Navigating by the stars

Audience

2012-01-27T16:56:00.000Z

A sense of audience: this is an idea that I have been considering this week. The children are doing a family class, Dynamic Revision, with Bravewriter and have each done a short series of freewrites followed by a brief discussion of set questions. One of question was whether they had a sense of audience: a feeling of who they were writing to and if they imagined someone reading their work. The responses were interesting, my youngest hoping that her published book would be read, but lacking confidence that her freewrites are good enough; my middle son imagining "rather old people" reading his work and my eldest appartently not thinking of it at all. I could certainly see how, especially with the younger two, the idea of an audience would help them see the reason to revise their raw writing and hopefully inspire them as they do so.
All this left me thinking about my own sense of audience. As I write this blog, I can picture a few of the people who I know are reading it. Others, who tell me that they read (and even comment occasionally) I can see less clearly. For me, it is always the potential criticsism that I hear and it can be debilitating. It is the same when I paint: I freeze if I think someone is coming close and I only show my family those pictures I am pleased with, finding it hard to share the experiments and the ones that didn't work.
How do I find the line between confidence in my actions, in my writing, in my art, in my life, and arrogance and unwillingness to listen to wise advice?
In discussing freewriting with my eldest, he said "Better to write for yourself and have no public than to write for the public and have no self." (Cyril Connolly) I love blogging but I have lost my sense of what it is for, and who it is for. I don't blog for my audience, though I'm pleased to have one, I blog for myself. I am glad that people read it, although I can count on my fingers the number of people that I am certain do so regularly, but I sense that I have begun to write for this, very limited, public audience. I want to explore my own thinking, to record my chidlren's education and childhood, to reflect on the things that catch my interest and I think it would be good for me to try and get back to writing for my self. I hope you continue to read but, if you don't, that's ok with me. I've spent a lot of time and effort beginning to find myself and I intend to hold on to all I've found.

The Name of Names

2012-01-19T14:59:00.002Z

Just this morning I finished reading "Inheritance", the last in Christopher Paolini's "Inheritance Cycle" which started, for me, in the summer of 2008 with "Eragon". A beautiful and powerful story it has filled my mind with incredible images and powerful ideas. Inherent to the plot is the concept of one's true name, the name that sums up one's entire being, flaws and brilliance, accomplishments and weakness. If another person knows your true name, they can assume complete power over you, subjugating you to a mere slave, unable to exercise free will and bound to follow their command. To volunteer your name to someone else is the highest sign of trust, of regard, even of love.
The hero of the tale, Eragon, can only achieve his aim if he understands his name: it is the key to the power, wisdom and guidance which he needs to fulfill the destiny, towards which he has been travelling throughout the saga. And in the moment of climax, it is one true name that brings victory and another that brings freedom. For one's true name is not static, not fixed, not dead. If you change and grow, if you increase in experience and knowledge and, as in the case of the tragic anti-hero, you experience love, your name changes too. Once enslaved by who he was, he becomes other and is freed from his bonds.
I have changed. I have lost and I have gained, I have experienced and I have grown. Who I am has changed over the years and over the months. I am wondering if my name has changed too?

Wonder wheel

2012-01-13T16:25:00.002Z

My kids are amazing! Almost every mother believes that about her own children - and rightly so - and mine have been particularly amazing this week.
I like to be "educational" with the children, not all the time of course (although that is an educational philosophy debate in itself ...), and so I planned to watch the first episode of the new BBC documentary "Earthflight" with them after their swimming lesson. However, while they were out, the local delivery network brought a birthday present for my middle son, 11 just a week ago, of K'nex. As soon as he received it the box was open, the tray for pieces on the table and he was away, puzzling over the instructions, fitting tiny plastic parts together and constructing a ferris wheel. I got on with a few admin jobs and wondered when to switch the tv on. I went to find my eldest and he was busy on the computer creating another animation with increasingly complex special effects. My daughter was out in the street cycling with the two girls she is friends with who live in our road. All of them engaged in exactly the kind of industry any mother, any teacher, would want to see children taking part in. And I am convinced that what they choose to do meets needs in them that they know, or maybe only sense, that they have that I could have no clue about. I am not so arrogant or sure of my "educational ideas" that I believe them to be better, more important or of more value that these self-selected activities. I went back to my admin and left them to it!

Friendships

2012-01-08T21:43:00.000Z

It is often said that it is during the difficult periods, a person finds out who their friends are. This has been true in my life but not in the way that I expected. It is often simply the way someone asks about what's going on for me or the greeting in a Christmas card which express the warmth and acceptance from those who truly love me. There are friendships which I have held on to by the tips of my fingers, which leave me feeling insecure and drained, like a climb too hard for me with tiny hand-holds on the rock wall. There are friendships which energise me, delight me and leave me feeling good about myself, my choices and life. It's hard in a busy life to find or make the time to spend with people; it's a tough balancing act between fitting it all in and allowing space to relax. It's hard too to be honest with myself about relationships which feel an effort and it's not that these people are in any way less - just that we don't fit together. I e-mailed a couple of friends today who I haven't seen in a while, who I enjoy spending time with, who are frequently on my mind and who I would like to sit down with over a cup of tea in the near future. I would like to spend more time in these relationships this year and, maybe, have the courage to let go of others.

New Year

2012-01-01T20:43:00.000Z

Swaledale is an amazing place to be: barren, beautiful, windswept and boggy. I have run on this moor almost everyday for the last two weeks. The first day I was slipping on ice but since then the bridle paths have become stream-beds and the ground a series of marshes and puddles. I have seen stunning sunrises and bowed my head into the howling wind and rain. I walked across the moor on Christmas Day, arriving half-an-hour late to church, wet and cold with mud spattered trousers into a congregation of locals in their festive best. I have walked up Calver Hill with my three children in cutting wind and stinging hail, to come home to hot baths and hot chocolate. I saw a barn owl yesterday, swooping over the heather, day-light hunting, its wings broad and sweeping. I have laughed and cried, played games, watched films and read my book. I am tired and rested, relaxed and still-humming. This year has been tumultous and up-ending, my foundational relationships have shifted, my life will never be the same again and my view of myself has been challenged, undone and is being rebuilt. I have hopes and dreams for 2012: I am scared, insecure and excited and in many ways I feel that I have a lot of growing up to do but it looks like being a good year.

Christmas. Holidays.

2011-12-16T08:28:00.000Z

It's been a long, hard term. It's been a tumultous year. I am desperate for the Christmas holidays. So, we have started them early. How often have I had that experience of arriving at a longed-for break only to feel too exhausted to enjoy myself or to succumb to some lurking germ. So, I made a conscious choice to start slowing down. We finished Chapter Book and filed away the children's work. We have got out the art box and sat all together at the table drawing and painting. We have stopped over a cup of tea and read one or two poems. We have stayed in bed longer in the mornings and I have even stayed up late completing a jigsaw. It's 8.30 in the morning, the children are chatting upstairs in their rooms and I have drunk my first cup of tea, eaten toast with chocolate spread and am enjoying some quiet time on the computer. I'm still in my PJs. It's nearly the holidays and I'm relaxed and ready.

Chapter Book

2011-12-09T17:34:00.001Z

Already it is time to be looking ahead to January, and that inevitably means looking at the term just gone and asking myself what went well, what we enjoyed as a family, what we long for more of, and what we can't wait to be rid of. Reading a chapter book has always been hugely important to me and to the children. Through all kinds of literature we have learnt so much, not only about historical events, geographical places, mathematical ideas and classic literature; not only about good writing, story structure and well-crafted sentences; but also about being a family, the value of all stopping and being together at the same time and the extra-special feeling of a long hug on the sofa with mum and the dog.
But somehow it hasn't worked so well this term. The book I wanted to read in September wasn't in the library and, although I placed a reservation, was a long time coming. I picked something unknown by a famous author and it didn't take long to realise why it was unknown! We tried and old favourite of mine and my eldest son's, but the other two children found it boring. Having a looser time-table and working more hours myself meant that we found it hard to make the time to read.
However, in just the last few weeks, we began "The Eagle of the Ninth" by Rosemary Sutcliff, a book I had had on my "to read" list for a long time. After a slow start (oh please, not another to give up on) the story got going and is now racing along at an exciting speed. Today, for the first time, I had a request to go straight on and read the next chapter! Reading it has reminded me how important this shared experience is, how much I love reclining on the sofa, the dog's head in my lap, one son listening in stillness, two other children drawing and colouring, interrupting with the occasional question or observation. It has been warm and precious and not only contributed a huge amount to our knowledge of Roman Britain, but has deepened our emotional connection, soothed scratchy relationships and reminded me again of so much that I love about our lifestyle of home education.
Books for January are already on order!

All of a rush

2011-12-02T16:12:00.000Z

I am definitely someone who does things in a rush. I sometimes think that I deliberately, though sub-consciously, generate lateness. I faff about, fiddle with things and waste time and then, all of a rush, find myself dashing out of the door.
Last September I thought it might be a nice idea to consider getting a puppy, perhaps in the spring. I had a conversation with a friend in which we agreed, on the Saturday morning, that it just wan't a good time to introduce a new dog. By Monday evening we had arranged to buy Coco!
My life has turned upside down this summer and starting back to term in September everything was totally different. Yet, at the beginning of July I had no real inkling of the storm that was coming.
Ideas often ferment in the depths of my brain and arrive, fully formed, in my conscious thinking.
Worries that have been hanging over me for weeks have finally come out into the light in the last week or so. I have faced up to and am with some tricky issues. Some have been easier than I feared, some much harder and many are as yet unresolved but I have been reflecting on a conversation I had recently, telling a friend of my progress in an area that, only a fortnight ago, I had been too scared and overwhelmed to face. Unexpected problems have come up, obstacles that seemed to be insurmountable, but I have come up with a plan, received love and support and am working, bit by bit, to bringing my hopes to fruition.
The reactions of others still causes me surprise, from the outright coldness of those I never dreamt would let me down to the unexpected solidarity from someone I hardly know. A close friend, whose initial reaction to the events of the summer hurt me and caused me to consider ending the friendship, empathised with and reflected back with a sensitivity and understanding that brought tears to my eyes.
As Christmas approaches and I begin to open the doors on my calendar I am shocked by how different my life it to this time last year and how suddenly it has all happened, but also excited about the new doors opening and the hope for all our futures.

New and Old

2011-11-28T11:54:00.001Z

Old friends. Catching up with a special lady who has been there for me for eighteen years, with whom I have shared all the ups and downs of life as I have gone from newly-married, newly-qualified teacher and her as single teacher, to us both mums of three. We chatted over mugs of tea and lit a bonfire in the garden for excited children to toast marshmallows before just having time to snuggle up on the sofa with my godson and a favourite book. Connections. Roots. Love and support.
New challenges. North Downs Way under our belt, starting the South Downs Way. Happy dog romping in the fields, twelve rolling Hampshire miles, fresh air and warm late autumn sunshine, time out from busy life to talk and think deeply and to relax. New hope. New ideas. New future.

Learning

2011-11-18T16:57:00.001Z

It's been a good week for home ed.We have had many of those meandering conversations which have lead us to all kinds of ideas and activities. We have been following the Adventures of Penrose the Mathematical Cat in our chapter book time and this has lead to many times of jumping up from the sofa to print off a tangram, to look at the work of M.C. Escher or to cut up a Mobius Strip. We are reading "The Eagle of the Ninth" and talking about Roman Britain. We have climbed and swum, the boys have been out to an evening with the writer of Dr. Who and my eldest has continued his enjoyment of an excellent science course at the National Physical Laboratory. They have worked independently and with me, played with friends and worked in the garden. My youngest explained the concept of heat in terms of particles wobbling and my middle son told me about absolute zero as we chatted about heat in the car. And we rounded it off with what is becoming our favourite day of the week, Friday: a lie-in and then free to do something all together. Last week we cycled along the Thames Path, this week we went for a walk in the woods, indoor climbing and had poetry tea in the cafe at the rock wall. Sometimes, when life is harder than usual, it is easy to lose my sense of what it is that I do, and enjoy: life, education, growth with the children. And that is what Home Ed is all about.

So much happens ...

2011-11-12T19:16:00.001Z

It's getting hard to keep up.There's the private stuff and the public stuff, the happy stuff and the sad stuff, the hard stuff and the easy stuff; there's laughter and tears, words that hurt and words that comfort. It has become harder and harder to find the time to blog, but also to work out where to draw the line between the deeply personal and the freely open. I decided to fix a regular weekly slot to post, but this week it came and went as I spent valuable time helping a little boy struggling with big emotions and changes in his life.
And home ed carries on. My younger two (I was corrected yesterday when I called them "the little ones". "Medium one" and "Biggish one" is more accurate, apparently, leaving my eldest as "Huge one"!) have received certificates for their horse-riding and stable management, and all three have been awarded swimming badges. They tried out a sports class (but didn't like it) and toured the archive of the Surrey History Centre (Where the old documents get washed in soap and water! Go figure!). My two eldest are studying for maths exams and my youngest continues in her progress to becoming a chess master! Yesterday, inspired by last week's success, we dug out the bike rack, took all five bikes to a local town and pedalled, with the dog, along the Thames Path, enjoying time outdoors and time together.
It's not all been easy though. I've been the subject of confusing and unhelpful allegations and it's taken time and energy to sort it out. I'm left feeling betrayed, hurt and judged. I don't know who made these allegations, or why and it's hard not to slip into feeling that everyone is against me, thinking things about me and condemning me. But I have to grasp hold of the simple fact that I don't know what people are thinking. Yes, someone has chosen to act on their opinion of me but that leaves everyone else who hasn't, or who doesn't hold the same opinion. I don't know how other people judge me, I don't know their minds and I cannot always look for approval, imagined or real. In the words of a dear friend who e-mailed me this week, I have searched my depths and found more truth in my life. To find your truth and live more authentically is always a great thing and I will continue to do this and try not to worry about what people think!

2011-11-04T13:56:00.001Z

On Monday we set out on our sponsored Bike Ride:

Ready to go

First pit-stop

Resting on our way home

Still full of beans

Home and happy

Well done!

Over £100 raised!

We changed our route to remove the need to put five people and five bikes in the car so we cycled from home to Kingston, along the river, and then home again: 22 miles in total. I was impressed that I could cycle so far - it's a long time since I've regularly used a bike - and even more impressed that the children could! There was not one word of complaint and, in fact, they were pretty excited the whole way and we are aiming to cycle from home to Waterloo - around 30 miles along the river- in the spring.

The Bicycle Ride.

We get on our bikes, our feet on the pedals,

At the end of this ride there shall be no medals,

Just a nice happy feeling, and family glory,

(Unless we all die in an accident gory.)

Twenty-two miles on a bike! Golly Gosh!

Through mud that goes squish and though puddles that splosh,

Through fields of grass and paths all brown,

Out and in and out of town,

We go past locks, we go past houses,

We go past horses and, er, cow-ses,

All this for puppies, small and sweet,

And kittens with soft paws for feet,

For we’re sponsoring an Animal Home! (Mayhew,)

For cats and dogs and rabbits too!

At long, long last, we stop for lunch,

On chips and sarnies we happily munch,

Then back on the bikes and off we go!

(Starting, of course, a trifle slow.)

But our hearts are light as air,

Because, Great Scott, we’rehalf-way there!

We make light conversation, trying to ignore,

The noises coming from the floor,

Because our feet, beginning to ache,

ARE LOUDLY ASKING FOR ABREAK!

(Though they’re just being lazy, as we know,

We only started fiveminutes ago!)

After many, many hours

Of passing grass, and flowers, and flowers,

We get back home! Hip hip hooray!

What a fun, but tiring day!

We are so tired we all fall asleep,

There is no need for counting sheep!

Finished!

2011-10-29T11:45:00.003+01:00

156 miles of walking and we've made it! Sunday saw our final trek through flat and windy Kent to arrive stiff and tired in Dover. We were thrilled with the finish line, a tangible mark of our achievement, and continued just a few yards past it to wet our boots in the English Channel.

This week has been half-term and it's been, as always, busy. Too busy to blog and this seems to be becoming a pattern. Each week I go around the same loop, trying to fit it in, trying to figure out what to write, struggling with the balance of personal and public, general news and self focus, and it's getting hard. And yet I know that there are readers who value and enjoy keeping up with my family and the children's activities. The blog also serves a very useful purpose as journal of what we have been up to, a place to reminisce and enjoy and perhaps, one day, serve as evidence of the success of our home school. With this in mind I have made the decision to post weekly, a summary of the life of that week, a place for caring friends and family to have a little peek at our lives and a freedom for me from the drive to post more often.

Friend or Foe

2011-10-20T08:36:00.003+01:00

Yesterday, in this very "dramatic" week of National Schools Films Week and two trips to see live shows, we went to the theatre to see Michael Morpurgo's "Friend or Foe". Simply done, with one stage set and five actors, I was drawn into the 1940s, the joys and fears of evacuation and the test of loyalty when principles and prejudice collide with relationship and personal debt. I was fascinated by the way the one set of scenery - a bombed house - was a farmhouse, a moor, a train carriage, a fast-flowing river and an army jeep. I was intrigued by the questions posed and we had a good discussion on the way home about what our choices would be faced with such a conflict of interest, of how people confound the groups we try to put them in and the role of fathers and father-figures in the two boys' lives.
An afternoon at the theatre seems to me a perfect example of home ed working at its best: shared experiences, multi-layered educational opportunities, lively discussion all wrapped up in fun and relationship. Definitely something to go on my "works well - do more of" list!

Playing

2011-10-18T19:14:00.000+01:00

I am not very good at playing. It is not something that comes naturally to me. I have been working on pictures of rocks and of dry-stone walls all term in my art class but am missing something in my slavish copying. My tutor sat me down for a demonstration of different techniques yesterday: wax resist, oil pastels, ink, wet-in-wet, drawing with the paint brush. She encouraged me just to play around. It makes me nervous. I can look at the paper and grasp that is is a single sheet, worth perhaps 20p. It doesn't take much paint. It is one afternoon, time for myself, away from the children, and I don't need to achieve anything. But I still feel that I can't do it. I still feel that I'm going to mess up. With the courage it would take to jump off a diving board, I persuaded myself to try everything she had shown me, to work my way across and down the page, a few rocks at a time, deliberately playing with each method. Some worked, some didn't. Some were fun, some weren't. By the time I reached the bottom left of the sheet, I was pleased with what I had done. I worked back in to a lot of it, covering over what didn't look so good and using the styles that were expressing what I wanted. Taking away the pressure of producing something, seeing it as an exercise in playing, in experimentation, freed me to paint and to let go.

I went swimming today. Another activity that makes me nervous, makes me tense. I know I'm supposed to have fun, but don't quite feel it. Taking the children to the leisure pool, I was enthusiastically taken to the slide as my way in to the water. We played in the wave machine, tried out both slides, once even with my little girl on my lap. I found myself laughing, chasing, splashing and, yes, playing. Maybe it's not all about growing up, maybe it's about letting go!

National Schools Films Week

2011-10-17T20:15:00.002+01:00

October comes around again and it's National Schools Films Week. This is the third or fourth year in a row that we've taken advantage of free screenings at our local cinemas and it feels like part of our routine. Along with Primary Maths Challenge, National Novel Writing Month, Christmas School and Journey North, it has become part of the rhythm of our home education year. This time I've booked us in to four different films: one early showing last week and three this. Some films are old favourites and some are new to us - last year we took in some Bollywood, novel experience for us. The power of the story, the development of character, the geographical locations, the quirky song lyrics: there is so much to enjoy, to discuss and to learn from. It's fun to take a week to be and to do education a little bit different and this way we get to eat popcorn at the same time!

Busy Week

2011-10-15T16:20:00.002+01:00

Every day this week I have meant to blog. I have planned the day and put in some time with the computer, time to catch up with my e-mails and to update this blog. It just hasn't happened. This term is full of activities and I am also working more hours than I have done since I had a full-time job before the children came along. It feels as if I am trying to hold on to routine, to actively educate the children, to keep on top of the house, my running and life in general. And I worry that I let things slip.

But when I reflect on the week, on all the things that have kept me too busy to type, I realise that the children have been discussing maths concepts, climbing at the rock-wall, swimming, to the cinema, horse-riding, playing with friends, planning a trip abroad, listening to a classic story, talking about their feelings, reading poetry aloud and attending a history workshop on World War 2.

It happens. They live, they grow and they learn.

Dr Johnson's House

2011-10-07T16:14:00.001+01:00

My eldest would have been much happier as a gentleman in the 18th Century. Here he is enjoying the opportunity to dress up at Dr Johnson's House on our visit this morning. Samuel Johnson wrote the first comprehensive English Dictionary containing over 42,000 and my son loved following the word "pig" through the dictionary: pig - a young sow or boar; sow - a female pig; boar - a male swine; swine - a hog or pig. So, none the wiser then! He spent £15 of his pocket money on a paperback, abridged version which he was engrossed in reading on the train home, occasionally sharing a gem with me. My son is a little unusual and I love that, and I love that he is free to be who he is without having to compromise or put up with teasing.
For me, and for my little girl, the biggest thrill was riding on a big, red, double-decker London bus!

Home Ed works

2011-10-06T09:10:00.000+01:00

The children and I were in the car later than I wanted to be and hurrying to get to our History session. The M25 was moving nicely but as we pulled off we hit a traffic jam. Thirty-five minutes later we were still crawling along, the session had started and we reached the"road closed" sign and we were about to be diverted. I turned the car around and came home. One of the things I find hard is the fact that the children have done "nothing" for the morning. All my worries flood my mind - just how many hours a week are the children doing home ed?

We got home and I found the sheets I had printed of the egg tangram which we had read about in our maths book that morning. I left them cutting out the shapes and making birds while I went out with the dog to settle my mind. They were still busy when I got home, cutting, arranging, sticking and colouring.

I was working after lunch and the children got on with their own activities, including continuing with the Natural History series which they are following. My middle son spent a considerable time playing with his lego. When we met up for poetry tea, he excitedly showed us his models.

On the left is "Detonator" and on the right, "Rush", two of the rides at Thorpe Park where he is going as a Christmas and birthday treat tomorrow. Both models move, and you can see the little lego thrill-seekers!

I am seeing more and more how much the children fill their time with challenging and interesting activities without me having to organise them. I am beginning to see that they are growing up and taking charge of their own lives. I am increasingly trusting the process which is Home Education.

Hard Work

2011-10-05T15:14:00.001+01:00

I was recently sent an article on the value of hard work, of practice, over and above the concept of talent. Talent, this article went so far as to say, was largely an illusion. Those who excelled in their chosen field have simply put in the hours and hours of practice to get that good. We all have the ability to be really good, if only we were to put in the work.
I am loving my painting this term, and indoor climbing. I don't get a huge amount of time for either and so I won't, I am sure, progress very fast. My painting tutor tells me that it is often necessary to paint 20 or 30 poor paintings before an amazing one comes along and I just don't have that much time to paint. I only have time to climb once a week. I could take that as depressing - I'll never get good so what's the point. But I enjoy them, and every bit I do I get better. I also don't need to feel intimidated by those who are better than me, they just have more time or motivation or passion, or less other interests, or work in that particular area, and so have done more and got better. Maybe I don't want to be that good at everything, maybe I will never have the time, or maybe it will have to wait for another stage of my life.
There are plenty of other things that practice will improve in my life and life is generous enough to provide many, many opportunities for learning on the go: patience, listening, self-control, pushing myself not to act out of habit but out of choice, extending grace, asking for help when I need it, seeing things from someone else's point of view. And skill in these seems of far greater value!

Lintel place

2011-10-04T07:28:00.000+01:00

There are times when it is hard to blog. There are times when the self-doubt is overwhelming and when the tricky balance of trying to hear hard and uncomfortable truths without letting the unfair and hurtful attacks of others wound is almost impossible. When I am stuck what to write I ask myself, "What is most on my mind at the moment?" It's hard to write when what is most on mind is all that is on my mind and when it is deeply personal and private.Over the summer I was given the image of standing at a lintel-place. A place of transition from one state to another.

I was also given the image of a boy on a swing. Frozen by the camera's click at the high, back-point of the motion, hanging forever, an empty back-drop, waiting for the fall, the swing, the movement.

It's tempting to dwell, to focus on the hurt and regrets, to stay in the dark, to stay frozen. It's an effort to mine deep and find the energy to look ahead when the road is hard. But I have a future and I will look to it. I will paint, and run, and climb, and teach, and love, and laugh and grow. I will step out. I will swing.

New Bike

2011-10-03T07:43:00.001+01:00

I've got a new bike! My life has been shaken up this summer and one of the goals that has come out of this is to try to use my car less. I am nervously embracing buses and gaining confidence with my Oyster card and I would like to cycle to more places. There aren't all that many opportunities to use the bike as I mostly travel with three children and I am always pushed for time, but I would like to cost the environment less, manage my time better, keep up an active lifestyle and spend less on petrol. So, I've got a new bike! It was a bargain: second-hand and I part-exchanged the old one I bought when I used to cycle to work before I had children. It came with all the bits I needed like lights and a little repair kit. (Not that I have any idea how to use that!) Yesterday was its first trip out. I went to the park and went round. This removed all the added difficulties of dealing with traffic, changing direction and having to do anything other than pedal -my companion had to use her brakes quite a bit as I couldn't keep up. My excuse was that I had already been running but in reality I was just a bit scared of going too fast so I just kept going. It's not much, plenty of people whizz on two wheels through central London in rush hour, but it was a baby step towards a big goal and I feel like I achieved something, that I am still growing.

Tired

2011-09-29T10:57:00.002+01:00

There are weeks like this one, when there just seems far more to do than hours to do it in, when my eight-year-old is crying about the cat while my ten-year-old covers every available kitchen surface in chocolate-chip cookie mixture while my private pupil sits patiently and waits for me to teach him and the dog escapes onto the front drive. There are days like today when, after two late nights of emotional conversations, tired does not seem a sufficient word. There are mornings like this when my pale brown carpet is a patchwork of muddy paw-prints as the over-excited and under-exercised dog jumps at everything and everyone and it is nearly 11am before I am thinking about what to try to do today and how to make my home welcoming for a transatlantic visit from my brother. And it is moments like this when the devil-voice asks how much my children can possibly be learning.I look around: my twelve-year-old is in a GCSE maths tutorial with two other young lads, so we are covering maths and social skills. My ten-year-old has just returned from church where he has delivered, and sold, his muffins for a charity coffee morning and has set off to the shops to spend his hard earned cash. I reckon that covers economics and citizenship as well as developing his independence, oh, and leadership - because the eight-year-old has gone too. She's learning teamwork and social skills and as she spent the previous half-hour washing her scooter in the sunshine she's been developing independence and responsibility. Chapter book (literacy, history, maths) snuggled on the sofa (social and emotional skills) and a dog walk in the park later (P.E. and animal care) and the day looks very different.

History

2011-09-28T20:51:00.003+01:00

I spent a very pleasant morning at the Surrey History Centre with nearly 30 students all excited and engaged with the impact of World War II on the local area. I have to say, I was quite pleased with myself as I had organised the session - the first of four - with the County Council staff and it was good to see so many active and enthusiastic children. They planned a civil defence system, looked at genuine newspapers from the time and completed a quiz about the Home Guard. I am frequently asked how my home educated children will learn to socialise and how I manage to teach such different ages. It was refreshing and encouraging this group of children, ranging in age from 6 to 12, laughing and working together.

Ready

2011-09-27T13:57:00.003+01:00

"Readiness can’t be rushed. We can lay a groundwork. But nothing we do can take an unready human and make them ready."

I was reading a post at Handmade Homeschool yesterday and came across this. As a mother, I would do well to remember. As a teacher, both of my own children and of other students, I would do well to remember. As half of any relationship, whether difficult or easy, I would do well to remember. As a child of God, learning to be gentle on myself, I would do well to remember. For if we are not ready, can we really do anything?

The Ben

2011-09-26T17:53:00.001+01:00

I am reliably informed that true climbers refer to this mountain not as Ben Nevis, but "The Ben". I do not think that I really can lay claim to being a true climber - not at all in fact - but I gave it a go.
It was my 40th birthday on Saturday and to celebrate I, with my best friend, caught the Caledonian Sleeper from Euston station late on Friday night, arriving in Fort William on Saturday lunchtime. Sunday morning, in fairly clear weather, we set off to attempt the Ledge Ridge on the North Face. There is a route, the Tourist Track, which, while not as easy as its name suggests, is a straightforward walk, but I wanted to do something scary for my birthday so we chose to attempt a Grade II scramble. The owners of the Bed and Breakfast where we stayed were impressed that we were attempting the North Face, which confirmed my idea that we were indeed doing something scary.
The weather was against us: it was windy and wet and slippery. We made good headway along the paths and gained a good 600m but the steep and rocky scramble was dangerous and, after a good try, we decided that it was not sensible to keep going and turned back. We were now a considerable way up a boggy, slimy, rocky mountainside and it was certainly in the scary zone just getting back down. We considered the option of skirting the mountain to meet the Tourist Track but, with a train to catch, thought we didn't have have enough time. I was very disappointed not to reach the summit.
And yet I have been inspired by a quote in the Scramble Guide Book which we were using: The best mountaineer is the one having the most fun. I am certain that we qualified on that score! I am also learning to see the achievement in the attempt. We gained useful experience of difficult conditions, tried out new kit, practised our navigation skills and learned the lie of the land and the start of the route. As we sat in the supermarket cafe waiting for our train home we set ourselves the goal of achieving all six scrambling routes on Ben Nevis. We looked at what we would need to do to be skilled enough to attempt a route graded as Severe and drew up a timetable. It will take a few years but I think then we will have earned the right to call this mountain "The Ben" and this is just the kind of thing I want to fill my Forties with!

Creativity

2011-09-23T15:57:00.000+01:00

Instead of Watercolours, I am going to a Painting and Drawing Class this term. I have the same tutor as last year and she encouraged me to think over the summer of a theme I would like to work on: I chose rocks. There are a lot of rocks in the Yorkshire Dales where I spent my two week summer holiday: natural rock formations, stepping stones, dry stone walls, derelict barns. I took a lot of photos. Now I am faced with developing them into art. There is a programme of study, set pieces each week with a technique to focus on and I spent some time last session discussing with my art teacher whether I would be better off concentrating on following the plan and learning new skills or following my own ideas. She was dismissive of the scheme of work: I could bang out a few skies (this week's subject) if I wanted, she said, but could instead push my creativity far more with my own ideas.
I was surprised at my own internal sense of safety in learning technique, being told what to do, having a skill to learn, to, hopefully, improve on. Do I have any creativity to push? Can I really build up a body of work, push the materials to get the effects I want, create something personal with my subject? In short, is there really anything there inside me - do I have anything to say?

I am learning a certain sensation, a tickling feeling in my wrists, when I am challenged, when I am scared, when I am on the edge and about to jump. I have made big changes to my life in recent months, and playing around in new ways with paints does not compare, but it is the same feeling: a little voice daring me to step out, to push myself, to find something new, to be me.

Raising Money

2011-09-21T11:57:00.000+01:00

The children have been keen to raise money for a local animal charity for a little while now. We have selected the end of October for a 21 mile cycle ride from Kingston-upon-Thames to Tower Bridge and the children have designed their own Just Giving Page. This is all my eldest's own work and I am very impressed with what he has done. I am also impressed by the children's commitment to an idea and support of animals. Do have a look at the page and see what they are up to, and if you feel like donating a pound or two we would be very grateful!

Uncomfortable

2011-09-20T08:26:00.001+01:00

Not long ago, my eight-year-old daughter made up her mind to run away. I tried to stay relaxed and allow her to to talk through all her difficult feelings. She told me how she would sleep on the pavement and buy her breakfast from the corner shop. While I was confident that she would, eventually, calm down and not leave, I did wonder if I should lock the windows in her room. The thought of her wandering the streets, alone and vulnerable, gives me goose-bumps. She was so sure that she would be safe, that she knew the dangers and would be able to cope with them and she still is determined to be as independent as possible. As her parent, of course, I know how terrified she would really be and how utterly un-equipped she is to live alone; she needs to stay here, with me, to be under my protection.
That night she slept in a sleeping bag on the floor, denying herself the comfort of her bed in preparation for the hardships she would face when she left next morning.
I am facing some difficult decisions and I am frightened of the future. I am trying my best to foresee all potential outcomes and to protect myself against what might happen. It occurred to me this morning that I need to rest in my Father's house, to accept and enjoy his love and protection, to rest in the refuge he promises me. I am not equipped to see into the future or to control all the outcomes. I need to trust in him, his love and his provision. And I wonder how often I make myself "sleep on the floor" - uncomfortable with worry in the hope that this will offset some future problem, rather than resting now in the warmth of his Fatherly love.

Sunlight

2011-09-19T09:04:00.000+01:00

My kitchen faces due West. In the evening, the sunlight pours in, often making tea-time a little too hot. In the morning it can be a cold and slightly dark room as the back of the house, the living-room and bedrooms are filled with sunshine. However, this morning, I caught this beautiful bouquet on my kitchen table reflecting the sun's rays and glowing with yellow light. The early morning sun was reflecting from the windows of the houses on the other side of the street and straight onto the sunflowers. By the time I had fetched my camera the brightness had faded a little and, as the clouds and the earth moved, the effect was lost. It was a the gift of a moment.
There are times right now when it's hard to find the sunshine. These flowers reminded me this morning that light, joy, beauty and love often catch us unawares and come from unexpected directions. I need to catch the moment.

Dust of Snow

2011-09-16T08:57:00.000+01:00

Dust of Snow by Robert Frost

The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

To rue: To be sorry for, to wish not to have been, to regret.

There have been many days in the last month which I have rued. There has been much sadness, much pain. I struggle to understand what I am responsible for and what is not mine to carry. I cannot control how others respond, what they choose to think or how they choose to act. I remember a time when someone I loved called me from another country: she was in despair. I spoke with her for a long time, listened and consoled. After the conversation, I felt guilty settling down to watch a comedy, I felt as if it were wrong to laugh. But I cannot live in a state of sadness because others are sad. I care, and I listen, and I make amends if it is my responsibility and within my power to do so. But I can choose to live my life, to laugh, to be excited and to see the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

Freedom

2011-09-15T14:52:00.000+01:00

One new activity for this term is Horse Riding and this is my two keen riders before today's lesson. My eldest is old enough to be left at home alone for a while and had a maths lesson with a friend, which left me with a glorious hour with no children. I took the dog to the nearby forest and, while she ran free, I was free just to be and to think my own thoughts uninterrupted. Precious space, precious peace. And the horse riding was great too.

Black and Blue

2011-09-14T15:30:00.001+01:00

It has been a hard week. Two of my children are busy in the kitchen as I type, preparing for poetry tea. We have the unexpected gift of Cornish Clotted Cream so they are getting a traditional Cream Tea ready to share; my middle son is upstairs writing a poem. This time last week we had poetry tea. Since then I have spent hours and hours in long, emotional, difficult and often tearful conversations trying to make progress in some important personal relationships and defending home education for my children. Today I received an e-mail from a friend whom I have inadvertently offended and I am saddened by it.
The children are muddling along fine but I feel that my planned start to the academic year is having some trouble getting going. The suggestion to focus for the next couple of months on their emotional education: the expression and management of big feelings, being gentle and compassionate with each other, listening and talking, has proved hugely helpful. They are unlikely, many years from now, to remember the details of the curriculum they followed this Autumn but I will do my best to make sure that they also don't remember this term for the emotional stress. We can still drink tea, write poetry, take the dog out for a walk and enjoy living this life and being part of this family.

Autumn Colour

2011-09-13T06:47:00.000+01:00

Start of term. Start of art classes. Two and a half hours to play with colour. There's a lot going on for me. This is just what I needed!

Friends

2011-09-07T18:55:00.001+01:00

It is good, even essential, to have friends. Friends bring light and fun to everyday, but it is the hard times that the essence of our friendships is most apparent. There are some who, in the hard press of circumstance, flow with the oil of love and unconditional acceptance. I have often been concerned in the past that I have not had, or made, the time to offer deep friendship when someone I know is in distress. This summer has shown me that something as simple as a single text, full of joy, encouragement and respect can touch a sore spot and bring comfort.
Lucinda sent me just such a text last month. She is another home educating mum, we get on very well and morning coffee never feels long enough to catch up on not only each other's news but the feelings and concerns of life, children and home education. One new innovation for her this term is the introduction of a planning board, you can read more about it here, and I was excited to see her 10.00 entry: "Friends". That's us!

Lego

2011-09-06T17:25:00.002+01:00

Yesterday saw us in Aldershot at a Lego building workshop with a Certified Professional Lego Builder. Professional Lego builders? Who knew? Apparently there are only 13 of them in the world. These are not the designers of the new sets, but people whose job is actually to build stuff out of Lego! The designers apparently all work in Denmark and you need to study Art and Design and 3D Modelling to become one. My eldest came out asking where he could study these subjects ...

They started by building bridges out of all one type of brick and then went on to make their names with guidance sheets showing how to make each letter of the alphabet. After that they went back to all one type, the basic 4x2 and were to be creative. My little girl built at boat and my eldest a foot with five toes. My middle son constructed a tall and fragile spiral which he then doubled-up to make it stronger. The workshop leader asked him what it was, a string of DNA he replied. I had no idea that he even knew what DNA is!

A boat, a foot, a strand of DNA: three products of a life of home ed. I have my moments of fear, what am I doing, keeping them out of school?, but it seems that they are quirky, independent and leaning about the world. Doing alright, I think!

Running Away

2011-09-05T00:00:00.000+01:00

My little girl settled down to sleep on Sunday night in a sleeping bag on the carpet. Bedtime had turned fraught and she had begun gathering her belongings to put in her bag ready to leave. We sat down to talk about and discuss her plans. I suggested that her godparents, to whom she was headed, would probably bring her home so she decided that she would just take a sleeping bag and sleep on the ground. She agreed that she would likely be found and brought home if she slept on the pavement and thought she would have to find somewhere to hide. She had her pocket money and was going to buy breakfast at the corner shop. After chatting some more, and me letting her know that if she did choose to run away I would have to call the police, she agreed to stay overnight (after all, it is cold out there) and reconsider in the morning. I left her packing her bag with her eldest brother. She decided that she'd have nowhere to re-charge her Nintendo DS so it got left behind but I did notice that she had sensibly included a toilet roll. She wanted to try out sleeping on the floor and we agreed it would be good practice. She also agreed that she would wait until our friend flew home tomorrow night and discuss it with her before she made any decisions so I felt safe not locking her windows.
I find it hard to deal with her anger. She has always had a fiery and passionate temper and we often end up shouting at each other. She is particularly angry about daddy leaving and my broken promises. She is also fed up of being eight, being the youngest and not being allowed to do whatever she wants - as grown ups are, or so she sees. She very much dislikes being told what to do but listened with some interest, as I explained that I do things that I don't want to do, like washing up and laundry, and that, while there is no-one telling me I have to, if I do not do these jobs there are natural rules like dirty dishes and smelly clothes.
I, too, would like to run away at times, from the hard work of home ed, of running a home and of negotiating difficult relationships. It is often easy to perceive that others are better off or have an easier life. I have been challenged over this and my personality trait that looks at the dark clouds and not the sunshine and I am gradually learning to internalise this challenge. Yes, life is hard but it is fun, and blessed and full of joy and I can cuddle my daughter and watch old sitcoms and dance in the kitchen.

Unexpected

2011-09-02T20:45:00.000+01:00

Every day has its unexpected moments. I am a natural planner and prefer life to come in its expected form, on time, on timetable.
I received an unexpected invitation last night for an event today and, thrilled to be included, re-planned my day. I received an unexpected phone call this morning needing my attention, time and a lift to Accident and Emergency, taking a couple of hours out of my schedule. I was stuck in an unexpected traffic jam on the way home and our journey was over an hour long.
I had an unexpected cuddle with my little girl, a tense knot of anger at the moment, and she told me that I was the best mummy in the world. I had an unexpected connection with nature as I picked a tomato from the garden and breathed in its scent. I unexpected soaring of my spirit as I marvelled at my dog's speed and joy as she chased a bird across the park. I had an unexpected moment of peace as, taking some rubbish out, I saw the almost new moon smudged by a cloud.
I am also a natural pessimist and find it easier to dwell on the difficult unexpecteds, but I am beginning to notice the blessed ones.

Broken

2011-09-01T06:28:00.000+01:00

Since I last posted, my world has been turned upside down: I have asked my husband to leave and he moved out this weekend to stay with friends until his new flat is ready.

I have tried to let friends and family know before they read this here, and if I've forgotten you then I apologise. My dad heard the news in a less than ideal way and I hope that doesn't happen to anyone else.

We waited until this weekend to tell the children. It was important that they heard it as definite news and not frightening uncertainty. It was important that they were with me and at home in the days immediately following so that their shaken world seemed as stable as possible. There have been tears and many questions, not least why I have broken my promise to them that this would never happen.

It's a question I have had to ask myself, to look at hard, to face with open-eyed courage. I wonder now why I ever felt the need to say it to the children: perhaps I was bolstering my own belief that I could make it true. I truly thought that I could make my marriage work by sheer effort. I knew through years of evangelical Christian teaching that love is a decision, all relationships require effort and marriage is forever. I thought I could do it. This summer I realised that, although I could, I am still sure, have kept it together, the personal cost was becoming too great. Much in the last half-decade has brought about personal growth and a much stronger sense of who I am and I began to see that I could not be all that I am within this relationship. I know that there are those who think I have made a selfish choice, but I believe that I have chosen life, I have chosen a path that will enable me to me more who God created me to be and I think that is what God would want. I think the children will benefit from seeing me happier and more free and, perhaps one day, from seeing their parents in genuinely loving relationships.

Life is going to look very different. Making this choice, causing pain to people I love, has been almost unbearably hard but underneath the tiredness, sadness and fear, I cannot help but find excitement. Life is going to look very different, yes, but life is good, life is full of possibility, opportunity and love. The start of September always feels far more like a new year than January and on this "New Year's Day" I am looking forward to all that life will bring.

"Sometimes, though, it’s really important to ask whether or not what is happening is actually a problem." (August 30th: Handmade Homeschool)

Great Grandfather

2011-06-29T13:36:00.000+01:00

Ron was a good deal older than my mother, and in this picture of him holding my baby daughter he is 87. His eldest great-grandchild was born just six weeks after my little girl. My children all remember riding on his back around the living room and snuggling up close to him as he read them Mr Men books. Friday is his funeral and we are travelling down today to help my mum prepare. We will return home late on Friday, pack up the car on Saturday morning and head north, to Swaledale, for two week's peace, quiet, rest and relaxation.

Twelve Today!

2011-06-28T09:42:00.002+01:00

My eldest child is twelve today. He is a responsible, funny, witty, imaginative, creative, caring, sensitive and trustworthy young man. He is good company, with a passion for words, animation, manga and Dr Who. He is very much his own person and I am proud of his individuality. His presents reflect his character: a "cool dude" mug, manga pens, puzzles, a hard-back, beautifully bound copy of "On the Origin of Species".

Another milestone on the road of parenting.

Dr Who

2011-06-27T15:54:00.003+01:00

Dr Who is a big character in my house. I lost interest when David Tennant regenerated, but my two son's have deepened and extended their passion, pored over many books, watched numerous clips on the internet and hold obscure conversations about particular episodes and the finer points of alien species. As his twelfth birthday is tomorrow, my son's present from grandma was tickets to the Dr Who Experience in London and we headed up into town today.

Despite the humid and sapping heat excitement levels were high and the exhibition lived up to all expectations. The interactive experience to begin with thrilled the children and caused just enough terror to bring them all close to my side but not enough to result in tears. The display brought exclamations of delight as we saw the costumes of all eleven Doctors, two TARDIS consoles, Daleks, Cybermen and Slytherines and more.

It was amazing to see my eldest so excited and passionate and I was reminded again of the need to engage with what interests my children, rather than trying to interest them in what I think is worthy; to enter into their worlds and to see life through their eyes.

Big Brother

2011-06-23T06:24:00.003+01:00

My big brother flew in from the States on Saturday to be alongside my mother in her bereavement. It was good to see him and we both valued his support. He's working at his UK office today and stopped by yesterday evening for a bed for the night and, with a couple of friends, we headed to the rock wall and climbed. It was great fun: my arms still feel weak this morning and I've a couple of bruises, but I'm smiling. It's a long time since I taken part in any kind of activity with my brother: we both left home when we went to university and haven't spent much time together since, he's been in the US now for over 15 years. It's not always easy keeping up a transatlantic relationship but in recent years we have begun to get to know each other better. As I hung on the end of a rope, 20 feet off the ground, and he lowered me carefully down, it felt like a new place of trust and friendship. I even offered him some of my chocolate in the car on the way home. Now that wouldn't have happened thirty years ago!

What have we achieved?

2011-06-22T16:48:00.002+01:00

It's coming up to the end of term and I am beginning to review what we have done this year, what has worked well and what has not. I start out feeling that we've not done much but, little by little, begin to see the full picture of all that has happened.

Sorting out my daughter's folder I found the list of 100 essential words that she needed to be able to read and could only manage a handful of in September. All 100, hardly a pause.

One of my goals this year was for my son to learn more poetry by heart but I have done nothing about making this happen. Asked if he knew any poems, he quickly recited a humorous but short verse. "But I can do something longer," he said, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? ..." Word perfect, a Shakespeare sonnet.

Job done I reckon.

Gerbils

2011-06-21T12:47:00.006+01:00

It was recently brought to my attention that I have tags for both the dog and the cat but none for our three gerbils. We bought the gerbils last summer on a trip to the pet shop to research the logistics of getting a rat for my eldest son. It quickly became apparent that the space necessary for a rat was beyond our ability, but a gerbil, well that might work. This quickly escalated to three gerbils, one for each child, and despite a my insistence on a trip home to check with dad, the decision had already crystallized. And so, Argentum, Hat-trick and Bumble came to live with us. All the children adore their little pets and they are regularly taken out to be cuddled. My eldest son loves to write poetry and although Jonathan is not one of ours, apparently he was inspired by Bumble:

A radical rodent is Jonathan Gerbil

He doesn't drink water, but tea that is herbal.

Will he eat seeds and vegetables? No!

He'll eat boiled eggs and asparagus though.

He will not chew tubes made out of cardboard,

But instead smokes a pipe like a small English Lord.

In spare time he rolls not in a plastic ball,

But visits his uncle, who's six inches tall!

He has all his fur, but on top of that,

He wears a frock coat and a splendid top hat.

If you went to a pet shop, he wouldn't be there.

He lives quite comfortably near Coventry Square.

(Though you won't find him there at this time of year:

He'll be visiting his cousins in West Bedfordshire.)

And though a gerbil should sleep in a cosy little nest,

A four poster bed suits Jonathan best.

Goodbye

2011-06-20T11:26:00.003+01:00

In the early hours of Saturday morning, my step-father died. Friday was his ninety-sixth birthday and he had been well enough on the morning to listen to my mother read him the many messages of good-will that had been sent, but throughout the day he became progressively weaker and was struggling to breathe. By the evening, it was clear that he was in his last few hours.

He and my mother met at Whitsun thirteen years ago. He was eighty-three. They married just over a year later and have been very, very happy together. They have travelled the world on many fabulous holidays, my children have loved riding on his back around our living room and listening to him read Mr Men stories and I have learnt much from him on the art of gardening. He will be sadly missed but remembered with much love and thanks for all the blessings he brought to our lives.

Goodnight kisses

2011-06-17T16:57:00.004+01:00

It's a wonderful thing to be a treat for someone. Last night I was lucky enough to kiss my god-son goodnight and he thanked God for my visit. His mum had only told him and his brother and sister that I was coming half-an-hour before my arrival and they were full of excitement to see me. I was enveloped in hugs, showered with stories and had fancy-dress costumes thrust at me for my amazement. I did not bring gifts, I was not going to take them out anywhere, they were just excited to see me and wanted to hug me. I do not have to worry about the million minute decisions that make up their lives in the way that I do with my own children and was free to enjoy their affection without concern for their bed-time.
Their reaction to me spoke deeply of my being loved just for being me. It is hard for me to hold on to these simple feelings in the midst of my own family life, my own tiredness and sense of responsibility, my own fears and failings. Last night helped me to see what those around me who love me and tell me that they love me, not for what I do but for just being me, really mean and, maybe, will help me experience that just a little bit more.

We'll always have Paris

2011-06-15T16:52:00.002+01:00

Way leads on to way, and that's what I love about those Home Ed moments. We all feel engaged, connections are made and I am sure what we encounter will be remembered.

In an effort to produce something on paper to show for this term I have had the children working on a short piece of writing. My middle son, still in a war phase, has written a succinct history of the beginning of World War II, my daughter has written about her doll and my eldest a dramatic tale of the three gerbil musketeers rescuing a pedigree spaniel from the clutches of a wicked cat. They exit the story singing La Marseillaise and we needed to check the spelling. Google threw up YouTube and so we listened and marvelled at quite how bloodthirsty the lyrics are, and tried our lips at learning a few phrases. One clip was a stirring moment from "Casablanca" as Rick leads the cafe clientele in drowning out the German Fatherland. We went on to look at a few more scenes from this classic film as we had only at lunchtime been discussing famous misquotes such as "play it again, Sam." I indulged in the farewell moment, "We'll always have Paris," and, wiping the tears from my eyes, left my younger two back with the French National Anthem and the French National football team, spotting players they knew.

Connections, life, emotion, home ed.

It must be lovely being a dog!

2011-06-14T17:29:00.002+01:00

Coco's life is not very complicated. If she sees a bee she chases it. She is not self-conscious and does not worry that she looks a bit daft, or that she has never yet caught one. When she loses interest, she sits in the sun, eyes closed, relaxing. She does not worry that she is wasting time or not achieving anything. When she hears the door, she hurries up to see who has come, fully expectant that it will be someone fun, who loves her and will tickle her or play with her. She does not worry that she ran away at puppy class or obsess about whether she could have performed better. She just is and she is happy. I could learn a lot from my dog!

What's the score?

2011-06-13T16:48:00.002+01:00

Quit keeping score altogether and surrender yourself with all your sinfulness to God who sees neither the score nor the scorekeeper but only his child redeemed by Christ.

Thomas Merton
I was once told that I am not agile. This caught in my mind like a fish hook and is repeated in my head every time I climb over a stile or skitter down a steep path. Walking the North Downs Way has provided plenty of opportunities for me to trip up and I do, frequently. I am always rather pleased when my best friend and walking companion stumbles and I keep a running total in my head of who has tripped the most. It's not loving, or helpful, but it happens nonetheless and I tend to feel better if I am winning - or at least not losing too badly.

I keep score with most things in my life - how often I shout at the children, how often I snap at my husband, how often I am brusque instead of offering a kind word and, again, I tend to feel better if I am winning - or at least not losing too badly.

It's not a comfortable place to be and I don't think that it makes me a nicer person.

When the children were learning to walk, and to swim, they did not berate themselves for every trip, stumble or spluttering grab for the edge and I certainly did not; I did not keep score. I did not compare them to Olympic athletes but was pleased and proud just to see them developing. I did not rush them or test them: I delighted in them. If I could grasp, if I could truly understand and know that I know, that God is looking at me that way, that he is not keeping score but is delighting in me then that would be a truly comfortable place to be. That, I think, would be the way to live.

Daddy's Girl

2011-06-10T11:03:00.001+01:00

Sometimes even a Mr Man story isn't enough to keep you awake!

What a picture of safety and love. Of prayer.

Another Day on the North Downs Way

2011-06-09T12:05:00.002+01:00

Two more glorious days and two more long walks. We didn't set out until lunchtime on Friday, intending on "only"doing 13 miles. It was hot, it was long, we were tired! We stayed away this time, intending on setting out early the next day, but a 4.30 fire alarm left us less refreshed than we had hoped. Twenty miles ahead of us and temperature rising nearly as fast as the contours, I was beginning to wonder if we had taken on more than was wise, especially when our first designated stop-point, a village where we planned to have lunch, had only one - closed - pub. A muffin- and water-break on the side of a hill revived us and the rest of the day passed, mile by mile. We saw some interesting,
fascinating,

and amusing things.

The views were beautiful,

and we are pretty proud of how far we have walked.

Obedience

2011-06-08T16:12:00.003+01:00

My friend Lucinda calls it making up a story. You see something, or overhear a comment, and your imagination takes over. Before you know it, you have constructed a scenario, ascribed motives and you know exactly what someone else is really thinking. Or not. Too often I am way down this road, my fantasy is fact and I respond based on what I believe, without ever having checked in with the truth.

My head is full of dog training and I am homing in on the last few exercises which Coco need to perfect to get her gold assessment, so when I saw another woman in the park today, standing resolutely some distance from her stationary dog, I assumed she was training him. After a few moments, the dog ran a quarter of a circle and settled down again, much like sheep-dog trials. I was impressed, especially when he repeated the trick. After a while the dog came over to play with Coco and I approached the woman to express my admiration and to pick up some tips. She was quite surprised when I congratulated her on her dog's obedience. It turned out that my whole story was exactly that - a story. The dog would not come back to her. She had let him off the lead to play and now he would not return. Yesterday, it had taken an hour-and-a-half to get him back!

As I walked away, calling my dog to heel, I chuckled to myself about the absurdity of my feeling so easily intimidated and bested, how quick I was to interpret what I could see as a sign of my own failings. It's not about comparison and I can never know what is going on for someone else unless I ask. It's about doing my own thing as well as I can and being happy with that.

Silver!

2011-06-07T18:04:00.003+01:00

Yes, my amazing dog has passed her silver assessment! She played, stayed, came and walked to standard and was presented with her certificate at the end of puppy class this morning. She is a very lively and bouncy dog and usually elicits comments about craziness or being a live-wire when she meets people in the park, but I can really see how she is developing her obedience and she is a pleasure to walk with. I no longer find myself dragged along the pavement or fear that she will not come back to me. I have struggled at times with the work that training her has been, and continues to be - after all, there is gold to aim for now! - but I am pleased and proud that all this work has paid off, not only in her behaviour but also in our relationship and my confidence. I was surprised how much anxiety I felt about her failing, and I knew that I would be deeply disappointed, no matter how much I told myself that no-one else even needed to know and that we could always try again in a couple of weeks. As my children grow up and exams loom on the horizon, there are few tangible markers of their progress and I am feeling that deeply and finding that hard at the moment; to have proof of achievement and success in a task I have taken on was sweet indeed this morning.

Introversion

2011-06-06T16:23:00.003+01:00

I am an introvert. I think this is pretty clear to anyone who knows me and I was not surprised to find that I scored as "clearly" introverted on a Myers Briggs Personality Type Indicator years ago. What I did discover during the MBTI day was that it is not as simple as liking parties or not, but to do with gaining and being drained of energy. For an introvert like me, other people are great fun but take up energy. It is alone time, silence and personal space that recharge me. My friend Lucinda embraces her introverted nature and takes steps to order her life in a way that takes that into account. Inspired by her, I purchased "Introvert Power" and it has been a revelation. Much of what I have read has describes me and makes sense of behaviour I have thought of as, at best, quirky or, at worst, socially awkward. This paragraph in particular made a lot of sense to me:

"In 1967, Hans Eysenck published his "arousal theory" of introversion and extroversion which predicted that ... introvert brains would be more stimulated on an ongoing basis; ... this would explain why introverts pull away from environmental stimuli while extroverts seek out more."

This explains to me my extreme sensitivity to background noise. I cannot have a conversation while there is background music, either I need to turn the music down enough so I cannot hear it, or I want to listen to the lyrics and I find another person talking to me irritating. I love to have music on in the kitchen, but often find my tension levels rising and have to switch it suddenly off.

My desk has been in a busy part of the house and there are many times I have found myself yelling at the children or the occupants of the next room for disturbing me. Last week, we bought a refurbished lap-top and I have turned my bedside bureau into a desk. It is my space and my lap-top and I am typing this sitting on my bed in the peace and quiet of my own room.

As I get to know myself better and accept who I am, I am finding ways of living that suit me better: embracing my introvert nature, understanding it and allowing myself to be this way.

Great Result

2011-05-27T14:48:00.001+01:00

A few weeks ago, my eldest son took part in the Junior Maths Challenge and yesterday we got the results. He got a bronze certificate! To put this in context, the competition is aimed at the top third of pupils in his school year and the one above, and only the top 40% get a certificate, which puts him in the top 13%. He was a frustrating one mark below silver, putting him well in the top 10%! I am a proud mum, especially as it was his first exam and the whole experience of sitting in a hall with many other children with adults he didn't know invigilating and the pressure of a time limit. I am also a relieved home educator. Whatever I am doing, it must be ok and increases my faith that it will continue to be!

Chapter Book Cuddles

2011-05-26T10:18:00.003+01:00

Going round in circles

2011-05-25T16:16:00.001+01:00

Does your day ever feel like this?

Hepzibah's Kitchen

2011-05-24T17:51:00.003+01:00

Hepzibah's kitchen was always like that, and not only that evening. Coming into it was like coming home on a bitter cold day to a bright, leaping fire. It was like the smell of bacon when you were hungry; loving arms when you were lonely; safety when you were scared ...
Carrie's War by Nina Bawden

I would love my kitchen, my home, my presence to be like this. I would love to have a place like this in my life. When the irritations and demands of everyday life get too much for me, my kitchen, myself, are not good places to be, not for me nor for anyone else. I am trying to learn, and I am trying to be gentle on myself when I don't succeed, how to create more of this in my home and my life.

North Downs Way

2011-05-23T17:56:00.002+01:00

We started in Farnham ... We are heading for Dover.
a
This sign was at the beginnning of yesterday's leg, meaning that we are now over half-way. My legs ache today and I am irritably tired, but it feels good to be achieving a concrete goal. It feels good to look at a map of South East England and see quite how far we've walked. It feels good to be out in the sunshine (and we've been very lucky to have four days of sunshine) with my best friend, talking and laughing and experiencing England from a different viewpoint.

Maths on my mind

2011-05-20T06:09:00.002+01:00

I thought we had done with maths for the year but instead, free from the tyranny of sitting by the computer with a frustrated child on their second go through a mathletics activity just because, months ago, I told them they had to get all the questions right, I find that I have room to think. Coincidentally I had tea with a good friend yesterday and she, too, is exploring how maths could look home-ed style. We are both aware of the concept of living maths and Charlotte Mason's ideas and how we embrace natural learning in so many areas but are afraid to in maths. My children are good at maths, maybe even ahead compared to their schooled counterparts, but it lacks joy and interest and that seems wrong to me.
My eldest son has never been to school which makes eight years of formal education that he's not had, yet he is literate, engaging and awe-inspiringly knowledgable. Whatever we have done for those years seems to have worked, and the cornerstone has been chapter book. It is the one part of home ed I have never changed, never let go of and have always prioritised. We have learnt a huge amount through the various books we have read and it has been a nourishing and nurturing experience to cuddle up on the sofa, or to let them draw and build, while I read. So I have made the sudden, and yet long-brewed, decision to let maths become part of chapter book and not to do any kind of formal teaching.
Well, I wish I was quite that brave. My eldest would be in his second year at secondary school and I am too scared to completely ditch his curriculum so he will continue to do some kind of formal maths, but my younger two will do none. None at all. If our books lead to "lets' do this" kind of moments, like the solar system, ellipses and siphoning sprang from Mathmagicians, then we will follow those leads but otherwise I will only read to them. Just that. My safety net comes from the fact that they are both of junior school age and if they reach the end of the year having learned nothing, I have time to catch up. But somehow, down in my home ed guts, I just don't think that will be the case.

Siphon sucess

2011-05-19T12:04:00.004+01:00

We have a love/hate relationship with maths in this house. I have always liked maths and considered myself to be fairly good at it at A Level. I was rapidly disabused of this notion when I reached University and, although I was a Physics student, had to study pure maths for a year. It was then that I realised quite how complicated and abstract maths can be - give me pencil, ruler and trigonometry any day!
Maths is the one area of the school curriculum I get nervous about. It's not that I find it hard to understand or to teach, but it doesn't seem to flow out of life in quite the same way that other "subjects" do and we have always studied "maths" separately and quite methodically. It is the one subject area that my children will say they don't like and I do feel there is a connection here! I would love to have the courage to back off and see what they would learn naturally but I just don't think that everyday life throws up opportunities to practice trigonometry, algebra or graph-plotting. In an effort to lighten things up, in addition to following Mathletics, (my younger two) or a Year 7 school textbook (my eldest) I have introduced a page or two of Mathmagicians to our chapter book time. It has been quite successful. Today we read about Roman measuring techniques and the amazing aqueducts which they built, leading on to a discussion on siphons. Fortunately we have a plumber in at the moment to lend us hosepipe from the back of his car and it wasn't long before we were in the kitchen siphoning water from sink to bucket.

Each of the children had a go at sucking the water through the pipe and were thrilled with the water pouring through. I can still remember seeing a siphon working for the first time and, judging by the applause and laughter, my children will remember it too!

Archaeology

2011-05-18T16:24:00.003+01:00

We were in Woking this morning, at the Surrey History Centre, enjoying an Introduction to Archaeology. It was a fantastic session, with 30 children learning about archaeology, handling artefacts and taking part in a mini dig. It is the second time I have taken my children to an event like this and both times my daughter has come out buzzing with enthusiasm, telling me that she'd like to be an archeologist. Looks like it's time to join the local Young Archaeologist Club!

Maths - again?

2011-05-17T14:06:00.003+01:00

Last week we had one big push and my younger two finished their maths curriculums for the year. On Monday, my middle son told me of his relief at getting up in the morning knowing that he didn't have to do any more maths. Although this was an end to our formal maths studies, I have been sneaking in a few pages of Johnny Ball's Mathmagicians into our chapter book times. We all squeeze onto the sofa so that they can see the pictures and we talk about anything that comes up. It doesn't usually take up more than five minutes. Last week, we ended up in the garden, my eldest: the sun, my middle: the earth and my little girl making herself dizzy as the moon. Today we grabbed coloured pencils, garden twine and a pair of compasses to draw circles, ellipses and hexagons. It was fun. Just don't say the word "maths"!

Why is it hard to be easy?

2011-05-16T11:20:00.004+01:00

Like I am most other Sunday mornings, I was out running yesterday. Richmond Park had the pleasant hum of cyclists and runners out in number enjoying the sunshine, the open space and the chance to get some play-time in before getting on with whatever else Sunday held.
I am back in training after a break following the Hastings Half-Marathon in March and I am relishing the sense of grounding I have found in getting clear in my head what I like, and don't like, about running and setting myself realistic goals for the year. This is week three of the schedule that worked so well for me earlier this year and it's an easy week - it says, quite clearly, 90 mins (easy) - but I just couldn't do it. I pushed the pace, ran hard up the hills and, having added a there-and-back section to the beginning of the circuit to take up the distance, challenged myself to complete the course I'd set in an hour-and-a-half, despite having slightly over-estimated it. I could have just stopped at the 90 minute mark, but no, I ran hard to try to beat the time and then carried on for the extra five minutes it took to reach the end.
Why? It won't make me fitter: the running plan is well designed and easy weeks are essential to rest the body. No-one else cares how fast or far I run: it is something I do entirely for myself. But there is a habit in always pushing, running too hard to think properly, running away from the stuff that bothers me. If I go slow I don't feel as if I'm achieving anything and that subtly transforms into not being worth anything. I am trying to learn that I am just as much loved and valued if I am lying in the sun dozing, and that when I am rested and relaxed and I am nicer person to be around, truer to myself and maybe that, in itself, is the real achievement.

I guess this is me?

2011-05-14T14:08:00.003+01:00

Home Ed was a topic for debate in Parliament this week. Nick Gibb, Minister of State for Schools, said: "The Government's policy remains that parents are responsible for their children's education. They have the right to choose to fulfil that responsibility by educating their children themselves, rather than by sending them to school, and we have no desire to interfere with that right." - Well, that's a relief. What is more, he went on to say of parents who had "reluctantly decided to home educate, against their own better judgement, that "that group is not typical of the majority of home educators, who in my experience are determined, committed and passionate people." I know he has never met me, but I felt strangely boosted and encouraged to read this!

Completion

2011-05-13T18:06:00.002+01:00

We've done it. There have been tears and tantrums - and not just from the children - and cheers and exultations. My younger two have completed their year's curriculums on Mathletics. We had a bit of a push this week and have all sat there, hunched over the keyboard, multiplying, dividing and working out the time 109 hours and 51 minutes later. It was made tougher by the bar being set at 100% (I'm not sure if that was my doing or not) so there was a lot of frustration over getting the very last question wrong but they have both completed every single exercise and got every single question right. Well done kids! No more maths 'til September!

Reflections

2011-05-12T11:50:00.000+01:00

It's hard to see what other people see. I admire a fellow student's painting and he will tell me what is wrong with it. He compliments mine and all I can see are the mistakes. Someone suggested propping the piece up when I get home and looking at it afresh in the morning. Another idea is to take a photo or look at it in a mirror.Another way of looking at things, a little distance, an alternative perspective - separated by time or space.
Reflections on art; reflections on life. It's the distance that helps me think. A cooling of emotions - despair, anger or fear. The opportunity to look at the details, to see the colours, the light and the dark. To see more clearly what is good, what doesn't work, what could be changed.

Maths and Running

2011-05-11T15:39:00.003+01:00

Two big things last week. On Friday, my eldest son took part in the Junior Maths Challenge. He dressed smart and I dropped him at my husband's school where he took an hour-long paper in a large hall with a hundred other students. He has never done anything like this before. He was nervous but he did well although I have no idea yet of his mark. While I hope it is a good one so that he can feel proud of himself and I can feel as if he is at a good level with his maths, what was important to me was that he got the "proper exam" experience and he coped very well with it.

On Saturday my middle son won the cup for most junior points at our local parkrun. Points are awarded based on position in each race completed and he has missed very few in the last year. He was surprised and incredibly pleased and proud. We have a large cup to show off for a few months and a small one to keep forever. He has completed 68 5k runs in total - 340 kilometres!

Although this falls into the Christmas newsletter style posts - proud mum with her son's achievements - it also reminds me that, while my children are not in mainstream school, they do have "normal experiences" and take part in the kind of thing that any other school-aged child does. They may be home-educated, but most of the time, they're just kids!

Back to the Reasons Why

2011-05-10T13:54:00.002+01:00

I am finding it hard not to feel rejected. In a very real and concrete way, I have been. I put myself out there and applied for a job and I was not selected for interview. The job would, I believe, have suited me perfectly: based at home, choosing my hours myself, periods of busyness and periods of quiet, working with home-educating families and using my writing. I am not really qualified for it though, and so, I have not been chosen. I had given this blog as an example of my "writing voice" and have been aware of the potential of watching, reading eyes for the last few weeks: I have felt the possibility of each post being scrutinized. Now, I am finding it hard to care. I want to withdraw, to lick my wounds. Like a snail, I want to retreat into my shell and hide away. I do not want to write.
But I was reminded that I set myself clear goals for this blog and not one of them was to be a showcase for my writing for potential employment. I have lost my direction and motivation.
My first goal was to practice and experiment as a writer and that I am certainly doing. By setting myself a standard, by placing myself under close observation, I have lost the sense of writing freely. I do hope that people like my blog, and a number of you keep coming back to read more so I guess you do, but my first goal for this space was as a writing place, somewhere for me.
Secondly, I wanted to record the children's activities and achievements. I dread my posts becoming interminable "Christmas newletters", those increasingly colourful A4 sheets stuffed in with a quickly autographed card, full of every detail of every exam and activity the sender's offspring has taken part in over the year. However, I personally find it useful, at birthdays and ends-of-term, to have one place to refer to to see what we have been doing. I know that grandmas and grandpas enjoy reading the ins and outs of our lives and seeing frequent pictures of their growing grandchildren. If you are not part of my family, or a close friend, I am sure you will excuse the occasional newsletter post and perhaps will enjoy a moment to reflect on your own family's daily doings.
Certainly, looking at life through "blogging lenses" adds a different perspective, which was my third aim. Little moments take on a greater significance as I consider their humour or teaching. Time to type out what happened is time to ponder and to think about what was good and what could have been handled differently. Blogging helps me to process and, I hope, therefore to keep becoming the mum, wife, friend and person I'd like to be.
One thing that makes my life different from "the norm" is that I home educate. I only have my experience, I only have my three children, I only have my way of doing it, but it is a picture and it does work, in its own way. For those out there, like myself, navigating this unusual, outside the system, poorly understood world of taking on our children's education ourselves, my fourth goal is that I hope this blog offers ideas, thoughts, a portrait in minature of one way that it can look. Maybe it will encourage, guide, suggest, and comfort. Maybe it serves a value in highlighting what would not work for your family, but I hope that it acts a little like one route in a walk book of an area. Not the only way, but one way. My way.

Nothing to do

2011-05-09T17:19:00.003+01:00

Right now I have nothing to do. It is an uncomfortable feeling, alive with anxiety and restlessness. Who am I if I am not defined by busyness? If I am not providing, what am I worth? It is easy to see in those around me proof that what they do is important in some way: a pay-cheque, professional clothes, a blog with a thousand readers, a public role in the church. It is not easy at the moment to see that I am important, especially when I am horrible to the children and upset them, when I am difficult to be around. I hope that one day the children I have chosen to keep out of school, to educate on a wing and a prayer, who have had to live with me day in and day out - whatever my mood - will be glad that I made this choice but they may not. They may regret what they have lacked and what I hope they are gaining may not mean as much to them. I hope that what I am doing is important but there is no guarantee.

Bushcraft

2011-05-06T15:30:00.004+01:00

Yesterday we learned Bushcraft. We were lucky enough to hear of the opportunity of a free workshop where new instructors are trained and members of the public were invited for the recruits to try out their teaching skills. We spent the whole day outdoors and came home reeking of woodsmoke, the children grasping things they had carved themselves and all talking about the new things we had tried. My group tried our hands at making fire using a traditional bow-and-drill method. Despite being told that it had taken the instructors days to master the technique, some of us managed to make fire within half-an-hour (although I think having pre-prepared kits helped!) Not me though. I would have been the demotivated, disinterested, won't-stop-talking one at the back. It was too hard and I didn't really care. I couldn't conceive of a situation in which I would ever, ever, use this skill. If I was in a true survival situation, I would as likely have a box of matches as a knife, and if I did have a knife I would be dead from exposure, dehydration and hunger before I had managed to construct a working bow and drill. Getting some smoke excited me a little, but after that I just couldn't do it at all. When the instructor told me that there was a correct way to light a match - well, that caught my interest! A correct way to do something is right up my street, and I could see the purpose (not snapping that match and protecting it from getting blow out by the wind). I spent quite a long time practicing. Similarly with the knots. While I could not see myself stringing up a tarpaulin and hammock between two trees, setting up a washing line or needing a tight guy-rope on a tent seemed possibilites. My exercise partner told us that the knot we used to hitch up the ridge line taut and yet release easily (a style known as a slippery knot) was the knot she used to tie up her dressing gown, so she would undo it quickly! I imagined her as some kind of Wonder Woman, ready at a moment's notice to shed her urban lesuire attire and race out to save the world.
It was a fun day and we have the chance to go again. The best bit for me was the kettle. I would love to have a kettle like this hanging over my hearth.

Healing Tea

2011-05-04T16:28:00.004+01:00

It has been over a month since I have felt we are "doing" home ed. I would argue my case strongly that the children are learning all the time and that it is catching the moment, noticing the interest, deepening the conversation that counts. But I do feel better when I am intentionally educating them at least some of the time. We started our new, eight-week, shiny, colour-coded, laminated time-table yesterday, but this week is already out of the pattern with a Bank Holiday, a day out at Bushcraft School and a maths exam for my eldest. We have managed chapter book for the last two days, at its new time of 8.30am, hoping to beat any distractions. We did a short free-write and I've overseen both boys doing maths, but, as always, it didn't feel like much. I start to find myself rationalising that bouncing on the trampoline counts as PE.
And then we had Poetry Tea. My little girl read a new poem - new to being read aloud by her, that is, so a mixture of memory and reading skills. We laughed and ate fresh lemon drizzle cake, we discussed pirates and rain after long days of sunshine and farm implements. We enjoyed each other's company and added another stitch to the embroidery of our home ed life together. And I felt better about it all.

The North Downs Way continues

2011-05-03T16:13:00.002+01:00

The weather forecast was deceiving. Yesterday was predicted to be sunny but on the cool side, a mere twelve degrees. I packed an additional base layer, fleece, woolly hat and even gloves. The sun shone all day and much of the time I was hot and sweaty, compounded by carrying so much extra weight in my rucksack. But the wind blew. It was strong enough to make me tie my bandanna a bit tighter and loud enough to make conversation hard work. Not that that puts us off talking. We have walked from Farnham to near Sevenoaks and still not nearly run out of stuff to say.
Most of yesterday's route was within the London Orbital Motorway, the M25, and yet, in twenty miles, we did not pass one shop, nowhere to buy chocolate. We took ourselves off the Way to a pub which served us a cool cup of tea and a cooler welcome. We also headed into a village, to a nearly-closed garden centre where we bought chocolate raisins and toffee popcorn which fuelled us with enough sugar for the last couple of hours. We walked a number of miles parallel to the M25, through beautiful fields - grass and oil-seed rape - which I have motored passed with barely a glance. We saw country lanes bordered by thick mixed hedgerows, we heard birds singing and all day long the sky was a clear blue. Quintessential English countryside only half-an-hour's drive from the city centre.
Today I am tired, my legs ache and my feet are sore, but I have something of the newly-emerging summer on my inside, views for my "inner eye" that bring something green and blue and yellow to concrete suburbia and, as I spend some of my carefully carved out blogging time looking up train times as I excitedly plan the next stage, something to look forward to.

Be who God meant you to be

2011-04-30T17:31:00.003+01:00

“Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.” St Catherine of Siena

This was the statement with which Dr Richard Chartres opened his wedding address to Prince William and Kate Middleton yesterday. There is a lot about me that I would like to be different and there is a lot about other people that I would like to be. I am challenged to trust that God made me exactly the way He wanted me and that only I am made perfectly to do what he asks of me.
Henri Nouwen also speaks of individuality: "You will discover that many other spiritualities you have admired and tried to practice no longer completely fit you unique call. You will begin sensing when other people's experiences and ideas no longer match your own. You have to start trusting your unique vocation and allow it to grow deeper and stronger in you so it can blossom in your community."

I feel that I have come to a time in my life when I am clearly seeing the choice I have to make. I can choose to agree with my envious and self-doubting thoughts, I can undermine myself and harshly compare my insides with my perception of other people's outsides; or I can say "yes" to the me God created, fight every day to believe that what he says about me is true and that he knew what he was doing when he made me. I can try every day to be more who God meant me to be.

Glory

2011-04-28T14:38:00.002+01:00

God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.

I know that I should do everything for the glory of God, I have heard it many times. I try to glorify God, but it isn't very glorifying when I am tired, resentful or unhappy and my best efforts are not enough to overcome these feelings. Often the result is ugly; and I feel ugly, outside and in.
The quote above reframes this dilemma. It leads me to the question, "When am I most satisfied in God?" For when I am satisfied in Him, worldly efforts fall away and the "me" He created in infinite wisdom and generosity is free to shine. For His glory.

8 Today

2011-04-27T20:47:00.002+01:00

My baby is eight years old today. As she told me, she is twice as old as when she was four!

I calculated that I have celebrated 29 of my children's birthdays, which I guess also means that I have muddled my way through 29 years of parenting. I cannot escape a sense that time is ticking away and that I am running out of opportunities to get it right. There are so many things I'd like to be more: patient, generous, fun, creative, spontaneous. I try hard to be a good mum, but I find it hard to see it and I am grateful to have people around me to tell me that they think I'm doing a good job. My eldest will be 12 this summer and, if my role as bringer-up ends at 18, I am well over half way through this daunting task. It will only be then, as my babies gradually become adults with lives of their own, that I will really be able to see the results of my efforts. I was reminded today that God trusted me enough to give me these children and, when it really feels that He made a mistake, perhaps I need to return the favour and trust Him!

Another Schedule

2011-04-26T17:24:00.002+01:00

Life is going faster than I am. Having just had a three week Easter holiday, I still feel behind and overwhelmed. I have not yet had the time to look over my daughter's term's work with her and the list of things to do which has been stressing me since Christmas, which I had slated for this long break, is unlooked-at and undiminished. I don't want to live with this constant feeling of playing catch-up and hearing myself tell the children that they need to go faster. I want our lives to be fun, relaxed, pleasantly purposeful and still full of learning opportunities.
My best friend has just moved in with us and how our week will look now very much involves her. We sat down together this afternoon and planned out the term. It is hard for me to let go of control, to accept that someone else's ideas - different ideas - might work, might, in fact, be better than my own, but we have come up with a plan. One to be typed up neatly and perhaps even laminated. It is only for eight weeks - the eight short weeks before we declare school's out and head off on our summer holidays.
We are going to finish off the maths syllabus with each child and read a chapter book every day. I want to read the books for the Imperial War Museum exhibition and will also try a maths book and the Boys' Book of Survival. She will take them out cycling and I will lead art and free-writing once a week. My eldest will be expected to do six lots of half-an-hour personal and unsupervised study each week as well as getting an afternoon of maths tuition. I will have time to run during the day and go to a mid-week service at church.
It's hard to let someone else in and I find it hard to let someone else help. Despite often feeling run ragged by the demands of life I don't like the feeling that I am not doing it all, that I am not indispensable. Sharing so much of my life, something that I am so used to doing alone, will take some adjustment but I am excited about what bringing in free ideas, fresh insight and fresh energy will mean for us and the way home ed looks in this home.

Easter Weekend

2011-04-25T18:57:00.005+01:00

The weather has been beautiful and I have made a conscious effort to relax and allow this Bank Holiday to feel like a holiday. We had plenty of chocolate and a Simnel Cake,

an Easter Eggstravagansa in the garden,
and breakfast in the sunshine this morning.

We spent today at another National Trust property, admiring works of art, sunbathing while the children played and following an Easter Egg Trail. And, of course, we had tea and cake. It's been fun, it's been a break, and it's been good to spend extended time together.

Chartwell

2011-04-23T19:00:00.001+01:00

My husband has been off work for nearly three weeks, on his Easter break, yet somehow it has not felt like much of a holiday. I have been lucky enough to be out walking for quite a bit, two days from home and three days away, and he has worked hard tutoring, which really enjoys (honestly!) and brings in some money to spend on fun things. I didn't quite finish everything last term that I wanted to and haven't quite wrapped it all up over the holiday so there has never been that sense of an end of term and the beginning of something different. With my mother's unexpected ill health last week, it has all felt quite a rush.
But not this weekend. I have made a decision to take this long, double-bank holiday weekend to really be a holiday. We spent the day at Chartwell yesterday, walking in the woods, exploring the history of Winston Churchill's home and experiencing life as a slightly different-shaped family.

Stay Day

2011-04-20T17:13:00.007+01:00

It was an idea conceived in early November and, after months of discussion, prayer, doubts and reasurance, it finally came into being - unexpectedly suddenly at the last - on Monday: my best friend has moved in and become part of our family.

We have been through some rough weather, literally, emotionally and in life's events, but there has been a lot more sunshine.
We got home late from our walking trip to the Peaks on Monday night and, after conferring with the children on Tuesday, decided to celebrate as soon as possible. Chocolate cake was duly baked for breakfast consumption - elevating this event to the status of a birthday - and we sang "Happy Stay Day". Even the builders got a slice (which will hopefully energise them to finish the garage conversion, giving us all a little more space) and we are looking forward to this new chapter in all our lives.

Peak District

2011-04-19T19:02:00.002+01:00

Tired legs, sunburnt nose, refreshed outlook - good trip.

Reassurance

2011-04-15T10:42:00.002+01:00

I like to be told that I am doing the right thing. The more anxious I feel, the more I seek the approval and reassurance of others. Was I right to go down to my mother's, leaving my husband to hold the fort and look after the children on his own during his holiday? Was I right to leave my mum in a hospital bed and come home? Am I right to be packing my walking gear and catching a train to the Peak District for a weekend away with my best friend? Whatever I do, I feel as if it is probably wrong and that I am not looking after my children, husband, mother, step-father orself as well as I should. One of my many prayers yesterday was that God's provision for me would include guidance and boundaries. It was clear to me that I needed to be with my step-father as he made the trip he had dreaded, into a nursing home. There were tasks to be done in my mum's house to leave it ready for her absence and it was important to spend time with her, comforting her, listening to her and reassuring her that her dearly-loved husband was safe. It also became clear that there was nothing more that I could do and it was ok for me to come home: in fact, I was exhausted and needed to. I am looking forward to being away, to the open spaces and freedom from admin and chores that come with walking and camping, and I am looking forward to grown-up time with my best friend, free from responsibility. I get cross that I seek so much reassurance and approval and think that I should make my decisions and stick by them. However, this just adds to the sense of not getting it right. Instead I made a choice yesterday that I would just notice this tendency and I would observe how it felt. I would not stop myself telling the lady from Social Services that I did not want to be the kind of daughter that people thought didn't visit enough; I would not stop myself telling my son's friend's mother that I feel guilty about leaving today; I would not even stop myself from telling my mother that I felt bad about leaving her. Of course, I am hoping in each of these situations that the other person will tell me that what I am doing is ok and that they do not think badly of me. I hope that in noticing but not getting frustrated or trying to force myself to change I will be being kind to myself and, in loving myself more, will gradually lose the need to get validation from other people.

Still waiting

2011-04-14T21:21:00.002+01:00

I left my mother today, still in hospital and still waiting for tests. There is nothing I can do to help her and she is surrounded by an incredible and loving church community who have held her through some bad times in recent years and I know will hold her and help her through this one. I took her husband to a nursing home this morning where he has been admitted for six weeks' respite care. It was hard for me to say goodbye to him, knowing how much he did not want to leave his home. It seems cruel, knowing how little time he and my mother may have left together. All I can do is trust in those around them that they will both be well-cared for; that the tests will reveal the cause of mum's collapse so that the doctors can begin to treat her; and that my loving heavenly father is their's too and is holding us all.

Waiting

2011-04-14T09:21:00.003+01:00

I am very much a list person. It doesn't take long once I meet a new person for them to realise this: even the builder has taken to teasing me about my lists. If I lose one, which happens quite often, it is like a fire alarm: nobody stops to collect anything, we all hunt for the list. I am often told to "chill out" but I find that my lists are what keeps me sane and calm. Once all the swirling thoughts are on a piece of paper they no longer feel so threatening or overwhelming: they can be moved, but under my control; priorities are easier to identify; time-scales easier to calculate and I can find ways of trying to factor in some space. And when everything suddenly changes, at least I know what didn't get done, what needs picking up later and what just has to be left.
I had a list yesterday, and had already written today's and Friday's, making sure that I had enough time to do everything that I needed to before I catch the train to Derby for a weekend away walking.
And then the phone rang and it was my mother's neighbour telling me that mum was being taken to hospital, leaving her frail, elderly husband at home. It was helpful to have my list, so that when I had to drop everything and leave, I knew what had to be caught by someone else and what I just had to let fall. It is amazing to have friends that are willing and able to give their time to drive my son to his god-mother's for the over-night stay and day trip that he has been counting the weeks, days and hours to. He had only just told me that it was 35 minutes until he left.
It has also been amazing to see social services in action and to have a carer arrive only minutes after I did to tell me that 48 hours of live-in care were in place while longer term arrangements were made, leaving me free to visit my mother and reassure myself that she was comfortable and in good hands.
And now I am waiting. I have another list of what I need to do once my step-father is safely in respite care, which will be organised today. I cannot even make a list of what to do to help my mother until she has had the necessary tests to determine what happened yesterday. So, at the moment I have only one thing on my list: wait.

Benchmarks

2011-04-12T19:15:00.003+01:00

I was telling someone the other day about my dog doing the Kennel Club Good Citizen Dog Awards. I am very laid back about my children's education, but I can release my inner pushy parent on the dog and put her through exams at a very early age without fear of causing permanent psychological harm. I have not been very happy with Coco's progress recently but my friend reminded me today how far this puppy has come. She will walk to heel, mostly, and especially if I make it very obvious that I have a treat in my hand. She will even walk to heel with no lead as we weave in and out of posts. She will come back across the park when I call, running right up to me and sitting. She will stay, usually resigning herself to the boredom by putting her chin on the floor and occasionally eating grass, and she will leave a tempting treat or her favourite toy until told she can take it. She has achieved both her puppy and her bronze certificates and I have rosettes for each to be proud of.
I always meant to measure my children's heights on a door-post so that we could all marvel at how much they had grown but I never did. Their development is clear to see however: they out-grow shoes and clothes, they bump their hips rather than their heads on grandma's breakfast table and they even coo over tiny baby shoes in the shops, which they themselves wore not so long ago.
It is important to notice progress and the only way to do this is to remember how things were. No matter how depressed I am about the state of my garden, there are a few photos of how it was three or four years ago that never fail to cheer me up. In the hazy worlds of home-ed and personal development it is hard to see this progress and easy to slip into the trap of feeling that nothing is changing.
Perhaps it is necessary to be intentional about noticing progress. To pay attention to what the children can do, or read, or understand right now so that I have something to compare last and next year with and to see how they are thriving; to pay attention to where I am right now, what I cope with, what causes me to spin out, how I respond to a difficult situation so that I can see that I am indeed becoming calmer and better humoured as I deal with some of the uncomfortable feelings in my life. Perhaps it is even time to fashion some rosettes of our own.

Tate Watercolours

2011-04-11T17:37:00.003+01:00

I have been lucky enough to have another 'day off' and have spent it at the Tate Gallery in London at the watercolour exhibition. I felt like a child on a school day out, almost hopping up and down with excitement, and I was not disappointed. I had thought carefully about whether to join up with someone, my husband, a friend, a fellow evening-class student perhaps, but decided that I actually would enjoy it more by myself. There were a few occasions when I was tempted to comment to a total stranger about one of the pictures but most of the time I was happy to think my own thoughts, to not have to listen to anyone else's and to go at my own pace, lingering or moving on as I wanted. Picture after picture astounded me with colour, dexterity, detail, boldness and more colour. There were maps, portraits, architecture, botany, landscape, abstracts and war paintings. I tuned in to my own mental chatter, trying to capture what it was that made me internally exclaim, "amazing!" I asked myself over and again what I liked about the pictures that made me stop and examine them. Would I like to paint like that? It is hard to get passed the feeling that I will never have the skill to be able to paint like any of these artists and to let myself discover what I was drawn to. I also struggle not to apologies for my tastes, as if what I like must lack sophistication or substance. I find that I like bright colours, especially red and green; I like pen and wash, pictures with outlines, a somewhat 'illustrative' style; I am awed by courage: large scale, intimate detail or strong brush marks, reminding me the idea I once read in a climbing book of a 'committing move'. I have thoroughly enjoyed my day out and learned a great deal more about the range of the medium I am learning to paint in. Unexpected though, was how I have learned a little bit more about myself, who I am and what I love.

Priorities - again!

2011-04-08T17:53:00.004+01:00

I love the idea of having a clear idea of what matters most and getting it done, of letting go of the "small stuff". I applied this principle well in some areas of my life last term, most notably my running. I accepted that it mattered to me to do well in the Hastings Half Marathon, I put my training runs first into my weekly plan and I ran with purpose. I focused on my goal and I achieved it. But I am struggling again. I think the problem I have has is two-faced: I deny what I really want and I try to have too many priorities. An example of the first: I can think through that having hummus for lunch is not very important and that filing my son's term's work and preparing him for the Junior Maths Challenge are my real priorities but when I find myself getting the food processor out as my husband calls the children to lunch, I know that in my heart, hummus was paramount. I am beginning to plan next term and have come face-to-face with the second: trying to fit too much in. It all looks so good until I hear myself tell the children that we will concentrate on improving their cycling in the summer months and that we will "slot it in" to our timetable. A friend suggests a dog walk and I find myself thinking that I have filled every day between now and the end of June and wonder how I will fit in seeing any friends. Something will have to give. Can I really do no handwriting or grammar practice until September. What about the project the children would like to do - where will it fit? Surely we need to finish Maths? And I want to do the things we love, like Poetry Tea and Chapter Book. And I want to have time for spontaneous picnics in the park or the garden. Even I can see that it isn't all going to happen -certainly not if I want it to feel like fun and not like Boot Camp.

Orphans

2011-04-07T15:16:00.005+01:00

Have you ever noticed how grown-ups just don't feature in children's literature, not unless they are the baddies? Harry Potter's parents are dead, along with the Baudelaire siblings' and Sara Crewe's in A Little Princess. The Railway Children have one parent in prison and one withdrawn to her study writing and The Famous Five are sent off with only the requirement to send a postcard once a day. The Balicki's in "The Silver Sword" cross Europe, Dorothy travels the Yellow Brick Road and the Pevensie's explore Narnia without the guiding hand of parents. (Even Maisy, Kipper and Wibbly Pig carry on their lives without any grown-ups.) Without benevolent adults, these young people have adventures and fun; they experience danger and overcome difficulties, achieve their goals and develop as people. The Easter holidays have started and my husband is off school. I have skived family responsibilities for a few days, taking time out to begin walking the North Downs Way, and now I am busy catching up with admin and tutoring private students. I haven't spent any "quality time" with my children and I am beginning to feel that pervading sense of parental guilt that I should be doing more, that I am neglecting my children. But they have dug out a not-yet-played Christmas present game, played football, sun-bathed, eaten ice-cream, read books and not got dressed all day. Hardly fighting the White Witch or Voldemort, but still, I think that they are having adventures and fun: maybe more so with a little less parenting!

Voices in my head

2011-04-06T08:23:00.003+01:00

I have begun to realise how much I listen to the voice in my head which tells me that I am wrong. Often, like the best of tv impressionists, this voice is a perfect copy of someone else and I am beginning to discover how often I really believe that what I am hearing is what that person is thinking. Sometimes it's the voice of a complete stranger: maybe someone reading a job application, the assistant in a shop or even a figure from history. There is another voice. This one tends to speak quickly, quietly and then retreat like a shy bird. This voice is the one that says, "I'm so tired, I need to sit down," or "No, I don't want to do what you're asking of me," or "I love that piece of art." The first voice shouts it down with accusations of laziness, selfishness or poor taste. I am beginning to learn to silence the first, at least momentarily, to take some control over and responsibility for my thoughts, to add some reason to the mix. I am beginning to learn to listen to the second, to take it seriously, just as I would one of my children. I am beginning to do what it says, when I can, and at least to hear it when I can't. Yesterday evening, in art class, we looked at abstraction. We listened to excerpts of music and sketched the inspired images in our heads, working the one we felt most drawn to into a painting. There was that voice telling me that I was doing it wrong, that my pictures were rubbish, that I was no good. And there was the second speaking of colours and shapes unique to me, rustling grasses, swooping rose stems and ambiguous lizard-shaped oases. I listened; I painted; and every time I do that, the first voice loses some of its power and the second gains a little more confidence.

North Downs Way, part 1

2011-04-05T17:58:00.002+01:00

It was hard work getting out of bed this morning. My legs felt heavy and just a little bit sore. I have spent the last two days walking. I have walked, altogether, from Farnham to Merstham, a distance of around 35 miles: I have begun to fulfil my year's intention of completing the North Downs Way. We had two days of beautiful weather, wide open skies, green fields, woods, rivers, hills and little birds. We have talked deeply and laughed a lot; drunk tea and eaten cake on the top of Box Hill and outside a Pre-Raphaelite Art Gallery; discovered forticfications to transform the North Downs into the last line of defence from a threatened French Invasion at the end of the 19th Century and lime quarries and water towers. (I took some great photos too, but sadly my phone has had to go back for repair (oh no, not again!) so they will have to be added later.) It has been a great couple of days out from life and, despite being exhausted, I am happily refreshed.

Pythagoras

2011-03-31T14:21:00.003+01:00

There's a certain look in my son's eye that he gets when he is upset with me but doesn't like to say so. Coupled with his exaggerated sniping at a no-more-than-usually annoying sister, I was pretty sure this indicated that something was up. He told me how hard everything was and how he was looking forward to next week, when his school-teacher-dad will be on holiday, and not having to do any work. I refrained from telling him that he didn't know he was born and that children who went to school worked much longer hours and then came home and worked some more (somehow, that never helps!) and inquired further as to what was up. Maths, it transpired, was up. We are preparing for the Junior Maths Challenge in May and, after he told me yesterday that working through past papers was going fine, I had told him to carry on. Apparently it was not going fine: he was stuck and couldn't do any more. Pausing only for a brief lecture on my inability to read minds, I told him I'd sit down and we'd do some together. We sorted out a few simple misunderstandings and careless errors and soon moved on to some simple geometry. This, I decided, was a good moment to introduce Pythagoras' Theorem. Serendipity indeed that my middle son was at that moment working on perimeters and needed to work out the length of triangle sides. So, I set them to drawing right-angle triangles, measuring, squaring, adding and square-rooting. Suddenly there was energy, enthusiasm and helpful brotherly explanations of what a square-root actually is. Triangles were drawn and tables completed. I suggested that, when they had done a few each, I had an extra idea for what they could do. "Oh, goody!" exclaimed my eldest. Was this the same child who had been telling me how much he disliked maths? That's what I love about how we do things. The opportunity for an individual approach, the opportunity to find out and sort out what's wrong and the learning that just happens when it all seems like fun.

Wasted

2011-03-30T16:41:00.008+01:00

We have just completed a second two-week project at my art class, this time on movement. Inspired by the previous week's subject of Degas, I chose dancers and these two images:

I began by sketching them both in pencil and then roughly painting copies. Last week was cancelled so I used the time to try a couple more rough versions, but was increasingly unhappy and even bored by the picture. At class last night, I steeled myself to paint one, final version, incorporating all that I had learned:

My tutor worked her way round gradually and by the time she got to me I was almost done. She was not impressed. I can tell it's not good when she says that my rough sketches were more successful! She then took a paintbrush and suggested I try something more like 'this', and in two minutes created a fluid and dynamic figure on the page. Disheartened, I added strong lines and sweeping brush strokes to my rigid and inexpert copy and, encouraged by her comments of "That's more like it," felt a little better about my efforts.With less than half-an-hour left, I decided to have one more go, drawing with my brush and 'painting from the shoulder' :

It took me about five minutes. It felt as if all the hours, probably four in total, of struggling with these images had been wasted approaching them from completely the wrong angle. I had managed to paint something really quite good in just five minutes. No, my teacher corrected me, it had taken all four hours plus five minutes because I had to get to the point where I had learned what I needed to know to paint like this. I wonder what else in life feels like a waste but is actually getting me to the place I need to be to create the thing I need to create?

Tea with Friends

2011-03-29T16:09:00.006+01:00

It is a lovely thing to share something which is means something to us. Poetry tea has long been a corner-stone of our home education and it was special yesterday to welcome Lucinda and her children, one of whom joined the home ed world only in January, for tea and cakes and favourite poems. Lucinda brought the sequel to Marriott's Edgar's "Albert and the Lion", which was a joy to me as I didn't know there was one and Albert and his Lion are old friends of ours. I dug out Jim while we were on the subject of lions eating children (I was assured that our guests would not find it too gruesome) and we finished off with "The King's Breakfast". All the children read aloud, ate cake and drank tea and it was a very civilised affair.

It doesn't look much like school and it certainly doesn't feel much like school and I can't imagine what the lesson plan would look like, but as we reflected together, as the children bounced on the trampoline, we could list so many of the benefits. We have "covered" home economics, socialization (learning about sitting at the table and taking turns), socializing (having friends over), learning to read as our new readers follow the words of familiar poems, reading aloud in front of an audience, literature and ideas, (we have touched on World War I recently and Albert's Dad taught us about life insurance). All this in a warm and loving environment - and cake! What more could we want?

Dynamic Assessment

2011-03-28T16:42:00.003+01:00

It's been a day for rearranging. I rang the council to see how our planning permission applications is coming along to be told that they have no record of it - it never arrived. And it will take eight weeks to process. The builder originally assured me that it would be a 48 hour turn around and they have already begun work. It's not that it's illegal, just that it if we don't get permission, we will have to rethink the whole project. However, on searching the council's web-site to download new forms, I discover that we may not need planning permission after all and now we are waiting for a response to to our query. Having spent quite a while dealing with this in the morning, my carefully planned and dove-tailed day was beyond rescue and a new plan needed to be created. Back to my to-do list and timetable to establish absolute priorities and what could wait. Somehow though, it's always the children's day-to-day education that seems to end up waiting and I spiral into panic that they won't get jobs and will end up homeless because on this day we didn't do half an hour of maths. A weekend booked to walk a section of the North Downs Way had been changed to a weekend in Wales and is now a weekend in the Peak District. Things change. Sometimes it feels as if there isn't even a moment to stop and figure out what is important. Still, today, cup-cakes got made in time for visitors, dinner is in the oven and the dog is asleep suggesting that she has had enough exercise so it can't be all bad. I am increasingly aware of my inability to discern what I really want before the point where I am disappointed that I haven't got it. What is the hurry with our building project? What are my priorities in a day, in a week, in my children's education? Do I mind where I walk or where I sleep when I'm away? In all of these shifting plans, the thread is being with the people I love. As long as there is space for her to sleep, it is not problem if the garage is not converted before my best friend comes to live with us. As long as they are learning and happy and relationships are in tact, it doesn't matter if the children haven't done today's maths or have yet to finish a writing project. As long as I am relaxed enough to enjoy their visit, it doesn't matter if there is not a table-cloth and candle out to welcome our friends to share tea and poetry. As long as we are having fun, are outdoors and away from suburbia, enjoying our time together and experiencing a challenge, I don't much care where I go walking in April. But I do care when I miss the opportunity to connect with my child, or with a friend; when the day-to-day stresses overshadow the moments of joy and laughter; when all I can see is the next load of washing up and I lose sight of the amazing people I share my life with.

A Friend to Play

2011-03-25T16:18:00.002Z

My little girl had a friend round to play this morning. His mum brought him over and we took him along to Home Ed group for her to collect. They spent most of their time, along with my middle son and the dog, in the garden doing something with an old dustbin lid, garden canes and the children's plastic chairs. It looked like a siege and certainly seemed to take a lot of enercy and concentration. It also looked a lot of fun! My daughter is seven, this lad is nine and my son is ten. In a school environment they would be unlikely to meet, let alone play together and I don't think the boy/girl mix is the done thing in the playground. Many people ask me about the social side of home ed, and I do worry that my children have a smaller pool of children to fish for friends from, but when I see them playing as they were this morning, I figure we are doing ok. Pretty well even.

Another 13.1?

2011-03-24T15:59:00.003Z

It's a tough choice. I'd like to set myself a challenge, but not one which will take over my life. I want to do something satisfyingly hard, but not crazy. I've just done a half-marathon in my best time ever and, despite still feeling exhausted, I'm keen to build on my good running form. It was suggested to me, while I sat in the car swigging water less than an hour after I finished on Sunday, that it might be an idea to train for a marathon. Well, it's certainly an idea, but is it a crazy one?
My intention this year was to run the same four races I did last year. I have completed two and entered the third, so my thoughts are turning to the winter. Last year I ran the Hog's Back, which was fun, but only 8.2 miles. A reasonable distance, but something and nothing, not a distance which can easily be compared with any other. The year before I did a 10 miler. A very hilly 10 miler. But it was a long way from home, and there is always a point at which I wonder why I am in the car longer than I am running, when I could run the same distance from my front-door and be home for breakfast. Both of these have the advantage, though, of a previous time to compare this year's with.
I've found a half marathon just over an hour away, mostly canal paths, which looks a good option. But then, there is the Greensand Marathon. Not just a marathon, but a marathon with a vertical mile of ascent and descent. Not just a marathon, but a marathon with a quarter-way cut-off point of 70 minutes, which doesn't sound too bad until you remember the vertical mile. And the fact that it's all off road. I won't be able to move for a week afterwards. At least. I won't educate my children much for a week afterwards - unless setting a role model of setting challenging goals counts as education. It's expensive, but it's close to home, and somehow, when it's an option on the table, everything else sounds just a little bit tame. So, it's an idea. But is it a crazy one?

Re-united

2011-03-22T18:39:00.004Z

I have my mobile phone back. It doesn't seem to be charging up any better than before I took it in to be fixed, dropped the loan phone in water and was told I would be charged £50 for not returning it in good condition.
It's been a learning experience and here are some of the lessons:

1) Don't drop a phone in water, it damages the phone.
2) If you do, don't try and turn it on, this may well be what causes the damage.
3) Open the phone, take out the battery and SIM card and put everything else in a bowl of dry rice. It didn't help me at all, but apparently it can help. At least I felt I was doing something.
4) It is worth complaining. A very nice lady from T-Mobile called me in response to my letter explaining that I thought charging me £50 to replace a phone I could buy for £25 on-line was unreasonable and extortionate. She said she would credit my account with £25. And she thanked me for writing. You're welcome!
5) I am far more attached to my phone than I realised. Very few people call me, or text me. In fact, it is mostly my best friend. I have set the phone to ring a different tone if it's her calling, but as it nearly always it, I don't really need it. But I like it. In fact, I really like my phone. I'm glad I've got it back!

Sore

2011-03-21T13:22:00.004Z

Strangely, my neck hurts. My legs hurt too, but I was expecting that. I am irritable, tired and a little dehydrated; all of that is normal. But my neck? I think it's all the down-hills. I ran Hastings Half Marathon yesterday on a sunny seaside day, with a pleasant breeze and huge crowd support. The first five miles are largely up-hill, with the stretch from around three to just after five one long, steady climb. Consequently, there are some pretty steep down-hills in the second half, before the last three miles from one end of the sea-front to the other. It's a great race and one I've enjoyed for the last three years. I was dead chuffed to have taken almost eight minutes off last year's time, which was three minutes quicker than 2009. My running seems to have come together this year. I have reached a place where I am happy with how much I run, why I run, whether or not I want to race and how hard to push myself. It was one of my 'intentions' this year, to run the same four races that I did last year, and it was one of my priorites this half-term to prepare for Hastings. As an approach, it seems to have worked. I am trying to take it as easy as possible today and I am not requiring much from the children. My son tells me that is a reason he likes me racing. Me? I enjoy the chance to bask in the glow of achievement and to have every excuse to eat more cake and chocolate!

Classical Spectacular

2011-03-18T16:41:00.004Z

It was a shame that the cannons made her cry. Everything had been going well up until then and I had assured her that the big guns would not be too loud. But they were loud and unexpected and she ran from our box. And despite bravely trying not to, burst into tears when I went outside to find her. The 1812 Overture is so exciting and I love the cannons, and the lasers and fireworks, but it was all a bit much for my seven-year-old and we listened to the rest from the corridor. The Can-can finale restored her excitement and we left the Royal Albert Hall deciding which was our favourite piece of music. It wasn't an easy choice as, at the schools' performance of Classical Spectacular, we had heard Mars, Pomp and Cirmcumstance, Bolero, Saint-Saen's Organ concerto, the Blue Danube and more. I think I liked the theme from 2001:a Space Odyessy the best, with the perfectly timed laser show and the lighting rig rising from the auditorium like a UFO. Not the quietest or most refined audience, the 6,000 children cheered and clapped and danced along and it was a great afternoon.
As a home educator, I have always got box seats at the Albert Hall's schools' events because of the high ratio of adults to children: I am one mum with three children. In fact the Second Tier was full of home educating families and a glance around showed me many friendly faces. In the next box but one was a neighbour and we popped into the corridor for a chat and she introducde me to her husband and eldest son. Right across the Hall, so far that I had to squint to recognise the face next to the waving arm, was another friend. It always feels good to be reminded that I am part of a large and lively community of families with many shared values. I am not an odd-ball, and I am not on my own.