Funny Thing About Large Families

Or, perhaps, a more suitable title would be "What No One Told Me About Raising More Than One."

In the league of "What No One Talks About When Your Grandchild Is Born," the phenomenon of how a parent might meander the myriad of emotions that accompany watching your child yet and still make choices and grow up isn't discussed.  Anywhere.

So, I'm here to talk about it.

Egads.

I love my children, down to the last drop.  When my grandson Keeton was born, I was overwhelmed with a love for him that completely took me by surprise.  It was The Emotion That No One Talks About When Your Grandchild Is Born.  Oh, sure, grandparents joke about how they can enjoy the child, then send them back home, about how great it is that the grandchild is energetic enough to warrant a young person parenting him or her . . .

But no one says how captivated your heart will become the instant you lay eyes on that wailing, protesting piece of related DNA that they put on the scale to weigh and take vital signs.  The moment you hold that little on in your arms, you think your heart is going to burst, the love is so overwhelming.  The honeymoon phase doesn't leave, Choosers.  I'm here to tell you, that familial love only expands and expounds as that little grows up into a walking, talking specimen of related DNA.   I could swallow up my grandson in a bubble of love that he'd never find his way out of.  Oh, wait.  I've already done that.  :)

Well, so it is with your children as they grow and become and stretch their wings and find their place in this world.  As the first one leaves the nest and begins to experiment with this adult responsibility and that, your heart begins to let out, like a kite on a string.

The winds may blow, as you hear news of your child's life experience, and threaten to take your kite - your emotions - and dash them into a storm cloud . . . but then, through faith and hope, and because you are a parent given to prayer, the winds subside, and your kite - your heart - is happily flying again in a peaceful, contented state, as your child's circumstance settles into a happy ending or new normal.

Then along comes the next newly minted adult child.  Now, you are flying tandem heart-kites.  One is flying contentedly, and the other, flying nearby, gets caught by a gust of circumstance that grabs and tosses your heart-kite to and fro.  The complex maneuver of having to keep those two kites from colliding is enough to keep a parent on their toes.  More faith.  More hope. More prayer.  And then, peace once again in the sky of life.

Try adding a third heart-kite to your active group of heart-kites.  You thought you were cruising along and enjoying this adult child experience with little challenge?  Then you haven't yet crossed the threshold of having three adult children . . . each making decisions, finding their life-path, going from euphoria at successes to the depths of despair at adult realities and responsibilities.  Of course, on the surface, you are calm, and available to that child for wisdom, advice, and a shoulder to console upon.  In secret, you are in the prayer closet, seeking God's face and favor, His grace and mercy on their every move.

A nail-biting experience at times . . . a cacophonous swell of pride and love and excitement at others.

But wait!  There's more!  A fourth child-adult . . . a young man pushing at the adult gate a wee bit earlier than most, with special circumstances surrounding him . . . and the press is much more transitional than the parent would like; too soon, it seems, on the heels of having just launched the third heart-kite.

And so the parent juggles the accomplishments, the fears, the disappointments, the concerns of each of their children no longer in the safety and boundaries of the nest.  A typical day might have one of each of the aforementioned details occurring, one per child, per day!  The phone call from Young Adult One being exciting; hanging up to answer Young Adult Two in a state of fear; processing that, when lo and behold! Young Adult Three shows up on the doorstep concerned and needing to talk about this, that, and the other; while you open the mailbox to a note from Young Almost-Adult Four detailing the disappointment of heart they are feeling.

No one talks about parenting from this angle, that of the multiple adult-child syndrome.  I suppose that is because it's not fully parenting any more, is it?  No, it's the transition of the parent into a close confidant, a wise adviser or counselor who leaves the final decision to the Young Adult they've just spoken with.

No one said that when my children grew up that I would have to.

The transition into adulthood is just as much mine as it is theirs.

With one child, it's doable.  Two?  A bit of a thrill.  Three?  Complex.  Four?  Challenging.

Hanging on to my heart-kite strings with skill and dexterity is required of me.  Loving well my dictum.

Thank goodness I've got two toddlers hanging at my knee, that I might resort to the simplicity of those three year old encounters to still my soul . . . 

Little People, Loud Voices

I've managed to cross the threshold of night #2 into dawn with a tad more sleep than I received the night before. Not only has the current excitement kept me tossing and turning, but the KellerMan has managed to waken repeatedly.

These nocturnal stirrings have not been the pleasant, sleepy, easily-lulled-back-to-dreamland type of awakenings.  No.

They've been the loud, demanding, throw-yourself-on-the-bed type of awakenings.  In a home that is void of carpeting to absorb the sound, the reverberations of an angry toddler have jarred me from my peaceful state, directly into the land of insomniacs!

It's just another chapter in the saga of my very first child who prefers to bring his daytime activities into the midnight hours.

:sigh:

He Must Be His Father's Child

The doorbell had scarcely stopped ringing, by the time I was in animated conversation with a family member that had stopped by to say hello.

" . . .all that to say, I'm really happy!" the words graced my lips, as my ears detected a cry from L'il Man in the next room. I could tell it was one of those "I bonked my head, Mom, kiss it." kind of cries. I turned to go do just that.

Rounding the kitchen cabinets, there he stood, his petite frame in a grimace of tears and inconsolable speech. I began to reach for him ~ only to have him loose his balance (or, was he passing out?) and fall straight backwards, banging his head on the tile floor.

"Oh, no! Keller!" I exclaimed, as I gingerly picked up his little body. Cradling him close, I began to soothe him . . . only to be startled that he could not seem to catch his breath in vigorous cry.

"Keller! Breathe!" I encouraged him, but the depth of the crying was beyond his ability to reach for a new breath. As his body relaxed in a fainted pose, I almost panicked.

Save for his father's multiple stories of low pain thresh hold incidences sending him to a blackened state, I might have been frightened beyond belief.

No sooner had I recounted in my mind the GilGuy's brush with the hammer against his kneecap on the rooftop, and the fainting thereof, than Keller was robustly protesting having momentarily lost awareness of his surroundings.

Now, his complaint reached louder and louder, as there were not one, but two head-bonks to be kissed!

I dutifully and gratefully complied, making note for future reference that this young man best be laid prostrate at the first sign of any future toddler head-bonkage.

:)

Of All The Nerve . . .

As the Saturday morning played itself out, Keller became increasingly more demanding on my 'rest time' that I'd carved out for myself. Without the GilGuy nearby to shoulder a portion of that two-year old energy, I found myself rather harried after the intense week I'd just completed as L'il Man's incessant requests piled one on top of the other.

That is, until Israel sauntered in. Immediately, he took up residence on the other half of the bed I'd deemed 'home base' for the day, and began playing with Keller. Giggles and laughter soon rose to the ceiling, and the bottle of pent up energy Keller had been containing began to pour out.

Soon, Big invited Little to go outside.

They spent a good half hour out there, before returning. When they did, Keller absolutely fell apart. He was having far too much fun to be returned inside four walls. Israel did his best to rediret his attention elsewhere, to no avail.

"Keller! Chill out!"

"Keller! Look at my eyes! We are NOT going to do that now!"

"Keller!"

"Keller!"

"Keller!"

Of course, the toddler wasn't having any of the new rules. Soon, they appeared in the doorway, baby on the hip of the fifteen year old manchild.

"Israel," I began, "I can hear you are getting frustrated with him. Would you like me to take over?" compassionately inquiring.

After all, Keller is not Israel's parental responsibility, even though his sibling assistance is worth it's weight in gold.

"Huh?" he replied. "No, I'm not frustrated! Come on, Keller, let's go get the juice out of the car!"

They were gone in a flash, leaving my heart to reel from the emotion of wonder and amazement as Israel's resiliency, and his willingness to be so patient with such a little charge.

I sunk back into the pillow of a backrest, and relished yet another few more minutes of silent regrouping.

Tit For Tat

Several weeks ago, the GilGuy discovered a new technique, one that appeared to lull an incosolable toddler to sleep on a regular basis.

For Gil to raise his voice in the wee hours of the night in song is no simple (or pleasant!) feat. Self-described as 'tone-deaf' his voice would startle me as a greater sleep interuption that that of the wailing baby.

I've endured, it, however, this magic-pill of song that Gil has used repeatedly since the first night of success in using the method.

Gil asked me why I, the one with a voice like a songbird, don't sing to the child?

It was a quick and easy answer, I acknowledged. Singing is for daytime, not nocturnal hours.

If it is effective, the GilGuy retorted, sing away!

So, the trend continued. Midnight muse wafting to the ceiling, and, in unison with loud toddler protests, the singing would finally win, and the tiny lad would return to slumber.

That is, until, the showdown.

It happened just the other night. Lights out brought on a hearty complaint from the L'il Man whose bed shares our room. Spoken directives of "Go to sleep, Keller." in a firm voice had little effect.

Finally, in a moment of frustration, the GilGuy busted a chop.

In 1814 we took a little trip
Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississip.
We took a little bacon and we took a little beans
And we caught the bloody British in the town of New Orleans.

The boy ratcheted up his wailings.

We fired our guns and the British kept a'comin.
There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago.
We fired once more and they began to runnin' on
Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.

Protests increased from his tiny frame.

Suddenly, Keller shouted: "STOP IT! I said "STOP IT DADDY!"

Gil, in an uncharacteristic temper, retorted, "YOU stop it, Keller!"

"Stop it, Dad! I said Stop!"

"Keller . . ." said Gil in an evenly-contained, albeit quite perturbed voice. "I'll stop it if YOU stop it!"

The inky blackness hid his tiny frame, but in the sudden pause of silence, we heard the equivalent of a full-body belly-flop onto the crib mattress.

The silence grew longer, and greater, and stronger . . . and finally, the sound of sleeping baby breathing.

I stifled an outright laugh.

Keller St. John, in a moment of rational reasoning with his father, decided that *that* deal wasn't such a bad one after all!

I've yet to hear the GilGuy sing again . . .

:giggle:

The Staple In Our House

Israel was only four when we moved to the home we currently reside in. The property was brand new, and I made the decision not to pipe in cable tv. Rather, I provided my brood of four with videos and movies via VHS tape.

Remember those? The tiny packages of containing sheer delight, if only one would insert the cartridge into the VCR.

Over those years, we accumulated quite the collection. VHS gave way to DVD, and soon the purchasing shifted to accommodate the times.

Enter the KBoyz.

Very recently the stash of almost antiquated VHS tapes has been rediscovered, and oldies but goodies are filling our home with nostalgic memories of significant series gone by.

Keeton and Keller each have very distinct tastes; Keeton being the more easily swayed to watch what he'd rather not watch at any given time. Therefore, Keller having his way, the predominant staple in our home at present is none other than:

Steve and Blue.

Yes, of Blue's Clue's fame.

The program is sheer delight - Steve brilliant, Blue as smart as ever.

Big Little Man

We drive the freeway system; we hike the trails. We share meals, living space, and love.

Big's voice is changing.

Little is just sharing his voice.

Big reads to himself.

Little must be read to.

Big likes to watch movies.

Little like Tumblebooks.

Big loves.

Little loves.

Momma loves.

Wingin' It . . .

The weekend was an ecclectic mix of busy and relaxing all rolled into one. It did very little to prepare me for Monday morning, where I've discovered that, in order to keep on top of things, I'm wingin' it! :D

No less challenging is the days-away-from-two-years-old status that a certain member of our household brings to the table - er, well should I say, pulls off of the table?

Disheveled.

Tha's me today! LOL

Sleep Technique #35

It's no secret that Keller has been a sleep-challenged child from the get-go, a first in our house of five offspring.

Not too long ago, he suddenly, miraculously began sleeping through the night ~ and I was transformed into another woman! My energy levels returned immediately, and my outlook on life had an even rosier glow.

Alas, that window of time was brief. A stuffy nose ran it's course through our otherwise very healthy home, and L'il Man was not exempt. You guessed it - he started waking up again.

Enter Dimity Duck.

I began to notice that Keller was keenly interested in reading stories about others sleeping. He can sign 'sleep' like a champ, and he discusses the endeavor in spades as I take him to lay down.

Dimity began to make her mark on the lad.

So, I added Daisy to the mix. Yes, another sleeping book.

Sleepy Bear was next, and potent in it's witness of the value of sleep.

We've a new routine 'round these parts: reading stories about sleeping before we actually nod off . . .

So far, so good.

Now, if I could just get the concept of staying asleep in his head . . .

TGIF

In case you hadn't noticed, it's Friday.

Friday, people.

The cliche' TGIF rings true for me today, as we complete our first. full. week. of. school.

I've been running a tight ship, the mongrel horde has been fairly compliant, and for the most part, there have been no major blow ups. (There was that one, just before supper the other night . . . but hey - school was officially over for the day!)

As is customary for our little homeschool on the Gulf Coast, at some point, my son cracks from the intensity of the rigour of it all. His creative side just can't stand another moment of structure. So, we end up in halarity, the likes of which I'm *certain* no other homeschooling family experiences, this side of the equator.

You may recall this.

Or perhaps this.

Well ~ as you've surely noted by now, you've been set up in the post for the obvious . . .

Two major, cataclysmic events happened at The Cracking of Israel this week. I hesitate to share. After all, it might just reveal, um . . . well, I have no idea what to call what it might reveal. {cough} Just be afraid. Be very afraid.

Are you ready?

Scenario #1: Input gleaned about a characters' actions from a Read Aloud, transferred into immediate action:



Evidently this character has been given a name, and a job to do, in a plethora of characters invented in some imaginary school in cyberspace. Coming to a YouTube near you.

and (as if that weren't enough)

Scenario #2: A science lapbook experience gone awry. Very. Awry. All those loose pieces of paper became, in the hand of a teen boy, a character to be reckoned with.

Ladies and Gentlemen. Choosers everywhere. I now introduce you to: {drum roll, please}

**MR. BENSON. (egads)










How, may I ask, does one parent Mr. Benson?

**Please note this is a spoof, no harm nor offense intended at any one.

Suffice it to say . . . I'm really, really glad it's Friday. :D

How about you?

The Box Of Toys

The box of toys arrived yesterday.

The toys we'd acquired for Keller while in Michigan. I had to make consessions somewhere in the packing-for-a-month-or-more-stay, and the cut came at familiar playthings for the L'il Man.

Unwittingly, we garnered quite a stash of items. One here, one there, a clearance sale on books, a nifty item he'd found during a store run that his interest was keen on . . .

Originally, I had intended to gift any items to the local Salvation Army, for another to enjoy. Yet, as I watched Keller play with these items with genuine engagement and enthrallment, I determined I'd not rob him of his newfound skill-building toys.

Into a box they went, and off to the post office, hopefully to meet us when we arrived home.

Just as L'il Man expressed joy over the familiarity of our home upon returning, so he dove into the box of items sent from Michigan just for him.

I'm glad I chose the route I did.

He's playing happily behind me, stacking and unstacking; placing puzzle pieces and moving parts.

What a wonderful way to spend the morning ~ for all of us. :D

Saturday *Morning* Soiree

So, about that taped audition thing . . . my son decided the best time to accomplish it would be right off the bat, Saturday morning, before he sauntered off to go canoeing with the rest of the cast.

Having sucked down a couple of cups of java, I'm reviewing our work. Not too shabby, I guess, considering.

What the frenzied activity did bring me is about an hour to myself, before the baby wakes.

Perhaps I ought to incorporate this method more often. :)

Enough Already!!

The GilGuy as instituted some very fine principles 'round this place. The kind that one can hang their life-building character hat upon. However, in recent months, my heart has been increasing in angst over a character building principle run amok. Last night, I hit the wall. I could go no further with the status quo. I. was. done. Finito. Finished.

It was ovah.

"What happened!?" one might exclaim.

So glad you've asked.

I reclaimed my kitchen.

Let me explain:

Gil is a firm believer that The Chef shouldn't be the one to clean up. This principle takes on an even heavier weight of importance when coupled with the knowledge that The Chef just so happens to be The Mom ~ because now honor and respect play into the deal.

There are perks to having such a system in place. Exhaustion is held at bay; The Chef is able to focus entirely on the creation of deliciousity, rather than be minimized at the thought of such a recipe causing a great deal of clean up; and - not to be forgotten - Helpers post-supper grant The Mom extra surf time. (always of great value!) ~Big Grin~

"So what, pray tell, could possibly cause angst when such a sweet system is in place??" you care to know?

I'm so glad you've asked.

Let me explain:

Having two teens share the kitchen duties brings with it the argument du jour. Different day, different disagreement - but noise nonetheless.

"Aubrey, you didn't unload!"
"Yes I did! AND I put the pots into water to soak!" and so on . . .

Said such teens also appear to have an aversion to correcting any dishwasher mishaps by handwashing any items still not fully cleansed. Therefore, items are either held indefinitely in the dishwasher -or- [aghast!] put away in a dirty state!!

[AHHHGGGGHHHH!]

Furthermore ~ my kitchen utensils repeatedly fail to return to their home. I have spent enormous amounts of time looking for -say- my measuring cups only to find that they've been placed -hypothetically speaking- behind the china serving platter that we used last Thanksgiving, for example.

[AAACCCCKKKK!!!]

The hunt for kitchen tools drives me crazy!

Oh. Add one more thing to the list, please . . . my counters rarely seem to be in a state of cleanliness and order. There seems to always be at least one - if not more items 'left out' for one reason or another.

"That has to soak overnight."
"It's clean, but there wasn't room in the cupboard for it!" and so on.

EGADS!

Now, hear me, Choosers. I'm not one to rant and rave here at ChoiceCentral. I'm merely trying to tell a story ~ and, well . . . YOU ASKED! [rhetorically speaking, I realize . . .but . . .]

It was this type of errant behavior that had gone on for m o n t h s that finally got my goat and caused me to put my foot down.

There was a shakedown last night, I tell ya. The earth split open and time stopped for two teens who earn privileges based on their family team participation.

Today, I'm cleaning out cupboards and setting my culinary world aright.

Already this morning, I've requests from [two persons unmentioned] that they be instructed on the proper living quarters for each kitchen item.

Hmmm.

The point of critical mass for me might well translate into a learning lesson to my benefit . . .

Stay tuned.
This could get good.

:)

Wordless Wednesday: Joy

I Love My Mother!

I Love you Mom!

********************

Is the above noted blog post, *obviously* NOT written by me, a bribe of any sort, perhaps? A flattering manipulative move on the part of the 14 year old boy who penned it whilst I refilled my coffee cup? Hmmmm??

I think I'll watch this lad carefully today. Determine how well he puts his mental muscle to his studies. Does he have an attitude of respect and appreciation toward the other members of his family? Is he cooperative and non-argumentative?

This shall be the litmus test of all litmus tests.

If he passes these - then - and ONLY then - will I consider a trip to town that he might spend the cash that is burning a hole in his pocket.

:D

Requested.

I'm in a hushed moment of thanksgiving and awe.

The day didn't start out so well, it's been chaotic from the get-go. I've been patient, worked through several frustrating moments, and re-aligned myself with the status quo of Friday morning.

Yet, when Keller repeatedly, delicately challenged me multiple times over the same 'hands off' item, then flew into a toddler-sized outburst of rage at my solid stance, it sufficiently topped off my 'take-it-in-stride' bucket and poured over into Momma Overload.

With one swift, determined movement on my part, I swept the lad up, and marched him into another room. Against the grain of his protest, I changed his pants (for lack of anything more constructive to do), and redirected his attention to another form of entertainment.

Returning to my previous task, wondering how long the distraction would last, I hoped for the best. I only needed 20 minutes.

Just 20.

No more.

That's when Keller ran up to me excitedly, signing "Help! Help!"

"Alright," I thought to myself. "I'll help him . . ."

He toddled into the next room and pointed at the empty felt board. A carryover from playtime with Keeton yesterday, it had not been put away when the day was done.

I was stunned.

"You want to play with your felts?" I asked, almost incredulously.

It was obvious.

I dashed down the hall to the storage area, scooped up the felts, and handed them to the young man.

As I type, Keller St John is happily talking to himself and moving felts around the felt board, fully engaged in the activity.

I have a feeling the chaos of the day is far from over.

At the very least, I have a happy memory: the knowledge that my efforts are not in vain.

Make Mine Sticky, Please . . .

Neither books nor people have velcro sides - we don't naturally attach to each other. In the beginning there must be a bonding agent - parent, relative, neighbor, teacher, or librarian - somene who attaches child to book. - Jim Trelease

*****

I had stood with my back to the shelf, perusing the online card catalogue at the library last November. Aubrey was surveying the available dvd's; Keller was snug in his sling; Israel and I were discussing the merits of reading Dracula.*

I had been reluctant six months earlier to allow the then 13 year old boy to ingest the content material of the classic. However, maturity and growth had presented themselves within his personhood over the ensuing six months, and I was now willing to revisit the story. Finding the location of the book, he took off to snag it, and I turned absent-mindedly to the shelf behind me.

I approached it, reading spine labels quickly, and stopped to consider several titles. One book in particular caught my attention, and I pulled it out of it's nested home to look at the cover. The Read-Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease.

"Oh. It's a directory of sorts. Nevermind." I told myself, as I slid it back into it's place. I removed myself from that particular bookshelf and wandered the library in search of my children.

Now April, I'd taken a liking to Jamie's blog and parenting premise. I considered her blog tag line: on the journey of intentional, professional motherhood. I could relate in a whole new way, as I'd entered motherhood again. I had reared, and was rearing my four older children to the best of my ability, choosing to learn and grow with them, and parent them well these past 23 years. Yet, I still felt the gaps, and the missteps that I'd made along the way. Now that Keller had come along, I wanted to continue my place of self-growth to his benefit. That's where Jamie's ideal came in. The ring of intentional parenthood held great appeal.

So it was, when Jamie recommended The Read-Aloud Handbook, I quickly requested the book online through the library - completely unaware that I had held the book in my hands just a few months prior and rejected it.

My mouth stood agape when I picked up my precious parcel at the library counter. My photographic memory immediately recalled the covers' appearance, and I began to wonder: what was this amazing coincidence?

To further the matter, shortly after cracking open the spine of this delicious read, I was doubly stunned to discover that the founders of our homeschool curriculum, Sonlight, agreed with the author's premise, quoting him as he states the value and import of reading aloud to your family members. I didn't really need any additional convincing evidence, but the positive input was received, just the same.

I've since digested the entire volume. I've agreed and nodded my head. I've queried my husband of his childhood read-aloud experiences (he doesn't consider himself a Lifetime Love-to-Reader, with astounding evidence as to why - no recollection of books or having had been read to as a child, except in a remedial fashion) and shared my experiences (with the knowledge that I am a rare breed of natural reader, fueled by my Mom's read-aloud input, as well as numerous teachers who read aloud to me as I grew up). I've analyzed my read-aloud input into each of my children, and the subsequent out-put thereof. I've reconsidered and adjusted slightly my methodology with Keller St. John, and quickened my read-aloud endeavors when Keeton is present. I've insisted that my friend read the book (which, incidentally, was a gift to her when her daughter was born - and the book promptly took up residence on the shelf unread for the same reason I replaced the book to the shelf . . .); and I've already joined the cause that Jamie began by sharing the book here, in my latest post about Tot School.

My girlfriend and I regularly discuss our library finds, and I've a renewed -perhaps zealous - desire to route my family's Love-to-Read quotient to high gear. After all, it is never to late, as my oldest daughter has already proven to me.

Yes, my husband nods, it is a worthy endeavor. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, a Dr. Suess book was making it's way to our mailbox ~ a purchase my husband made on the referral of a friend.

As he sat on the couch, reading aloud to his little boy, my heart sang the praises of the existance of velcro in our home.

Make mine sticky, please . . .

*****

*Mr. Trelease makes a very palatable case for reading those books that are less antiseptic. See Chapter 8: Sustained Silent Reading.

Tot School [Tuesday] Volume 5

The Kboyz were tot-schooling together this week ~ a joy and a delight to my heart!

As the melding of two skill sets presented themselves to me, in the form of Keller [18 months] and Keeton, his nephew, my grandson [19 months], I became keenly aware of the bridging of two different methods or styles of teaching that I've been reading about and employing most recently.

Last week I wrapped up Montessori From The Start: The Child At Home From Birth To Age Three by Lilliard and Jessen. From it I gleaned a deeper appreciation of the intricacies of allowing a child to discover and do within the Montesorri approach. It is, in reality, the foundation of so many of the activities that Carissa, hostess of Tot School, and fellow Tot-Schooler's the web-wide utilize to bring understanding to our little ones; shaping their world with cause-and-effect style play. I have a great interest in this educational model, and I'm enjoying using it purposefully in our home.

Meanwhile, it behooves one to know that I've been equally purposed from the onset of Keller's birth to include reading, and books, and the library as a core foundation to his upbringing. I must say, that I really had no statistical idea of what a powerful tool I have been using. Referred by Jamie at steadymom.com to read The Read-Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease, I've devoured the book with relish ~ my eyes wide with amazement at what a small, financially inexpensive investment a parent can make in the life of their child. I cannot recommend this book enough to every Tot School member!

So, as our Tot School week progressed, Keller and I began our read of body part books, from the listing I obtained from the unit study supplied by United Teaching. When Keeton was present, we simply incorporated him into the reading fun. One of the techniques I employed from The Read-Aloud Handbook was to read to the boys as they snacked at the table: a virtual captive audience. This was a big hit, both youngsters absoring the Dr. Suess book with great enjoyment.

I also presented the felt board to Keeton for the first time.

It was interesting to watch him fill with wonder as items held fast to the board, to see him acknowledge colors,

and the full-on attention he gave my voice as I gave describing words to objects, or asked questions of him about those objects.

I felt as though my time with my children this week was, as Jamie well states, intentional and professional ~ that my motherhood flourished as I gave the KBoyz an interactive environment in which to learn and grow.

Siblings

There was a time when the Little Sister annoyed the Big Sister to no end. (Yikes! Look at that face! No wonder! LOL)

Evidently, time and maturity have replaced annoyance with the knowledge of the power of positive sibling influence . . .

. . . the value of quality time spent together . . .

. . .the fun that can be had . . .

and the love to be shared.

How beautiful to witness the growth. How blissful the peace.

:D

Tot School [Tuesday] Volume 3

Color was the name of the game this week! I dug down into my creative genes, and craft room boxes, thanks to a library book I had picked up by Jeff Johnson, Everyday Early Learning. His premise of 'work with what you've got' appealed to the frugal side of me, and resulted in two new additions to our Tot School manipulatives.

First up? The straws.

I'm a huge straw fan. No big icy splash in ones' face as they attempt that final gulp from the bottom of the cup! Nope. A straw finishes off a drink quite nicely and neatly, thenkyewverymuch!

It was during a delicious draught of ice cold, refreshing water that the light bulb came on for me. That bag of colorful straws could be put to good use in our Tot School bag-o-tricks! I jumped up, grabbed a handful of color, and began splicing each straw into segments, resulting in a bunch of string-through-me-wannabes!

So tickled pink with my ingenuity, [no color pun intended!] I purposed immediately to blog about it. Alas, somewhere between creating the post and my surf-the-web-for-ideas window, I discovered I was not the first to produce such a toy. Nor would I be the last. Oh well. Keller was intrigued anyway. HE'D never seen such a thing before! :D

The next task at hand was directly from Jeff's cranium: a felt book for identifying colors.

Simple in design, sturdy for 18 month old hands, and compelling in sensory realm, I got right to work creating my own. A stack of colored felt, edged together with the sewing machine, then, a strip of binding to cover the outside edge, and voila`!

A color book! A perfect companion to Carisa's approach to color identification, I watched with anticipation as Keller entered the room where the book lay, ready for his discovery.

Let me be the first to note: He loves this book! He will 'read' it over and over; bring it to me, for my declaration of colors as I turn pages with him . . . even Keeton showed great interest in it the days he spent with us this week.

(I lamented for a moment, again, that I had not accomplished such a simple learning tool for my olders, and then promptly forgave myself. After all, I hadn't even begun to touch the internet and all the ideas it holds when they were in their formative years.) :D

The moral of this week's Tot School story?

• Don't be afraid to create something out of nothing. The fancier the toy, the less stimulating it is in many cases. Stretch your child's imagination by stretching yours!

Make a toy from scratch this week, and watch the minds blossom!