SIX!

Our May Day baby turned six this year, it is hard to believe.  She is such a vivid, spirited, and joyous girl.  The night she was born, and actually from the moment of her conception, she has filled the room, her presence is as intense as it is loving and as strong as it is sweet.

And as challenging as this makes some of the parenting of her, it is just as equally delightful to be around, I am so privileged to be her mother.

She is definitely growing into her big girl self and I find myself surprised by things like nail polish and unicorns and multiple changes of clothes a day.  I realize that I was once a little girl myself, but this house is so full of boys and this little girl is just as often a ninja as she is a princess that the truly girly stuff is just so noticeable.

And I find that as this girl grows up, I can’t help but worry about gender issues more with her than I do with her three brothers.  I am confident that they will grow into gentle, respectful, and kind men who thrive on both hard work and physical  play, creative pursuits and intellectual challenges.  Really, I feel pretty certain that this girl will grow up equally well balanced given our way of life and the fact that we don’t superimpose any preconceived notions about these things on them.  There is just this part of me that cringes when I see her checking herself in the mirror, giggling over boys and being in love (in the sweetest and most innocent six year old way that she is) and pretending at times to be a teenage girl on a date with her boyfriend–where does this stuff come from!

We were needing to walk around for a little while in Salem a few months ago on a rainy day and so we walked through the mall that was next door to where we were parked.  It was kind of a crazy day for us and we were definitely out of our comfort zone.  My sons tapped me as we walked past a Victoria’s Secret store with super large, super inappropriate posters hanging on the windows.  They were sure they should not be seeing that, and that was oh so true; but what killed me was that later that night, my daughter mentioned something about how beautiful those women were.  She says the same thing when she happens to see a model in some other magazine at the store or in a waiting room.  She is picking up ideas so quickly from even these brief encounters with modern media, and she is still so little.

And so that is why I worry, even if it is all perfectly natural.  The real women she knows in her life show her that there is a lot more to being a woman than being pretty.  We are intelligent and creative women who balance being mothers and wives and thoughtful individuals so well.  And her father models such a deep and appreciative love of me that goes so far beyond physical attraction I am sure she will learn well the kind of love she deserves.

And I realize that there is a natural part of all of the women I know that still likes to dress up and to feel pretty.

I know that really I worry too much.  It’s just that there is something so fragile about a young girl, even the strongest ones.  Young boys can be just as fragile too and are often misguided by the adults around them, it’s true.  I just think there is less media out there pigeonholing them; or maybe somehow my boys are just less aware of it?

In the end, I am thankful to see that our way of life adds layers of protection around my children that will hopefully last a lifetime.  That is all we can do, add those layers of love and goodness to their skin while they are young so that they are free to grow into themselves without too many chinks in their armor.

We are loving this little girl up as much as we can.

And she is full of goodness, so much goodness.

There have been two big changes on the farm this week.

The first is our new greenhouse–we were finally able to purchase the plastic and pull it on this week!!!  We are about two months behind our desired time frame on this since we were putting this together piece by piece with extra funds as we had them and using this nifty tool. In the end we kept the transplants intended for this space figuring they will still grow better and faster planted now than if we had planted them in the ground sooner.  So yesterday, the farmer cut out of market early and came home to start planting bok choys and spinach and arugula in there.  We will also put in cucumbers and tomatoes, as well as some eggplant and peppers.  We primarily want it for spring and I am sure it will come in handy for winter too, but throwing some of those heat loving summer crops inside there won’t hurt since they tend to ripen slowly in our temperate summer climate.

Finishing it up the day before the plastic arrived was a family affair and the next morning, the farmer even gently woke up our one late riser to go out and pull the plastic over the hoops before the wind came up.  Grandpa came over as well and even the cat and dog tagged along and did their bit by entertaining the baby.

We hope to put two more of these up throughout this summer so that we go into winter with three ready to go; but we’ll see if we reach that goal, just having this one finished feels really good.

It also feels strange.  If you’ve been with us for long, you may remember that we have always said we would never put one of these up.  We’ve written about it here and here, and mentioned here.  The farmer, especially, has always wanted to try something different.  But last summer we actually talked with a friend who farms about how long he leaves his plastic on (up to 10 years) and about it being recyclable and all of that seemed more reasonable than the assumptions we were running on.  We also went through two really late, cool, and wet springs that made it seem a necessary addition for keeping our business running smoothly and competitively.

We have often, since we began this farm, come around to doing things much differently than we imagined.  And that is ok and even good since it means we are continuing to learn and move forward and find ways to stand by what we feel is important and grow a lot of delicious, beautiful, and healthful food for our community.

The other big change that happened out here on the farm this week has nothing to do with farming,but in the same vein, it is quite a change from the way things have been.

I cut this sweet boy’s long baby curls off.

I have not been one to cut my kid’s hair much.  Both older boys had long and wild hair when they were young and the oldest chose to keep his quite long until just this past year.  I left our little girl’s baby curls for quite a while, even though her somewhat thin and straight hair wasn’t really long hair material.  I don’t like to do trim and proper cuts because there is something about them that always makes the child look older and truth be told, that always breaks my heart a little.

But this boy’s hair grew so long, so fast.  His curls reached past his shoulders and after going through bangs in babies’ eyes three times already as I try to grow them out, I couldn’t take that hair in this little guy’s eyes this time so I kept trimming his bangs, leading us dangerously into mullet territory.

And so I cut it, very hastily, and now he has a helmet hair cut that may not be that much better and the older children hate it and I  really did nearly cry when I lopped off those curls, knowing they would never be back.

And he does look a wee bit older–but he is still terribly cute.

And things change, continually, and grow and evolve.  Looking back on pictures of my kids, I sometimes notice that their hair really made them look like wild urchins.  In my mother’s eyes at the time, I never noticed; but now I can see that they may have looked a bit unkempt to those who didn’t know us!

I can’t believe I will be 36 this year.  Certainly not old, but getting older; and little things are different now that are neither good nor bad, they just are.  Now, I plan on keeping a kind of short and easy to care for haircut on the little tike.  Probably not all the way prim and proper, but you know, with less tangles.

And now, we have food growing under a giant sheet of plastic where it is really, really warm today.

Time changes things.

The rain has been relentless this week.  Our bottom field is flooded all the way to the river again, the third time this year.  This is seasonally wet ground, so the flood doesn’t do any harm for now since we don’t expect these fields to be dry until sometime in May.  Still, a full fledged flooding of the river to our ground usually only happens once a season, so it feels like something!  In fact, we are breaking rainfall records for March, so the feeling of too much rain isn’t just a “spring in the Pacific Northwest”  kind of grumble.  There has been A LOT of rain this week!

In spite of the somewhat oppressive feeling of the weather in general over here, though, I still find myself outside in a break from the wet, harvesting parsley for market tomorrow and breathing in such fresh, fresh air, thinking about how absolutely beautiful it is out.  Happy to be breathing, bathed in the smell of the cut herb, intoxicated by a tree full of cherry blossoms overhead, thrilled at the wildness of the patch of baby parsley’s all gone to seed and perennialized–my favorite kind of garden.

The children are climbing trees while the baby giggles from below.  I have my favorite hot pink gardening gloves on that were picked up on the cheap by the farmer for me and aren’t nearly the best we have on hand, but do the job and bring a smile to my face at the same time and are much easier to keep as a pair than his millions of left handed ones on the porch with no match!

And then we walk to the main field, grab some rutabagas for dinner with a lazy, old black dog and spry, young black cat following us, the two most favorite companions of our small boy right now, so he is laughing at them as I hold him in one arm, the harvest in the other.

Did I mention the air is so fresh?

And I am just so in love with it all–this farm, these kids and their father, this wild and precious life.

Sometimes it is impossible to live your dream and I don’t think we all get the chance.   And I really do know full well that at any moment I might lose the chance I have been given.  But there are these moments, and I just can’t believe the simple happiness of it all.

Last week the weather went from snow to glorious-the angels-are-singing-and-I-will-stay-outside-and-move-compost-and-plants-way-past-dinnertime-sun in one day.  That sun was pretty much gone by Sunday, but for the few days it was here we reveled.   The last few days have been rainy and feel a little like a let down even when they are not unexpected.  After a few days of being able to be outside almost all day, the house feels cramped with paper scraps and toys.

We have gotten out, of course.  We get outside every day and the smallest boy doesn’t care what the weather is; he announces, “shoe! shoe!” at the door almost first thing in the day.  Really the rain at this time of year is made all the more bearable by the warmth.  Yesterday he and I harvested some veggies for the family and a trade account and it was so nice I had to take off some of the wool I set out in.  And the birds, so chipped themselves with all that bird song.   It is hard not to stay outside even as our pant legs get soaked.

We are at that point in the year when our bodies and minds feel a driving energy that time inside just doesn’t suit.  We can get creative and stave off true cabin fever for now, but who doesn’t really just want to be out in the dirt right now?  I know I do.

Filed under: children, family, gardening, home, spring, weather Tagged: family, home, seasons, spring, weather ]]> http://growingwildfarm.com/2012/03/28/rainy-days/feed/ 10 growingwildfarm rainy days I rainy days II rainy days III rainy days IV out! http://growingwildfarm.com/2012/03/21/a-happy-spring-and-a-happy-birthday/ http://growingwildfarm.com/2012/03/21/a-happy-spring-and-a-happy-birthday/#comments Wed, 21 Mar 2012 21:07:49 +0000 growingwildfarm http://growingwildfarm.com/?p=1441 ]]>

Eight years ago on a spring equinox in Nebraska, our sweet Luca was born.  It was decidedly sunny and warm and I was out hanging clothes on the line first thing in the morning when labor began.

This year, the farmer took our birthday boy and his brother up to the mountains to play in the snow because this boy loves the snow and proclaims winter his favorite because of it.  The funny thing was, it almost snowed here yesterday on a decidedly grey and cold first day of spring.  The weather has been colder than it seems it should, with more snow in the foothills and sometimes the valley itself in March than I can remember in our wee seven years of living here.  We had a goal of finishing our greenhouse by March to plant in expecting a long spring, but now we are really pushing to finish because it seems we are having a long winter too.

That’s ok though, because this boy was named in honor of the lengthening days the equinox brings (Luca means “bringer of light” in Italian), and now I often call him my sunshine boy because his smile and cute dimple and twinkling eyes really do light up my life and our home, no matter the weather.

He is our down to earth and practical child, preferring real work to flights of fancy, and if we had to wager on who would be the future farmer, he would be our bet.  He spends his free time outside digging giant ponds and building forts and often joins his papa in the woodshop to make wooden swords by the millions–seriously, we have so very many wooden swords!   He is also the most diligent field helper of the lot, and I think his daddy is having a lot of fun spending that extra time with him.

He is a bit reserved but quite friendly, and sometimes quiet–it can be hard for him to get a word in with his boisterous older brother around.  But he is so, so thoughtful; totally sweet and kind.  He has a big, big heart–and sometimes it’s a tender one.

But mostly, it shines.

And maybe, the sun will do some of that soon too.  Another spring has begun, hooray!  And another year for a very wonderful boy, hooray, hooray!

Everywhere I look, green.  At every meal of the day, collard greens and mustard greens and kale greens, alongside dark green kale rapinis and light green turnip rapini.  There are some purples working there way in as we harvest wild violets for fun and the sprouting broccoli from the field, and the purple cape cauliflowers are heading up nicely.  But mostly, it is green, green, green.

The grass is growing–really growing–a bright and tender green. The willows have new neon looking leaves coming on and soon the other trees will start to put on their clothes too.  Everything is greening up as we get so close to the spring equinox I can barely stand it; I am so excited for more sun, or daytime as it were here in the Pacific Northwest.  Even though we have had snow (!) more than a few times this March, and even though spring for us means rain and rain and more rain, the changing landscape and longer days feel good.  So refreshing.

And yesterday,  in the midst of getting ready for a small birthday sleepover for our second boy, born on the spring equinox eight years ago, we all scrounged up something green to wear and checked our Leprechaun traps for magical creatures and treasure in honor of St. Patrick’s day.

This used to be an “enjoy a–or many depending on what age we are talking about–Guinness or other finely brewed beer” day.  Now it is a fun for the small fries kind of day since they love holidays so much and in our home this usually means some kind of feast.  St. Patrick’s day is the easiest, Irish fare being so simple.  Some lamb maybe, or sausages.  Potatoes, cabbage, onion–all good mid-March farm food.  And that is usually it, our passing nod to Ireland and our own heritage (we have Irish blood on both sides).

This year, since we were having extra children over and because it was Luca’s choice, we had homemade pizza instead.

And this year, as the farmer and I start to think about studying history with the children as they get older, I was particularly struck by this article.  We are finding ourselves hard pressed to keep things simple and pleasant as we delve deeper into these studies, even as we try to take things slow.

Our smallest learn history through stories.  They can get an idea of how people lived in other times without too much blood to worry about.  Sometimes we can investigate further and visit museums or check out other books about various time periods to extend our understanding.  All in all, though, we don’t tend to get into any of the nitty gritty.

But our precocious older child, so keen on growing up faster than he needs to–once he finally reaches the level of maturity his taste for talking about current affairs and the seedier side of history necessitates, I hope to share both the good, the bad, and the ugly with him so that he can learn to critically examine the things that have happened before him in this tale of humankind so that he will then be able to critically examine the things that are going on around him.

The history of Ireland is just one of many stories that isn’t all that pretty.

And as the article points out, the great potato famine provides a pretty important lesson for today.  As the genetic diversity of farmed crops and the seed banks both shrink, it doesn’t hurt to give the lumper potato and the famine in Ireland some of our time.

For the farmer and I, we find that there is still so much to be learned from the past.  So much that we weren’t introduced to in our studies of history at school.  So much misinformation or generalization it is maddening.

So this St. Patrick’s day we looked a little closer at this time in Irish history.  When our kids get (much) older, we’ll discuss it with them too.

For now, while they are still so innocent and young, I am happy to get a pinch before I get dressed for the day when I didn’t go to bed wearing green, and to imagine that at the end of every rainbow there really is a pot of gold.

And it is both of these things that are so important to do as we live this life.  We must look hard to discover both the shining gold and the smoke and ashes of our story.

Let me tell you, it is just as fun the fourth time around as the first, second, and third.  Each time, it has been equally exciting and amazing.

Those first milky smiles and baby coos, the learning to crawl and then those first stumble-y steps…breathtaking.

Right now, we are discovering books.  We read from 2-3 baby chosen favorites many, many times a day.  They are all about farm animals and he is most interested in their sounds–ironic, really, since we have downsized dramatically in the farm animal department this year and currently only have four pigs almost ready to go to the butcher.

Books are a big part of our lives here, and bringing the smallest fry into the literature loving fold tickles this mama just as much as ever.

We are also discovering language in a BIG way!  Each day a new word is added to the talk. Shoe, up, off, door, go, eat, more, these are the recent favorites.  And as the phase of development where “mama” means a million different things is slowly being replaced with these single words used both as definitions and questions with lots of pointing–not to mention for things they don’t actually refer to exactly a lot of the time too, it is just as sweet and fascinating and fun as ever.

This boy has the sweetest voice, and when he uses it my heart melts.

He sings with it too, a lot, and this is kind of his own thing.  He loves to sing and dance and listen to music, I think Cadence was just the right name.  Each time there is something new and unique these children bring with them, and each time, that is pretty neat too.

We feel the same way about going through the growing seasons.   As repetitive as the cycle of growing is, each time we are just as excited to move through it, both for its sameness every time and because it is different every year too.

There are the varieties of things, some tried and true, with flavors and appearance we look forward to.  We eagerly await that first taste of sweet pea, roasted green beans and Italian summer squash, the first fresh, sliced, heilroom tomato.   And always, there are new things to try; this year we are especially curious to see the Indigo Purple tomato, to taste the fresh garbanzo beans.

There is the weather, always moving from winter to spring to summer to fall.  But the how and when is always a little different with a different impact on the growing things.  Each year, different crops stand out in their abundance, others treasured for their scarcity for whatever reason.  Endlessly fascinating, the variable but steady nature of this work.

There is no doubt about it:  watching little sprouts grow up…each time, it is a miracle.

With just a little over a week until the SPRING!! equinox, the farm is coming to life again.  The greenhouse is full of baby plants, seeds have been sown in the ground, and although there is still quite a bit of time in the day for the farmer to work in the shop on some woodworking projects as well as an infrastructure project, the list of things to do in the greenhouse and field continue to grow.

Our kitchen has seen the first taste of the season’s sprouting broccoli–bright purple and oh so delicious, not to mention a big jar of nettle pesto to help brighten up those pots of lentils we enjoy in winter.  Last year, the spring was so long that the harvest of one of our favorite early spring crops, the rapinis (flowering heads of overwintered brassica plants), went on for much longer than usual.  So long, in fact, that we began to grow weary of it (a first I can assure you!).

Still, as the first of the rapini in our fields make there way to our table, we have come around to them again just like we do with all the other seasonal crops.  Rapini and spring go hand in hand and even though the flavors are much like the greens from the plants they grow on–flavors we have been enjoying all through the winter–a new shape and texture, and new ways to cook them (roasted rapini=yum) bring a bit of excitement to the plate.

Livening up, things are!

We have splashes of yellow daffodils all over the house, more sun in the day than we quite know what to do with yet as we adjust to everyone having a bit more energy after dinner than in the dark center of winter.  Routines are starting to shift; thankfully, the process is slow and building.

And speaking of building, that is part of what the farmer is doing in these last few winter days.  Here’s a sneak preview of what he is working on, a little buffer in case this spring is long like the last two have been.

Because as happy as we are when spring arrives, and as much as it might seem like it would be our favorite season–and the faith in the seed and the earth and the plan of the farmer and gardener each and every spring is a thing of wonder, truly–summer is a pretty darn important in the grand scheme of things.  It is the season we must try to capture the most of.

But not to jump ahead too much, spring is definitely where it is at, right now.

Every season at its inception is fabulous.  In spring, there is so much looking forward, so much promise in the air.  There is this wonderful mix of certainty from a season’s worth of planning and the mystery of just how this particular growing year will unfold.  I can’t wait to find out!

Filed under: changes, farm, farming, rapini, spring Tagged: farming, rhythym, seasons, spring ]]> http://growingwildfarm.com/2012/03/11/springing-forward/feed/ 1 growingwildfarm looking ahead sneak preview http://growingwildfarm.com/2012/02/20/my-valentines-about-a-week-late/ http://growingwildfarm.com/2012/02/20/my-valentines-about-a-week-late/#comments Mon, 20 Feb 2012 22:23:54 +0000 growingwildfarm http://growingwildfarm.com/?p=1380 ]]>

I had saved this photo of the farmer for a Valentine’s Day post, snapped about a month ago on some winter’s day when he was on one of his many piano playing breaks from farm work and the sun was shining through our kitchen window just as to illuminate briefly the beauty ever present in this man (and his music making too).  I thought it might be fun for farm members and customers to see him at his other passion, the first one, the one he was immersed in when we met, and the one that helped me fall in love with him.

But on Valentine’s Day, this was the scene:  four sweet children and a farm that needed tending just as much as the relationship of a woman and a man.  That morning the farmer and I–for the two minutes we had alone before leaving the bedroom to join the children at the table to look at the love notes I had written them and the treats of chocolate they each received and the first red rose for our daughter and the many balloons just for fun–wondered aloud to each other how it was that this holiday had turned into a holiday for them, even as we smiled at each other over that same table minutes later at the smiles on their faces.  Then for mother and father, the day was off to its everydayness with a homeschool group gathering for me and seedling tending and greenhouse hoop bending for him.

Not much later in the day, the baby mounted a fever.

And so, even though we managed to enjoy a “special” family dinner that evening, one at which we toasted to the romantic love that was the spark of this family as well as the familial love of six souls that now joined it, afterwards it became clear that there would be no late night rendezvous for the farmer and I to eat our own chocolate and whisper sweet nothings to each other.  By that time, the baby was really not doing well–I said good night to my love and tucked that sweet boy to bed and stayed there with him for what was a very sleepless night.

The week since then has been full of not only that sick baby, but two teeth of his trying to push through and a few more sleepless nights, as well as the impossible to avoid passing around of the cold/flu that he had to most of the rest of this family.  I haven’t had any time for this post; and as for our plan to enjoy a night out with each other this weekend and listen to this cute little bluegrass/pop band at our local pub…the farmer ended up taking his father and some friends instead!

And in the face of all this, we both agreed we wouldn’t have it any other way.

One of the things that has so poignantly become clear to us as we continue on this journey–aka–get older–is that although we know we should never give up on keeping romance alive and making time for our own dreams and being sure to have some fun and stay creative, the real trick to being happy through it all is to really start to love and thrive on the mundane and the day to day.  Let’s face it, that is the real stuff of most of our lives.  For us, almost all of our fun and joy happen in the confines of our own home and are sourced from the simplest things, and being happy with that and with each other through it all is both a choice we have made and something that we are thankful suits us pretty well.

Valentine’s day; sure, we make it special, but the real life love of each regular day is what is really special to us.

In my valentine I have a life partner, a best friend, a great father and incredibly hard worker, not to mention an in house music maker and laugh creator.  He is still a pretty great boyfriend too, and he is one of the five loves of my life.  This morning, the baby woke up happy for the first time since Valentine’s day, it was such a relief!  I think we are now almost out of the woods with the fevers and glossy eyes.

And so today–better late than never–I tip my hat to my sweetheart.

As for our valentine’s date night, it is–tentatively-on the books for sometime in March!

Filed under: children, family, gratitude, home Tagged: family, gratitude, home, love, mother, valentine's day ]]> http://growingwildfarm.com/2012/02/20/my-valentines-about-a-week-late/feed/ 1 growingwildfarm my love with his love http://growingwildfarm.com/2012/02/08/always-learning/ http://growingwildfarm.com/2012/02/08/always-learning/#comments Wed, 08 Feb 2012 01:06:35 +0000 growingwildfarm http://growingwildfarm.com/?p=1357 ]]>

A few weeks ago, I was asked by a friend with younger children and plans of homeschooling them how I went about our days and how I was able to homeschool the bigger kids with a little one in tow.  As we spoke, I was reminded of those early years of parenting–reading everything I could about child development and parenting and education, worried about doing the best by these little people entrusted to my care, so desperate to do a better job than my parents did.  I was reminded of myself, ten (and a half!) years ago, and I felt acutely aware of one thing as we talked–everything I had learned about how to parent and educate and be a mom to my children I learned from my own kids and our life as we lived it.  All the ideas were there for guidance and inspiration, but in the end, parenting and homeschooling for us have become a blend of both my intentions and my responsiveness. As we spoke, this was the real answer I wanted to give her, “don’t worry too much because you will figure out what is best for your family as you go.”

Because for all the reading I have done about educating these four, all of it very helpful and insightful and necessary for keeping me fresh and present and aware, one thing has made itself abundantly clear–my children are all unique and as such, our homeschool has been formed around each of them and their individual interests and learning styles.

Starting out with a fiercely independent and highly creative boy, one who did an amazing amount of natural learning in his early years but not only took no interest in compulsory learning but adamantly disengaged in attempts on my part to “teach” him things on my time table once he was of “school” age, I quickly had to adapt.  I found out the things I really would patiently insist on (reading, writing, basic math) and let go, for the time being, of other things (Oregon history).  He is truly a genius, but this may not be revealed on any standardized tests.  He waited until nine to really start reading, but started with the Harry Potter books, so in the end he didn’t really miss much (that early reading material can be rather dull).  He is clever and quick, and I do not worry about how he will do in life even the littlest bit now (I used to, tremendously, that is the job of new parents I think!).

This is a self portrait (sorry for the blurry photo!)  he recently made of himself showing how he will look when he is eighteen!  If he believes this about himself as whole-heartedly then and through all his years as he does now, then he can make anything happen.

The point of all of this, really, is that sometimes our ideas of our children must make room for their ideas of themselves.  In the early years, they are so little, it is really our ideas that so significantly guide them.  But as they grow, they become.  Our early parenting years are not only formative for our children, but for ourselves as well.  What I realized as I tried to explain our homeschool, which has evolved to look very little like “school”, is that there really are no cut and dry answers for any of us, and that my friend’s homeschool will look very different from mine as they go on their path.

As for ours, it too will evolve and change as the children get older and new little people step up to the plate.  Our one girl, almost six now, likes to sit and do lessons in a way that both of the older boys still fight against.  I can’t even say it has anything to do with gender, but more to do with the fact that  they are all so different, it is as equally amazing as it is disarming when trying to parent them.

As a former straight A student and lover of all things “school-y”, I can say that it can take some letting go, both homeschooling and parenting in general.  Still, it is the best job in the world.

As for how we manage it, it is an ever changing challenge and solution.  Yesterday, we worked hard on multiplication, spelling, grammar, and phonics both in ways that probably worked and ways that probably didn’t.  Sometimes, those lessons I most formally bring to the table end up being the worst for everyone.  Today, we counted smashing rocks, unearthed from our giant mud pit, with hammers to see what was inside of them, attempts at finding themes and making statements with altered art and mixed media, and copying animal sounds out of baby brother’s favorite board book as “school”…and those were the parts they drummed up themselves while I taught the baby to do the dishes. I keep at it both ways, but I secretly think that the only learning that matters is the learning they are deeply vested in.

This is the one thing I have learned without a doubt–if we remain open to it, we are always learning.  That is what I hope for my kids to keep with them after they have up and gone from their schooling with me.  That is the most important thing I can teach them.  It’s what they have taught me.