What can I say? I'm raising Nikon babies. An afternoon of *carefully* sharing Mama's camera (the mantra 'mind the lens, mind the lens, mind the lens' firmly of their lips) and a disk full of their views of the world, I have permission to show you some of their captures::
Geniuses, I'm sure you'd agree.
No, I am not biased.
In an attempt (please understand the importance of that word 'attempt') to bring this household to order and instill some kind of method to this madness I have attempted ('attempted') to craft our way to organisation, the granny chic way. Which, I'm sure you'd agree, is the best way to go in matters such as this.
When it comes to organisation I will freely admit I'm useless, ney, pathologically resistant. I hate living my life to a timetable. I hate big clocks. I hate schedules. I hate committing to an agreed time, hate booking tickets in advance, hate having to write in a diary that three months hence I will be doing xyz in the land of abc. It's weird. It would be therapist fodder for years, I have no doubt. But I cannot live this way any longer!!
My goodness I am a homeschooling Mama winging it on a daily basis and now the babes are older we need structure, we really do. And so, like most things in my life, I have had to get a grip for the sake of the kids and try to get a handle on this mothering gig.
Enter The Board...
A doilified board isn't really a Board is it? I mean, it looks so harmless. Jazzy, but harmless.
I have it in mind to get all my brain onto flashcards and have them pinned up on The Board in the glare of full light of day to aid in this new found Mama Me; shopping lists, things that need doing, what we will be doing every day of the week in terms of learning and commitments, and best of all - meal planning and chores *falls over* yes, meal planning and chores. I think perhaps I may have over-stretched myself in this department.
But not just chores for me! Hurrah! I have also now included an organised way of including the boys in this torture too. Everyday they check The Board and get going on helping with the work of this home. And let me tell you - these boys of mine are GOOD workers masha'allah. They really are. I have been so impressed by their eagerness, commitment and quality of their work, and I can't tell you how much of a burden has been lifted off this tired mama's shoulders.
So far chores for them have included : vacuuming, dusting, monitoring the bookshelves, monitoring the toy baskets, monitoring the art and paper supplies, cleaning the kitchen cupboard doors and fridge, cleaning the bathroom sink, washing some dishes, putting dishes away, filling and emptying the washing machine, sweeping the floor, folding towels and putting their own clothes away. Have I missed anything?
So there you have it - the whole of my life in a doilified cork board. Hopefully, HOPEFULLY, I will crack this homeschooling Mama gig. Hopefully before my children leave home.
I cannot resist a typewriter in a thrift shop. I just can not. I know I'm not the only one. And just like others it's often the babes who have all the fun with Mama's thrift finds.
Right now? I think we're working on writing our name - this is important y'see - the first thing on the cover of any masterpiece is the author's name. Over and over again. Right down the page. Without spaces.
We're working on it....
Not many days go by in summer without some kind of bug investigation - one year I remember the midget had a thing for dead worms - I don't know if he was measuring them or trying to wake them up, but he played with them a lot (NB. they were dead before he started playing with them - honest!)
Woodlouse colonies are a firm fave here - especially when they find the bright white babies. Endless oohing and ahhing.
This year we have gone one step further by entrapping the bugs with a cunning trap, involving a pit, a slippery container, some smelly cheese and a plastic roof.
Some days we just luck out and find things right in front of us - like Chris here - or Chrys if you prefer ("he will turn into a chrysalis, Mummy") - pretty sure he's a moth caterpillar. We played with him for a while - the midget even kissed him (he hit him in the face by accident resulting in Chris curling up. Before I knew it Midget had said "oooh sorry!!" and a big smackeroony had been planted before I could even dry heave) - then we put him in the hatching chamber to continue our investigations further.
There are advantages to having fearless bug hunters in the house - they catch spiders for their Mama and don't mind carrying the wriggly critters to the top of the garden before releasing them. They have no fear of ugly, many-legged monstrosities which have most of us squealing like a girl from on top of a stool (ahem).
The downside of this fearlessness? well I am at a distinct disadvantage if, say, they want to run after me with a big, black spider in their hands? The fact that my house is home to ugly bugs most of the summer? The fact that I have to pretend to find moths interesting instead of hideous??
These little people teach me so much, and stretch me in ways I would never have dreamed about. And even though they kiss bugs, I am so terribly proud of their fearlessness. Masha'allah.
Despite the begging, we have no pets. Unless you count my husband. And the pet mould behind the wardrobe. But apart from that no animal passeth here. And as far as I am aware my children have no knowledge of vets, nor had they shown any interest in vets. Vets just weren't in our vocab.
And yet, here we are in a 'vet phase'. It's unfathomable.
It's amazing to watch your children bloom. Had we a TV or sent them to school I would have assumed that this obsession had been inculcated by an outside entity, yet here they are blooming in their own peculiar way. As vets.
I smiled as I remembered Amanda's post on her little animal doctor, as I had already thrifted a doctor's bag with a similar plan in mind.
Stuffed to the brim with "real doctors things, Mummy!", stethoscope, otoscope, penlight, thermometer, face masks, empty medicine boxes, some sticking plasters and bandages, I then set about making a lab coat - in this case a (thrifted) woman's blouse with 1/2 length sleeves - by adding huge pockets and applique medical sign with wool felt.
The play it has instigated has been a joy and a privilege to watch. The animals that have been saved! Oh my! The hearts that have been checked, the temperatures that have been recorded, the plasters that have been, erm, plastered. A lot has been learned by the questions this play has raised. White blood cells, vaccination, germs, health, blood, the questions never stop.
And I hope they never will.
These two boys of mine are the reason I do so much, and the reason I learn so much.
They learn through play, and I learn from them.
You know how it is - you've been under the weather for several days, doing nothing except wallow in illness and having the occasional glass of water, and when you finally feel perky enough to leave the bed you are met with? Well, in our case it would be scenes of aggravated burglary - oh the mess! The piles! Where - where did they come from?? And how?? I mean, everyone has been curled up in the same bed for over 36 hours so just how did all this devastation happen??
So, you sigh and shrug your shoulders; put the first load in the washer and tackle the dishes which seem in imminent danger of cascading over the edge of the worktop. And it's your favourite pyrex so you *have* to do something....
You make mental notes of which piles need your immediate attention first, then in which order you will attempt to conquer the rest.
But there's that quiet nagging in the back of your mind: the babes need fresh air; the babes need OUT.
You try to be Grown Up and tell yourself you have responsibilities, that housework won't do itself you know. But then the sun comes out, and as it has been such a rare sight these last few weeks you know the battle is lost. You've been out-manœuvred. You quieten the Grown Up inside your mind and you listen to what your body and soul is telling you. Instincts take you farthter than To Do lists. You down tools, size up your new mission and get to work.
Basket. Drinks. Snacks. Paper. Paints. Brains. Eyes. Willing disposition.
Off we go.
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