The Gift Of Educational Control


We sat down for a few minutes, just the two of us.  He was busy playing, as always, but he made time for me in his busy schedule of designing train tracks, playing tag with his siblings, and building a massive Lego house.

“What do you want to learn about this year?” I asked him.  I always ask him this every year.  Sometimes he gives me a few sentences.  Sometimes he blows me off and runs away.  Sometimes he only tells me what he doesn’t want to do – usually anything that has to do with reading.  This time, he paused and thought carefully for a minute.

“I think I want to learn about CO2,” he said.  “Greenhouse gases?” I asked?  He nodded.  “And how they interact with the sun, and water conservation, and hurricanes, and tornadoes …”  he was off and running, and his mouth didn’t stop until several breathless paragraphs later.  Wow, kiddo, that’s a lot!


I Know Why My Kid Is Being A Jerk


“Go upstairs, son.  You may come down when you’re calmer.”

I was gritting my teeth, trying to stand up straight.  He raged towards me, throwing random things as he came across them.  No one else was in his path but me.  I stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding the out-dated baby gate open for him in silent expectation.  He didn’t go upstairs.  Not yet.  No, first he came to me and swiftly kicked me in the leg.   Then he darted up the stairs, daring me to follow.

I yelled instead.  Because the stairs are just too much right now, and he knows it.  He exploits my weakness in ways that you wouldn’t expect from a seven-year-old.

My kids are being jerks, and I know why.


Homeschool Woes


I didn’t mean to miss it.  I had big plans for heaping piles of Ticonderoga pencils, 3-ring binders, and an endless stash of glue sticks.  After all, we’re out of glue sticks – my buying spree at last year’s back -to-school sales lasted us all year.  Until now.  Until the last, forlorn glue stick that I carefully used for the county fair projects, rationing out the tiny bit of glue left.  We need to restock, and I blew it.


Raising An Empath When You Are One


My first post back after a long health issue and you’re probably thinking “the meds have addled her mind!”  No, I’m not crazy.  At least, if I am crazy, I’m not the only one experiencing it.

I’m a firm, sciency, logical kind of person.  So if you had told me 5 years ago that I was an empath, I would have shrugged and walked on.  If you persisted and explained what that meant …. well, I probably would have laughed in your face.  Sorry about that.

I am an empath.   No idea to what degree, but I’m sensitive enough to be bothered by lots of people around me, and to absorb emotions or aura or what-the-heckever-you-want-to-call-it from other people.  It also means I’m a good listener, I have oodles of pointless, overwhelming pain over stuff people don’t even notice, and I like being around happy people.