wondering

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happy

December 11, 2008 in wondering | 5 comments

The comments have been interesting lately. Take a look.

Did you see the comments from DR, my oh-so-positive friend who inspired my attempts at a complaint-free Advent? He linked to some fascinating research published last week, which shows how one person’s happiness affects his or her family and friends. According to the article, “A happy friend who lives within a mile, for example, boosts your odds of being happy by 25 percent, researchers found.” And, “…even the happiness of a friend’s friend boosts your chance of being happy by 9.8 percent. Even more surprising, the happiness of a friend of a friend of a friend boosts your chance of being happy by 5.6 percent.”

Wow. Proof that happiness radiates and spreads. Like light. What a great gift to give others this holiday season. Happiness. And all you have to do is be happy yourself.

happy

these things take time

November 21, 2008 in learning, wondering | 11 comments

I have a problem.

Whenever I take on something new, I want to be good at it right from the start.

Can you relate?

When I started writing, I wanted to be published right away. (Instead it took 17 years.)

 

When I started knitting, I wanted to knit long, lacy sweater coats like this, from the get-go . (Two and a half years later, I finally have the skill and the gall to take on that project.)

 

And now blogging. One blog whose name seems to get dropped into my posts on a regular basis is SouleMama. For months I’ve admired her gorgeous photographs, her poignant posts. Then there are all those subscribers, hundreds of them, and what seems like an average of 100 comments per day–over 2,000 for a recent giveaway.

I’d like me a little blog like that.

Instead, I have my blog–a toddler blog on unsteady legs. Long-winded posts, photos that don’t have the depth I desire. And I’d rather not admit how often I check my Blog Stats, hoping to see my readership grow.

But wait, patient Reader! Lest you think I’m throwing a pity party for myself, let me share why I’m writing this. You see, was taught a lovely little lesson the other day, one which gave my perspective a nudge.

In trying to choose a new camera, I started looking at blogs with photographs I admire to see which cameras those bloggers use. Many mention their camera model in About Me sections or in FAQs. Some I could ascertain from Flickr posts. Then I started wondering: were these bloggers always such good photographers?

Which is what took me to SouleMama’s archives, and her very first post on TypePad, back in February 2005. And what did I find there? Sweet photos, but a few that were, dare I say, blurred. Others that were surely taken with a flash. Writing that was charming and chatty, but not evolved to the edited eloquence of Amanda’s current posts. And comments? Well, on one lucky day in February she got four, but on most others she got one or two, or even more often, zero.

Wow. I just sat there looking at my screen and took a deep breath. I’m grateful that Amanda has the grace to keep up those old posts because for a new blogger like me, they offer a whole wicker basketful of hope. They call to mind some old adages, ones that I expect my kids to understand, but forget to apply to myself:

Being good at something takes time. And effort.

It’s important to focus on the process, rather than the product.

I think I need to spend less time clicking on my Blog Stats and spend more time remembering instead the buzz of excitement I get on a run, as I trudge up hills while tinkering with lines for a new post. The fun of playing with my new camera. The thrill I get whenever I hit that Publish button. The joy of reading a comment from a reader who’s taken something I’ve written and added new thoughts to it–making my blog a living thing, a bowl of yeasted dough waiting to be transformed.

That’s a lot.  And for now, it should be enough. Blog Stats be damned.

a book I do not need

November 16, 2008 in books, wondering | 6 comments

I don’t think this book can help me.

I might be interested in a companion volume, however. Something along the lines of Surviving with Children Who Think For Themselves. Or, Raising Children Who Aren’t So Dang Sure of Themselves. Or, say, Raising Children Who Think for Themselves but Will Occasionally Toy With the Idea That Their Parents Might Actually Know Something.

Any of you come across a book along those lines?

What parenting book do you wish you could get your hands on? (Come on, folks, that’s a call to leave a comment. Indulge me.)

a quote for wondering

November 14, 2008 in wondering | 1 comment

“Creative activity could be described as a type of learning process where teacher and pupil are located within the same individual.”

–Arthur Koestler

Interesting, huh? What does it mean to you?

birthday gift

October 29, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, wondering | 4 comments

I know I said I’d write more about teaching school and homeschooling, but it’s birthday week around here, so that post will have to wait.

My little man turned seven yesterday.

Birthday bliss: a crown made by your sister, some new checkers and Ricky Ricotta books, and eating cheese and crackers from the birthday bunny plate with your feet on the table.

I always get sentimental on my kids’ birthdays, but especially with this guy. He’s my baby. We waited such a long time for him: six years after his sister, and almost ten after his brother. I remember crying on the phone to my mom, worrying that it was taking so long to get a third pregnancy to hold, worrying that a child born so long after his or her siblings would be lonely. My mom reassured me, told me that all of her friends who’d had “later” babies found those babies to be a particular joy.

And that’s what Mr. T has been. Chris and I loved the name Theodore (and it didn’t hurt that it was also Dr. Seuss’ real name–which now seems especially apt for our little boy with the big imagination). But when we learned that Theodore means “gift from God” we knew that if we had a boy, after waiting so long, that Theodore would be his name.

He’s always been a joy and a gift to the other four of us. He entertains us daily with his kooky personality and his laid-back look on life. My parents gave him a card last night that said, “Happy birthday to our weirdest grandchild”, which they meant in the most loving way, really. At his Willy Wonka birthday party the other day, he dressed like Willy–top hat, goggles and all–and insisted that we start the party with the welcome song from the newer movie–you know, the one that goes, “Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing chocolatier” about 360 times–so he could do a little welcome dance for each of his friends as they arrived. He’s that kind of a nut. Just the sort of kid who’d choose Willy Wonka as a hero.

It’s funny, parents always say that they grow up so fast. And I’ve felt that with the older two. But with Theo it’s been different. Slower. With the other two, I never knew what to expect next, so I think I’ve spent a lot of time looking forward, in both anticipation and worry. But having Mr. T so many years later, I had a pretty good idea what was coming next–and I knew things were bound to turn out okay. (Yes, he’d sleep through the night eventually, and he wouldn’t still be wearing diapers at ten.) So I haven’t spent much time looking forward with him; I know how fast it goes, and I’ve tried to savor every moment of his little boy-ness. Every street crossed holding his hand, every bedtime story read with his head in my lap, every smile with that mouthful of tiny baby teeth, already outgrown. (He just lost his first upper front tooth last week, and holding that tooth in my hand punctured my heart a bit. It felt like I was holding his smile.)

I’ve started reading The Seven-Year-Old Wonder Book to him at night, as I did when each of his siblings turned seven. And I’m grateful that it took so long for him to arrive, because while I now have (almost!) two teenagers skulking around the house, I also have a little boy to snuggle with, who wants to hear fairy stories, who still thinks a wonder book is a wonderous thing.

I’ll leave you with a few more of Mr. T’s wonderings from the Wonder Farm so you too can enjoy the mind of a nutty seven-year-old:

  • What if twins ran for president, which one would the parents vote for?
  • What does God do all day?
  • What if the dentist’s office was a swimming pool?
  • What if Barack Obama wanted Sarah Palin and John McCain wanted Joe Biden? Who would you vote for then? (To which I replied, “Hoo, Buddy, you’re making this tough on me!”)

wonderings from the wonder farm

October 13, 2008 in wondering | 2 comments

Today’s wonderings brought to you courtesy of Mr. T.

  • Is being an ice cream man a good job?
  • Is Theodore Roosevelt dead?
  • How did John McCain fight big tobacco?
  • Do ants have pupils?
  • Is George Bush a Democrat or a Republican? 
  • I wonder what it would be like to turn your skin inside out. It would probably hurt your ankles.

six weeks

October 1, 2008 in learning, wondering | 5 comments

At the homeschool conference, I went to several sessions with Catherine Levinson, a Charlotte Mason speaker. She had a lot to say about cultivating habits in kids. Apparently Charlotte was a big believer in cultivating habit.

The mother who takes pains to endow her children with good habits secures for herself smooth and easy days.—Charlotte Mason

Levinson thinks we should work on one habit at a time with our kids, gently reminding them to do something just once–no nagging. If we do so, she says, the habit will take within about six weeks.

I have no idea where she gets the six weeks figure. Something Charlotte Mason wrote a century ago? Some scientific study? Personal experience? A random time frame that sounds good?

No matter, I decided to try it.  After all, I could use a smooth and easy day every now and again. I decided to see if I could eventually get Mr. T to put his plate next to the sink after a meal, without being reminded. This seemed like a reasonable habit to attempt–it isn’t something that really drives me nuts, so I figured I could restrain my usual nagging. 

So I reminded. Gently and only once per meal. (Don’t chalk this up to patience; I was just trying to carry out the experiment scientifically.) Mr. T usually put the plate on the counter after one reminder, but never on his own.

Yesterday morning, when I came downstairs after showering, look what I found:

I calculated. It had been six weeks and one day since I started trying to fix this habit. (Mr. T is not a kid known for obedience–I guess he needed that extra day.) Of course, it might have been nice to have the yogurt container and lid placed in the garbage, just a few feet away… 

But I guess that will take another six weeks.

what’s a wonder farm?

July 18, 2008 in homeschooling, wondering | 1 comment

Mr. T helps with the Wonder Farm banner

 

Last year, as I filled out our Private School Affidavit for the California’s Department of Education-the form that allows California homeschoolers to function as small, private schools–I came across a line in the document and realized that our “school” would need a name. I asked the kids what they thought we should call it.

I don’t remember the first names tossed around the kitchen, but I do remember the moment Henry came up with this one:

“Genius Farm!” he called out, with the enthusiasm of a contestant on Name That Tune. “Genius Farm! That’s it! It’s awesome!”

Well…it was funny, I admitted. I liked the image of a farm where geniuses are grown like stalks of Brussels sprouts. I liked the irreverent sass of it. “But this website says homeschoolers should avoid names that are “cutesy”. And I’m not sure we want to have Genius Farm at the top of your transcript when you apply to college.”

By this point, all three kids were chanting aloud, “Genius Farm! Genius Farm!” overpowering, as usual, my objections.

Okay, okay. I assured them that we could refer to our home as the Genius Farm all we wanted, but I needed to come up with something else for the form.

The kids’ minds were made up; I finished the form myself. I filled the “school name” cell with The Workshop instead. I hoped the title might be respectable, but still a little quirky, conveying a place where projects are being undertaken, where things–and ideas–are being created. Still, I don’t like the name nearly as much as Genius Farm.

Not that my kids are geniuses. Well, they are geniuses, in their own idiosyncratic ways, as I think every child is. But they haven’t been raised on flashcards and IQ tests and advanced classes for the gifted. We aren’t really trying to raise geniuses around here.

I like the farm part of the name, though, the idea of a metaphorical place where a family can grow something abstract, intangible. I mused: if I could cultivate anything in our home, in our life as homeschoolers, what would it be? Creativity? Curiosity?

Wonder.

I love the word wonder. It’s a noun as well as a verb. It can mean a miracle, a phenomenon or a state of amazement. It can be the act of marveling or questioning. A wonder is a journey of the mind, lasting maybe a minute, maybe a lifetime.

I hope I help cultivate wonder in my kids. I’d like them look at the world around them and be both awed and confounded, and utterly compelled to know more. And if nothing else, just watching my kids learn and grow prompts a lot of wonder in me.

So while I didn’t put Wonder Farm on that Private School Affidavit, I am putting it at the top of this blog. It isn’t quite a Genius Farm, but I think it will do.