Creative Play

We have been graced with some seriously gorgeous weather the last week and a half, folks.

Like, wow.

Beautiful beautiful, especially for the end of February.

And March hasn't disappointed so far.

The other day I was sitting at the kitchen table in the early afternoon.

I was writing an article for work, sitting in the sunshine as it streamed in through the window.

I stopped at one point to make a bag of popcorn and take it out to the kids who were busy outside.  

I snapped some photos, because they had created this whole shindig on the deck, and I hadn't even noticed.

And then, a while later, I snapped these photos through the window of this guy making his way around the yard on his bike.

And last week, when I went outside, I found them busy kitchening, setting up their own stations and busy creating.

And I thought about this quote by Fred Rogers that I totally love:

"Play is often talked about as if it were a relief from serious learning.

But for children, play is serious learning.

Play is really the work of childhood."

Honestly, who could give a care about school work on a day when they could be out using their minds like this---

stretching their limbs, 

being imaginative,

breathing fresh air,

soaking in sunshine?

Yes.

Play is the work of childhood.

That's their job.

MLK Day

It has been gray out for days, it seems.

Yesterday morning we sat around the breakfast table and read from Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speech.

Afterward, I turned on music and set them to it with paints and large sections of butcher paper, telling them I wanted them to paint something that inspired them from the speech, or something it made them think about.

Isaiah painted the Lincoln Memorial, where King delivered the speech.

Benji drew King in his sleep, having a dream of little black boys and little black girls holding hands.

Mia imagined a storefront of a cafe from the '60s where segregation was still in place.

And Claire just painted---because.

Afterward, they busied themselves with whatever they wanted to do: playing with their cousin, time with friends.

My little gal and I made a cake for MLK day: we made a chocolate layer, then rinsed out the bowl and went for another round making the vanilla layer.

After the cakes came out, two of the kids were gone playing and two were in my bed watching a movie.  It was rainy/snowy out, and I slipped outside to run.  

It was cold---but not unpleasant, quiet and peaceful.  I got wet in the rain and listened to a good tune on repeat.  So relaxing and lovely.

When I got home, I got busy making both chocolate and vanilla icing and put the cake together, topping it with crushed peanut butter cups.

After dinner, we lit tea lights in the dark and talked about using the light within us to rally for causes that are right, for things we feel passionate about.  

I told them I have no idea what is in store for them or what will happen in days ahead.  But I'm really inspired by folks like Martin that used their voices to brighten the world, to shine light on truth, to build bridges of love and not hate.

Which brings me to this, because it is along the same vein.  This quote that I read on Sunday night by the fire in the quiet keeps resurfacing in my mind:

"How are we supposed to act when we are offended, misunderstood, unfairly or unkindly treated, or sinned against?  What are we supposed to do if we are hurt by those we love, or passed over for promotion, or are falsely accused, or have our motives unfairly assailed?  Do we fight back?  Do we send in an ever-larger battalion?  Do we revert to an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, or...do we come to the realization that this finally leaves us blind and toothless?"

(Howard W. Hunter)

I love this---so much.  I love how he expresses this idea.

He also taught that "gentleness is better than brutality, that kindness is greater than coercion."

I think MLK Jr. understood this too, fighting for a cause without becoming violent.

I'm inspired by his courage, his conviction, his light.

Cells and Wonder

I should be asleep, but it has been a great week with school. 

One of the things I think is so neat about being a parent is the opportunity to teach a child.  I feel woefully inadequate in many regards, but still really grateful and humbled at the gift I've been given to navigate life day-to-day with four other people.  They are teaching me a lot.

This week we were talking about cells for science.  We discussed a couple of basic characteristics and watched this video on YouTube.

After watching it a couple of times through, I looked over and saw that Benji's eyes were full.  And he said exactly what I was feeling.

"That's so inspiring."

And then, he followed that by saying, 

"It makes me feel really small."

I choked up, too, and told them that, for me, this is another instance where I see the wisdom of God and my own nothingness---that we are all miracles---that life, in so many beautiful, variegated forms, is miraculous.  I can't comprehend it and I don't understand it, but I am in awe of it.

It reminded me of a scriptural passage in the Book of Mormon where the speaker is admonishing his listeners to believe in God---that He is, that He created all things, that all things testify of Him.

A few minutes later, as we went back to other activities, I called down to Benji, wondering where he'd gone.  The answer?

He'd curled up on his bed, wrapped in a blanket, snuggling his favorite bear---because, as he said, he was "feeling small."

As a follow-up to yesterday, we made simple animal and plant cell models today.

But...my takeaway?

What I'm still thinking about?

I suppose I feel amazed at being continuously surrounded by miracles.

I may feel small.

But I also feel wonder.

Praise.

Reverence.

Life is such a beautiful thing.

And when I get to share it with my children and see that they feel something, I am particularly moved.

Back to the Books

The best $12 I spent in the last week was for this beauty.

I've wanted a globe for so long --- to have for school, but also just because I think they're fascinating. 

I've always loved them, and a friend of mine got rid of this one at a yard sale.

Her loss is my gain.

I brought it home last Saturday, and set it in the front room that evening.

Lights were low.

I had bananas drying in my kitchen.

Patio lights were on, and the BYU game was playing over the radio.

When the kids got home that night and everyone came inside,

Claire cracked us up when she noticed the globe.

She said, "Mom, this is beautiful!"

September is crisp mornings, the sunlight starting to change, orchards and fruit drying and pie making and getting back-to-the-books in a formal way.  

It has been exhausting and delightful.

Here's a glimpse into school for us lately (and even tho, in most of these photos, I only highlight the particular activity through one child, all three of the older kids are doing all of these things): 

Tie-dying

 Spelling

 Playdoughing

 Research reading on rattlesnakes

(We're doing self-chosen research projects each month.  They choose something they want to learn about and get lots of books at the library and then make big posters about what they've learned and teach it to everyone else.  This time around, everyone chose animals: snakes and spiders, lizards, and bears.)

 Piano practicing

 Math work: conceptualizing numbers in the thousands for this gal,

and the boys practicing lots of skip counting (multiplication), money problems, addition, subtraction, reviews on telling time, and being introduced to the bar graph.

 Science: doing a plot study at a nearby park we love with an awesome wetland area 

(while eating alphabet pretzels---who can resist these? They're adorable!)

And history!

We are learning about different people through time.

Each of the kids have really nice timeline books---and as we learn about different people, we are adding them into the timeline.  By the end of the year, they will have an awesome visual resource to see how all of these people have interacted through time, which people were contemporaries and where everybody is placed across a broad spectrum.  I am loving this.  It actually makes me a bit nostalgic.  It feels almost sacred to me as I think about all of these people and their contributions, the human story from creation 'til now.

Last week we learned about Queen Elizabeth I, and were fascinated by details (like this gross one about that fact that she never removed her coronation ring and her flesh grew around it and it literally had to be cut off her finger (!!)).  We were impressed with what a strong woman she was, and we loved this quote that she said to her armies:

"I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king."

Rock on.

This week we learned about Gandhi.

So inspiring to talk about his philosophies of nonviolence and love.  

I was particularly moved by this quote from him:

"If you want to see the brave, 

look at those who can forgive.

If you want to see the heroic, 

look at those who can love in return for hatred."

That is beautiful.

That is a philosophy I want my children to hear and embrace, a philosophy for my house, for my life, for my heart.

Here they are, coloring their figures that we put in their books today:

 (and I'm busy helping them paste them in -- still in my running clothes from my run earlier this morning)

Potato prints (and leaf prints and whatever else they wanted to do)

 Daily journal work -- I love these.  

Like so much.

 Daily reading, and lots of it.

Other activities not pictured?

Karate
Dance
Lots and lots of lego building
Dollhousing
Popsicle eating and chicken feeding

I love watching my children, love hearing how they're putting information together, how they relate to the world, what they think about.

It's a gift.  

Late August

It's late August, and that means these.  

I wait for them every year, and they stay cheery for the next few months.

And seriously, when I see them every day, they lift my heart for just a sec.

Things seem right in the world when they're out there---bright, happy, awake.

This afternoon the Little Miss and I went outside and clipped some to put on the table.

I filled the blue vase with water, we stuck blooms in.

As I recall, the conversation went something like she was telling me how she wasn't very good at it (picking the blooms or something).  I don't know...she's always on to something and she's smart as a whip.

I watch her run around these days and communicate with ease and offer up interesting observations.

I see myself in her in some ways---she's headstrong and sure of her opinion.  She isn't shy.  That little woman knows what she wants.  It kind of makes me envy her surety.  And, as I watch her, I can hardly believe that my baby is such a big person at this point in time.

She's a veritable (I love that word) walking, talking, laughing, funny, loud, almost-three-year-old.

It still surprises me.

In any case, I digress.

Late August also means back to school, which we began last week.

I got balloons and a bottle of sparkling bubbly and tic tacs for their plates.  

I made food.

We sat around the table and talked about something that has been on my mind, something I wanted to focus on with my children this year.

It's funny...contemplating school for the year can at once be exhilarating and exhausting.

I feel both, almost daily.

And yeah, that's a confession.  But it's true.

However, any time we can make it an occasion and have bubbly and balloons and feel a bit festive is fun for all of us, I think.

I love this time of year.

Just tonight, I went up to a store that I love twenty minutes from my house.

I always go there when the fall stuff is put out, which is funny because I'm not what you would call a big shopper.  I didn't buy anything---just wanted to peruse: smell the fall candles, admire crackle glass, and I found a dinnerware set that I super loved.

I find myself grateful for simple traditions, for ways that the year becomes measured.  There is a sense of comfort in the little things that add some continuity amid the crazy.

How Donuts Relate to Learning

Those of us who homeschool have certainly heard this comment before:

"Oh, I don't have the patience to homeschool."

(Now, as a disclaimer, let me be clear that I'm not saying that everyone should homeschool.  Totally not saying that.  And I attended public school my whole life and loved it.  So.  Just sayin.)

But.

I have to say that when I hear this, I'd like them to see the truth of my life. 

It ain't always pretty, folks.  

Some days it can be downright painful trying to get everyone to keep to what we need to be doing. Actually, the worst days are usually when I'm not on my game.

But.

I also have to say that some days are beautifully golden.  

And I relish them, because I am reminded why I love it so much.  

Some golden times in the last week and a half?

Learning how batteries store electricity as my son and I built models with his snap circuit set.

 Watching them reading.  This seriously is so awesome for me.

 Learning about atoms together as we began our chemistry unit.

 Beginning work with centimeters.  This particular day we were finding the perimeters.

 Late baked breakfasts...this day it was German pancakes.

 Reading together...

 which makes all of us feel like this:

 And, catching my girls together in the pup tent, poring over our favorite map book.

 Journal work.  

This is my favorite from last week.  

After Benji had been reading about the body, 

he wrote some of what he had learned.

(I particularly like the bit about donuts.

I mean, if you know me at all, you'll know that food is always a good relational point for me.)

(Ahem, and yes.)

It might look all neat and pretty in these pictures, but the reality is that it's pretty messy.

I'm not always patient.  

It isn't always a glorious morning.

But sometimes it is, and good things happen every single week.

And all of us love those golden days and hours.

I absolutely love this time with my children.

I love making connections as we learn about different things.

I'll never regret the hours we have spent together, exploring the world -- through page and experience and discovery, and lots and lots of conversation.

These things I hold in my heart.