Year 7 Homeschooling: Feeling more confident, yet less sure

It’s hard to believe that I’ve begun my seventh year homeschooling—I should be an expert by now, right?!

And, in some ways, I am. I know what type of schedule works best for us. I know that we’re good for a few hours and then—wham!—the wall has been hit. I know that I shouldn’t freak out when one child wanders off to play while I’m working with another, nor should I try to keep three kids sitting at a table for hours in front of workbooks: This just doesn’t work for us.

And, I even feel like I have picked out great curriculum choices for each child that is best-suited for the way they learn. In fact, our first week has been notable in that there were no tears, no huge dramatic scenes of “I can’t do this!“, no threats (from me) to “Do it or else!” as I scramble to think what that “else” could be.

So, yeah, great first week, right?

So why am I’m having a hard time feeling like, “This is it! We’ve found our groove!

Maybe it’s because Belly will tell anyone who asks, “Yes, I’m definitely going to high school” (in just, gah, three short years!)

Maybe it’s because a couple of friends have opted to send their kids to school, which always shakes me up.

Maybe it’s because I worry that we’ll never quite fit into this predominantly conservative Christian community, especially as the kids get older and topics get brought up in conversation. I hope my kids don’t lose friends because they don’t share the same beliefs as so many.

And maybe it’s because the first few days of public school—the photos of kids at the bus stop, the cute stories about sweet teachers, the early days of little homework but lots of friends—make me kind of wistful for my days in school.

Let’s face it: It’s hard to swim upstream when everyone else is swimming down. And though there are definitely some shiny moments that make it clear why we’re doing this, I sometimes feel like, at some point–like it or not–the current may be too much, and I’ll find us swimming with everyone else.

But, until then, if you ask, I’ll say, “Yes, things are going great this year.” And I will mean it.

25 reasons we’ll return to Mount Desert Island

1. The views! Every! Where! You! Look! Gorgeousness everywhere.

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Day’s end in Southwest Harbor

 

2. $40 for an annual pass to Acadia National Park gives us a good reason to go back next summer.

3. Camping at Blackwoods Campground: big wooded lots, clean(ish) bathrooms, and so quiet in the middle of the night, I could hear the ocean roaring in the distance.

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Yes, our tent. Yes, we are outgrowing it.

 

4. Lobster so fresh at Beal’s in Southwest Harbor, it was swimming that morning.

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Before and after

5. Hikes for all abilities, even a scaredy cat like me. Though I will never ever do Beehive or Precipice. Going up the metal ladders on Beech Cliffs hike was about as radical as I’m every going to get.

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I climbed this high!

 

6. Biking on carriage roads is the bomb. It’s especially cool when your 9 year old goes whizzing by on the downhill and disappears from view for a good long time.

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The blond will be FAR ahead pretty soon.

 

7. 2 Cats for breakfast. Orange juice is fresh-squeezed, and the food is delish.

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nom, nom, nom

 

8. Dive-in Theater with Diver Ed Boat Cruise. Laughed so much during this two-hour tour. It was hilarious, fun, interesting, and informative. The kids were glued to every word Diver Ed and his wife, Captain Evil, had to say. Worth every last penny.

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My little Sea Cucumber lover

 

9. Popovers at Jordan Pond House Restaurant. As good as everyone says they are. Especially if you bike to the restaurant.

10. So, so, so clean. I never wished I had a garbage bag with me to pick up the trash I found on our walks.

11. I’ll make GORP again.

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You know you want some.

12. Stars over Sand Beach. Lying on a blanket on a sandy beach nestled between rocks, gazing up at the amazing Maine summer night sky, having the constellations pointed out by a park ranger. . . so very relaxing and cool. Next time, I had better see one of the shooting stars everyone else saw, though we all got to wave to the International Space Station.

13. Swimming in Echo Lake. Warm(ish) fresh water with sandy bottom felt great after a long hike. Plus, we could look up to the mountain on one side and say, “we were up there!”

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Echo Lake. Too many people to test the name.

 

14. Maybe I’ll touch Bubble Rock next time. Or, maybe I’ll just sit way over here again.

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So. High. Up. (gulp)

 

15. The Boobles. One local told us to look for the two Bubble mountains by looking for the two that look like breasts. From then on, we called them The Boobles.

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The Boobles. Heh, get it? BOOBles?

16. No internet service for the majority of our trip meant no fighting over iPads or video games, and no staring at screens. But, when we were jonesing for some Wifi, there were options, like this retro-funky coffee shop in town.

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Plug me in, Scotty.

 17. So many lobsters this year, the Side Street Cafe had knocked $5 off many of their most popular dishes, like this beauty:

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Come to mama. . .

18. Dogs everywhere!

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The cuteness!

 

19. “Yes You May Use Our Bathroom” signs on restaurant doors.

20. Ice Cream good enough for our President.

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Obama had Coconut. Belly had Salted Caramel, Jilly had Butterbeer, and D had Chocolate (of course).

 

21. Thunder Hole was cool, but maybe next time we’ll catch it when there’s a storm at sea and we can really scream.

22. Although it can get busy in Bar Harbor, this is still plenty of lawn space to sit and look at this:

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Bahhh Hahhhbah (we don’t really talk like that)

23. We need to come back because we never made it to the top of Cadillac Mountain.

24. And we didn’t have time to try kayaking on Long Pond in Somesville.

25. The kids will never forgive us if we don’t go back next year. I can’t blame them.

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Google Maps says under 6 hours. Lies, total lies.

Many thanks to my friend (and local) Robin for all of her amazing tips.

50 Shades of Tan

Twice a year, I get naked and stand in front of a man who looks over every inch of me. And then I wait for the scolding. I’ve been a bad, bad girl.

I have a tan.

Whenever he starts to tsk over the color of my skin, I remind him that I’m probably one of the few people who actually keeps an August dermatology appointment. And I silently think, “Listen Mister: You could use a little color on that pasty-white skin of yours.” Though I don’t say that out loud. He has access to a scalpel.

I’m not one of those tanaholics who can’t wait to get out to fry in the sun, and my sunscreen doesn’t fall below SPF 30, (and my “tan” would make many of you laugh at its meekness), but I still see my color darken as the summer goes on no matter how often I reapply the block. And I am well aware that years and years of SPF 4 and “burn then peel” tanning was not in my long-term best interest.

In other words: I do not love the affects of the sun nearly as much as I did in my 20’s.

Do you remember those photos they’d show with a smiling woman’s face, “before” and “after” years of sun damage? Her “before” face would be clear and shiny . Her “after” face would be covered in brown freckles and patches.

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Freckle beard just visible on one side. Cute boy on other side.

I am the “after” face now. For the past two years, as soon as I start getting in the summer’s sun, I get a huge “beard” of freckles across my cheeks and across my chin. Nothing, nothing makes me feel so old as those freckles and age spots. Well what would happen if I entered a bounce house runs a close second. But we won’t go into that right now.

So when my kids complain at how much sunscreen I lather onto their skinny little bodies—when my oldest begs me not to make her “white” with zinc oxide—when they screech at sand mixed into the sunscreen that I’m trying to spread across their feet: I show them my freckly face and say,

Heed My Warning. Beware the freckle beard.

 Something tells me they aren’t finding this nearly as scary as I am.