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This week we’ve been spending time with family in Florida. Besides an occasional storm that comes up in the late afternoon, the days have been hot and sunny. With twelve children ages 1 to 15 looking around for things to do, we’ve had to designate the morning hours, which are generally a little cooler, as “outside time.” 

And it’s been a bit of a struggle. Usually, everyone is cooperative for the first thirty minutes or so; after that, they begin to whine and complain and ask to go inside. We’ve brought out scooters, rip sticks, bikes, bubbles, chalk, a hose, and a little wading pool, and still they’re asking to come in. They want to sit inside and watch T.V. and play on the computer. Granted, it’s more comfortable with the air conditioning, but they can come in during the afternoon to take a break and do those things. 

Should we keep enforcing Outside Time? I think so. Besides the fact that it’s a lot of kids with a lot of energy to have running around in only a couple of rooms in the house, it’s important that they learn how to entertain themselves with other things. Even if the outdoor toys are limited, and all that’s available to play with is a few sticks, some dirt, and a rock, chidren need to know how to use their imaginations and make up their own games. 

Often we think of creativity only in terms of the fine arts, but creativity is important in play as well. In fact, that’s where our creative processes begin, and sadly for many children, that’s where it ends as well, as their free time is consumed by television and video games. I’m determined, though, not to allow that to happen to my children. They’ll be glad to know (or maybe they won’t) that once we get home again, I’m instituting a daily “outside time.” I want those creative juices to flow!

Up above us, in the three metal beams that held up the roof of the gas station, was nest after nest filled with baby birds! Every couple of feet along the beams, barn swallows had built their nests and were now busy feeding their young. And each time an adult would fly to the nest, the babies would open their mouths and eat, and the bird would take off again. There were so many of them in one place – we counted at least 20 – and because their location at the gas station meant people were always coming and going, they didn’t seem to mind us one bit. 

We all were out of the car now, just standing by the gas pump and watching the birds. Not only did I wish I had my purse that day, but now I really wished I had a camera. Who knew we would witness such an amazing bit of nature, especially when all we had set out to do was drop off a boy scout book? 

We watched the birds a little longer, then loaded back up in the car and started towards the interstate. I didn’t recognize where we were yet, but I took my best guess as to which direction we needed to go. Fortunately, I chose the right way, and we were finally headed home. Unfortunately, we still had thirty minutes to go. 

As we drove along, we talked about everything that had happened on our adventure. We thought Dad must be home by now and was probably wondering where we were. After all, by the time we pulled back into the driveway, our twenty-minute round trip had taken us nearly two hours! 

But Dad wasn’t even home yet!  The kids thought that was great – we had been on this big adventure, and if they didn’t tell him about it, he would never even know! (They did wait a while to tell him the story.)

Though it had been a long trip, we decided that seeing the birds had made it all worthwhile. Even five-year-old Luke, who doesn’t like long car trips, didn’t seem to mind this one. And we decided we should go back sometime to show the birds to Dad and John… we’d just take a shorter route.

Photo by Jerry Ting

Well, it turns out that we had a long, long way to go!  I followed the road around curve after curve through a wooded area without any houses, buildings, or gas stations around. I kept watching my gas gauge, and it kept getting lower and lower. Finally, we saw a highway sign up ahead.

Whew! I thought. This must be where we get off. But when we reached the sign, I couldn’t believe it. We had twelve miles to go to one city, seven to another, and both of them were further away from home — and in the next state!

We don’t live too far from the state line, but it takes at least twenty minutes to get there by the shortest route. Now my only choices were to turn back or continue on to one of these towns. I stopped to ponder what to do; the way back was long, and I already knew there were no gas stations between where we were and home. A kind woman in a car that pulled up behind us confirmed that before she went on. We had to move forward with no gas, but which way?

We chose to go the seven miles, though I knew that town was smaller than the other. Surely, though, they had a gas station. If only we could make it…

My children didn’t seem as anxious as I felt — in fact, it was quite an adventure to them. We drove up the hills and coasted down them, all the while traveling through a wooded area with no one around. Finally we saw a cyclist on the road, and my daughter Cassie let out a cheer.

“Now, Mom, if we run out of gas, we can get him to call someone on his cell phone.” I was pretty sure there was very limited service where we were, but at least it was an idea.

Finally, after about four miles, we started to come upon individual houses here and there, eventually passing a farm.

“Yay!” the kids shouted. “Farmers have gas for their tractors!”

“True,” I replied, feeling a little comforted. At least we had somewhere we could go if we ran out completely.

I don’t know how, but the car kept going, the gauge reading below empty now. A few more curves in the road, and we passed the fire department, then more houses closer together, and then we came upon the town.

The town was small and quaint, tucked back into the mountains. We stopped at some railroad tracks and looked around. There were antique shops, the police station, and restaurants — but no gas station!  A man was standing by the tracks with his dog on a leash, so we asked him where the nearest station was.

“About a mile down the road,” he said, and I sighed. A mile more to go!

We started off again, turning on the road he had indicated, and soon we saw them — two gas stations, right beside each other!

“Hooray!” we all shouted as we pulled in at the pump.

“Wouldn’t it be funny,” Cassie said as I opened the van door, “if we didn’t have any money?”

I glanced around the floor of the car. “My purse! Do you see my purse? I think I left it at home!” We had left in such a rush, I didn’t even think about it before.

Keep calm, keep calm, I thought to myself. None of us could believe it.  I started searching through the glove compartment. I had once put an extra set of checks in there. Maybe they were still there, and…

They were! I took a check inside the gas station and pleaded with the attendant. I didn’t have my license with me, and we were from out-of-state. The attendant thought about it for a minute.

“How much do you need?” she asked.

“$5? $10? Just enough to get home!” I answered. She let me have $10 worth, and I went back out very relieved.

As I was pumping the gas, my daughter Lillie opened the window. “Look, Mom, look!”

I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to do anything but pump the gas and go home. But as I glanced up, I saw what she was talking about. Her sharp eyes had seen what I was ignoring…

What a day we had yesterday. My three younger children and I went on what we thought was a quick errand, but what turned out to be quite an adventure — such a long adventure, in fact, that it will take two posts to tell the story, but here it goes…

My oldest, John, was headed off to his first week-long scout camp, and we were late pulling everything together. After a rather hectic morning making sure he had everything he needed, he hopped in the truck with my husband and headed to the campground in the mountains — which was actually only about ten minutes from our house.

As soon as they had left, however, I found his scout book, which he had told me the day before he had to have at camp. I grabbed the book and rushed out of the house, but they were already gone. Perhaps I could catch them? I called to my other three children to run to the car, and away we went.

The problem was, I didn’t know the shortcut to the campground — the way my husband had probably gone. He didn’t have a cell phone with him, so I couldn’t call; besides, we had rushed out in such a hurry, I didn’t take along a cell phone either. I had seen signs for the camp from the highway, though, so I was sure that even if we didn’t see them on the road, we’d only be minutes behind…

…Or many minutes. We went up and down the same stretch of highway looking for that sign about three times. Just when I was about to give up, it occurred to me that I might not have gone far enough, and we drove a little further. Sure enough, there was the sign. What a relief, since a quick glance at the gauges revealed we were running low on gasoline. There weren’t any gas stations nearby, but I was sure we’d have enough to get to the camp and then home again. After all, the camp wasn’t that far away…

…Or was it? We continued down a winding mountain road, eventually spotting another sign for the campground. We turned to the right and kept going and going another couple of miles. Had we missed a turn? My older daughter, Cassie, was sure we had, and our gas gauges kept getting lower and lower. Finally, we spotted the campground up ahead.

The ten-minute trip to camp took us about thirty-five minutes, but we made it just in time, reaching the campers and delivering the book right before they went off to take a swim test. My husband was going to watch the test, so we waved good-bye and headed home. I was thinking I should ask him about the shortcut, but they were already walking away. Anyway, I was sure all I had to do was continue the way we were going before that second turn. After all, the other way led back to the highway. We didn’t have much gasoline left, but we didn’t have far to go…

Or did we?

Photo by Philms

When my children returned from camp this year, they told me about the fun things they did and the good food they ate. They also told me about other children there who weren’t easy to get along with — they didn’t play the games fairly, they teased them, and sometimes they took their things.

These issues, which were minor to their cousins who also attended camp, were major concerns for my children. We began talking about how they responded and what they might do differently if it happened again, which it would, either at camp or somewhere else.

One of the reasons we homeschool is to protect our children from situations that they aren’t yet mature enough to handle. Growing up in the public school system myself, I remember many times people said or did things that were clearly wrong, and I just didn’t know how to respond. There were times things happened and I never told my parents, so they weren’t aware of what was going on. I didn’t want it to be that way for my kids.

But here we are at a crossroads — the fine line between over-protection and learning a life skill. At what age should a child be made to deal with a difficult situation, especially one involving their peers? Part of me is satisfied that they haven’t had to think about it much until now, and part of me feels they could have handled things better at camp had they only known how.

Part of me, too, tells me that every child is different; there’s no magic age for taking a stand, confronting a problem, or struggling through peer pressure. What one child is able to handle might be too difficult for another. But as mom and teacher, I can work to keep the lines of communication with my children open, and we can figure it out together.

Photo by joshuaone6to9

This past spring brought several new experiences for me, one of which was letting my children go to visit relatives for more than just a day.

I had my first taste of their growing independence last year when the three oldest went to camp last summer. I was confident about them going, as my brother and sister-in-law ran the camp, my niece was one of the counselors, and they had three cousins going as well. I have to admit, though, I was sad when I saw them off on the bus and glad when they returned home again. All three of them reported having a great time.

This past May, we did a lot of traveling, and the kids had the opportunity to stay with different family members, some for as long as four or five days. Again, it was so hard to let them go, and I missed them so much. Some enjoyed themselves more than others; a couple of them got homesick, which made me even sadder. My third child, Lillie, who had thoroughly enjoyed camp the year before, seemed to have the most trouble adjusting.

What I learned:  children need room to grow and try new things, but it doesn’t have to be right now or all at once. Lillie’s only eight – there’s still lots of time for independence, as well as lots of time for hugs and kisses. It’s not a terrible thing that she still wants to be close by, that she still wants to hold my hand, that she still wants to snuggle at night. In fact, I need to take advantage of those opportunities while I can. Time goes by so quickly, and soon she won’t want to do those things anymore; she’ll be independent…and I’ll wish she wasn’t.

What is a home? Or rather, what is my home? What is the home I’ve created for my family?

I thought about that this past weekend when we went to visit my sister and brother-in-law in Tennessee. They had just moved into a new home last month.

There are lots of sayings about home. “Home Sweet Home.” “A man’s home is his castle.” “Home is where your heart is.” “A home is built with love and dreams.” But the one I like best I heard in a song by Michael Card, and this weekend I was reminded of that song.

My sister and her husband live near the Virginia state line, where the landscape consists of grassy meadows and rolling hills. During our visit, we went to look at some cabins at a nearby campground. The cabins were situated next to a river, and in the stillness all you could hear was the water tumbling over the rocks.

What a peaceful place, I thought, and then I remembered the chorus to Michael Card’s song Home. The first part of the chorus goes like this:

Home is a comfort and home is a light
A place to leave the darkness outside
Home is a peaceful and ever full feeling
A place where the soul safely hides.

This is what I want my home to be. I want it to be a peaceful place — much like that cabin by the river, where my family can come to feel safe and secure, wanted and loved. I want my home to be a place where someone can escape from the struggles of this life, “a place where the soul safely hides.”

I don’t think our home is quite there yet. But it gives us a good goal to work towards, as we learn as a family to love and appreciate each other for who God made us to be.

Remember in the ‘90s, when exercise guru Susan Powter used to appear on a television infomerical shouting, “Stop the insanity!” Well, some days I feel as stressed as she looked, and I just want to clench my fists over my head and shout, “Stop the whining!”

Whining has been a big struggle for us over the past year. We’re finishing up our school year this month; we’re a little behind, in part because of family issues, in part because of whiney children that just don’t want to do their school work. Often when I give them assignments they will moan, groan, and complain until I give in and shorten it. If I remain tough and keep the assignments as they are, the complaining continues until my patience wears out and my anger takes over. I just want to shout at them (and sometimes I do): “Stop the whining!”

But maybe it’s actually me who needs to “stop the whining.” Maybe I need to stop fussing about their attitudes and just deal with them instead. After all, a good work ethic doesn’t always come naturally – but I believe it’s something that can be learned, or rather, taught. Instead of getting angry, I could come up with ways to motivate them to get their work done – perhaps by taking away privileges, perhaps by adding extra assignments, perhaps by rewarding those who work hard without complaining. A little creative discipline could go a long way in teaching them to do their schoolwork, completely, well, and in a timely manner – skills that they’ll need for college and beyond.   

So, “Stop the whining!” might just be our catchphrase for this next school year. I’ll let the children know just what is required in regards to their attitudes and performance. And as I follow through and become more consistent with the consequences, I believe we’ll all whine a lot less and accomplish a lot more.

Since I’ve been a stay-at-home mom, most of our household chores have followed the traditional division of labor – I clean the house, fix the meals, and wash the dishes while my husband mows the yard and makes minor repairs around the home. Because he’s busy with work during our school year, most all of the homeschool responsibilities fall on me as well. I bring him in as principal when I need to, but generally, I do all the teaching. 

This past month we’ve had to change all that. I had a project commitment that was due at the end of June, and it was taking all my extra time to finish it up. Fortunately, my husband had some time off – he could take care of the things I couldn’t do. And he did! 

It’s been a good month, with a lot of quality time for Dad and the children. He took them everywhere I would have taken them – to the pool to swim, to the free summer movies, to music lessons, to friends’ homes to play. He listened to them read aloud and made sure the rest of their schoolwork was completed. He also took on one major household chore: the laundry. He washed, dried, and folded the clothes all month, enlisting the kids to help him with the process. He streamlined my system, making it easier and more efficient. 

What my husband learned: it’s fun doing things with the children, and relationships are strengthened when they spend time together. What I learned: Dad can do it!  He can help with school, run errands, and clean the house. He might even come up with better ways of doing things, making the chores easier for me when I take them over again. But now that I know, I might not take them all back. I think I’ll leave the laundry for him.