Today has been rubbish. I know that sounds British, but I just finished watching some Masterpiece Classic on Netflix, so cut me some slack. Last week at CC a new friend highly recommended I read "Loving the Little Years" by Rachel Jankovich. (Not the first time this particular selection has been recommended to me, by the way.) It's a quick read and it's full of anecdotes and advice for mothers "in the trenches." Today, I'm not just in the trench, I'm about 10 feet below it.
I could blame today's utter failure on my hormones. I could blame it on Eva's five-ness. I could blame it on the heinous, albeit adorable, distractions that were incessantly coming from Quinn and Sully. But I think the real root of today's mucky-muck is sin. Plain and simple. Or not so simple.
I know that raising children is a perpetual lesson in humility. I know that I'm a stone being made smooth. But today, knowing that wasn't making things better. Rachel Jankovich's helpful tips on how not to blow my top weren't getting through and neither was what I was trying to teach Eva, apparently.
The morning started off with me having a mouth drier than the Sahara and a nose that was a close second. According to Theron, I was mouth-breathing so loudly I sounded like Darth Vader. At least my oral discomfort gave him the opportunity to compare me to one of his all-time favorite villains. How fun for him.
After all of the kids were dressed, we headed down for the usual routine of Quinn shouting, "Juuuuu, juuuuu!!!!! Seer, seeeer, seeer!" That translates to, "Juice! Cereal! Pronto, Mama!" I got them all fed, vitamined, and juiced. Then I braced myself for school with Eva. This week, as a whole, has been particularly trying. Ever since we've been back to the grind after Christmas, I've been especially diligent about making sure we have school EVERYDAY. Before the break I usually only pushed for three days of good study. The fourth day of the week I would lazily throw in some education while grocery shopping or I'd put on her memory work CD in the car, but I didn't stress about it. Sooo, now that I'm being an extra diligent educator, Eva has decided to be an extra diligent non-learner, and this week she put forth her most arduous effort yet at non-learning.
I understand that as a homeschooling mom I have some obvious advantages. I get to teach in my jammies, should I so desire. I get to spend quality one-on-one time with my children. I get to learn with them! I know there are more. I just can't think of any at the moment.
There are also some very distinct disadvantages. I do not have a teaching degree. I lack the training other people in the field of elementary education gained with regard to handling "difficult" students. While I can be surprisingly resourceful and creative in whipping up dinner on a dime and in a short period of time, my mind goes alarmingly blank when I need to make the content we're learning interesting and fun. I also don't get to give them away at 3 p.m. everyday. Drat.
When we reached the portion of today's lesson that had to do with the Northwest mountains and she pulled an, "I don't know," AFTER she had learned these four terms on Thursday and I had gone over them with her ad nauseum Friday, Monday AND Tuesday, I started to cry. It should be noted that this was also after a truncated reading lesson that I likened to swimming in quick sand - impossible and most likely ending in death.
Eva then started to cry. Probably because she's not used to seeing her mother model her behavior. I ran to my room, closed the door, threw myself on the bed and screamed into my pillow. Slice of the hugest humble pie you've ever seen, anyone? Anyone?!
I'm still reeling from this morning. My eyes hurt. My heart hurts. My butt hurts, but that has less to do with this morning and more to do with sciatic pain. I wish that I could explain this away by saying that I forgot to pray before we started. But we didn't. We prayed. We prayed real hard for patience and understanding. We prayed for open hearts and ears. And, still, to me, today was an epic fail. I was an epic fail. Sigh.
If my faith were weaker, I'd wonder if God were here at all. I'm grateful that, as small and weak as my faith is, I know God doesn't work that way. I believe there's a lesson for me in this. I believe I will be made stronger through this wretched experience. I also believe that while it was hard on the kids, they, too, will come through this none-the-worse for the wear. Especially after I apologize for acting like a jerk and ask for forgiveness. And I'm gonna keep on praying for patience, understanding, open ears and hearts and maybe, just maybe, in addition, an insatiable desire for learning! I'll let you know how it goes...
