Port Townsend

Ready to Go!

That's Canada back there!

Our first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, as it becomes the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

This turtle had a map of Puget Sound on its back. I told my daughter I'd give her a dollar if she could find our beach. Shouldn't have done that. She made me pay up, too.

The Homeschooling Choice

In my blogosphere, one of our homeschooling families is sending their son to school. That's somewhat misleading-- he is a freshman in high school and is choosing a small, private situation, so there's no real "sending" about it. Indeed, the real point of this blog entry is the absence of that sense of having something done to you or chosen for you. There is such a variety of homeschoolers out there, but for those of us who do it specifically to raise emotionally-intact autodidacts and self-sufficient people, the day will come when we have to hand over the tools of path finding to the very ones for whom we are blazing that trail. Chances are good that it comes a bit sooner for some of us just by the nature of children raised in intellectual freedom.

This morning, EHLT was musing that many people were confusing this event as a failure of her homeschoooling program; that perhaps either she was giving up, or the boy was rejecting it. I have become so immured in this worldview that homeschooling is such a natural lifestyle, that I found myself surprised by those assumptions. Further, I discover myself increasingly annoyed with the attitude I encounter that "homeschoolers struggle so much" when they enter a school setting. While I realize that may be true for some-- especially kids who were schooled-at-home in deliberate, exclusionary methods-- kids raised in an open, eclectic fashion tend to feel and be responsible for their own intellectual prowess. They own it. That responsibility is what makes these kids actually really GOOD at "school."

I'd like to share her take on it, written here on The Homeschooling Legacy:

In fact, I see the Boychick's choice as one that fits as well into the trajectory of our homeschooling journey as would homeschooling high school. As we progressed in homeschooling 'middle school,' we also progressed in handing over more and more of the decision making about his education to the Boychick. Over those years, we moved from being "sages on the stage to guides on the side" as our philosophy evolved from school-at-home to a certain kind of unschooling. The Boychick has become used to thinking of himself as the master of his education, as well as the learner. He has learned to take responsibility for his learning methods and goals. He did not decide to go to high school because homeschooling was a failure; rather, he was able to choose because homeschooling was a success.


Unlike most of the students who entered East Mountain High School this morning, the Boychick sees attending school not as something he must do, but as something he has chosen to do. He knows that the responsibility for his successes or failures lies on his shoulders, and that although there are people ready to help him and guide him, in the end, the secret to his education lies within. He has become a self-directed learner.

This has always been the goal for me, as the homeschooling parent. I view preparing them for learning with the same gravity as I view preparing them for leaving my home for the outside world. Homeschooling is not an extension of my parenting, as so many are wont to say. It is an integral part of my parenting. The big joke on me is that this whole gig started when I was trying to prepare my first, wee preschooler for a Montessori school with a waiting list. I bought some supplies, applied the method and discovered a world of joy I'd not anticipated. In some respects, I suppose, I continue preparing my children for their place to open up. The difference is that I can expect it will be my children telling me when it is time for them to matriculate somewhere. I hope I can be as graceful letting go then as EHLT seems to be now.

She goes on to write:

Homeschooling, regardless of the individual's reasons for it, is a political act.

Making a choice against the received wisdom of the dominant culture forever changes how one views that received wisdom, as well as how one views the locus of control over individual decisions. In so doing, a person steps outside the herd mentality and lives liberty in reality. And succeeding in doing so means never being quite so willing to let others assert control over individual choices again. This is the legacy of homeschooling for us, just as it is the legacy of homebirthing, the legacy of living Judaism, and the legacy of growing up libertarian.

While we aren't Jewish, the rest of it certainly applies. This legacy we are creating-- this life we are crafting out of thin air and Thoreau-- I am betting everything we have that it is the best gift we can give our kids. But that legacy, I have taken some of that into myself. Homeschooling has been something I have done for my children, but it is something that most certainly nourishes the parents of this family as well.

For Danny

In response to this, I drag this out of the vault from a vacation long ago.

I bet it was the same porch! :)

For those gentle readers who think I've lost a bolt, I will hasten to add that Miss Danny has not posted all the pictures on her blog that she did on her facebook. Ahem.

The Rents are in Town Redux

And now we have a portable room a/c. LOL!

The Rents are in town

So far things are going well. They're tad jet-lagged but really engaging with the kids and us. It's been nice so far.

Of course it's HAWT, so we have full redneck curtains going; and really, when you have sheets and towels hanging in the windows, how worried about the state of decor can you be?

The nice thing about the horrible heat inside is that when you're dealing with vacationing Charlestonians in August, 83 degrees (even inside) isn't that much of an imposition. If the a/c goes out in Charleston, you're looking at a lot more heat than that on the inside. Trust me- we did it with a newborn in July. Wasn't pretty!

Our family has pretty much acclimated to it, (memories) and it happens every year at least once or twice, but I find it amusing that we're trying to entertain whilst only moving in the morning.

Community of mothers: full circle

This is not an easy blog entry to read. Please clink on if you are feeling sensitive today.

Today was an emotionally exhausting day. We've been prepping, full-tilt and with the not so insignificant assistance of friends, towards propping up the house and making it look like we actually live here. The retro-closet look is so out, after all. Today we had plans for another massive project and instead, after canning a batch of peaches, I chose to ferry my friend out to Silverdale.

She'd never been to Tuesday Morning. Oh no, said I, no homeschooler should do without Tuesday morning. So I gleefully took a break. My spirits improved and we did what we needed to and all was well. Until the van wouldn't start. In the hot, so hot parking lot of treeless Silverdale shopping. After about half an hour of cajoling, I managed to convince the thing it was not in alarm mode, and it started. We continued on to the waterfront park.

As we spread our blanket and the kids tottered off to play, an older Asian woman who was cradling a child called out to me. But what she said, urgently was "Mom! Mom? Mom! Can you come here?" As I approached and climbed the gazebo I called out to my friend to be on alert for the rest of the kids. The girl in her arms was much older than I first thought. Sized like a pre-schooler, she was probably eleven or twelve, maybe older. Her arms were drawn up in a pose characteristic to muscular dystrophy and the woman had her face down on her lap. She was appearing to vomit, but it wasn't her stomach. Given our own medical background I recognized she was expelling large amounts of mucuos, from both her nose and her mouth.

The woman was frantically trying to pull it out of her, away from her passages. Given what she had to work with (not much, we found out later), she was doing a fine job of keeping the child breathing. She introduced herself as Anita, caregiver to this child (she told me her name but I won't write it here) and said "Is she breathing? " She kept asking me, "Is it working? Is she breathing?" I knelt down beside the child and took a napkin I had brought from our lunch and cleared the hair from her eyes. She was seizing slightly, or having a nervous tic, as her head kept shaking slowly as if she was saying "no." I murmured, "It's OK, it will be alright. We're getting you clean."

I stood back up and told the woman she was breathing but clearly not doing well. "Is she verbal? " I asked.

"No, no, she cannot talk."

"What happened to start this?" I asked, looking over their table. There was an unopened salad, some orange soda and a swarm of yellow jackets all over the table. A bowl of melon chunks lay on the ground underneath the table.

She gestured to the bowl and said "She ate that then started to vomit. I call the father but he is not answering. I keep waiting..."

"Have you fed her melon before?" I asked her, helping to clean the girl off again, becoming more convinced this was an allergy reaction I fully dread.

"Yes, many times." To myself, I thought "That leaves the bees." They were THICK, and the girl was completely incapable of speech. At this point she thrashed a little and I could see her face. She was more lucid than she had been, and her eyes focused on me, a stranger. She began to moan and I backed up slowly.

"My name is ~L~ and I am not going to touch you. I will help you but I won't pick you up. I am helping Miss Anita to help you." She faded out again, mollified I guess, but went right back to voiding the mucous, working her damnedest to breathe. She had no hives, no visible edema, no vomit left in her.

The cell phone on the table rang and Anita talked to someone on the phone. I heard her say "No, I don't know what to do." At that point I'd had enough. This reaction was BAD. All I needed to spur me on was a conversation long ago with a National Park Ranger; he had spoken to us regarding our own daughter's allergy and how bee sting had a much worse outcome with regards to time-to-treatment.

"Have you called 911 yet?" I asked her, and she shook her head and said "I ...I...no, I cannot" and I realized her language barrier was holding her back. "Do you want me to call them? Can I call them for you?"

"Yes! Yes!" I sprinted back for my cell phone and dialed it in. We were very close to a fire station and I knew it, so I wasn't surprised to hear the sirens before I even got off the phone. The entire interaction I'd had with the woman and girl had taken less than three minutes, if that. While we waited for the first responders, I packed the woman's things and cleared their picnic. I continued to help clear the girl and watched helplessly, having done everything I could do.

I called over to my friend, who was on the blanket not five feet from the gazebo, "You might want to tell Cecily (4) and D-meister (3) what's about to happen." They'd never seen that big of a red, wailing truck that close, and it was coming to their picnic.

When the EMTs got there, I got out. I went to the park bathroom and washed my hands and only then did I get out of the-business-end-of-Mom mode. That's when I had a jolt as I realized that I hadn't used our epipen on the girl. Should I have? NO, I thought, I shouldn't have... but would they be able to get anything out of Anita? I sprinted back to the site and spoke to the medic who was taking notes from Anita. I asked him if they carried epinephrine, and he said they did. I told him what I saw, what I thought about the bees, and that the girl was nonverbal. He paled, said "I'm on it," and sprinted back to the medics who had taken her. Right about then, her Dad rolled up and I was satisfied I could release the situation.

The whole thing was a fantastic blur. Was this why my van failed me today? To put an allergy Momma right in Anita's sights? The medics were so fast, so competent, and truly responsive to the changing situation. They didn't blow me off, and as it happened, I was spot on, so they probably saved her life today. Anita came back to me later to thank me. She looked so tired, so small, but she was smiling. "Dad came. He knows, he knows what brings out her allergies," she gestured.

"The bees?"

"Oh yes," she smiled.

We went back to the park situation, my friend and I, while I struggled to stop thinking about anaphylaxis as the elephant in my room. I spoke about how grateful I was that Washington state allows their paramedics to not only administer but to carry epinephrine (they did not in SC), and how interesting it is to me that mothers just turn into everybody's mothers when it falls upon us. How frustrated I felt that the parents had not prepared that woman in any capacity to contend with a known life-threatening allergy. How grateful I was that our children can tell us what the heck is going on with them.

Maybe I shouldn't have said that last bit out loud. The hour ground forward as my friend's son Raeden started screaming from down the hill. The play structure was visible to us, but it is situated just below a little hill so we could hear him, but not see him. He lay screaming on the ground, "Mama! Mama!" as we booked it down there. He'd been stung, also, as one of these crazy swarm had crawled into his sandal. Crazy indeed-- a moving 6 year old boy on a playground does not an attractive hiding place make.

Pascha carried him back up to our blanket where we did our version of first aid on him. He got benadryl, arnica, green goo and Mama hugs. His friend N-man gave him a feel-better toy and he seemed to rally. Bee stings hurt, so it took him a while, but N-man stayed with him until he was ready to roll again. Before that could happen, however, we were approached by a couple of other mothers.

"Is he feeling better?" First Mom asked. "I was hoping to see him again, because bee stings are so hard. They hurt so much, don't they?" she directed to Raeden. Back to my friend, she said, "My little guy is allergic to nuts and so we really watch out for stuff like this. Did you give him benadryl?' Second mom came up and First Mom indicated that Second Mom's family was allergic to nuts AND bees. Basically, they refused to leave until they were assured that Raeden had been administered both painkiller and benadryl.

I sat there, ready to pack it in and leave Bee Park, but I was struck by how quickly I had shifted positions. I had been that Mom, less than an hour earlier, stepping up to make sure someone else's child made it through, survived. I felt very included, along with my friend there, in a community of mothers. Despite the Mommy wars, beyond parenting techniques, there are very basic issues that will tie us together, and you can never be sure when they will appear. But they did today, and I was grateful, so very grateful, for it.

Treehouse in the making....

The summer is shaping up in at least part of the ways we'd planned it~ I can already tell we will look back on this summer as a good time. We're grateful to follow through on our promises.

I remember when this tooth grew in....

....and now it's gone!

Camera Woes

My blog would be a lot more interesting if my camera weren't broken.

Bags for Fun

I would love to make this happen here. I can totally see some local parks really stepping up for this.

In a terrific promotion we can only hope will lead to more creative thinking, Rye Playland in Westchester, NY recently held a promotion where every child that turned in 100 plastic bags for recycling received free admission to the park that day.

All told, the kids put together some 39,995 plastic bags as they worked their way through the turnstiles in search of a good time at one of the most historic amusement parks in the country.

And while we recently highlighted a high school student who recently came up with a way to make plastic bags decompose in just three months time, the truth is that simple actions like this not only go a long way towards cleaning up the local environment but help educate kids, their parents and the public about what a positive contribution they can make by limiting the use of plastic bags.

So hats off to the folks who run Rye Playland, perhaps those at Six Flags will take the hint and come up with something similar?

I would love to head this up. Who would be the most likely to be receptive to this?

Pacific Science Center is my first, immediate thought. One of the zoos, perhaps-- especially a place like Northwest Trek? Or would something like this catch the eye of a in-need-of-good-PR venue like the EMP or Wild Waves?

Summer marches on

Or should I say "summer." Honestly, if my garden wasn't complaining, then I wouldn't either. I don't mind the overcast as long as it's above 60 degrees. I don't mind a little rain in the summer to help water the plants. But when it's grey enough that the plants are sleepy, then I have an issue.

Even so, West of the Cascades the farms are coming through so I will be able to can cherries and peaches, enjoying the bounty that makes it over the mountains.

My father and stepmother will be visiting us next month. They arrive in about two weeks and I am somewhat nervous. While *I* am proud of what we have accomplished in the last three years, there are some values we do not share and I worry about how they will perceive our house. I've never been a tidy housekeeper and my home, while very clean compared to my singleton homes, is overrun by three small children-- three small homeschooled children. We're always here. And it shows.

All these projects I have in the to do box, I want them done now, or at least before they arrive. I know how to do this stuff, just not...when.

As of late we've been making connections with other homeschoolers in the harbor we hadn't met before. I think we have enough people to make a pretty sound group, so I am happy with that. It doesn't take a lot of parents, particularly if they have more than one child. Things are moving along nicely, just at a boring-to-read summer pace.

I like it when I get to cheat

We spent Monday with the C-family, where we ate a light picnic snack, then split into groups for cycling or living history tours. Afterwards we regrouped for a tour of Tacoma's Rose garden. It was lovely.

Anyway, I get to cheat because Niki wrote about it here. Enjoy!

I want a boat.

Or, further reasons I love living where we do.

The Littlest Lighthouse

Fire, Eagles and Seals

Kitchen More Functional

A friend of mine's blog provided the last "aha!" for our kitchen drying endeavor. P-daddy and I know where we'll be hanging our wild-crafted and gardened herbs to dry now, and we're looking forward to it.

I canned two batches today, a Strawberry-lemon marmalade and a Rainier Cherry-Raspberry conserve.

The sprouts are coming along nicely. Between my new sproutmaster and a library book, I fixed the final two problems I'd been having and the sprouts are doing GREAT.


I do have a homeschooling post coming but I am currently obsessed with food production and preservation.


I am not alone. I have been getting a lot of traffic from RegularMom because of her recent awesome post "America's National Eating Disorder." Check it out.

VS the links

My current project involves making some practical, measurable changes in our lives. Putting our money where our mouths are, so to speak. Rather than going into boring details right now (well, the details probably aren't boring to the people interested in self-sufficiency), I will just list a few links that have been integral to the online portion of my immersion. Most of our home time, however, has been spent in our woodlot, in our garden and in our kitchen, where we have been practicing our skills clearing, growing and canning.

Living in the season out here in the PNW requires the utmost patience during the long blue, and fervent action during the wild flash of summer. I'm game!

http://www.foodnotlawns.com/

http://www.simpleliving.net/main/

http://www.pathtofreedom.com/

http://www.kitsilanofarms.com/

http://www.azurestandard.com

http://www.treehugger.com

https://wholesale.frontiercoop.com/whslpubl/FrontierWholesaleCatalog.pdf

Local Harvest Indeed

Our journey to voluntary simplicity has been slow. In the past three years, we've made huge changes, anyone actually walking this path knows it's like peeling an onion. The more you release, the more layers you encounter. My two biggest stumbling blocks involve screen time and coffee. I am also not the tidiest of people, so it all works together to slow down the process.

One of the areas where we do quite well is food sourcing. Again, it's always a journey and we're constantly learning of new places, new farmers. It's almost like a collector's hobby in some respects, where people who are into whole foods sit around and talk about their bevy of farmers like a D&D addict proudly displays his characters. I have hesitantly traded in the CSA I loved (two cities away) for our own kitchen garden and local farmers' markets. We gave up personal milk delivery for a local raw milk farmer whose price point was identical to the pasteurized stuff. We're finally part of a co-op that orders in true bulk commodities. We're getting there. Slowly.


If we were better at it, I'd probably be less enthusiastic about last night's dinner. But it was nice. P-daddy went on a fishing trip up a river in Monroe and came back with a giant Chinook Salmon. We served that with an organic wild rice blend, rainbow chard from our garden and green beans P-daddy picked up from the farmer's market. And the children ate like piglets.

Summer movies start this week

One of the cool things about GH that I like so much is the heavy use the downtown green spaces see-- with things that welcome all the family. They have the schedule up for the Summer Movies at Skansie now:

The Labyrinth

This weekend, a dear friend and I went here:

We hadn't planned it; we were on a set of rather mundane errands. But we stopped by nonetheless, and I for one am very grateful.

The labyrinth has changed much since this picture was taken. There is a lot of first-nations inspired art dotting the perimeter. There is a pagan altar in the center now, clearly being used to leave small token gifts from visitors.

What startled me so about the experience was not the wonderful, welcoming hostess who assured us the labyrinth was available to the public and invited us to tour the bed and breakfast. The hostess whose welcome touched me most was the doe who followed us in. She'd been standing in the road, eating blackberry greens when we arrived. By the time we started the labyrinth, she was waiting for us.

I'd just passed over the surrender stone at the entrance when I looked up and she was resting at the head of the labyrinth, directly opposite us. In the picture above, she'd be laying on the fern in the center top. She watched us curiously for several minutes as we wended our way, completely aware of her safety and belonging. Satisfied that we were settling in, she went back to her lunch.

I admit that her presence was so distracting to me that I didn't "do" the labyrinth properly. I kept staring at her, wherever she moved, to make sure she was still there.

But then, maybe on this day, that was the point.

It's been a fast forward week.

The tall ships sailed in today but we chose not to go because of the weather. In the morning, it was actual rain, so I found it soothing to my garden and my heart. It wasn't the bleh rain of the winter months so I could handle it.

The garden is looking happy; not a 4th of July garden, but at least a summer garden. We may get something out of it yet. We're harvesting greens right now and I can't believe it, but the onions are thinking of flowering. Our poor little tomatoes! We did everything this year the local county exchange told use to do, using the bed against the warm wall of the house, the red bedding materials, the best starts we could find-- but nothing will flourish if you don't have sun.

One of my favorite books is Homestead Year, and during that summer a woman sets up a suburban homestead in the year Mt St Helen's really blew. They had a resulting cool, late growing year as well. It gives me a little hope. We even used her method this year for planting potatoes. (Lay em down, toss straw over top.)

The herb-rose garden is the one kicking my butt. It's the one that was in the worst shape when we got here-- it was formed to look bare as can be, with plenty of cedar bark mulch around a few lonely trees and bushes. Transforming that into a lush garden of herbs, roses and towering flowers has been more of a challenge than I thought it would present. But as of yesterday I got all the tall weeds out, now I have to go back and find a way to get rid of the hundreds of blackberry vine leads poking up through the landscaping tarp they used to originally lay the bed. Pulling blackberries here reminds me--every time-- of the biblical crown of thorns. They're vicious thorns, strong as and thinner than established rose canes, and they pierce every glove I have ever tried, including leather. It's a nasty job.

Tomorrow we have our 4th of July cookout and beach trek. I hope the weather holds because I am not going to be hiking down there in the rain. Eek!

Locking down again

I am having some feelings of overexposure. It seems this happens to me annually, but I am feeling pretty vulnerable right now, so I am closing the blog. I may still have to cull some people as I need to process things that aren't necessarily pretty. I hope you understand if my blog goes "poof."

If I had transferred to wordpress already I could just seal off the few posts here and there, but of course I had to procrastinate. I am always procrastinating.

I have made a few big mistakes in the past several months, and they are coming now at some heavy cost.

We will be ok; we always are.

Indoors spiked 90 degrees Saturday

---and it's been such a long time coming I really didn't mind. Today we spent our annual escape to the beach as a family day biding our time.

What kind of bee nest is this?

I was hoping for honey but P-daddy is thinking yellow jacket. I am asking about the larger hive on the right, not the smaller paper wasp hive on the left.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4PAoY8Hm7E&feature=related

First Strike! Strawberries!

1/2 flat of organic, local strawberries: 11.95

1 bag of leftover pectin from last year: I forget so it's free

Making 3 quarts of strawberry jam and 3 quarts of preserves with your 8 year old girlie: priceless


{PS: "Can I lick that?" was the happy refrain of the afternoon!}


(no pix because of forgetting to pass broken camera along to the Cesco for repair: expensive!!!)


This is from 2004 when we went strawberry picking in SC. Another bonus to this post: cute, old pictures. She is three here-- one month to go before her birthday.

My Grandaddy's Kitchen

I have been thinking about him so much lately. So, so much.

Here's his kitchen:

My nails are dirty

and some of my online friends are complaining.......... that tells me it is truly summer now!

Gardening eats us again.... let's hope the short season still lets us have a crop!

Happy Birthday to me!

My inbox this morning was FILLED with Happy Birthday email!

I received greetings from Mama Drama and Diaper Swappers!

I received Birthday coupons from Fire Mountain Gems and Borders! Wheeeee!

I also woke up to two emails from real friends so that made me happy as well!


Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

(I got lots more nice emails throughout the day!)

Blogging Strike

With the notable exception of Reeciebird, it's like my local blogosphere is on strike. Come on people! Update your blogs!

Birth is NOT a medical situation

It never was. It never should have been made into a medical event. The events surrounding birth certainly can be enhanced by the benefits of medical science, but normal pregnancies do not require medical intervention. It has been shown more than adequately that birth is actually hindered by medical interventions.

This is clearly not accepted by the AMA. In yet another step of "doctor knows best" Big Brother behaviour, the AMA has recently released it's intention to introduce legislation outlawing homebirth, criminalizing the mothers who have their babies at home.

Grandma? Great Grandma? You're crooks, hear me? What were you thinking???

Here is the text from the Big Push for Midwives Campaign:

CONTACT: Steff Hedenkamp, (816) 506-4630, RedQuill@kc.rr.com
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: Monday, June 16, 2008
Father Knows Best Meets Big Brother Is Watching
Physician Group Seeks to Outlaw Home Birth—Is Jail for Moms Next?
WASHINGTON, D.C. (June 16, 2008)—Just in time for Father’s Day, at its annual meeting last
weekend, the American Medical Association (AMA) adopted a resolution to introduce legislation
outlawing home birth, and potentially making criminals of the mothers who choose home birth with the
help of Certified Professional Midwives (CPMs) for their families.
“It’s unclear what penalties the AMA will seek to impose on women who choose to give birth at home, either for religious, cultural or financial reasons—or just because they didn’t make it to the hospital in time,” said Susan Jenkins, Legal Counsel for The Big Push for Midwives 2008 campaign. “What we do know, however, is that any state that enacts such a law will immediately find itself in court, since a law dictating where a woman must give birth would be a clear violation of fundamental rights to privacy and other freedoms currently protected by the U.S. Constitution.”

Until the AMA proposed ‘Resolution 205 on Home Deliveries,’ no state had considered legislation
forcing women to deliver their babies in the hospital or limiting the choice of birth setting. Instead, states have regulated the types of midwives that may legally provide care. Currently, 22 states already license and regulate CPMs, who specialize in out-of-hospital maternity care and have received extensive training to qualify as experts in the types of risk assessment and preventive care necessary for safe and high quality care for women who choose give birth at home. Certified Nurse Midwives (CNMs), who are trained primarily as hospital-based providers, are licensed in all 50 states and the District of Columbia.
The resolution did not offer any science-based information for the AMA’s anti-midwife or anti-home birth position. “Maternity care is a multi-billion dollar industry in the United States,” said Steff Hedenkamp, Communications Coordinator for The Big Push for Midwives. “So it’s no surprise to see the AMA join the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists in its ongoing fight to corner the market and ensure that the only midwives able to practice legally are hospital-based midwives forced to practice under physician control. I will say, though, that I’m shocked to learn that the AMA is taking this turf battle to the next level by setting the stage for outlawing home birth itself—a direct attack on those families who choose home birth, who could be subject to criminal prosecution if the AMA has its way.”

The Big Push for Midwives (http://www.TheBigPushforMidwives.org) is a nationally coordinated campaign organized to advocate for regulation and licensure of Certified Professional Midwives (CPMs) in all 50 states, the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico, and to push back against the attempts of the American Medical Association to deny American families access to safe and legal midwifery care. Media inquiries should be directed to Steff Hedenkamp (816) 506-4630, RedQuill@kc.rr.com.

The AMA website itself does not display this latest resolution, but they do proudly post their amicus briefs in the court battle against midwifes in MO last year. It's legal to practice midwifery there now, so they lost that fight. Now, I suppose, it's time for another tactic.

I don't believe this will pass. It's a publicity stunt in response to all the good press homebirth has been receiving, namely via Ricki Lake. What annoys me most in this is that, akin to homeschooling, where most teachers you speak to privately think homeschooling is perfectly appropriate and efficacious, most doctors I have personally spoken to think homebirth is fine. The professionals in those fields have their ideas and have concerns I may not share, but they acknowledge on the whole that within certain parameters, life at home is just....life at home. It's safe. It's when you get the advocacy groups, the lobbyists together, that we have a problem. The associations perceive any stray sheep as an assault on their supremacy, an attack their bottom line. The groupthink at their conventions drives us all into an us vs them mentality that is just unnecessary. See http://www.ama-assn.org/ama/pub/category/18587.html for the horse's mouth; they even released yesterday that they were simply copying the ACOG resolution from last year. Groupthink!

Last I checked, I stand sovereign as an American Citizen. Patriot Act bedamned, I am not willing to sacrifice my rights, and the rights of my children, to groups of employees. Your paychecks will not be guaranteed by constraining our freedoms. We the people will not stand for it.

THIS is our life-- this is it.

The sunshine returned, at least for today, and it was a true Northwestern summer day. What a great Father's Day for P-daddy. We all kicked into gear. All of us. Even G-girl, inspired, totally organized and cleared the school room shelves from the chaos of a month or so of new deliveries and neglect.

It's 7 PM and I am a little shocked by that. I remember this clearly from last year: "How did THAT happen?" I came in only because I got smacked with stinging nettle and had to take care of that before the burning got any worse.

The content of the day--the laundry list of what we did without even leaving the house-- including leisurely loafing, showering and chatting on the net, is huge. I LOVE this life. The kids spent all day outside, swinging and then riding bikes with each other and with their parents.

N-man's daisies are blooming to beat the band this year. He planted them in his special garden when each big kid had their own garden plot. They take a couple of seasons to mature, and he abandoned the plot last year. Now they are standing tall, looking for all the world like a floral square in the grass, as he had planted them around the outside of his little garden. He's so ecstatic and proud.

The kids, the neighbor girl, P-daddy and I cleared the weeds from the gardens outside the kids' room. Their view has always been a bit dismal, despite the beautiful trees bordering the yard and the climbing rose between their two rooms. That side is where we store the trashcans, the recycling, the wood cradles and the lawn equipment. It's easy for the winter months to turn that into a dumping ground, and I don't like that my children see only that through their windows. We got all the seeds planted, some of the garden art in, and a pretty clear plan for the rest of the next month. The girls even wild harvested some transplants of bleeding heart and foxglove for the backdrop.

We moved on to the herb / rose garden, where it was just G-girl and I. The boys had been drawn to the grill where P-daddy was preparing ribs, and she was still fully invested in being in the garden with me. The herbs were in a horrible state of overrun; this year the herbs will finally be "organic," as that was a very bare, formal garden when we moved in. Anyone who has transitioned from chemical fertilizers and herbicides to natural methods can appreciate the crazy weedage out there. (We really need to invest in a truckload of compost / mulch but I need to see how much that would cost before even thinking about it. )

G and I worked steadily together, chatting and marveling at all the babies we've gotten from letting the herbs seed out. Maybe not this year, but definitely next, we will have at least a partial English garden out there. And she gets it. This is the part of watching her grow that dispels some of the heartache of losing that small child. She's growing into this unique, feisty person who not only shares some of my interests, but knows she does. We connect on levels that one could cultivate with new friends, and I think that bodes well for staying connected as she grows into an adult.

As we worked-- before my nettle encounter-- I told her "I love this. I hope we garden together for the rest of our lives."

I so mean it.

Kefir report

sorry- def filed under boring ramblings

milk kefir-- perfect. best tasting I've ever had, not as thick as some but I can also live with that.

the water kefir smells a little like anus and was "off." not anywhere near as tasty as what niki brought here, so I shouldn't have monkeyed with the flavor I think.

Sunny all morning

So far so good!

And my honey talked with me in a very supportive fashion today. That's so what I want in married life.

Feeling very kitcheny again-- I have been growing sprouts this week, tending the kefir grains Niki gave us. Feeling at home.

The Little Things

I am feeling way better today. I thought yesterday's post was darkly funny, but Niki tells me next year I will look back on it and wince.

However, knowing me as she does, she has insisted for a while that I use Pandora. Now that I have a smokin-hot new machine, she emailed me the link again. I am hooked. Nothing like music, tailor spun for me, to bring a loft of peace and joy to my heart.

Thanks, darlin'.

Taking it personally

I really am. It's hurting my feelings.


I know that my responses are irrational, unfair and counterproductive.


I know it.


But I am willing to compromise, while my adversary is not budging an inch.


It doesn't have to be HOT or even very warm, but I need to see the sun.


And the clouds just aren't departing.

It's really screwing me up.

My Birthday Girl

She is eight years old today.

Eight.

The luge-line!

Marie got the luge line photo from N-meisters birthday! It's on her blog here!

Rockin! Thanks Marie!

Settling in

While in Charleston, I had a lot of time to think about our life out here. From my perspective it is still "new," but being home for me drove home-- pounded it in, actually-- that this life, this "new" experience is the totality of my children's existence. Being without our own space, our own belongings and our own routines was exhilarating for G and I; we truly vacationed. The boys were less enthusiastic about it, but were good sports and had a great time.

When I made time with my old friends, reconnecting on an individual basis, many of us commented on the sense we all had that between us, it was as if no time had passed. As adults, we get sucked into our rhythm and begin to measure time by holidays and years. The children however, both mine and the ones we left behind, shattered that complacency. Time had passed, and in droves. It has been three and a half years since we had seen anyone in quality fashion. Staying with Uncle Monkey, who had just visited us the month before, was a stroke of grace. The children love him to distraction and Aunt Swoosie was a gentle, quiet presence, so they had a place where they felt they knew someone. N-man had story-memories, and he did his best, but he felt a little fuzzy when it came to all these people. D-meister, bless his heart, didn't know anyone but Monkey, but everyone he met seemed to have a claim on him. Our true Party Boy, he just rolled with it!

As is usual for me, I experience that split, that familiar anguish stemming from desperately wanting to live two lives at once. More like, wanting to exist in two places at once. The friends who have remained connected with us while we moved out here still mean so much to me. These are relationships which are simply irreplaceable. Now, we have those close-knit dynamics both in Washington and Carolina. The quality of life in both places is very high, in terms of abundant natural beauty and personal expression. Even in Charleston, they are becoming more progressive, with new CSAs opening, dairies selling raw milk as fast as its bottled, and new birth centers coming available to women. That didn't exist even a scant two years ago, there. Society, culture, art, food and community are important in both regions. Despite their apparent similarities, the highlights that make a place livable take wildly different shapes in both my homes, and it becomes very simple for me to see objectively where I should be. With the economy the way it is, we couldn't sell and move anyway, even if I were feeling a desperate longing to return there, which I am not. What amazed me, what stunned and relieved me, was that for the kids, there is no such split. Washington is home. THIS is what they know and what they want.

So what is it? What is it that makes me come home here and has me feeling uncomfortable, as displaced as when I first arrived? Sometimes, I feel it is because I am identifying too strong with someone who is experiencing that move for the first time. Her experiences remind me so much of what we went through. At other times, I think maybe I am in a rut. Anyone could point at the climate here and say "Wake up! It's been 45 degrees and blue for 6 months. Who wouldn't feel a little down?" Perhaps it would be wise to say that my feelings of angst could result from a little of all of it. I think more to the point is something even more simple: we haven't feathered our nest. We move things around, we plant trees and roses, we install shelves and hang a few pictures here and there, but we have yet to actually decorate, to make it our home. This is high priority in a Charleston home, and it is just something I have not done here. Watching my friend move in at all, much less efficiently and carefully, certainly highlights for me that I have yet to really move in, from a Charlestonian perspective. I have done this for the kids, but not for the house at large.

I realize this may sound vapid, but in an economy where gas has surpassed 4.00 a gallon and in a climate where indoor living is the default, feeling at home in your own home has to be more important than I have been treating it. I've gotten "neat" but I haven't hung our art, painted or anything. For some reason I just left that aspect of myself behind and I don't understand why. In my haste to explore the totality of myself, I think I have forgotten to include parts of me that I actually like. My trip was a reminder of that, and of boundaries that I need to tighten, straps I need to pull. Do we all have to learn, relearn and learn again? Is all human growth two steps forward one step back? It's tiring. It feels like I waste self-time just living life.

Here's hoping I take action on these ideas and get us comfy in our own space, all of us.

So they're up to snuff?

After being tortured earlier this month, the kids received the results of their annual testing.

Straight ridiculousness.

Both are in the highest percentiles, with N actually placing 99th percentile in both math and reading. We chose to let G develop her reading skills on her own; when this "school year" started she wasn't a strong reader at all, and she tested 89th. She was 95th percentile in math.

I am happy for them and relieved that we don't have to do any damage control in reaction to this. But I remain doubtful that these tests, given what they actually tested, could show any real merit.

Still, the percentiles are compared to children being educated in all sort of schools from across the country, as I understand it, so the kids are more than competently "holding their own,"even if I think they didn't need a very odd test to prove that.

Happy Diffendoofer Day indeed!

No Home Schools Accepted

That didn't last long. Wow. Subway now has my ban. Not like I really enjoyed them anyway, but they've stepped into it now.


"But how did Subway get into this mess? Subway's "Every Sandwich Tells a Story" essay contest, conducted in cooperation with the quickly repentant Scholastic News Service -- which sells strongly into the homeschool market and which immediately and publicly apologized when this issue came to their attention -- specifically bans homeschooled kids from the contest. The remarkably poorly-spelled rules read:

NO PURCHASE NECESSARY TO ENTER OR WIN. Contest is
open only to legal residents of the Untied (sic) States who are currently over
the age of 18 and have children who attend elementary, private or parochial
schools that serve grades PreK-6. No home schools will be accepted. "

You can read a much better post about this here: http://www.americanthinker.com/2008/05/subway_bans_homeschooled_kids.html

Broken Puter

It's probably something very minor but my computer is down, and as a result so is my blog.

Besides, Morag closed her blog and forgot to invite me so now I must weep, disconsolate, in the corner. Which is no longer leafy. Sawb.

See you soon!

Beach Bubbles

How do they look on a hat?

Apparently they look tasty, too.

Beachin'

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Tomorrow is the day we leave here:

and arrive here:

We're very imaginative in our choice of domiciles, are we not?


Among other good news is that our van is back in our garage, snoring happily. Pashca and I have a working theory that I inadvertently broke it by keeping it clean for too long. It had some form of reactive seizure, which sent the transmission sensor to automotive heaven. After a 261.00 repair, it is happy as a clam. While the van did eat the 1000.00 we wanted to put into savings this month, it is still much nicer than paying for a 2061.00 transmission, like last time. It is far better to have a broken van not on my mind while we travel.


We're staying with very well net-connected people, so I hope to be able to update with pix and such as we go, if the opportunity arises. Children or not, I intend to relax, so there should be time for that. I want to enjoy my people and show the kids where we come from-- those will be the primary goals of this trip.

It's a Birthday Party, Little Man!

Yesterday we had a surprise party for little N. It was our final homeschool Camp Seymour on Friday, and while I was disappointed to miss it, P-daddy was home and got to take them on all the fun things as they had a recap day. The kids shot arrows, rowed boats, handled snakes and swam in their heated outdoor pool while I stayed home to finish the cleaning and prepared the food. Technically N-man knew about the party, but with all the planning we've been doing for the trip, I think it was lost on him. Focused on Camp Seymour, he forgot completely. So it was a surprise, and a sweet, happy little smile on his face to greet us when he came home to people in his house.


The bedlam that ensued, however, made me happy it was an outside party. It was after all, the celebration for a 6 year old BOY. The Big Girls pretty much bailed and hung out with Treebeard, while everyone else ran around and played played played. At one point, the kids sandwiched themselves into a luge-line on the sliding board, 7 kids deep. We kept the hot dogs and popsicles flowing, then enjoyed an ice cream cake. It was really so pleasant, and I enjoyed spending time with the Moms while the kids enjoyed the bedlam.

He may be big for our little family but he is turning 6 on Monday. Six! How did he get six? The little linebacker baby has slimmed out and turned into a colt-legged, super-hero lovin' science boy.

Happy Birthday, Little Man. We love you!

You won't believe this

The van-- which had no error codes two weeks ago-- now read five at the local (free testing) Schucks, all tranny related. I took it in because it has been slipping in odd ways, stalling, intermittently being weird.

We call the transmission people from when we purchased a rebuilt tranny in OCTOBER, only to find that he's not there. He sold the business. Good Guy Bob now pilots a tugboat on the Sound somewhere, and the new owner won't warranty anything. We're simply new customers to him.

I wasn't too perturbed at this news initially-- just more proof that you're on your own in the wild west in some ways-- but then, surprisingly, the van stayed in second gear the entire way home (about 10 miles). Thank God for coasting down hills because otherwise that transmission would be on fire right now. Miss M is coming with a loaner van right now cause she loves us.

This van is seriously damaging my calm.

Annual Tests

In the state of Washington, homeschoolers are required to test annually. That sounds fine to me, actually, but for even the most strident, privacy-loving homeschoolers, the WA state law is pretty relaxed about it. You do not have to test until your child is 8 and entering third grade, the test can be a test of your choosing as long as it is proctored by someone approved by the state, and the results are sent to you the parent, alone. You do not have to provide scores to the state, just the evidence that you did take the test.

At this point, though, neither of my school-aged children fall into that category. As young as they are, they don't have to sit for testing yet. However, we submitted to it anyway this year-- for both of them-- because we are participating in a virtual academy. Up until this point I have been perfectly happy to sit that fence. I have no qualms at all identifying myself as a homeschooler, because what we do and how we do it has not been altered one iota since accepting this new arrangement. However, I do enjoy the increased funding--that has been a boon to say the least. In fact, the funding has allowed me to experiment with different things that I would not have even tried before having the disposable cash to purchase materials new. As a result the children have benefited and there is no denying that in my house.

But we sat for these tests this morning and I regret it. I regret it to my core. Because they are the straight-up, ridiculous, teaching-for-the-test kind of bullshit that happens when you get too many education experts in a room and they have to justify their higher degrees. The tests were a test of the education system, not of the students. Even the teachers can't score them, they have to wait for the results to go through an algorithm on an off-site computer before they can even tell you what is going on. And for the first time in my children's lives, they felt like they failed something. It was ridiculous.

Why? Because apparently the MAP test is scored based on how the student information looks after she has missed 50 percent of the questions. What that means to a kid who is getting the stuff right is that your "20 minute" test takes a hell of a lot longer. And the kid KNOWS she's screwing it up. How is that possibly conducive to a pleasant and affirming educational experience?

I hesitated posting this here in my blog because even I am thinking "you should have known better than to trust them, this is what public schools do." From Montessori to Unschooling, tests and placing any stock in them is well outside my worldview, and my children's. Yet, it is part of our journey and I want it out there so maybe someone else can benefit from the experience. What follows is my dialog with our contact teacher at the virtual academy.

Dear Teacherperson,
When we began the school year, I had no intention of having my children test. We were going to drop down to homeschool enrollment and handle it that way. As we progressed, and as per CVA guidelines I began to pay attention to the children's progress, I found myself looking forward to the testing process. "Bring it ON!" I thought. The kids have grown and changed so much this year; their confidence and skills have really come to light. I was and remain proud of them and the work we have done here.

My children sat for the MAP this morning and I have to say, we're all a bit deflated. The tests for K and 2 focused on some odd things, I thought. I've been teaching my daughter to read, not to count syllables. I am not kidding, her personal test seemed to focus intensively on counting syllables. I know what books she is reading, because I listen to her while she does it, or we talk about their content when she's done reading alone. The girl can read and write, but this test won't display that.

My kindy son's went from simple kindy math to "here's a math 'sentence,' now which would be the wrong way to solve it?" That alone irritated me, but then the samples for him to choose from had little or nothing to do with math. It was testing him not on calculation or even on reasoning, but on methods other teachers / school use to teach children math. He felt bowled over and distressed. He felt like he couldn't do math, and I know that is so not the case. I felt gut-punched and a little betrayed. My child has never cried over "school" work, ever. And he cried today because I felt I had to make him sit and finish this thing out. By the end, my 5 year old was just throwing it; He went from sobbing because he so wanted to "get it right" to just clicking on random pictures to just have it be over.

Not one question on either test asked about culture, history, music, art or science. There was nothing of any substance. No reading comprehension (past a few advertisements), spelling or sequencing at all.

I have been mollified by CVA for months that this is just a "marker" and a "place to begin tracking progress." I bought it and even sold it to my kids, that it would be fun and to not worry about it, that this would be just a little longer version of the things they already do. But what exactly are they supposed to be progressing in? This didn't actually test their math or language skills, and it surely didn't allow for any demonstration of knowledge or skill beyond that.

If we don't have an alternate method of demonstrating the children's knowledge next year, (and don't even mention WASL), then I don't know that we will be staying on board with CVA.

She replied very quickly, which I appreciated, and cc'd the principals of the academy:

Hi ~L~,
I really appreciate you talking with me first before going to the Beta site. My heart goes out to your kids and to you. Remember, this is just a snapshot and one style of assessment that does not work for all students. Next year we can look at some different types of assessment so this experience is not repeated for G and N.

The unique aspect of the MAP is kids get 50% of the questions correct and 50% incorrect which can be hard for little ones to deal with. This is supposed to help the test align with the kids skills so that we get an accurate reading of where they are. I should have your test results by next Monday. Regardless of what the results show, we both know how much your children have progressed and grown this year. I'm so happy you are proud of your kids, I am too! Please give G and N a great BIG hug from me and tell the how proud I am of them for getting through the MAP and that they are such smart cookies!!

What does your Wednesday look like? I have meetings from 2:30 until the end of the day tomorrow but at this point Wednesday is wide open.

Sorry to keep this short but please know that I am on your side and will do everything I can to help you and the kids.



-----------
So that's where I am. As usual, I have no problem with our contact teacher, as she truly has worked with us to translate our eclectic style into public school acceptability. I have taken many tests over the years as a student, and I was one of the children who test very well. I relished finding the "tricks" in the questions, and rarely wore of it. Today, however, I saw a test unlike anything I'd ever seen. It was sucky for my daughter, who gave it the college try and was rewarded with an hour and a half test for her troubles, and it was sucky for my son, who may as well not have taken the thing. He's the one I feel so bad for. He's the one I feel I have failed. He's so, so little, and to hear him say "I just can't do math," about killed me when that is really something he's so enjoyed. They just didn't bother testing him on it, and said they did.
-----------

A number of other parents are objecting to the MAP: http://homeschooldistractions.blogspot.com/2008/04/thumbs-down-map-assessment.html

http://lifeatnikis.blogspot.com/2008/05/test-those-homeschoolers.html


ETA:
May 2008

The children's advisory teacher called us while we were on vacation in Charleston. Both children scored as "very high" on the tests, both in the 90s, with Nick scoring in the 99th percentiles on both math and language. I am unmoved to feel any differently about the test.

This is our last normal week.

Well, our last normal week of the "new" normal anyway. Next week, we depart on a plane for Charleston, the children and I, leaving P-daddy to putter in our absence. He will LOVE it for exactly 36 hours, and then will start having hallucinations of some sort. We complain about each other, but I don't know any couple more bonded than we are. It's sweet, but in an embarrassing sort of way.

This year, my Great Self Work has been to remove the seat of anger. It's been hard, and to my great shock, the work is paying off. Because when I sense the anger, I just sort it out immediately (is this anger? or is it something else? is it habit?), I don't stay at a low simmer all the time. Because I am not already angry when something disturbs me or annoys me, I don't automatically snap or blow. It's been helpful in each of my relationships, but perhaps best in my relationship with my husband. He's learning to trust me again, I think, in the sense that I am not going to just bite at him. We've been working well together again, like "us" and I have to admit I like it a lot. Why wouldn't I, you know?

And now we will be apart for weeks. I will be gone for nearly two weeks, and then he will leave as soon as we get back for a week of his own. We've never done that, not since the second year we were dating. The kids are going to not deal so well, and I know it. My curiosity is to see how well P-daddy and I deal.

I didn't see this one coming....

Possessing a rare combination of wisdom and humility, while serenely dominating your environment you selflessly use your powers to care for others.

Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.

Galadriel is a character in the Middle-Earth universe. You can read more about her at the Galadriel Worshippers Army.

Tax season, Van Season. Three years running!

Literally, right at a year since the last van dance.

It goes like this:

file the taxes

pay the property taxes
pay off the credit cards
strand yourself and have to repair the van
have a wonderful friend drive your children to classes for you
run up the credit cards fixing said van until your household is flat broke
spend a year struggling
file the taxes.......

I choose not going to participate in the dance this year. Repairs are going to have to be cash.

It's better than last year, and I know it. I will hold to this, and focus hard upon it.

We know it's something (relative to replacing the engine and the transmission last year) minor. We know how it started (bad engine replacement mechanic: Eric in Port Orchard is a CROOK, people!), with a stripped flashing on the windshield that allowed water to go in during the rainy season and short circuit our wiring.
We rebuilt the brakes yesterday for 600.00. We know this mechanic is both good and honest. We just tested the starter, selenoid, battery and alternator yesterday and they all check out.
So when the van wouldn't start today-- I was frustrated. Very frustrated. But not despondent.

This is a boring entry to anyone who hasn't suffered through this van with me, I know this. I refuse to give up. It's basically a new machine now and until we can get something a hell of a lot greener than this (I am not talking hybrid, I mean greener) then I will keep it. We knew going in that the repairs would be big, and costly but the original price we paid for it more than evens out the budget. No reason to add MORE consumption and MORE money drain to our family. It basically works, it's paid for, and I will drive it until it dies.

Cross Stitch

This is a phrase my Grandma says often and it still warms my heart, especially now that I have children and really understand it.

Cleaning and scrubbing can wait for tomorrow,
For babies grow up, I've learned, to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
(Ruth Hulburt Hamilton)