Learning At Home.

Maybe it's a little twee of me to say so (even though I've thought this one thoroughly through) but we decided a very long time ago that we'd home school our children. I can still remember questioning Bryan on this, to gauge his response first.

Me to Bryan: "What do you think of home schooling?"

Bryan: "I knew someone who was home schooled and they were a bit strange. If you were going to do it, you'd need to socialise A LOT."

Since then we've discovered a lot more about learning at home/home schooling. We've discovered children who are currently being home schooled, adults who were home schooled and parents who home school/ed. I've also discovered I don't want to do anything other than that, where it's possible. But sometimes I wonder if it's really what I want to sign up for, you know? It's a huge responsibility and while I have the education, intelligence, experience and common sense to back up my choice the responsibility of home schooling my child terrifies me from time to time.

If we were doing what a majority of people do in this area then Roman would be enrolled in nursery right now. I'm not confident of the nurseries in this area so he hasn't been enrolled. It's not mandatory and it's not even expected, it's just what people 'do.' I myself wasn't nursery educated, I went straight to school from home and I feel no negativity from that experience whatsoever. I know I'm me and that I can't simply justify my choices for Roman through my own life experiences but I'd rather have him here, playing and learning, than send him to a nursery with a sub-standard record. I've had various work experiences from nurseries and I can say one thing: what they do at home is no different to what they do in nursery - or rather the tasks I did with the nursery children is really no different to the activities I'm doing with Ro. The only difference seems to be numbers; more children, more adults, more social interaction. Not all of that is good or positive interaction but who wants their child to grow up in a bubble, right?

Well I spend a great deal of time researching various groups we can attend that will provide that social stimulus for Roman and now he's at an age where he can form friendships and have other children around for play times I feel it's important to be out there, making connections socially - for both of us.  

Today, however, was spent learning various letters and more specifically; the spelling of Roman's name. I tried in vain to get him to copy my r's (I even did a join-the-dots 'r' for him) but he wasn't interested and instead scribbled all over my writing ;). He had a lot more fun - and less frustrations - with the name train my mum bought him when he was a few months old. 

"Arrr," I'd say to him. "Arrrr!" he'd repeat back and so on until I could point at an individual letter and he'd tell me what it was. "And what does that spell?" I'd ask once he'd completed telling me each letter. "ROMAN! ATT'S MA NAME!" he squealed in delight then picked up the 'a' and told me, very happily, "Att's a 'eh'!" Now I know...some kids learn their alphabets before they hit 2 but Roman's strong points seem to be in numbers. He loves telling me the volume of things and he loves to count. We go through numbers every single day and I'm finding that it's improving my cloudy brain - numbers? Not my favourite. I deal better with words.  

Roman loves books, he loves learning about dinosaurs, meerkats, panda bears, he loves visual lessons where he can be very involved and included and he loves to help in everything we do. Today I realised I can let go of my huge fear of educating my child from our home because although it won't be easy and I'm sure I'll get stuff wrong I'm really looking forward to learning, changing and growing by his side. I'm excited.

Pirates.

Today I made the mistake of not locking the bathroom door while I used the toilet.

I don't normally lock it, unless I want privacy. Lately Roman has taken to coming into the toilet, pointing at me and saying, "ewww" in this fake American accent so I've started to lock myself in because, quite frankly, I don't enjoy being heckled while using the facilities ;). 

So today; in comes the little toddler and of course he says, "ewww" the minute he eyes me on the toilet. Today it wasn't such a pronounced eww I'm glad to report but that might have been due to the fact he was making a beeline for his pirates. I bought the pirates at the shop yesterday, they're just cheap foam pirates to stick on the tiles when he's in the bath, or failing that, on the tiles above the sink. 

Yesterday he got really annoyed at not being able to reach the tiles to stick them on so, of course, this was my fault and he proceeded to freak out at me; screaming, crying and moaning about the situation. "HELP! MUM! PIRATES! HELP!" I 'helped' as best I could but my best simply wasn't good enough - I was either too slow or not doing something the right way. He lost it. I declared an early bed time and this upset him even more. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" was his reply. "PIRATES!" at this point I was chastising my choice of 1. buying these stupid things, 2. letting him see them and 3. setting them up in the bathroom sink. Not smart, definitely not smart. I'd lost all my patience and good feeling by this point so I went to the living room and shouted through to Bryan, who was suffering with this mysterious illness we both now have, to take over. "I'm too annoyed with him. You need to step in." Previous to this I'd said to Roman two of the most horrible things I've caught myself saying to any child...and I feel so ashamed of myself!

1. You ruin everything.

It was my fault. I'm the adult and I should have had control over myself, and the situation. I should have planned for his mood to be going south (it was very near bedtime) and this kind of activity didn't suit that mood. It was silly of me, but I wasn't thinking straight because I was so ill and didn't want to just tell him no once he got the pirates out of the bottom of the buggy.

2. You're being a pest. 

While this might be true, it's not nice to say. There are better ways of saying it - or you know, just not saying it at all. Who does it help? That's what I need to ask myself. If the answer is 'no one' then my mouth is better shut and my energy conserved for better things.

Oh.my.goodness. I feel so low when I think about that today. I wasn't brave enough to mention any of this yesterday - and was on the cusp of this stupid illness that has completely thrown me today. I felt like a really awful mother yesterday because I was so tired, so done and nap time felt like it came and went so quickly - I wanted to cry when he woke up because I wasn't ready to face it all over again. I wanted my mum to take care of things, to just be there but I had to face my responsibility and it was an overwhelming task. 

So when he reached for the pirates today, right before having to go out, I prepared myself for what might happen next - an all out screaming and crying fest. Well, he was fine. He accepted he couldn't stick them onto the tiles himself, built a bridge and got over it. He was also very patient watching me stick them on, looking for pointers as to where he might be going wrong at sticking them up and attempted to stick them a few times without getting annoyed. "Mum, look! Juice!" he exclaimed, holding up a foam telescope that must have looked like a large bottle of juice to his two year old eyes. "Look!" he said, grabbing the next piece, "TREASURE!" and when we announced it was time to go out? Well he got down from his step, turned to wave at his pirates and said, "bye, pirates!" without any sign of upset or distress. 

I suppose these tasks are all about timing, getting things right and not purposely setting things up, but being spontaneous. About catching children mid-day/morning, when they are in a happier mood, and doing stuff with them then. We've done painting close to bed time, something I would do again but anything that involves me in the task; gardening, baking, playing at the sink is a no go. I've learned my lesson well, but only through gritted teeth, plus some trial and error ;).

Parenthood is not a hobby...

"Motherhood is not a hobby to be done in your spare time, it is what God gave you time for." 

- Elder Neil Andersen

Can't have said it better myself. Although would like to add that it can be applied to fatherhood, too, as there are a lot of fathers out there who simply think that by popping their head round the door a few times a week and then buying chocolate at the weekend qualifies them for fatherhood.

Of which I'd like to state that my husband isn't. He gets up with our son almost every morning, feeds him each and every meal, does nearly every nappy change, takes him out on adventures and then bathes and puts him to bed at night. He's a madman when it comes to childcare and I can't think I'd be doing all these tasks so graciously if it was me doing it all full time. 

Sometimes I hate being full time sick but being married to Bryan lightens that burden a lot. He can't invent a cure for me and sometimes doesn't always know what to say when I'm losing it and fed up of it all but he takes care of me and Ro - and does it in a way that involves zero complaints and little criticism. That to me is more than enough and doesn't even cover why I think he's the best husband in the World.

Yet he faces more criticism than praise in the World for his role and that's ridiculous - he is such a huge part of Roman's every day life and will essentially help to shape the man he becomes.

My own dad is a work horse. I can't think of many times where he wasn't working. But when he was with us, he was with us. Present. In that moment we were in. We'd always be involved in whatever he was doing and one time, when my mum was away with my oldest brother at camp, me and my sister convinced him that cookies and lemonade (a fizzy drink in the UK, not the flat American type) were our lunch-box staples. I suppose the balancing act of this deception was that he burned our dinner nearly every night. Karma is served - and very crispy it was, too.

My mum is a power house. Four kids all under 5 years old gives you some perspective on the situation. Both of my parents were always firm with us, but you always knew you were loved. I've known people who had strict upbringings and they didn't always feel loved. I did. There's a difference.

My mum also began home-schooling us (although you didn't call it that back then because 'home schooling' meant you were 'weird') through our school holidays. She called it 'Mummy School' and at first I dreaded the thought of this. We all took part and oddly enough really behaved ourselves. We'd do an hour before lunch and then an hour before dinner and it probably turned me into the grammar Nazi I am today. Part of this home-schooling was scripture study - on top of our family studies - and we'd take it in turns to read various verses of the Book of Mormon, getting through a chapter each night between the five of us.

This all sounds a little strange to you, right? Well to me it was home sweet home. Home sweet normality. And seeing as my brother had some troubles with his spelling and reading it was essential and instrumental in his development. And by having us all join in, it didn't single him out. 

I am so lucky and so glad I wasn't just a weird social experiment of my parents and that I wasn't an after thought or a hobby to them. That I was a real, living breathing individual with my own thoughts and feelings. And I am most grateful to my mum for the time she sacrificed in order to make our development accelerate.

I'm glad they took the time God gave them to be parents.