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  • A Homemade Traveller’s Notebook

    A Homemade Traveller’s Notebook

    November has been a bit of a rough month. Novembers are usually difficult, what with the days getting shorter and the weather getting colder and the end of the homeschool year nowhere in sight.

    We made it through two birthdays — River is now 9, which is HALFWAY to adulthood! (*cue panicky tears*). And me? I’m halfway to … I don’t know, what do people do when they’re 74? I’ll probably end up hanging out in a smoky bingo hall with my fellow septuagenarians, still talking about that time when Trump was president. What a crazy four-month-ride that was, we’ll say. Thank goodness for that alien-invasion/zombie-apocalypse/worst-episode-of-Punk’d-ever, we’ll say.

    But those days of 14-hour bingo sessions are still a long way off, and right now I’m scrambling to keep the house clean and get the school lessons done and at the very least start making some Christmas gifts, because apparently that’s barely a month away. (*cue more panicky tears*)

    My Monthly Planner

    Part of the reason that I’ve been disorganized is that I didn’t make up the monthly planner that I rely on to keep me sane. I’ve actually had the planner pages printed off and sitting on my kitchen table for three weeks now, but I haven’t gone ahead and spent the five minutes binding them into a functional booklet because — and this is so ridiculous — I really, really love my monthly planner booklets and I wanted to show you all in a blog post how fun they are to make. But I haven’t found that perfect combination of three fully occupied children and good photo lighting yet.

    So, no November planner.

    Why do I love my planner so much? I think it’s because my planner is exactly what I need to guide me through the day. I make a new monthly planner each month with the day’s schedule on the left and the homeschool subjects that I’d like to teach on the right.

    I’m sure that it sounds like a pain, printing off a new planner each month. At first, I thought that I would hate all that work, but I don’t — not at all. I love that I can tweek our schedule from month to month. What’s more, I’ve discovered that stitching pages into a booklet and trimming the edges is immensely satisfying. Now I make all sorts of booklets just for fun.

    I keep my booklets in a Midori-style traveller’s notebook — or fauxdori — that I made myself. A traveller’s notebook is a leather cover that uses elastic bands to hold booklets in place. The booklets can be removed easily and swapped with other booklets or accessories, making the traveller’s notebook extremely versatile.

    I lurv it.

    Making a Homemade Traveller’s Notebook

    Last week — on that day when I turned half of 74 — I ended up at Chapters browsing the journal section. I wanted something a bit more elegant than my DIY, but nothing was quite what I wanted.

    Naturally, that meant I had to make my own.

    I headed downtown to the leather supply store the very next day. I told the sales person that I needed leather for a journal and she asked what kind. I said “brown” because I am utterly clueless about all things leather. She led me to a wall of rolls in different colours and weights and told me to pick the one that spoke to me.

    I knew exactly what I wanted — a not-too-thin brown piece, dark but not too dark, maybe more of a cinnamon shade than a cocoa shade, and nothing overly saturated.

    Then I saw a teal roll and suddenly there was no other leather on the wall — all I wanted was the teal.

    I didn’t even hesitate – I immediately knew that this was the leather for me. Well, wait – I had to check the price first. Just $5/square foot? Okay, now I knew that this was the leather for me.

    I ended up buying $30 worth, partly because I was afraid I’d make a mistake while cutting but mostly because I panicked and made random gestures in the air until the saleswoman just made an educated guess at how much I needed. It turned out to be the perfect amount — I have enough for an iPad cover and possibly a second journal.

    As soon as we got home, I got to work. I cleared off my table and pulled out my cutting mat and a rotary cutter.

    Okay, let’s just stop for a minute. What is going on with my table here?! This is the reason that we use a tablecloth every day, by the way. It’s not a decor choice or even an attempt to protect the table — we’re way past that stage. No, tablecloths are the only thing that stop me from seeing the damage that my kids have inflicted on my lovely dining set, which makes me want to sit down and cry.

    “Memories are more important than tables.”
    “Wood can be refinished.”
    “My kids will someday watch their own beloved furniture get destroyed by my grandchildren.”

    These are the mantras that get me through the day.

    Mantras, plus pretty leather journal covers. So let’s get started already.

    (1) Cutting the Leather

    First step: cut the the leather. I used an Exacto knife when I made my first traveller’s notebook. Never again. The rotary cutter was so much easier. It cut clean, straight lines with no trimming needed. I was done in just minutes. I cut out a large rectangle piece that’s almost exactly 8.5 x 11 inches, and then two smaller pieces that are 8.5 x 3(ish) inches.

    (2) Punching Holes for the Stitches

    Next: add stitching. This is completely optional, of course; there are a lot of Midori-inspired covers that don’t have stitching at all and they’re gorgeous. Seriously, I want them all.

    But this journal was calling out for stitching. In youtube tutorials, the instructors create a groove in the leather with a tool that I can only imagine is called something awesome like The Groovinator. Once they’ve added a groove for the stitches to sit in, the youtube instructors use another amazing tool that rolls along in the groove and marks out spaces where the holes need to be punched. I haven’t named that tool yet, because I haven’t thought of a name cool enough.

    However, I’m too cheap for things like “necessary equipment”, so I etched a line in my leather with the flat-head screwdriver that I stash in my china cabinet, and then I marked off the hole spacing with a Sharpie.

    UPDATE: “One tip – you can do the ‘groove thingy’ with a fork where you’ve bent one tine on the end over by just a bit, then use the bent tine to make the groove, and the second tine as a guide, and run it along the edge of the leather.” Amazing! Thanks, Jason from Hamilton Folk School!

    Once my holes were marked, I grabbed the medieval torture device that I found in my basement. It’s a standard leather punch that I must have purchased … for some reason? Honestly, I don’t even know where it came from. It’s a handy tool though — it’s just like a paper hole punch, but the wheel at the top rotates, letting you pick the size of hole to cut. And it’s a whole lot sharper than a regular hole punch, of course. And more freaky looking.

    (3) Stitching the Leather

    Once I punched the holes in each of the three pieces of leather, I cut some cord for stitching. I used a simple saddle stitch, which is quick and easy and looks really sharp. Saddle stitch is fun because you sew with both ends of the cord at the same time: one needle passes through a hole from front to back, and then the other needle passes through that same hole from back to front, and on and on and on. Check out this video to see saddle stitch in action.

    (4) Adding Elastics

    The final step for making a traveller’s notebook is to thread elastic through the middle of the cover, Midori-style. This is the key to a traveller’s notebook: the elastic holds your booklets in place until you want to swap them out.

    I marked off the holes with a Sharpie — two at the top, and two at the bottom. My leather punch doesn’t reach far from the edge, so for this step, I grabbed my husband’s trusty … well, actually we don’t know what it is. It’s just a metal tool that he uses when he builds tiny model airplanes. We got it from an old roommate who took it home from work 15+ years ago and forgot to bring it back. I believe that the proper tool for this job is an awl, but if you have a stabby-metal-thing-from-Mike (which is what we call it), that works equally well.

    I poked the holes in the leather and threaded the elastic through, first from top to bottom, and then from second-top to second-bottom. The longer stretch of elastic holds a booklet in place while the shorter piece is tied into a knot and basically ignored.

    It’s okay that the leather curves in a bit when you first tie your knot — the cover will sit flat once the booklets are added.

    To insert a booklet, simply find the middle page and then slide the booklet in between the two elastics, allowing the top elastic to lie flat in the crease. Easy, right?

    Don’t you love the cowl in this photo? It’s called Starshower. A fitting name, given that I’ve hit the infamous knitter’s black hole. I started the cowl half a year ago and I swear it hasn’t gotten one inch longer, no matter how long I work on it. I printed off this pattern with maybe five others and I bound them into a booklet that I always keep with me. I even added a few sheets of graph paper at the end for jotting notes on. It’s been so handy because no matter where I go, I have my patterns and my notes with me.

    This is a shot of the cover holding three different booklets. The patterns booklet is secured in the middle with the elastic. There’s a blank notebook that the kids colour in tucked in the front pocket, and my October planner is tucked into the back pocket. I could have also added more elastics to hold the booklets too. Lots of choices.

    The very last step for making a traveller’s notebook is to add the elastic that keeps the whole notebook closed when it’s not in use. I poked two holes in the spine of my cover and threaded an elastic through.

    Then, because I’m feeling fancy, I added some beads that were left over from my amber wrap bracelets. It’s entirely possible that they’ll drive me nuts when I try to lay my notebook flat. It’s also entirely possible that I’ll leave them there anyway because I’m too lazy to untie the knot.

    The Perfect Handmade Christmas Gift

    Now, I’m thinking that homemade traveller’s notebooks would be killer Christmas gifts. If you skip the stitching and the inner pockets, these leather covers will take less than half an hour to make. You don’t even need to make the booklets yourself — you can grab a set of three Moleskin cahiers and they’d work beautifully. You could even buy a thicker notebook or agenda and tuck the outer covers into the inner pockets instead of using the elastic system.

    The beauty of a traveller’s notebook is that it’s flexible enough to appeal to both friends and family. Well, your friends and family, I mean. For some reason I’m surrounded by vegetarians who don’t love leather the same way I do. Sigh. It’s hard to be an omnivore in a world of herbivores — seriously, I have to eat three times more delicious bacon just to make up for all the bacon that they refuse to eat! I do it, though, for them. Because I’m a kind and loving person like that.

    And the same with this traveller’s notebook: I’m happy to make two covers and keep them both for myself.

    It is the season to be generous, after all…

  • The Trick to Teaching a Handicraft

    This post contains affiliate links that are irresistible. I mean, who doesn’t want to cross stitch a scene from Hogwarts?

    OK, this is mostly a mom-brag post because I want to show off this awesome costume that my daughter made.

    My little Jedi. ♥

    I didn’t even take pictures of my other two kids, which is definitely going to cost me some points in life’s ongoing mother-of-the-year competition. It’s okay though — I’m fairly sure I’m out of the running, given how much candy my two-year-old ate yesterday. It doesn’t really matter though — Forest wore the spider suit that both my girls have worn at least twice, so I’ve already got four years worth of photos of that costume. Third kid and all, right? If it wasn’t for Instagram selfies, I don’t know if we’d have any photos of him at all. (I’m kidding. Have you seen how stinkin’ cute that kid is??!)

    As for Harbour, she changed her costume 57 times through the month of October and then just wore a supergirl cape over a sweater. I’m kind of sad that she didn’t stick with her original Ghost-Fairy-Chicken idea, mostly because it would have been fun to watch people trying to guess her costume on Halloween night. I suppose that the Ghost-Fairy-Chicken was too fussy, and Harbour is utterly practical when it comes to costumes. One year, at two-and-a-half, she rejected my handmade costume at the last minute and insisted on wearing her duck raincoat instead. And then it rained while we were trick or treating and everyone praised me for my foresight and brilliance. I totally took credit.

    River takes the costume part of Halloween a lot more seriously. She decided to be a Jedi back in June when our dance recital finale was set to a Star Wars-themed mashup. It would be an easy costume since we already had the gauzy tunic that she wore on stage. I bought her a cheap lightsaber and we were done. Sweet! Then I accidentally googled “Jedi costume” and I saw just how easy it is to sew a Jedi robe.

    It would be a shame not to make it, I thought. It would take an hour tops, I thought.

    I should think less and Netflix more.

    Thankfully this project was actually pretty straight forward.  I think it took us three hours, even with my daughter doing most of the sewing herself. To finish the outfit off, we added the lightsaber, a pair of boots, and some silks from our playsilk collection to mimic the tunic. Because we use silks in every costume. Seriously, you can’t go wrong with playsilks.

    Can I be nostalgic for a minute? I miss the days of homemade Halloween costumes — back when we were kids and we made them ourselves. I wonder what changed. Is it that social media displays our costumes for the world to see and suddenly our five-year-old’s attempt at a simple ghost doesn’t cut it anymore? We’re worried that our Instagram photos won’t measure up? Maybe we’re afraid that we’ll simply come off as cheap or lazy for not getting our kids a “better” costume.

    Making costumes was always part of the Halloween fun for me, and it was a treat to see my own daughter work hard on her own costume. And of course the homeschooling mom in in me is delighted with all the lessons she learned too. For example:

    Lesson #1: You can tell yourself that sewing something yourself will save you money, but you will end up spending more at the fabric store than if you had just bought the item at the store. That’s okay though. See Lesson #2.

    Lesson #2: Store-bought hems are straighter, but you will love your crooked hems more — because you sewed them yourself.

    Lesson #3: It’s super important to count the amount of pins you’re using at the beginning of your project so you know exactly how many are still missing when the two-year-old is suddenly up from his nap.

    Lesson #4: If you’re going to be wearing something once or twice, you don’t really have to finish the seams.

    Lesson #5: Your mom will try to add proper french seams to your costume if you let it out of your sight for a minute. You know, just in case someone checks the inside of your costume when you show up at their door to ask for candy.

    Lesson #6: The automatic shut-off on an iron is the only thing that stops your mom from skipping a Halloween event and returning right home because she’s not sure if she unplugged it or not.

    The Trick to Teaching a Handicraft

    As I watched my eight-year-old happily hunched over the sewing machine, I realized that this Jedi robe is a much, much better learn-to-sew project than the fiddly shirt that we’ve been working on for so long that it probably won’t fit River when we’re done. The Jedi robe was so simple that we  couldn’t mess it up, and because of that, it was nothing but fun.

    Maybe that’s where I go wrong when I teach my children how to do handicrafts. I pick projects that are too complicated — that have too many things that can go wrong.

    When my daughter learned how to knit, I gave her some beautifully soft yarn and set her to work on a scarf. Easy, right? But it wasn’t the right project for her. She kept dropping stitches here and picking up stitches there and I spent a lot of time getting her back on track. She lost interest because half of her knitting time was spent waiting for me to fix her mistakes. What if I had given her some beautiful colour-changing wool instead and just let her experiment, adding and decreasing the stitches at will? Maybe I should have given her the opportunity to play with the yarn before giving her a project to do that required a steady hand.

    In Charlotte Mason circles, we talk a lot about choosing quality over quantity. We want our children to work on handicrafts that require both skill and time — crafts like knitting, embroidery, sewing, and … well, I’m sure there are handicrafts beyond my own hobbies. Woodworking maybe? Sounds dangerous though… When’s the last time you saw someone take off a thumb with a crochet hook?

    The point is that we Charlotte Masoners want our children to work on crafts that require patience and perseverance. We skip the quick and easy activities, like crafts that involve milk jugs, popsicle sticks, and glitter. We just say no to the turkey made from a handprint. And the dinosaur made from a handprint. And the giraffe made from a handprint.

    We want to teach our children about the joy of creating something beautiful, useful, and honoured for the time and effort it took. But maybe I’ve missed the point. I’m so focused on creating something that will bring joy that I’ve forgotten that the crafting process itself should be enjoyable too.

    It’s okay to do simple, easy projects at first. They’re fun and they develop skills. A clumsily knit scarf for a doll is not crafting “twaddle,” it’s practice.

    I made the same mistake with needlework. Just last month, we decided to give embroidery a shot. I purchased a class on Craftsy and we started making samplers using the colours and the pattern in the class notes. River stuck with it for a few days, but then she asked if she could do her own design in the corner of her canvas. She wanted to stitch a letter H for her sister. Maybe she would have enjoyed the learning process more if I had let her freely stitch the canvas with the colours of her choice, playing with the thread and getting a feel for the rhythm of stitching. Then, once she felt comfortable, I should have chose a simple pattern that would bring her joy. Something small. Something Harry Potter themed.

    When I learn a new hobby myself, I choose a project and I pick up the skills as I go. That’s how I learn. But kids learn by playing and I keep forgetting that.

    River mentioned making a doll and immediately I mentally started going through the supplies for a fancy Waldorf doll like the ones I made. That’s silly — I should just give her some scraps and see what she comes up with.

    River saw some crocheted seahorses on Ravelry that she liked and I right away started coming up with a lesson plan. Why? I should just teach her a few basic stitches and see what designs she creates. I just need to let her play with the yarn. We can do the seahorses once she’s mastered the stitches.

    The trick is to start small. Let them play. Teach the process and don’t worry about the end result.

    River is itching to get back on the sewing machine again. I’m going to finish off the shirt that we started myself, and I’ll have her do simple projects instead. Maybe I’ll sew up a couple quilted placemats and let her stitch random patterns across the tops. Maybe I’ll encourage her to hand stitch clothes for her doll from my scraps so she can see how clothing comes together. Maybe I’ll just give her some fabric and let her create some art with it. Whatever she makes, I’m sure it will be wonderful and we will treasure it. And if it doesn’t? Christmas is coming up and we’ve got a lot of grandparents that will need presents. 😉

  • An Organized Space for an Unorganized Homeschooler

    I read that chronically late people tend to be optimists. This makes sense, of course. We’re always positive that things will go smoothly with no disruptions at all. What’s that? I need to be across the city for our lesson in 10 minutes? No problem! Sorry, what? No, of course I’m not in the car yet. I’m confident that all my children will walk straight to the car and buckle themselves up without any prompting — and there certainly won’t be a single lost shoe/diaper blow out/dish detergent disaster/missing car key to slow us down.

    Optimist. Not realist.

    Always being late is frustrating and embarrassing, and I can’t even use my three kids as an excuse because many of the homeschool families that I meet up with have four or more kids and they still manage to make it on time. How? How is this possible?

    Organization comes naturally for some people, but not for me. Somehow though, I’ve managed to keep our homeschool fairly organized. It’s true — I might not know where the coffee bean grinder is after 25 minutes of frantic searching, but I can find the math books in 30 seconds flat. Of course, we won’t be using the math books until I can make a cup of coffee, but that’s beside the point.

    Of course, we won’t be using the math books until I can make a cup of coffee, but that’s beside the point.

    4 TIPS FROM ONE DISORGANIZED HOMESCHOOLING MOM TO ANOTHER

    (I had 5 tips but one of them was “start with a clean space” and I realized that is not going to win me any friends. We’ll do 4.)

    Tip #1: Group Supplies by Time

    Our day starts off with circle time. Now I need two cups minimum of something warm and caffeinated before I can bring myself to sit on the floor and sing children songs. I love my kids but those songs just aren’t my thing.

    My kids couldn’t care less – they love circle time (two of them, at least), and when I finally realized how many subjects I could cram into our morning meeting, I realized that I was foolish for skipping it and I broke out the ukulele.

    To make life easier, I store everything that I need in one basket: our Bible lessons (on the Kindle) and a Bible, our English Lessons Through Literature book for the day’s poem, fable and/or painting, our Spanish lesson printouts, and a copy of Laying Down the Rails for the day’s character lesson. To get school started, I only need to grab my morning basket, the instruments bin, and, ideally, a fresh cup of tea. When we’re done, everything is thrown back into the basket where it stays until the next morning.

    Tip #2: Everything needs a home

    This was probably the number one most helpful tip I’ve ever read — and it came from that book I didn’t like. All of our homeschooling supplies have a place that they belong.

    I’m sure all the organized people are wondering why this even needs to be said, but my fellow disorganati get it. We all have that … pile … that just migrates from desk to table to chair to bookcase and is never really put away because it doesn’t have a spot to go.

    Not in my house. Not anymore.

    • Our morning supplies go in the morning basket.
    • Our binders go on the hutch.
    • Our books go on the bookcase (more about that below).
    • Our art supplies go in the closet caddy.
    • Our subject-specific supplies go in the dresser.

    (You remember the dresser, right? A couple years ago, when it was slated to go smack-dab in the middle of my living room, I painted it a pretty colour. It didn’t really go well. It’s no longer a stand for the fish tank; now it’s our computer desk/homeschool station.)

    Each drawer is dedicated to a different subject or supply: languages, math, stickers & stamps, paper/notebooks, history & art, nature & science. This works incredibly well because when I’m cleaning up after lessons, I just have to toss the supplies in the right drawer. Think “elevated junk drawer”. The drawers aren’t overly tidy (well, they are today because I took a picture) but it doesn’t take long to find anything I need. It’s a system that works well for me because it builds on my laziness.

    Tip #3: Make Sure Everything is Labelled

    It took me a long time to realize that just because I know the second drawer on the left is for math supplies, I shouldn’t assume that everyone automatically knows. Even though that’s where we get the math cards from day after day after day.

    Everyone needs to know where to find things and where to return them when they’re done, so I broke down and I broke out my label maker.

    I am a huge fan of labeling, and there are so many lovely ways to do it! Personally, I really love chalkboard labels with cafe-style lettering. Oh, and I also think that laminated photographs on toy bins are super clever. Yes, I spend a lot of time on Pinterest. No, I will never get around to making any of those.

    In the wisdom of my many years, I’ve come to realize that a sharpie and some masking tape now is much better than rustic-chic never. Sure, ripped tape doesn’t look as nice — but focus on the fact that the rest of your house will look so much better without clutter everywhere! That new-found organization will more than compensate for your chicken-scratch-on-green-painters-tape system. Besides, you can always upgrade to hand-stitched burlap labels or hipster vintage luggage tags or whatever when you have more time. Like when your kids have graduated.

    Tip #4: Limit Your Books

    Have you noticed a trend in simplify-your-life type books to get rid of your books? In Simplicity Parenting, Kim John Payne recommends limiting the number of books in your child’s bedroom to five or six because more than that becomes visual clutter. And in The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, Marie Kondo recommends tearing out your favourite pages from the books you love and throwing the rest of the book away (that still makes my brain hurt).

    When I read advice like this, I’m a bit baffled. Get rid of books? I love books! All homeschooling families love their books. However, I have come to realize that I maybe don’t need to own them all (it’s hard for me to write that).

    It took me awhile to get going, but this year I got rid of a ton of books and I have to admit that I’m happier with the amount I own now. I’ve only kept my absolute favourites, and I know that the others are still out there in libraries and bookshops if I ever need to read them again.

    All of our books now are stored on the family bookshelf in the living room. It’s not neat, but it’s somewhat organized: picture books on the bottom two shelves, children’s chapter books on the third shelf, and my books on the top two shelves. It’s helpful for me to know that every book we own can be found there, and anyone who finds a misplaced book knows exactly where it’s supposed to go.

    Well, except the cookbooks. They go on the bookshelf downstairs, with the other dozens and dozens of books I couldn’t bring myself to donate. Oh, and my daughter’s chapter books are all in her room. She has over 300, so of course they’d never fit on our one family bookshelf. And my husband’s large collection of WWII books can be found in his man cave. But other than that, all of our books fit on one bookcase.

    Yup, it feels good to be minimalist.

    The hardest part has been not bringing more books in to replace the ones that I donated. My advice to fellow homeschooling parents who love to collect great books: be intentional about how many books you purchase. Read the books first from the library if that’s possible, and only buy the ones that you LOVE. Don’t go crazy at thrift stores either — remember that a five picture books for a quarter might not actually be a good deal if they’re going to stress you out everytime you have to pick them off the floor.

    One great way to avoid clutter is to use ebooks. Truthfully, I don’t love ebooks — not the way I love regular books.  An eReader can’t replicate that cozy, happy feeling that you get when you hold a real book in your hands.

    That being said, ebooks definitely have their place in a homeschooler’s home. Like when you realize you forgot to order the next book on your reading list — no worries, you can download it instantly from Amazon. Or when your eight-year-old has hidden your Kindle so that she can read a Babysitter’s Club book instead of her geography novel — not a problem. You can just pull up the same ebook on your iPad. Or iPhone. Or computer. Yeah, take that, kid.

    A Final Thought: Free Yourself from the Kitchen Table

    A lot of people assume that you need a tidy classroom setting to do homeschooling, using either a big kitchen table or even desks in a dedicated room. However, the great thing about homeschooling is that it’s flexible. We homeschool where ever we are. Circle time is usually the living room floor, while history readings tend to be done on the couch. Copywork might be done at the table but it just as well might be taken back to River’s bedroom. Sometimes we even do math on my bed if it’s made — so, not very often.

    As much as I would LOVE a dedicated homeschool room with a chalkboard and a map and maybe even a super loud bell that I could use to startle my children whenever I feel so moved, I wonder if my kids would enjoy staying put in one place for most of the day. I think it feels more natural for us all to do school where ever we happen to be. 

    How about you? Where do you do school? How do you keep it organized? Check out these posts from the 30 Days of Homeschool Organization for more ideas:

    1. 7 Tricks to Organize Your Homeschool by They Call Me Blessed
    2. Our Organized Homeschool Space by The Musings of Mum
    3. 6 Homeschool Curriculum Organization Hacks by Lit Mama
    4. How to Organize Your Digital Homeschool Files by Thrive Homeschooling
    5. How to Organize Your Small Homeschool Space by Deliberate Homeschooling
    6. How I Organize Our Homeschool Room by Ranching with Kids
    7. How to Create a Toddler Proof Homeschool Space by Making her Mama
    8. Homeschool Organization With Or Without A School Room by Plum Cheeky Solutions
    9. An Organized Space for an Unorganized Homeschooler by me

    This post was written for the iHomeschool Back to Homeschool Blog Hop.

  • Wayfarers: My Pick for a Charlotte Mason Homeschool Curriculum

    Oh my goodness, this turned into a MONSTER post and I keep adding things that I forgot! Like humour, which apparently didn’t come easily to me at 2:00 am when I published this beast.

    Unless you’re one of the grandparents who is secretly panicking about my children’s education, I don’t expect you to read the entire post. To help the rest of you out, I’ve added some quick links to each page so you can skip right to the subjects that interest you.

    Please note that I have purchased all of these books and programs myself. I have not been compensated for this post, though I should probably disclose that I am a National Geographic Kids Insider, given that I link to their site at one point. But I’m not sure if that’s official disclosure or me just bragging. Probably a bit of both… 😉

    QUICK LINKS: Our Curriculum Pick for 2016/2017

    Wayfarers by Barefoot Ragamuffin: Our Charlotte Mason Homeschool Curriculum

    Language Arts:     English Lessons through Literature
    Math: RightStart + Prodigy
    History: Wayfarers: Revolution History
    Geography: Wayfarers: Revolution History
    Science: Simply Charlotte Mason’s Nature Studies + MysteryScience
    Bible: Telling God’s Truth by Peter Enns (maybe)
    Literature: Wayfarers: Revolution History
    Jump ahead to our 2017/2018 Curriculum Picks

    About a year and a half ago, I gave up on Charlotte Mason.

    Well, not quite.

    It’s more that I gave up on finding a Charlotte Mason homeschool curriculum because none of the popular choices were working for my family. And they were confusing. I wanted something that was more “open-and-go” than what I was using at the time, you know what I mean? Of course it makes total sense — I had a newborn baby at home and I had very little brain power to devote to organization.

    I did my best though. For awhile, we plodded determinedly through some books, even when they didn’t interest me or my daughter. Finally though, I decided that we’d be better off scrapping the official curriculums and creating our own living book list based on our own interests, using a variety of literature-based curriculums as a guide.

    So I got started. I remember sitting at the counter for hours with our laptop and a notebook. I made lists and more lists. I wrote down book names, I made sure they were in our library. For the first time in a long time, I was excited about my daughter’s school work.

    And then, in the middle of my searching, I stumbled across the Wayfarers history curriculum. Wayfarers? I’d never heard of it, but I was surprised to see that many of the book titles I had just written down in my notebook were also in the Wayfarers book lists. And then when I downloaded the curriculum samples, I discovered that the curriculum was more than just history; it was science, geography, composer study, art, literature, Bible and more — all conveniently scheduled in a day-by-day planner.

    It was the open-and-go Charlotte Mason homeschool curriculum that I was looking for. Cue church bells and angel choirs.

    So what is this amazing curriculum?

    Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

  • My Favourite Decluttering Tips from The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up

    I reached a point sometime in June where my house suddenly felt clean. Not as clean as my mother-in-law’s house, of course, but clean by our standards. And then it was still clean the next day. And the day after that.

    On that third day of cleanliness, I panicked and took the kids camping for the night — anything to get them out of the house and keep the clean streak going. A last-minute camping trip was easy to do because I could find everything quickly. You know, because my house was clean and tidy. I didn’t have to do four loads of laundry first or dig the air mattress out from underneath the Christmas decorations. We basically packed up the van and went.

    Of course, I realized the stupidity of my plan when I returned with three filthy kids and beach’s worth of sand in our bags. But the kids took a bath and I did two loads of laundry and then, after maybe an hour of tidying up, everything was put away and the house was clean again.

    Huh.

    The following week, my house was still tidy and I remember being a bit … bored. I didn’t know what to do with myself. One day, I cleaned the window in the front entrance out of desperation. Turns out, the glass isn’t as frosted as I originally thought. Another day, I attacked the window sills and the baseboards in the kitchen — on the same day! Crazy, right?

    How did I get to this new-found level of clean? A big part has been months and months (and years) of decluttering.

    Decluttering

    For the past few months, my decluttering strategy has been simple: every time we’re going to be driving past our favourite thrift store, I fill up a bag or two, throw it in the van, and donate it that day.

    It’s usually not difficult to fill up a bag — except then it was. Suddenly I was at a point where I would wander from room to room and not come up with a single thing that I should really get rid of.

    I had plateaued.

    When I realized that all the obvious clutter was gone, I knew it was time to take my decluttering to the next level. I needed to consult the master.

    The KonMari Method

    I grabbed a copy of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo from the library, in hopes that rereading it would give me a jolt of inspiration. Instead, I was reminded that I’m the only person in North America that doesn’t love that book. Oh, right…

    I read this book a few years ago, expecting to fall madly in love with the Konmari method. Instead, I nearly sprained my eyeballs because I was rolling them so much. Why wasn’t Kondo’s charm working on me?

    The book started off okay, I guess. I was happy to sort through my clothes and purge. But then I was told to rip the best pages out of my favourite books and throw the rest away. That made my left eye start to twitch, but I persevered, covering old twitchy and reading on with my right. The advice got kind of random.

    I read that I’m supposed to empty my purse every time I come home (p. 153), but that doesn’t really apply to me: I have a one-year-old. Believe me, my purse is dumped upside down on a regular basis, and the contents of my wallets are liberally distributed every other day. This has not made my life better.

    On another page (112), Kondo tells me to routinely put all of my spare change in my wallet and nowhere else. That’s ridiculous — why would I store my money in one place, allowing my sticky-fingered daughter to steal it all at once? No way, I’m cramming my money in the couch cushions where it belongs — my kids will have to work for their money.

    Rereading the book just confirmed that I must live on a different planet than Kondo. If I understand her correctly, folding my socks together like lumpy potatoes is depriving them of a chance to rest (p. 81). I’m also failing my clothes because I don’t run my hands over my shirts and pants while I’m folding them to transmit positive energy and make them feel appreciated (p 73). I’m pretty sure that my clothes aren’t alive. You know what’s alive? The three children that are destroying the house while I tell my pants about my day.

    Then, at the end, the book gets down right depressing as Kondo talks about her childhood:

    “Because I was poor at developing bonds of trust with people, I had an unusually strong attachment to things. … It was material things and my house that taught me to appreciate unconditional love first, not my parents or friends. (p. 180)”

    This is the point of the book where we all awkwardly look at the ground, desperate to avoid eye contact. Hey, what’s that over there? A stray sock? Thank goodness! Let me put this book away and roll that up like a cinnamon bun! Oh that quirky Kondo, isn’t she charming?

    All that being said, there are a few memorable pieces of advice in this book that have made a noticeable change in our home — advice that made the book worth reading (twice).

    My Favourite Decluttering Tips from the KonMari Method

    (1) Designate a spot for everything.

    So much of my clutter will always be clutter because it doesn’t have a designated place of its own. Now if something doesn’t have a home, it doesn’t stay in mine.

    Until last this summer, our vacuum didn’t have a home and so it was always in the living room or the middle of the hallway or the bedrooms. Always in the way. And since I can’t live without a vacuum, I had to find it a home. Same with our brooms and our floor mop. I reconfigured the hallway closet, and now those things have a place where they belong and we’re not constantly tripping over them.

    Children’s artwork, chalkboard chalk, river rocks, stray lego pieces, etc, etc — they all have a home now. It’s made a huge difference.

    (2) Store your shoes in your bedroom closet rather than at the front door.

    I’m pretty sure I laughed out loud when I first read this. Can you imagine kids trudging through the house in their muddy shoes, and then kicking them into their carpeted bedroom closets? Actually, that would never happen, given that I can’t even get my kids to put their shoes in the closet that’s six feet from the front door.

    However. After I finished my condescending chuckle, I realized that there are a LOT of shoes in my front closet that I don’t wear that often. Rain boots, for one. My nicer sandals. My older flip flops. Possibly my running shoes, but I’m not ready to admit that yet.

    Once I realized that there is no reason that these “sometimes” shoes need to take up space in the front closet, I moved them to the bedroom closet. Inspired by the immediate difference that made, I moved the jackets that we rarely use to the bedroom closets as well. It’s not like it ever rains this year, so why waste hangers in a cramped hallway closet for rain coats? I can just pull them out if my rain dances under the full moon ever actually work. Hey, don’t say I don’t do my part for the farmers.

    (3) Does it spark joy?

    I have mixed feelings on this piece of advice, actually. I understand what Kondo is saying. Everyone has a couple shirts that they love, right? Well, why not just keep the few items that you absolutely love and discard the rest. Then, no matter what you wear, you’ll feel like a million bucks.

    But it turns out that it’s easy to take this too far. It took me awhile, but finally, I got rid of all the clothes that I hated — horribly clingy or tight or worn out things that I bought before I had my three kids. I was a decluttering MACHINE. But then we had an unexpected visit to a funeral home a couple weeks ago and I discovered that have nothing even remotely formal left. I ended up choosing a long casual cotton skirt and a tank top, and then I tried to hide the whole underwhelming ensemble by wearing an overtired toddler in an elegant ring sling on my front. It didn’t really work. My one-year-old was not aware that he was a key part of the ensemble.

    I love the idea of a trendy 33-item capsule wardrobe made up of only items that I love, but I’m actually going to have to buy clothes to get there, and I believe that I will require another book for that. If anyone finds something along the lines of The Life-Changing Magic of Finding Clothes that Fit, please let me know.

    (4) Don’t feel obligated to keep something because it was a gift.

    The purpose of a gift is to be received and then the gift’s job is done. This is advice that I’ve read in several different books but I still have a hard time accepting. I just feel so GUILTY when I donate something that was given to me by a friend or a family member. Until this summer, we still had 13-year-old wedding gifts — unused — stored in our garage. I finally cleared them out along with many other things that were given to us over the years. I have to believe that everyone who gave us gifts over the years wants us to be happy and healthy and will therefore understand when something needs to be passed on to another family. I think. I’ve decided not to consult any of those people first. It’s probably for the best.

    Once I was able to part with those things, I was able to tackle other sentimental clutter with a surprising efficiency. Photographs of people I barely recognize from my childhood. Old hideous craft projects that I’ve been hanging on to because I did them with my beloved grandmother. Souvenirs from places that I can’t even remember the names of. It’s all gone and it made a HUGE difference.

    It’s true that decluttering is addictive. Seeing how much cleaner and lighter my house feels makes me want to purge more and more. Yet when I walk through our rooms, I can’t even remember what I’ve gotten rid of anymore.

    I still need to tackle my basement and my garage. We’ve done a lot already, but we could do so much more. I’m not up to reading The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up a third time, so I’m looking for new inspiration. What have been your favourite decluttering resources? Leave a comment here or on Facebook and let me know!

  • Two Wiksten Tanks

    About a month ago, as I was preparing for our annual homeschooler camping trip, I realized that I didn’t have a single linen dress to wear by the campfire — so naturally I stayed up late into the night to sew one. Instead of doing practical things, like packing. Or sleeping.

    Personally, I feel like this is progress for me. Last year I spent the day before our camping trip baking all of our hot dog buns from scratch, but this year I just bought them at the store like the rest of humanity. And I even left my feta cheese at home after a quick lecture from my dad over Twitter:

    Sorry there’s no way a real camper would bring feta. Cheddar sure. Mozza maybe, feta no. Turn in your tent.

    Whoa, he’s tough. Good thing I didn’t consult him on my wardrobe.

    Practicality (or lack thereof) aside, I am delighted with the dress. It turned out so well, by far my favourite thing I’ve ever sewed. I used a navy blue linen that I bought at 50% off at Fabricland (still $20/m – gulp!) and I chose the very simple Wiksten tank pattern  in the “dress” length after seeing some gorgeous pictures of it on Pinterest (you can find some of them on this board).

    My fellow mediocre sewers, listen up: this pattern was so, so easy to do. It also taught me how to sew french seams which are both easy and elegant and now I feel like I might never use my serger again.

    I only needed to cut out five pieces — six if you choose to include the small pocket — and then stitch the dress together. The pattern was so simple that I was able to raise the neckline and take in the sides for a better fit — no small feat for a beginner. Everything came together so beautifully and I was determined to finish it in time for our trip. As I worked the neckline at about 1:00am, I marvelled at the simple beauty of a plain linen dress, and then I realized that I’ve officially turned into my mother.

    Huh.

    Even so, I loved that tank. Not too tight but not too baggy. Just the right length for leggings and jeans. The dress made me feel pretty. I wore it over and over and over for the next two weeks.

    And then I threw it away.

    Not on purpose, mind you. Actually, I have no proof that I threw the dress away, beyond the fact that it’s not anywhere in my house. It’s also possible that I donated the dress to charity during one of my crazy purges — I’ve had a lot of those this month. There’s also a good chance that my one-year-old “helped” me by sticking the dress in the trash, just like he keeps “cleaning” my phone right into in the recycling bin. All I know for sure is that my dress is gone.

    Once I passed through all seven stages of grief, I decided to make another one — except this one is bright pink instead of navy blue. It’s not a colour I usually buy but it was on sale for about $6 or $7 per metre — and when linen is 80% off, you buy it all and maybe a bottle of fabric dye. Turned out nice, didn’t it?

    This time I made the dress in a smaller size, though I still found the neckline too low and ended up resewing the straps to bring it up a bit. And then, because I needed to find away to camouflage the blinding pink colour, I added some epic pockets to the sides. I don’t know about you, but I don’t even see pink anymore. I just see awesome pockets.

    I saw this meme on both Twitter and Facebook a month or two ago:

    Me: *wears a dress that has pockets*
    Person: “I like your dress”
    Me: “thanks, it has pockets!!!”

    It’s funny because it’s true.

    I’m so excited to make a few more and literally double my summer wardrobe. My next Wiksten will be in black linen and I’ll probably do it a size bigger again so that I can layer it over shirts in the fall and winter. I’d also like to do one with more of a racer back — I have a beautiful robin’s egg blue linen that will look hideous on me, but the colour is oh-so-pretty that I’m going to use it anyway. Oh, and I’ve got the most gorgeous lightweight cotton that’s been stashed away in my dresser for a year that would work perfectly – maybe with a bit of an elastic waistline added?

    Hopefully I can knock off a few this week. Maybe I need to book another camping trip for motivation.

    This post has been shared on the following link-ups:
    The Art of Home-Making Mondays • Monday’s Musings • Making Your Home Sing Monday

  • A Recipe for Easy Gluten-Free Waffles

    Waffles. I think they’re pretty much the best invention ever. And for some reason, they taste even better on a Sunday afternoon.

    I love that waffles are quick and easy to make but still feel completely decadent, especially when you complete them with real maple syrup, fresh fruit and homemade whipped cream. Last week I topped my waffles with sliced nectarines; the week before it was blueberries — or was it raspberries from the garden? It’s so hard to keep track of my gluttony.

    Gluten-Free Waffles

    We’ve been making waffles weekly for years now — well before we switched my eight-year-old to a gluten-free diet. I thought at first we would have to give up waffles for good, but to our surprise, gluten-free waffles are just as easy to make and every bit as delicious as wheat flour ones.

    We use Bob’s Red Mill Gluten-Free All Purpose Baking Flour almost exclusively. It just works for us. We’ve experimented with other flour blends — both homemade and store-bought — but I keep coming back to this mix for a few different reasons:

    • it’s easy to find at a variety of stores;
    • it can replace regular flour at a 1:1 ratio;
    • it tastes great when it’s properly baked; and
    • it doesn’t include rice flour as an ingredient (something I worry about using too much, given that rice can contain arsenic.

    For some reason, a few of my gluten-free friends do not share my love of this flour. They complain about a strong bean flavour, but I only ever get that yucky taste when the baked goods are underdone. The key is to bake everything until it’s golden brown — oh, and do not eat the cookie dough raw.  You’ve been warned.

    We use Bob’s Red Mill Gluten-Free All Purpose Baking Flour in gluten-free waffles, pancakes, cookies, cakes, brownies, breads, tooth-free biscotti, muffins and loaves. And we have never gotten a complaint from anyone, whether they usually eat gluten-free or not. But then again, my husband is a pretty talented baker.

    Me? I’m more of an utilitarian baker. I can’t be bothered to pre-chill mixing bowls or sift the flour or do any of the things that my husband swears by. He calls it “love”; I call it “a ridiculous waste of time”. Yes, his baking turns out better — but mine turns out faster, and when you have three hungry kids that want to eat, fast beats fluffy, right?

    There are two waffle recipes that we like — my husband usually follows the fussier one and I usually pick the more simple one. Both are adapted from recipes found in the book Where’s Mom Now That I Need Her, which my husband received as a Christmas gift a couple years after we were married. (Ummm… thanks?)

    Despite the unfortunate title, I do love the recipe section. The recipes all pretty basic but surprisingly tasty — the kind of recipes you’d expect to find in your grandmother’s sauce-splattered recipe box or a church’s fundraising cookbook. And sometimes a basic recipe is exactly what you need.

    Like this waffle recipe…

    To make these easy gluten-free apple waffles, you will need the following:

    1 cupMilk
    2 tspLemon Juice
    1 cupBob’s Red Mill Gluten-Free All Purpose Baking Flour (or regular flour)
    1/2 tspXanthan Gum (not required if you use regular wheat flour)
    1 tspBaking Powder
    1/4 tspBaking Soda
    1/4 tspSalt
    1Egg, lightly beaten with a fork
    1Apple (medium-sized)
    Oil for greasing the waffle maker

    1. Combine the milk and lemon juice in a small bowl and let it sit for a few minutes so that the milk sours, making a faux buttermilk. Or I guess you could use real buttermilk, if you already have it in the house.

    2. Mix the dry ingredients in a medium-to-large bowl. Or enlist an adorable one-year-old to do the mixing for you. Feel free to take pictures because you can’t handle the cuteness.

    3. Shred your apple with a grater – I usually aim for somewhere between 1/2 to 1 cup. I always peel the apple first so that it disappears into the waffle batter better. Goodness knows my kids won’t eat something contaminated with an unidentified speck. They just don’t get that “rustic” vibe.

    4. Add the egg, the sour milk,and the shredded apple to the dry ingredients and mix. The recipe in the book calls for 2 tbsp of butter too, but melting butter  just crosses my laziness-threshold, so I skip it. Please don’t tell my husband.

    5. Before each waffle, you might want to grease the griddle, especially if your waffle maker is old and prone to sticking. I use a silicone pastry brush to paint olive oil across the surface. Careful though — it can splatter back at you. Stupid oil.

    6. Pour some batter into your waffle maker and let it cook. I set our waffle maker’s dial to the middle — low enough that the waffles are soft but high enough to ensure they’re cooked through.

    We have a new waffle maker that I don’t love, so I can only assume that it will last forever. Man, I miss our Belgium-style one though. Oh well. This guy is happy either way.

    Oh, they’re coming, darling, they’re coming. Let me make up some fresh whipped cream first in the Blendtec. Yeah, life is good.

    I wish I had a whole stack of these — you know, for photography purposes. I guess that’s what separates professional food bloggers from tired mothers that just got back from church with three cranky kids that WANT FOOD RIGHT NOW. Except that my kids suddenly don’t want them because “we had those last week”. Honestly, I don’t even know what to do with that. Did they even see the homemade whipped cream? “EW GET IT OFF MY PLATE!!” Yup, they saw the homemade whipped cream. Sigh.

    But your family will love them, I promise. Because waffles are amazing.

    Or just come to my house on a Sunday afternoon and eat them with me — I know my kids would be happy to share.

    This post has been shared at Thank Goodness It’s Monday at Nourishing Joy.

  • Why I Wouldn’t Let My Child Do A Ropes Course

    Thank you for visiting my blog! If you enjoy it, you might also enjoy Mom vs the Wasps, which is a fun post about facing my fears for the sake of my children. Well, mostly it’s about me running away from wasps.

    Do ropes courses teach our kids valuable life lessons?

    I sure hope not, because last week at the zoo, I refused to let my 8-year-old even attempt a ropes course. In my defence, there wasn’t enough time. We had already spent hours looking at the animals and playing in the splash pad and I had dinner plans back home. Nope, there would be no ropes course.

    Okay, to be honest, I never had any intention of letting her do the course anyway. Why would I want my sweet child precariously balanced 30 feet above my head?

    I’m terrified of heights. I’m the white-knuckled passenger on the airplane that screams with every bump. Flying? I don’t even like bridges. In fact, that day on the way home from the zoo, I refused to drive over the 131-foot-high skyway and I drove around looking for some sort of lift bridge instead. Sure, it made us super late, but I thought with a little luck, we’d get to see an enormous ship sail past. Who doesn’t love ships? They let people travel at sea level, where we belong.

    Apparently, my daughter doesn’t share my love of the ground. She wanted to do the rope course, 30 feet up in the air.

    I have personal experience with rope course obstacles that are 30 feet in the air. I did a rope challenge when I was a teenager and I can assure you that I learned nothing. Zero character development whatsoever.

    It was at camp with my church youth group sometime back in the 90s. These were the good old days where we could cross from Canada to the US without even photo ID, though it baffles me that we would leave our free healthcare behind. Especially when we did terrifying ropes courses and played games like dodgeball with frisbees, which is every bit as painful as it sounds.

    I loved my youth group. I thought the people in it were so cool – much, much cooler than I was. I really wanted to impress them, and one boy in particular. Of course.

    On the morning of the ropes course, we were all sitting in the dining room eating our breakfast and I overheard my crush talking about the course finale: the Leap of Faith. He was listing the handful of girls that planned to try it and he sounded impressed. That was all the motivation I needed; I decided to do the jump.

    What is the Leap of Faith? Imagine walking through a forest and finding a tall tree with all the branches cut off, except for stubs left behind to act as footholds. Halfway up the tree, the branch stubs are replaced by staggered metal brackets. At the top, the tree trunk is cut clean off, leaving a small flat surface to stand on. A trapeze bar is suspended a few feet away — your goal is to jump from the tree and catch it.

    Crazy, right? And I was going to do it. To impress a boy.

    One by one, kids in my youth group did the jump. Some of them caught the trapeze bar with ease. Some of them touched it but didn’t get a good grip. They all seemed to be having fun, unconcerned with things like gravity laws or basic common sense.

    I was one of the last people to go — probably because I was terrified. By the time my jump came, at least half of the group had gone back to the lake to cool off, but there were still a handful of people left to cheer me on as I triumphantly jumped my way into a cute boy’s heart. Or to watch me fail spectacularly.

    I put on my safety harness and I started the climb up, up, up. About halfway to the top, I felt queasy.

    Don’t look down, don’t look down.

    I kept going, all the way up. I struggled to manoeuvre onto the top of the tree. Why did it look so much easier for everyone else? Gripping the brackets tightly, and I moved my knees up onto the tiny platform so that I was kneeling. Then I forced myself to let go of the brackets.

    Don’t look down, don’t look down.

    I lifted one knee up and placed my foot down in its spot. Then I lifted my second knee up and put my other foot down. I made myself stand.

    I vividly remember that my toes were hanging over the edge because the surface of the tree top was so small. Actually, for years I’ve assumed that I exaggerated the experience in my mind. We weren’t possibly that high. It couldn’t be that narrow. Then I found this photo here on an abandoned blog — there are a couple more on this post. Again – this is in the US where hospitals cost money.

    I stood there on that tree, 30 feet in the air. I was dizzy. I was terrified. I wondered how on earth I was going to get back down. People were cheering for me from the ground but they were just background noise, muffled by the blood pounding in my ears. I didn’t care about being cool anymore; I just cared about being on the ground. And not peeing my pants in the process. I briefly considered climbing back down but I was 100% sure that I would fall flat on my face if I tried.

    So I jumped.

    Well, jumped is a bit of a stretch. I fell forward with my arms halfheartedly stretched out in front of me so that it would look like I was trying to catch trapeze bar. I didn’t even touch it. The rope caught me and I was lowered gently to the sweet, sweet ground where I belong.

    And it was done. I looked around for the boy that I wanted to impress but he wasn’t there. He never saw my jump. Apparently, he was crushing on some other girl, a pretty older girl who had the good sense to ditch the rope course and tan by the lake instead. I walked my pasty-white self back to my cabin alone.

    The only life lesson that I learned that day was that you shouldn’t jump off a tree to impress a boy, but to be honest, that’s not a situation that comes up very often. I suppose I could have worked out some greater lessons about peer pressure or being true to yourself, but I didn’t dig that deep. I just swore off rope courses.

    Until now, that is.

    I saw the look on my daughter’s face when I dragged her away from the ropes course and I realized that my fears were holding her back. I need to stop that. I want my children to ride roller coasters and try zip lines and drive over skyways while I hyperventilate in the passenger seat. I can’t let my fears rule their lives.

    So I suppose we’ll be heading back to the rope course at some point this year so that she can give it a try. She needs to face her fears. Just as soon as I work on mine.



  • How to Stop Feeling Like the Family Chauffeur

    Do you sometimes feel like the family chauffeur? Yeah, me too. But I’ve found a way to get rid of that feeling…

    The year-end dance recital was last Saturday, so like moms everywhere, my week was a blur of rehearsals, sequins, makeup, and hairspray. And that was just me.

    That’s right, I danced.

    On stage, in front of hundreds of people, I stumbled across the stage in a sparkly Irish dress that was used in a dance competition some 20 years ago. My hair was styled with a simple braid across the top of my head, which really let each and every grey hair stand out. My make up mostly consisted of red lipstick that we found stashed in the bottom of a purse that my mother-in-law passed down to River last year.

    AND THE DRESS?

    Here’s the costume. I think I looked like some kind of a mash-up between an Irish dancer and a high school cheerleader, with a touch of the Joker from Batman thrown in. After he’s been hit by a sparkle truck. Incidentally, I went to the high school where the recital was, and my clothes fit me just as bad back then too. Sadly, that was the year where I was still trying to look good in clothes — the year before I realized that Grunge was the answer to every insecure teen’s fashion troubles.

    irishdress

    My kids and I go to a dance studio that offers inexpensive dance classes — I’m talking $2/class/week — for the entire family, all at the same time. That means that in one giant, chaotic gym, you will find a creative movement class for toddlers, a Zumba class for adults, a hip hop class for teenagers, and a ballet class for younger kids. And my class — adult’s Irish dance.

    It’s crazy and loud and the music is all mixed together; I think I’ve practised my Irish two-hand to a Britney Spears medley more often than to a traditional Irish song. Regardless, I love that when I’m doing my class, my five-year-old Harbour is 20 feet away doing ballet while my eight-year-old River is upstairs doing tap and my one-year-old is so overwhelmed by the sensory overload that he just sits like a zombie and stares at it all for the 45 minutes until I’m done.

    Then Harbour heads across the gym to Acro and River switches to Irish and I take the toddler into the hallway where I sit with a friend and consume twice the amount of calories that I just burned off in the form of Coke bottle gummies.

    It’s actually a pretty great way to spend the evening.

    Last year, River was the only one of us to take a class. I peeked into the adult class a few times — a friend was in it — but I knew that it wasn’t for me. I have two left feet. Well, two left flippers would probably be more accurate. But then, at last year’s recital when I saw this big group of adults having a blast on stage, regardless of their age or skill level, I decided to sign up for a class. I figured that I could dance at the back of the group if I was terrible, right?

    Nope.

    I was to dance a two-hand with my friend, which made “hiding at the back of the group” as planned much more tricky. Well, impossible really. The two of us went on stage. My friend gave me the “start dancing now” squeeze because I can’t keep time to save my life, and then we danced our short dance and I managed not to fall flat on my face. I’m pretty sure that I started on the wrong foot once or twice, but between my big white sparkly skirt and my friend’s big orange sparkly skirt, I couldn’t see our feet to check. Probably for the best. Thankfully, my friend is such a skilled dancer that she was able to move us around the stage easily.

    And then we were finished. We 1-2-3’d to the back of the stage, where River was waiting to start her 3-hand dance with the son of my dance partner and the daughter of my coke-bottle-candy-enabling friend.

    I could never have predicted that I’d be prancing around on a stage along with my kids in a dance recital at the age of 36. But it was so much fun — way more fun than the years that River took lessons and I waited in the hallway with her younger siblings.

    This year, I was a participant instead of a chauffeur. And it made all the difference. It turned dance night into a fun night rather than a hassle.

    I’ve found that as a mom — especially as a homeschooling mom — it’s far too easy to be sucked into the role of chauffeur, and the lessons and appointments and activities just become stressful. Life gets wrapped up in schedules: who needs to be picked up, who needs to be dropped off, who should be napping right now? (Usually me.)

    I used to think it was all just a part of parenting. When I first thought about only choosing extra-curricular activities that offered me something as well, I felt really selfish. Yet just last year, I had a talk with River about picking activities that were fun for Harbour too. After all, it wasn’t fair that my middle child had to be dragged around to all sorts of different activities that she wasn’t even participating in, right? And I didn’t feel guilty at all. Actually, I remember feeling really good about teaching my daughter empathy. So why is it any different if I steer my children towards activities that I can participate in as well?

    There are other benefits beyond my own enjoyment to doing things together. I like that on dance night when Harbour is doing her ballet class, she can look across the gym and see me practising some tricky Irish steps. Well, tricky for me, at least. It’s probably good for her to see me mess up over and over. And over. She sees that I’m still having fun. She sees that I’m working hard to learn a new skill. She sees a whole bunch of adults that have decided to keep on learning, regardless of their age. That’s a pretty great thing for a five-year-old to absorb week after week.

    I wish there were more family-oriented activities, like family karate class or family yoga or family ukulele lessons. Family pottery mornings? We’d sign up! Well, no we wouldn’t because we’re barely functional before noon, but we’d be reluctant when we said no.

    As you plan your summer, you might find that your weeks are less stressful if you make a point of choosing activities that your entire family will enjoy. And no, that doesn’t mean you have to do the activities yourself, just that you’ll enjoy them. Maybe your daughter likes t-ball the best, but soccer will let all your kids participate at the same time AND there’s a Starbucks drive-thru on the way there. A mocha, some shady trees and a good book? I’d go for that.

    Whatever activities you pick, the key is to consider your entire family — including yourself. I don’t think it’s wrong to tell a child that they can’t go to a camp or a weekly lesson because it will inconvenience the rest of the family. In fact, I believe that it’s teaching my kids a community mindset. In theory. Honestly, it’s still really hard for me to say no.

    But I’m trying my best. I keep telling myself that we can always sign up another year if we want, right? After all, “no” can mean “not right now” instead of “not ever”. Who knows? No could even mean: “not until you’re 36.”

    I've found that as a mom -- especially as a homeschooling mom -- it's far too easy to be sucked into the role of chauffeur, and the lessons and appointments and activities just become stressful. Life gets wrapped up in schedules: who needs to be picked up, who needs to be dropped off, who should be napping right now? (Usually me.)

  • When You Can’t Find Your Child

    This post first appeared on the Huffington Post Canada:
    To Those Judging The Mom Of The 4-Year-Old Boy At The Cincinnati Zoo

    You will lose track of your kids at some point. Maybe for a moment, maybe for an hour. It does not matter how carefully you watch them. And I think that it’s the worst when your kids are about four years old.

    At four, my middle child saw life as a giant hide-and-go seek game to be played with gusto. I still remember the relief I felt when a security guard brought her back to me after I lost her at the Royal Botanical Gardens. She wasn’t lost, she was hiding behind a big plant — and her gleeful snickering gave her away.

    Four-year-olds. They find trouble where ever they go.

    On Saturday, I heard the story of a four-year-old boy who fell into a gorilla enclosure at the Cincinnati Zoo. A 400-pound-plus gorilla took the boy — gently at first but then more aggressively as he became agitated by the noise made by panicked spectators. After about 10 minutes, the zoo’s dangerous animal response team shot and killed the gorilla in order to save the little boy’s life.

    I have nothing but sympathy for the poor mother, so I was stunned to read comment after comment on Facebook condemning her for not keeping her son safe. What? How could she have anticipated that? Who would think a child could be capable of getting anywhere near a gorilla at a zoo? And any parent can tell you that when it comes to escaping your watchful eye, Houdini had nothing on a typical four-year-old.

    Or any kid, for that matter. Even my oldest child has gotten lost a few times, as cautious as she is. Last year, I lost her at the Royal Ontario Museum. She was seven at the time, and a very careful, responsible girl. We were waiting in an elevator lobby. When the elevator door opened, there was suddenly a crush of people all needing to go different ways. I couldn’t navigate my stroller through the crowd but my oldest had no trouble darting through the people. She was the only one on the elevator when the door began to close. I saw the fear in her eyes as she watched me struggle to get through to her. Then she was gone.

    There were no numbers above the doors to indicate if the elevator went up or down. I looked around for a set of stairs, thinking that if I ran fast enough I could catch up with her — not likely with two kids in my arms. I was in tears and I didn’t know what to do. My four-year-old sensed that I was distracted and, being four and full of mischief, tried to run away and hide, already laughing with delight. I quickly grabbed her by the arm and sat her down on the ground beside the baby.

    “Don’t move!” I barked.

    I felt like the room was spinning. I had to think. Should I go downstairs with the kids to see if she got off the elevator? What if she stayed on and was on her way back? What if she had gone upstairs instead of down? My four-year-old jumped up to run away again.

    I roughly sat her back down on the ground again and yelled, “DON’T MOVE!!”

    From behind me, I heard some people muttering about my less-than-stellar parenting skills. Another person quietly replied that I had just lost my child on the elevator. I spun around to see a whole group of people just watching me. No one offered to help. I pointed at a random person and yelled for him to run downstairs and see if my daughter was waiting for me on the main floor. As he turned to go the elevator doors opened again and we all turned to look inside. It became strangely quiet.

    Nobody got off. We just looked at the passengers and they looked back at us. After a moment, I asked if anyone had seen an unattended girl on the elevator. A woman replied that oh yes, the girl was quite upset; she was waiting with a security guard downstairs.

    For the life of me, I can’t understand why no one shared this information the second the doors opened to reveal me and my panicky, tear-stained face. My kids and I grabbed the next elevator down to the main floor. We saw my daughter immediately –she ran into my arms and we both cried some more and the security guard who found her came over to tell me that I really must try to watch my kids, as if this whole parenting-thing was new to me. I thanked him for his advice. I am Canadian, after all.

    These days, each time we take an elevator, my kids and I rehearse what we’ll do if we ever get separated again. As a parent, I do everything I can to protect and prepare my children, but I know that I can’t see everything coming. Elevators aren’t a part of our everyday lives, so it never occurred to me to have an elevator drill before that trip to the ROM.

    We also don’t have a gorilla-escaping protocol either — that would definitely fall under “unexpected”. That’s why it’s so important that we as parents and people in general all band together when the unexpected happens. There is no need to judge — all kids get away from us at some point. Some more dramatically than others.

    To the mother of the four-year-old boy at the Cincinnati Zoo: I heard you call out “Mommy loves you” so calmly while I was about to fall to pieces just watching the video. You’re the kind of mom that I want in my village when I have a crisis. And as a fellow mom of two past four-year-olds and one future four-year-old: I’m so glad your little boy is safe.

    My kids have wandered off - it happens. And it's not the mark of a bad mother.