phonics and falling rice

Phonics. There are so many ways and methods to employ when teaching a child about the sounds that the alphabet makes.

Today, I chose to use a few of Maria Montessori's methods for teaching a child to read and write (this is one of the many beauties of homeschooling, that is to say that one can choose whichever method suits each individual child best). Nicolas is 4 and for about the last six months, has fallen into a love affair with writing. He is at the "Mommy how do you spell _____?" age and I am eager to help encourage him on his road to reading (for most children, writing comes before reading, am I right here?).

When learning to identify a letter, number, leaf, wildflower or whatever it is a child is learning to identify, I find Montessori's Three Period Lesson to be so wonderful. If you are interested, you can read more about it here.
Instead of having him write in pen and paper today, I let his finger serve as his "pen" and a tart pan filled with rice serve as his "paper". This way, he could include several of his senses in this writing experience (sense of touch is huge here!).
After we talked about the letter "A" and "a", we went on to talk about the sound that "A/a" makes. I said, "A, as in apple". He said, "A, like apple" and then added and "A, like Adeline". So sweet. Adeline is my sister's soon-to-be-born baby girl, Nicolas' newest cousin!

I then left him alone to play in his tray of rice and just sat back to catch a few sweet moments....

Here he is just feeling the rice and letting it fall (yes, it did fall all on the floor, and I am just fine with that. It seem for me, that any mess associated with a learning experience is totally acceptable!!).
Nicolas then started drawing other letters and pictures in the rice. The shape below was described to be "You Mom!".


"The environment itself will teach the child, if every error he makes is manifest to him, without the intervention of a parent or teacher, who should remain a quiet observer of all that happens."
- Maria Montessori

life as I know it

I have a confession to make...



It's February and it's getting a little loopy around here. Not only are these last few weeks of winter taking their toll on me, but they seem to be triggering some sort of chemical reaction in the little minds of my children as well.

I've heard from countless friends, teachers and fellow homeschoolers that February is truly a trying, in fact, the most trying month when it comes to children. So I know I'm not alone.

This is a consolation, I will admit. However, it doesn't really help to relieve any of the loopiness around here. It seems my house is filled with so much ______. You fill in the blank. Words like chaos, noise, motion, screeching, hopping, flipping, jumping. These words would fit in that blank nicely.Not to mention the little toddler attitude that has flared up oh-so intensely around here (see photos below- notice the look that says, "I can do it by myself, now step away from my toothbrush!").

But on a positive note, I am so blessed to have (in my opinion) three of the most creative and imaginative children. I honestly can admit that I have not heard the phrase, "Mom, I'm bored" at all this entire winter. This is so inspiring and brings hope to me! No matter how cooped-up we may all feel at times, there are still games to play, songs to sing, forts to build, dramas to be acted out and costumes to dress up in. Oh, the costumes. There are so many. Some cute, some scary and some that have involved varying interpretations of Davy Crockett as a geisha (see photo below, ahem). The joys of having an older sister (poor Nicolas!).

Thanks for letting me get this all out. I just know I can make it now.

no agenda

We're home and have settled back in very nicely to the swing of things. I can even proudly proclaim that the dirty laundry has been washed, dried and is currently resting nicely in their appointed places. Granted the refrigerator and cupboards are nearly empty, but that's what scrambled eggs are for I believe!

Our trip to the White Mountains of New Hampshire can be summed up in one word: peaceful. I suppose if you wanted me to use two words to more accurately describe the luxurious 48-hours spent tucked away in a mountain retreat home, I could also use the words: no agenda.

Whichever description you choose, you can probably get the idea that our time was low-key, relaxing, slow-paced and oh-so enjoyable!

Upon being asked about our time spent away earlier today, I told a friend that I don't really remember ever not doing anything for two days straight. Of course there were splendid activities like eating, reading, napping, scenic drives, browsing antique stores and an indoor flea market. But nothing that could be considered "productive" by the world's standards.

I promised photos, but when you're doing nothing, there's really nothing to snap a photo of!

Okay, if you really want, you can mentally picture a couple of these scenes...

loads of snow
large mountains
two-foot long icicles dripping from rooftops

These images would nicely summarize how we spent our eight wedding anniversary...

getaway eve

It is here. The eve of our getaway. We will be heading up North tomorrow morning minus our three little dumplings. They will be in very good and nurturing hands make no mistake. I believe that they are all secretly wishing for a bit of spoiling from various family members and there is no doubt in my mind that they will receive it.

I am thinking now about the mental "packing list" that I have created in my head- for us and them. That's three separate packing experiences. Diapers in one. Snow gear in the other. Crib sheets in one. Boots in the other. It's quite mind boggling. Really.

Since it is going to be a relax-to-the-hilt weekend, we have packed a few necessities to achieve that goal. Several books that we've been dying to read, a box of food and wine, some cash to enjoy a fabulous anniversary dinner and several DVDs to enjoy (Mike actually chose to bring Braveheart! Ahhh, my fabulous husband) to enjoy.

Of course let's not forget the huge itinerary that we've planned. We have every hope of trying our hand (or rather, our feet) at snow shoeing, browsing shops and bookstores and being outdoors together.

There will be plenty of photos to share when we return. I can hardly wait!

mammary misery

Super Tuesday was anything but super for me. I have returned to the land of the living to tell about my 36-hour bout filled with pain, chills and lots of time spent horizontally.

When I woke up Tuesday morning I felt hopeful and inspired at the reality of my 6:30 am gym date with my pregnant friend, Stephanie. The workout session went as usual- lots of movement, but even more talking. What do we speak about? If a topic exists, you better believe it is touched on during our 45- 50 minute encounter every morning- hat day's Primary Election, the new evidence in the Natalee Holloway case, heartburn during pregnancy, guilt about consuming excessive amounts of chocolate, my friend's upcoming move (yes, sadly, they are returning to sunny Southern California in March...) and anything and everything related to toddlers.

As I began my run on the treadmill, I could feel that something just wasn't right "inside my sport's bra" (this is to avoid the "b-----" word for the sake of any of my male reader's, my brother included). I hadn't even ever been this sore during those first few weeks of milk regulation over the postpartum period. It hurt. Only one, but nevertheless, it hurt.

I had to (sadly) cut my run short and felt as if my condition worsened by the minute during my three-minute drive home. I'm sure by the time I walked in the house at 7:30 am I looked like something pretty sad. Sore, achy, chilled, fatigued.

By 9:30, while still in my gym clothes and un-showered, I threw in the towel. Curled in a ball on the sofa ready to fall asleep, I quickly sat up, read my children the riot act-

"Everyone stay downstairs with me", "Nobody play with water, the stapler or scissors", "No painting, fixing your own food or googling anything Sophia"

and resumed my fetal position. It wasn't looking good.

I drifted in and out of sleep all morning and received a 20 minute bout of revival just long enough to prepare lunch and put Elias down for his nap. Fhew. Now only two to keep at bay.

Mike returned home at about 2:30 pm to find me in pretty bad shape. He didn't say much, but the look on his face said enough. He knew I was hurting and would do just about anything needed to help me help myself (and the children).

At this point, I was starting to make some mental connections about the pain in my breast and my "flu-like" symptoms. Surely they couldn't be two separate events. Surely more, it couldn't be what I though it could be.

The whole day passed and my nighttime I thought I should surely die and very creepy and sudden death- in my gym clothes, with one swollen breast and a really messy side ponytail.

I shivered my way to sleep that night. I secretly planned how we would arrange for middle-of-the-night childcare so that Mike could drive me to the ER.

Well, morning came and I was still alive. The pain was still there, but I believe I had more a will to live at that point (and the sound of my husband saying, "CALL YOUR MIDWIFE NOW!!!!!!!!!". I did just that and after a day and a half of writhing in pain, countless amounts of ibuprofen and time spent slowly cooking myself under layers of quilts I received the call-back from one of midwives confirming my hunch. I had mastitis.

MASTITIS? How in the world could a non-nursing woman have mastitis? Oh, it is quite possible. I was told that any woman who has ever produced breastmilk can suffer from mastitis at any point even after weaning.

In my head, it was eons since I had last nursed Elias. When I tallied up the days since weaning, it had been a mere 40 day span since my darling toddler had dined on his favorite cuisine.

I know, I know. Most of you probably think that this weaning event happened sometime in the summer of 2007. Well, it never lasted. He was really desperate and I was even more desperate (to sleep that was).

Mastitis? This was certainly some kind of Murphy's Law episode. I had successfully nursed all three of my children for an extended period of time without so much as a cracked nipple, a painful latch-on, leaking, or much engorgement. With a whopping 52 months of cumulative time spent breastfeeding I was just NOW getting mastitis? This couldn't be possible.

"Start the antibiotics tonight. Take two even. If you don't feel better within 24 hours call me and let me know. Then we may start thinking something else", my midwife stated kindly over the phone. That was it? A few pills and I would be on the road to recovery? This was too good to be true! That was all I had to hear to take that much-needed shower and get myself over to the Target pharmacy to pickup my little plastic bottle of heaven.

The description on the pharmacy information sheet stated that my pills would be "a Swedish-orange, oblong-shaped pill". Oh, doesn't that sound pretty! I had never heard of Swedish-orange. I was intrigued. Oh yes! Swedish orange. Coral really. But yes, so pretty; so sunny and optimistic. Just what I needed.

I did take the two pills in one sitting that night and prayed for God to take the pain from me.

I awoke this morning with a new outlook. Things were looking, and feeling pretty fantastic. In fact I woke up first (I am sorely spoiled with a husband who typically wakes up with the children, brews an amazing pot of coffee and then gently rowses me at about 8 o'clock) and prepared a pancake breakfast in honor of my recovery. "Are you feeling better Mommy?", I was asked as Sophia tip-toed down the stairs. "Yes honey. Better. Much better thank you!". For you see, she was my nurse on the first horrible and swollen night; my temperature-taker, quilt piler, phone-call maker ("Um hi, Stephanie, this is Sophia. My mom has a fever and won't be able to join you at the gym in the morning. Okay. Call me when you can."), and voice of comfort. Oh-so touching.

And so here I stand. I am feeling quite good. A bit sore still in the "affected area", but only a hint of the pain that I suffered with for those dreaded 36 hours.

I suppose I could sigh and rub my temples and go to my calendar and cross off important things that I didn't get to do. But I won't. Because as I look back on those blink-of-an-eye (eternally speaking) moments that I spent "not living life" in the worlds' eyes (and sadly, mine at times too), I realize just how much living went on in this home during that time. Time when my children just played and played and cooperated and played and helped each other do things like climb stairs and reach granola bars and pull their corner of the fort-quilt tighter. Time when my daughter wrote down (in her own way of spelling!) a grocery list of items for Mike to gather at the grocery store ("jouise", perhaps this is the French way of spelling "juice". Our French lessons may be paying off after all). A time when my husband was oh-so attentive to my needs, the needs of our children and home. A time when my daughter and I lay next to each other in my bed as I told her stories (using every bit of my energy, so as not to appear to affected and desperate) about when I was young and how important it is to look at people's hearts before their faces.

It really wasn't so bad, mastitis. It was one last reminder of what grew my children and how nicely they have grown into our little happy family.

ode to auntie

My dear sister. You continue to amaze me with all of your positive qualities- patience, generosity and long-suffering. A big "thank you" to you for taking our children today so we can spend some time together visiting here and here.

My sister and her adorable little family...

Elias with his "Auntie"- Spring 2006

Sisters during one of their numerous laughing spells at her baby shower in September 2006. Yes, she is 7 months pregnant in that photo!!!

It is just amazing having a sister who is also a best friend.

Being only 20 months apart has really allowed us to experience many of life's defining moments together. It was always a secret wish of ours that we would be pregnant together and have our babies experience the same stages at the same time. And although I got a bit of a head start (after all, I am the older sister!), we have been able to experience the journey of motherhood together over the last year and a half.

So here's to my sister; my children's beloved "Auntie". You are amazing!

Sleet and So Much to Be Hopeful For

Happy February morning to all of you. We woke up this morning to all three of our children herding into our bedroom a little before 6 am. A nice sight to wake up to. They took turns piling in and out of our bed until they lifted the blinds and noticed the sky. Bright oranges and pinks burned in the horizon and the entire sky was a hazy warm color. Pretty, but perhaps a sign of some pretty ugly weather coming- "Pink sky at night, sailor's delight. Pink sky in the morning, sailor's take warning".

The saying is true. That gorgeous glowing sky has not turned into a gray blanket of clouds and it is sleeting.

Nevertheless, I am looking forward to a new month. It is always inspiring to turn a new calendar page and see the fresh, unmarked page. Of course, those little blank squares quickly become filled with scribbled "to-do's" and appointments.

This month holds several special happenings for our family...

In less than two weeks, Mike and I will be here for several days celebrating our eighth wedding anniversary. We have been blessed with several very generous friends, some of which are loaning us their vacation home in the mountains. It will be a simple, quiet retreat for us with every intention of doing a few of our favorite things- reading, cooking, trying a new wine and being together. We are also hoping to try snow-shoeing for the first time!

Mike and I are a part of a "couple's home group" that studies the Bible, prays and has monthly potluck dinners. I have made a commitment to lead our next women's study and am feeling quite excited and humbled at the reality of it. We will be delving into James, a book that speaks to topics such as taming the tongue, patience in suffering and faith that lacks works. Just thinking about the changes that God has planned for our hearts is oh-so exciting.

We are also praying that this is the month that Mike finds his way down a new career path. We have been actively seeking both the job and God's will for our lives for the past few months and really feel hopeful that the right-fitting job is out there.

Happy February!