Homeschool Humor Perspective Housework Chores Responsibility Encouragement Homeschooling

Homeschooling sometimes gets to me. There, I said it. Some days, I want to whine just like my kids, “I don’t wanna go to school today.” Occasionally, I see the neighborhood kids getting on the school bus and wistfully, I wonder what I would do with a whole day to myself. No kids underfoot, no squabbles, no frustrations, no complaints.

Peace and quiet. I could clean something and it would stay that way, the whole entire day! I wonder… Yesterday, my son figured out how to spell discipline, without my help and without a dictionary. Discipline has a silent-c, an invisible letter when trying to spell phonetically. Useless as far as my son is concerned: No sound, not needed! The vowels in “discipline” all make the “soft” sound, thus the word shouldn’t end in silent-e. The spelling rule is clear: when a vowel says its name, add a silent-e.

Yet, somehow, he figured it out. Last night, while waiting on my older son to finish rehearsal, my youngest managed to capture a ladybug that had hitched a ride with us. Just last week we read all about ladybugs. They have two sets of wings. The hard, protective outer wings that lift away, kind of like a convertible hardtop. The enormous underwings unfold so the bug can fly. As the bug crawled up her hand, she pointed out all the parts she could see. She studied its spots. She wondered about its scientific name. She is only five. As I write this, the laundry sits in folded piles beside me, somehow the clothes never made it to dresser drawers last night.

It seems they never do. Beakers and glasses clutter the kitchen counter, filled with liquid in several different hues. They stand as a lasting testament to a “science experiment” the kids dreamed up to study color combinations with food coloring and water. The coffee table is stacked high with Latin, geography, science and a rough draft: all my son’s work I had to grade last night, now waiting for him this morning. My home is never “clean!” The giant, yellow block of cheese on wheels just pulled away, loaded up with the neighbor kids, off to another day of school and learning. I think I’ll choose to be content with what I have here. After all, I get the front row seat as my kids make new discoveries. Soon enough, they’ll have families of their own. And then, I’ll have more quiet time than I want.