approved to begin the process of being accepted into the home. But here is the best part: I don't even have to enroll myself. According to the forms, all I need to do is supply the name and address of myself OR the person I would like to have admitted.

Wow.

Had I known that hanging out at the VFW eating Slim Jims and breathing in second hand smoke was going to have THIS kind of payoff, I would have asked to go more often.

Needless to say, I have an entire collection of people that I am asking to have admitted: 1) a certain snarky blogger 2) the neighbor with dogs that bark at 3 am 3)the entire cast of Jersey Shore . . . I am going to need extra postage.

Do not get on my bad side until next Monday - that's the deadline for returning this thing.

Friday, February 5, 2010

my new hero

This guy on facebook cracks me UP. He is 74 years old, crochety as heck - and his son keeps track of his quips. These are some of my favorite things he's said to his grown sons: (some have been edited for language here):

"You look just like Stephen Hawking...Relax, I meant like a non-paralyzed version of him. Feel better?... Fine. Forget I said it."



"Oh please, you practically invented lazy. People should have to call you and ask for the rights to lazy before they use it."



"I need to change clothes? Wow. That's big talk coming from someone who looks like they robbed a Mervyn's."



"The baby will talk when he talks, relax. It ain't like he knows the cure for cancer and he just ain't spitting it out."



"You sure do like to tailgate people... Right, because it's real important you show up to the nothing you have to do on time."



"You're being over dramatic. You own a TV and an air mattress. That's not exactly what I'd call "a lot to lose."



"Can we talk later? The news is on... Well, if you have tuberculosis it's not gonna get any worse in the next 30 minutes, jesus."


I hope I'm this smart when Punk and Kooka are grown ups.

careful what you wish for

"I wish I was as dumb as I used to be."

Punk - lamenting the loss of his blissful ignorance on the way to school.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

roller rink


I meant to post this a three months ago - when we actually did it - needless to say, got caught up in other things.

I grew up at the roller rinks in CA, so when I finally remembered that there was a rink in the suburbs, I couldn't wait to take the kids. After a little practice, they both started to get the hang of it. They still play the YMCA song, and do those stupid race games where you can win a free soda. (Rico and I tied) I can't wait to go back! (though I'll probably have to learn to walk properly before I should put myself back on wheels)

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

what bugs me

I hate that so many people read this - and hardly anybody ever comments.

I wonder if I should make it an invite only blog . . .that way nobody lurks.

Any ideas?

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

homeschooling - the intermediate years


It wasn't easy telling our friends and family that we intended to homeschool. "What about his socialization?" "Are you trying to turn him into a freak?" "Are you going to shelter him for the rest of his life?" "Is this because you can't afford private school?"

Although I have yet to meet a homeschooler who choose their path for these reasons (then again - it's been a while since I've frequented any compounds in Utah), this seems to be a consensus among the general population. And try as we might, there was really no getting our point across when the kids were younger.

The main reason we chose homeschooling - was exactly the opposite of what everyone was so concerned about. We thought it a bit freakish, that our 5 year old - who read at a 4th grade level would be practicing his abc's all day. It was freakish to think that this kid, who had been surrounded since the day of his birth, by kids of all ages, would be plunked in a room full of other 5 year olds for the better part of his week. In the real world - decisions are not always made by somebody three decades your senior. In the real world, you are surrounded by people of different ages, abilities and attitudes. We wanted a kid who knew how to live in the real world.

The facts of life are this: Nobody out here is sheltered. We are not all winners. You have to work hard to get what you want. A D in geography doesn't mean you're can't be a great accountant. Likewise, being an A+ English student doesn't guarantee you more than a job at Starbucks and a well-written blog. Sometimes cheaters win - but you still shouldn't be one. Even though you are really interested in Star Wars, not everybody at the table wants to discuss it at each Thanksgiving meal. Learning is not a chore - it is privilege. You are as capable as you imagine yourself to be. Most people have less than you. Mommy won't always be there. You don't have a real life Jiminy Cricket - develop your own conscience.

These things are all true - and they are the root of why we chose to homeschool.

Yet, despite knowing all of this, despite my best efforts, something was changing in Punk.

After the initial excitement of starting public school, and even the thrill of moving to a new school this year, the kid was becoming complacent - and I neither he, not I, could figure out why.

"Life was so much more exciting when I was younger," he'd say. "The whole world was exciting. Now, even when I play legos, it's just because I need something to do." I wracked my brain. Nothing seemed to be wrong per se - he did his homework, built lego contraptions, caught toads, had his friends over - normal fifth grade stuff.

Normal fifth grade stuff.

Which got me thinking.

My normal fifth grade stuff included being dropped of at Disneyland alone with a friend, and being told to meet at a restaurant by six. It included being sent to the grocery store two miles away, and flying across the country sans adult - with my little brother in tow. Even my first grade stuff included a two mile radius of bike riding freedom.

Punk and his friends did not have this kind of lifestyle. No 10 year-old I know has this kind of lifestyle.

Furthermore, Punk had never been an average kid. He was public speaking by age 3, lobbying for animal rights by 4, shooting commercials at 5, discussing paleontology theories with professionals by age 6 . . . the kid got around. He had an incredibly interesting life - even by adult standards.

But not so much anymore. He had turned into an average kid - and average kid with grown up ideas - and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he wasn't happy about it.

So I came up with the best solution I could.

I'd push him to the next step.

Independence.

Because while there is a certain satisfaction in completing any task - a perfect spelling test, setting the table, performing in a play - there is a quiet triumph in doing something wholly and completely on your own - like an adult - like a mature, independent person.

And that, I decided, is what this kid needed. He needed to keep growing. Giving two miles of bike riding freedom was an option - but a cruel one in February. I had no reason to put him on an airplane - and furthermore no one to send him to. So I chose the only bit of freedom I thought I could give - dinner.

He was quiet for a minute when I mentioned it to him.

"Punk, after school today I am going to give you 20 bucks and drop you off at the grocery store. You get to buy and cook dinner - whatever you want."

He looked at me like he was expecting more - like a catch.

"What do you mean - drop me off?"

"I mean what it sounds like. Kooka and I are not coming in. Go shop for what you need, and I'll pick you up when you're done."

"Really? Wow! Like - whatever I want?"

I hesitate here. Because every cell in my body was screaming "Balanced meal!" "Don't buy crap!" "And for the love of god - please not fishsticks." But all that came out of my mouth is "Yep - it just has to be a meal - because you are making dinner tonight - alone."

Both he and Kooka look thrilled with the prospect. But even little sister bites her tongue - she knows this is big - knows this is Punk's opportunity. Uncharacteristically, she doesn't even give any advice.

So, 1:00 rolls around, and I pick both of them up from school. Punk is ready to head to Cub Foods, and I am dying inside. What if some seedy boxboy tells him he has more Fritos in "the back room"? What if the entire store catches on fire and he is stuck in the corner by frozen foods? What if somebody notices my beautiful, charismatic child shopping alone for taco spice, and decides to bind and gag him, and nobody notices their struggle down the ethnic foods aisle? God! So many possibilities, and none of them actually end in him coming out with a bagful of groceries. It's a wonder I even unlock the car door to let him out.

But I do, and he has the biggest smile on his face when he waves to us - and says, "See ya!"

I am positive that this is the last I will ever see of him. I take a mental picture of what he is wearing so I can describe it to John Walsh during our teleconference this evening.

My god. What have I done?! Teaching multiplication was one thing. Teaching independence is going to kill me.

Twenty five minutes later, Kooka and I pull up to the front of the grocery store. Punk is absolutely beaming - pushing his shopping cart, as he mimes for me to pop the trunk, he actually walks his cart all the way the little corral in sub zero weather. He slides into the back seat, breathless, all smiles, and says "That was AMAZING! Here is your change."

He hands me eight dollars and seventy two cents. "I spent under twelve bucks," he says, "I shopped the deals." I am so relieved that he is alive, that I don't even care that we might be eating expired deli meat and week-old bread for dinner.

"Mom," he says, "It was weird at first. When I grabbed my cart, I just kept thinking 'my gosh, this place is so big', but then, once I started shopping, nobody looked at me weird - they just treated me like a person mom, like a real person. They said hi to me, and the checkout lady, treated me like I was supposed to be there!"

He hands both Kooka and I snickerdoodles that he had taken from the free cookie bin. "I ate mine while I was shopping," he tells us, "and then I told the cashier, that these were from the free bin, and she said it was ok, and let me bring two for you guys." He pauses to catch his breath, and I can't help but giggle at how happy he is. "You know mom," he says, leaning forward in his seat, "my friends at school thought you were crazy. They didn't believe it when I told them. They had so many ideas about what I should buy. They were all really jealous of my adventure."

My adventure. That's what he said. My most dreaded, mundane task of grocery shopping was an adventure to my 10 year old.

We arrive home, and without any prompting, he unloads the groceries (which he bagged himself) from the trunk and puts them into the fridge. He sits himself down to do both his spelling and math, with no complaints, finishes his quiet reading, plays some math games on the computer, cleans the dining room table, sets it, and starts to make dinner. All without a word from me.

Dinner is absolutely perfect. Hot dogs broiled to perfection, on succulent, enriched white rolls, and array of delicately spiced corn chips to choose from, cool, frothy root beer floats, and for dessert - shortbread dipped in a rich milk chocolate.

He says he wants to do it again tonight - maybe tacos. I had to explain that we can't do exciting things liker grocery shop every day - but maybe soon, he'll get to pay the water bill, or haggle with the cell phone people in India to straighten out my bill.


P.S. If anybody reads this, and has any ideas - any ways that you teach your kids independence, we'd love to hear them. This appears to be a popular unit for us, and I have a feeling we'll be studying this for quite some time.

Monday, February 1, 2010

time travel

Kooka: "Mom - do you think that in my lifetime they will create a time machine?"

Me: "Hmmm, I don't know, but I kind of doubt it."

Kooka: "That is such a shame, because I would really like to visit my past. (pause) I mean, granted, I don't have much, but it would still be nice."