Letter to my children: A Life Skill List

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Letter to my children: A Life Skill List

Dragon, you ask us, “What do you talk about on your dates?”

Bean, you implore us, “Momma, no! Stay home with us! Don’t go out!”

“Can’t my loves, we need some time just the two of us. If it makes you feel better - usually we end up talking about you.”

“Really?” Wide happy faces.

Really, my beloveds, really.

Recently, we talked about our vision for our family and our goals for your homeschooling homesteading (schoolsteading) life with us before you venture out on your own.

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Letter to my children: Labels suck, Survivorship rocks

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Letter to my children: Labels suck, Survivorship rocks

Dearest Beloveds,

If you choose to spend rainy afternoons as adults reading these letters (and maybe my book) from your Momma than you will have gathered by now that I am what is known as a cancer survivor.

I don’t like labels.

That label to me immediately evokes infusion machines, anti-nausea medication, and pit of my stomach fear. “Survivor” is not much better as a label.

Survivor of what? Of life? Of the human experience? You might as well say that every person on this planet is a survivor of one thing or another.

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Letter to my children: On Practice

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Letter to my children: On Practice

Dearest Beloveds,

Some of these letters are snapshots of your life and some of them are Momma pontifications. Today is a pontification I have been meaning to address for a bunch of while whiles.

Bean, I understand the reason you push back against writing. Dragon, I understand why you push back against piano. As I have told both of you, at your age I felt the same way. It was difficult because I wasn’t good at it. The only way it gets better is to put the time in every day. One day you will look up and you will be able to write easily and know where the notes are. This is why it is important to practice - which brings me to my time to pontificate.

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Letter to my children: Screen Time, Humane Technology, and Limbic Hijacking

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Letter to my children: Screen Time, Humane Technology, and Limbic Hijacking

“Momma! Stop getting distracted! You are supposed to be reading to me!”

“I know, I know, I just need to finish this sentence.” DAMMIT! I hate this fucking feeling. Stop yelling child. I only have one more sentence to write and then I can press send and not think about this anymore!!

“You just said that! You are not coming!! STOP GETTING DISTRACTED!!”

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Homeschool Learnings: Bookworms, Spelling Practice, and Snow Play

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Homeschool Learnings: Bookworms, Spelling Practice, and Snow Play

“Can we go to the library?”

“Sure. Great idea. Have you read all of the books on the pile?”

“Yup. I am going after books like crazy now. I read books all the time.”

It was only 18 months I wrote about the Bean learning to read. The prodding and the pushing and the cajoling and the soft lips forming individual sounds.

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Thanks, I will insert my own speculum

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Thanks, I will insert my own speculum

This is my promise to the Universe. As sterile stirrups glean in harsh fluorescent lights, that is my statement. If they can’t take 30 extra seconds to show me how to put a medical instrument into my own body - then no.

No.

NO. I am walking out and finding someone else.

I did not go through the insanity of a bone marrow transplant to keep my mouth shut in this precious life.

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Letter to Dragon: Our Red Letter Day

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Letter to Dragon: Our Red Letter Day

Dearest Dragon,

Recently we had a shining, glorious, red-letter day.* I knew it was going to be glorious from the moment I woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed (as Baba would say) in time to hit the erg, do yoga, and meditate before you and your sister burst forth.**

After we bundled your sister off to Flying Deer, I turned to you. “Would you like to start with school lessons or a yoga class before we do the sauna?”

“Yoga!”

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The Tale of Gwyn and the Pips - Part 2

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The Tale of Gwyn and the Pips - Part 2

Continued (and refresh) from part 1…

The Moon told Gwyn to go off the path. To leave the world of rules and to investigate the unknown.

Gwyn was not sure she was up for this.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She decided that princesses are born to be challenged and, besides, she was curious.

To find out herself whether the Moon was singing. Where would she even begin?

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