Progress Report

I've been trying to be more consistent with Millie's education in this new year, after sitting in too many sloughs of laziness and miserable failure on my part in the old. At this point, she's reached all the modest goals I had for our first year of home education, and I couldn't be happier. She's still working through Saxon 1, but it's not that challenging so far, and, Lord willing, we'll be finished by the time summer returns.

She counts by 2's, 5's, and 10's, she tells time and "knows money," and though she's not taken the ultimate test of counting out change for her own pack of bubblegum, once Lent's over, we're taking the plunge. She adds, subtracts, and tells me about "parallelograms" that have "sides that are parallel...ogram." She's memorized almost all the phonograms (one of six yet to go is ough-- O/OO/uff/off/aw/ow-- I mean, c'mon!). Most exciting for me, though, is the fact that she reads books! She's about finished with her school primers, and it's so exciting to see her picking up books off the shelf. I love to hear her comical muttering as I read the Chronicles of Narnia to her and Annie, the almost inaudible soundings out of words that are paragraphs behind my voice.

In the last week, she's seemed to take one of those fantastic leaps that children her age take, when with nothing done on the teacher's part, they down lightening in gulps. These times more than make up for the times when we're both frustrated by the fact that though learning is often fun, it's a bit more often work. I'm amazed at children-- at the capacity God gives them to learn and learn and learn-- and I feel slow and clumsy at times as I think of how long it would take me to grasp the same amount of newness.

Yes, I know that billions upon billions of people have learned to read, that children of two and three are reading somewhere in lisping voices as I type, and that men of 80-odd are stumbling through books in a courageous choice to join those babes, but for a first-time teacher-mama, this common event is a shining marvel, a light-filled window, a reading Mildred!

A Blaze of Phonics Glory

A few days ago, instead of rereading one of her school primers- one that neither of us really liked-- I impulsively picked up a book from the shelf next to us. I haven't read them the Little Bear books since last spring or summer probably, but Millie made the immediate choice for Little Bear instead of Dan of the Den. I don't blame her. Little Bear was loads more fun.

I rarely take any videos of the girls and often forget that my camera even has that capability, but I was so excited to see her reading it that I remembered the video with a jolt. This clip is especially for Grandma Owen, who is too far away to hear her read in person. To explain Millie's beginning comment, I stopped recording to tell her to stop laughing, because she kept pausing at all the funny parts to spend a minute laughing the most painfully artificial laughter ever. You'll see that she couldn't refrain from one last, short laugh, though, to make sure Grandma caught the joke.

(And the enunciation-- oh, the enunciation!)

Reading is Exhausting

For real. She was yawning in the middle of sentences, so I allowed her the rare privilege of sleeping on the couch instead of upstairs with the other two. While making supper, I came out to check on her and melted. There's nothing that softens a mother's heart like seeing her children sleep with monsters. (I'm not joking about the melting part, though. The consuming love that rises up burns out all my faults and selfishness for that moment, leaving nothing but the love that must be a glimmer of our Father's own.)

Books or Bust

The last few library sales we've gone to were sorely lacking in their children's sections, among whose stacks I usually hunker down. We didn't buy any children's books because even at a dime apiece, I didn't find anything worthwhile. The girls still enjoyed looking.



To show that Mildred was also present, here's a boring picture of an anything but boring child.




Susannah's best find was this besmirched book, over which she loudly said "UH OH!!!" for many minutes. It was a perfect rendition of what she's said the few times I've found her hunched over a book at home, marker at the ready in her guilty hand.

Blue Moon

We made crafts with paper, glue, and other crafty things.

Annie dressed for the occasion.



Millie wielded the glue gun with near abandon.



And here are the resulting toilet paper tubes, all gussied up. Millie made that caterpillar with only a pinkie lift from me, and she loved him. Annie needed help with her butterfly's face and wing application, so I lent a steady hand. (What a likeness to a real butterfly's face, eh?)





And the crayon shaving critters, hanging pretty in the window before we packed them up.

More Tracks!

I pulled the nasty tub of heart-stopper-- of which, in my defense, I only needed a tablespoon of gunk-- out of the pantry to find a surprise.




Opening what should have been a new container, I spied tracks of this most rare and retiring of breeds-- the Susannah Bird! I felt privileged to witness this, and I share the excitement with you.

First Heard

On Friday I had my first midwife appointment. We're in the middle of trying to set up a home birth, but the insurance company wants to dance a waltz or two before they'll cover it. Until the music stops, I'll be seeing the hospital midwife who signed me and a dark-haired babe out of the hospital five and a half years ago. I'm seventeen weeks along, so I hope paperwork speeds through.

No matter how many times I hear it, the sound of another rhythm inside me makes my eyes widen. The whoosh and rapid whumpita of a small heart, an allegro sound below my slow and steady beat, awes me every time. Knowledge of a baby doesn't always equal Knowing, but with that sound echoing in my ears, I find myself murmuring love to one whose previous place in my busy days was primarily that of a Very Chubby Belly. My knowing of this little one is heightened by the sudden movement that now catches me unawares, like hiccoughs in the night. There's such an intense strength bound up in the fragile forms of babies-- so restless and lively and new; their constant movement speaks it though they cannot.

Brand spankin' new.
In the truest sense of the word, it's an awesome thing.

Needful

We finished math for the day and had yet to begin phonics when I suddenly decided to take the girls for a walk. It was bitterly cold out, but since I've been cemented to the couch eating chocolate for the last three months, I'm adequately insulated against even arctic temps. The girls move regularly and lack the self-made protection of blubber, so I had to bundle them in lots of woolens. They were still cold.

We walked toward the river to find some new adventure, but once we reached an overflow pond, they stopped to play. Then, before we reached the river proper, Susannah decided that gaining frostbite on top of missing a nap wasn't worth the adventure and began wailing. So ends our adventure.

And because I hate to disappoint, here are some snapshots.


We crossed the railroad after a lengthy inspection of the rock pile (which necessitated dancing on top of and sliding down it a few times).









I carried Susannah in the sling for most of the walk, so she was gypped of the fun.

The One Less Traveled By

Two roads diverged, and they chose the left, which first brought us to skating-upon puddles




(Which were also falling-upon puddles.)



and then to a sitting-upon rock




and then to ice to smash with sticks and stomp with feet




as well as to other cold things that I took pictures of while Susannah squirmed.


Shadows



Trees



Twigs and a snow doughnut



Ice at attention




Trunks coiled around



And a little imp who kept poking from behind bark.

Irrefutable

I actually saw quite a few imps about, and since I knew no one would believe me, I prudently made sure I had proof. Observe-- snapshots.

We Fell Into a Black Hole

Somehow, it only sucked the colors out while leaving the images intact. Outer space is inexplicable.