The One in Which I Torture Myself.

I still have that whole education dilemma rattling around in my head. Although, really, violently clanging would be a more accurate description at this point.

When we last left this discussion, Casey was going to turn five, and I was deciding whether to home school or enroll him in Kindergarten. My primary concern was that, with his Fall birthday, he would be almost six when it came time to start public school. And I had no interest in delaying his education until he turned six. Which is why I was considering home school.

So an indecision was made. Which is to say that I decided I wanted to home school Kindergarten when he turned five, then see what happened from there. But then I never actually went out and bought the curriculum, or did anything to formally begin his home schooling.

Except. Well. Education is kind of in my blood. So even though we haven't developed a formal structured schedule of any sort, I've still actually managed to teach him all year. And it turns out, we're pretty well done with Kindergarten and are treading into First Grade territory at this point.

So my quandary now isn't whether to home school, because between him expressing an interest in attending school and me working at home with three other kids, home school just isn't on my radar as something I could handle without completely going batshit crazy.

My current dilemma is whether to put him in Kindergarten with kids his own age and hope he's not bored (and) or an arrogant brat. Or, try to get him accelerated into First Grade. Also. ALSO. Our school zones may be switched up. So, do I start making headway with the administration at our current school only to have all my work be for naught when we end up at a different school, or do I wait (possibly until it's too late) to see where we are ultimately zoned.

By the by, Kindergarten registration is in two weeks.

AND. To add to the madness that is going on in my brain, I was introduced a charter school near our house today. I had written it off, thinking it was brand new and listening to my sister's sage advice about steering clear of recently established charter schools. Until I met a mom on the playground this afternoon (and of course, by playground, I mean McDonald's) who raved about this charter school. Turns out it's actually been around for quite a while, just a brand spanking new building for what appears to be an amazing well established charter school. You know, because I need *another* option to add to my repertoire of impossible decisions to be made.

I filled out an application to submit in the morning. Also, I wrote a letter to administration about my ridiculous problem of accidentally over-educating my child. But, even if they give me all the right and perfect answers, it's still a lottery to get in. And, winning lotteries is not my strong point.

So, basically, may I please have a glass of wine and a padded room? Because making decisions on behalf of other people, you know, more specifically, decisions that will lay the groundwork for the absolute rest of their lives, as in forever and ever AMEN, is epically harder than making decisions about my own.

Which is probably why I am so unbelievably bad at picking baby names and always resort to stealing someone else's.

I need my Mommy.

Wah.

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Once Upon a Time I Was Afraid of Taking Two Kids to the Zoo.

Sometimes I get stuck in the thick of parenting. All I can hear is the whining, and all I see are the hands of the clock moving too slowly toward bedtime. I hate myself in these moments, and yet they are unavoidable. The time eventually does pass, and I feel infinitely guilty. I was too harsh. Too impatient. Too mean. It weighs like an elephant on my chest when we have a tough day.

All I can do is promise to be better. Try harder. LOVE harder.

And go to the zoo so much more.

p.s. Remember when I was afraid of two kids at the zoo? And then three?

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Without Bounds.

If we're being honest, which, of course we are, let's agree that parenting is difficult. It's constant and relentless. But perhaps the part that took me most by surprise is how stifling it is. Once free to carry out our hearts desires on a whim, we are now chained to afternoon naps, three square meals and bedtimes before sundown.

The trappings of children are grand and all encompassing. There are no breaks. And so, we must adapt and refocus a bit to bring ourselves wholly into this new perspective. This new life.

I hope my children will embrace each moment. I hope they will travel far and wide while they can, and seek local adventure when they cannot. I hope they will continue to see the beauty in sunsets, impromptu picnics and jet planes. Even the ones we're not on.

“Spontaneity is the quality of being able to do something just
because you feel like it at the moment, of trusting your instincts, of
taking yourself by surprise and snatching from the clutches of your
well-organized routine, a bit of unscheduled pleasure.”

~Author Unknown

[More quotes here.]

Moving Onward.

The procedure went very well. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who expressed their support. We still don't have an answer for why after a year of making like rabbits, there are no babies, but the scary stuff and the stuff that requires surgery has been ruled out.

Big exhale.

Next step is Clomid. Wesley is secretly (desperately) hoping for less than three babies. I am secretly (not so desperately) hoping for two.

Because Occassionally You Just Need to Feel in Control of Something.

The evening before the last day of school each year (sometimes even the morning of the last day) I would slink into my mom's room and ask her to cut my hair. Not trim. Cut. Surely she thought I was crazy, but every year my mom obliged.

I've made no secret of my want for more children, or our lack of success in that department. When we passed the requisite six months of trying, my doctor said to give it a little more time. Which made complete sense. I was still breastfeeding and even though it took us a long time to get our first born, conception was never the issue. I mean I practically have Irish triplets so clearly I know how to breed. Right?

Except, then another six months passed. So I trudged back to the doctor, who agreed it was probably worth checking out. My blood work came back normal and Wesley's swimmers are in tip top shape, but they did see something funky on my ultrasound. "Probably endometriosis." "Probably nothing to worry about."

Friday morning I go in for a hysteroscopy to get a closer look at the goods. It's "probably nothing to worry about." And yet, like any other red blooded woman would, I do. There's a big looming question mark in my life.

Tomorrow feels a lot like the last day of school.

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On a lighter note, I'm talking about my 45 minute, nearly-ready philosophy on life
at Smithfield. I've even included a recipe! Do be a doll and pop on over? Puh-lease.

The One in Which I Torture My Oldest Child.

We are currently undecided on the question of school. I have nothing against public (or private) education. My husband and I are both products of the Florida public school system and, despite all the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad things you may have heard about it, we turned out just fine. Pretty darn well, in fact.

When we purchased our home, one of the big perks was that it's situated in a hotbed of fantastic! public! schools! No matter how the boundary lines are redrawn, our kids will be okay. Phew. But as we get closer to enrollment time (Casey turns five this year. FIVE!), I find myself not completely committed to the idea of sending our kids to school.

Reason 1: Casey turns five this year. But he misses the cut off for kindergarten because he has a late birthday, which means he will be nearly six before he begins school. To me, this is a wasted year.

Reason 2: Hubsy and I are smart. Not to sound like a brat or anything, but between my law degree and Wesley's engineering degree, I'm pretty sure we can cover all the subjects. And if we need help? My dad is a surgeon and my sister is... a teacher.

Reason 3: We are self employed. As a result, we maintain very unorthodox schedules. So, it would be nice to have the flexibility with our children to take days off in the middle of the week when things happen to be slow. Or as they get older, to vacation and work remotely for long periods without worrying about attendance.

Reason 4: Politics. School curricula are directly influenced by politics. Especially the politics of Texas. Seriously, look it up. Avoiding all that nonsense would be fab.

Reason 5: Efficiency. The amount learned in a seven hour school day can be boiled down to about four hours at home. Why? Because of administration. Completely and totally necessary administration, mind you. But it's there, and it's a timesuck.

Reason 6: Resources. The homeschooling resources available now are incredible. And, I'm not just talking about the internet. I mean the clubs and the groups and the face-to-face, people-to-people, your-kid-will-not-be-socially-awkward resources.

Reason 7: Because I know, personally, several wonderful people who have been, or currently are, part of the homeschooling culture and they are all perfectly well rounded smart and respectable individuals.

But then, the question remains... do I really want to spend that much time with my kids?

You May Have Noticed That This Blog Is Just a Big Sappy Love Bomb.

I wonder if the gushy, lovey, my-family-is-beautiful-and-perfect tone of this site is a turn off for some people. I mean if we're being honest, sometimes it makes me gag a little. Truly, though, life is not perfect. I am blessed, to be sure. But it doesn't mean we're without the runny noses, tantrums, budgets, piles of dirty laundry and sleepless nights that are an integral part of parenthood. Seriously, each of the pictures in this post were either prefaced or followed by a Major Screaming Fit of Doom.

That being said, I am making a choice. My choice is to document for posterity our happiness and joy. Even if they're a little bit forced. Surely, sometimes I will digress, but mostly I want to remember that even when we are in the weeds (and trust me, we are in the weeds), there is good. We are good.

Great, even.

Tired Doesn't Even Begin to Describe My Post-Blissdom Fatigue. But, It's a Good Tired. Really.

Flying scares me (a lot), so my lovely mother was kind enough to come along with me to Nashville. She hates flying too, but at least she's more practiced at it than I am. And, it's better to be scared together than scared alone. Right?

Mom brought her best friend, Joan, along. They have this (not so) cool trick where they harmonize their snoring. It's kind of like finishing each others sentences, but while sleeping. Joan is really cool peeps. We may or may not have teased my mom (a lot). That makes her okay in my book.

Despite my (totally and completely rational) fear of flying, I still think the view from our window was beautiful. Maybe moreso considering the anxiety it provokes just to look at it.

SNOW!!! I adore cold weather and snow. Unfortunately, it was gone by morning so I never got to play in it. Still, the sight of a real winter was nice.

On our first night (Wednesday) I was assigned to arm bands and drink tickets at the kick-off party. It was a nice gig because I was able to familiarize myself with names and faces without being all weird and stalkerish. Also, Malia kept me company, and she brought The Awesome.

And, by 'The Awesome,' I totally meant alcohol. Specifically, the Blissdom Blossom, which tasted like fruit punch. Mmmmmm. Not that Malia isn't awesome, because of course she is.

In the morning, Linney and I (okay, mostly Linney) gathered the tribes for a pow-wow before opening keynote. It was fun to finally identify in person all the ladies I've been emailing relentlessly over the past couple months.

I was feeling a teensy bit lonely and lost on the first day, so Wesley sent me hilarious pictures. He's a good guy like that. He also didn't complain at all about my jetting off for four days. Love him.

I also met cool new peeps like Amy (and Jana, and Alycia, and so many more), which meant I wasn't lonely and lost for long. Not long at all.

Fashion was kind of a big thing at Blissdom. I'm not so much good at the fashion. I brought one necklace and one pair of earrings. Also, I wore the same boots every. single. day. (And only brushed my hair once). But, I love my $19 clearance rack dress. So, whatevs.

This is Angela. She's my boss-lady at Blissfully Domestic. She brought two of her babies. I stole them as often as possible. They were unbelievably yummy. Wish they lived closer so I could love on them more often.

At the end of the conference, after the final keynote, Alli and Barbara were love bombed by a flash(dance)mob. It was pretty spectacular.

Saturday evening was Girls' Night In. I worked the door again, which gave me the opportunity to flirt with Chris Mann, and get hit on by some seminary students. Eventually I wandered in for pizza, karaoke and a few pretty ladies.

On Saturday morning during tribe meetings, I was finally able to spend some time with Jennifer, one of my first bloggy crushes. She's been a really great interweb friend over the last few years and I'm so glad we were able to meet in person. (Casey's photobombing us, I guess she thought it was a costume party or something).

I also met the amazingly talented (and tall!) Heather, who I've been harassing on Skype for the past several weeks. She is every bit as lovely in person as she is online. Which, by the by, is *very* lovely.

Before hitting the airport, Mom, Joan and I went to President Andrew Jackson's home and took a tour. I'm a little bit of a history nerd, so this was great. The property is quite expansive, so unfortunately we were not able to see the whole thing. How gorgeous is this fireplace, though? It's in the slave quarters. I feel a little guilty for liking it, but I just do.

Our flight home only had thirty passengers. I once read somewhere that full flights almost never crash so, even though it's probably totally bogus, I was completely freaked out. I made my poor mom sit next to me the whole time, even though there was plenty of room for each of us to have our own aisle. Sorry, Mom.

And as inspiring as my days at Blissdom were, I am so unbelievably pleased to be home with my little monkeys.