Why We Do What We Do

It isn't because we think that we are smart.  It isn't because we want to shelter our children or because we think we can "do it better".  It isn't because we want our children to be socially inept. It isn't because everyday is pure bliss. It isn't because we are patient. It isn't because we are insane (well, at least clinically insane).  Despite being asked all of these things, none of them are the reason. 

The public schools in our town of 500 people started last Thursday for the new year.  Until Wednesday evening, I was contemplating (very seriously), the idea of dropping the two big kids off and never looking back.  It is a great school system and we have been awed by all of the teachers that we have met. We know the kids would thrive there. The idea was tempting at times, but there was something deep inside me resisting that change. 

Home educating seemed to choose us.  We don't recall ever actively looking for it.  The process has become who we are.  Despite knowing in my heart that this is right for us, several friends have listened to me struggle during what I have now deemed, "my annual homeschooling freak-out". I freak-out, to put it simply.  I doubt myself and our choices. It may happen every year.  It may happen next week.  But the resolve is still the same:

God is working in me, transforming me, to be capable of enjoying each day with my children at home and creating the perfect place for all of us to learn.   

I don't believe in self torture.  I don't believe in any type of torture, for that matter.  The social media of our time has given us a window into the lives of parents who's children are home during the summer months-and those who stay home with little ones year round.  Based on status updates, it seems that parents are being tortured to endure more than we can (or want) to handle on any given day.  I frequently fall into the trap myself, often thinking or saying, "I can't do this!" or "This is too much!".  The bad days are really lousy and it takes an enormous amount of energy to see through the thick mud created during the screaming matches and the fighting over which cup they are going to use or the crying that ensues when someone throws a toy at somebody else or the complete defiance during a simple act.  
It's mud.  It's the kind of mud that is so thick that it makes your shoes get suctioned in and you can't move your feet.  Stuck and ready to scream. That is not a happy place. 

God is transforming me.  God is transforming us. 
We may not be the most patient and creative parents.  Our children may pass up my math skills by the time they're 10 years old.  No matter.  God is giving me what I need to handle the call to be here each day with them.  And God will make sure we are not on a path to social deprivation, as everyone else seems concerned could happen to these crazy home educated kids. 

It is because we can.
It is because we want to.
It is because we enjoy it. 
It is because they teach us more than we teach them. 
It is because it works for our family. 

It is because we have the privilege of watching all 3 kids playing together for hours each day.

It is because, despite the challenges, we are growing.  We are figuring out how to be a better family all the time.  My heart is growing with patience and Grace each day.  When I choose to leave my shoes behind in the mud and keep going, He's there. When I choose not to throw a plate across the room in complete frustration, He's there.  I'm so thankful.  

That is why we do it.

The Combines

The combine demolition derby is a dying breed.  It's not your average derby, people.  That is why we made the effort to get there at 7:30 p.m. on a Monday.  With 3 machine lovin' kids - it was well worth the trip.  There was a huge crowd.  Now I understand why. 

The massive destruction that takes place when you put 9 of these machines in a small area is a bit mind blowing. The tires were popped on impact and these puppies road around with one or two good tires. Not sure how they do it. Not to mention the noise of the crunching metal.   Wow.

Take it from Sam, it is best to cover your ears. 

What's not to love about machines with things like "Eat Me" painted on the cutter bar?  I mean, it's a cultural experience.  I'm just glad that doesn't make any sense to our children.  Not yet, anyway.  Or the tires that said, "Bad Year" on them.  Get it?   The "Papa Smurf " combine that was painted blue made the fave list for our kids.  "The Hammer" was the winner and made out with some cash.  Lucky guy. 



Without further adieu, the combines:

If you ever get a chance, you better go to one, even just to say that you have. 

Crazy.  Weird.  Sort of ridiculous.  But fun.  Lots of fun. 

Did I mention you could get nachos and funnel cakes for snacks?  What's not to love?  

The Derby

Demolition derby.  We had never been.  We had never lived. 

We are becoming county fair junkies, known to seek out free food events and rodeos and carnivals.  It is possible that we are slightly ill.  Regardless, we had a blast. 

Sam had some apprehension from the beginning.

The big water truck came out to make the mud. 

 That was a good sign of things to come.

Excited Ella.

Stop taking pictures of me. 

Make sure you cover your ears.

Then the cars started to crash into each other. 

What is wrong with these people? 

 And all the people cheering?

O.K....so we cheered too. 

Then the tractors came in and pulled off all the cars that

didn't work anymore. 

This was Samuel's favorite part, of course.

I'm no expert, but this car may have worked better

if it had another wheel.

 Then they went to work on those broken cars. 

Watch out for blow torches and sledge hammers....

Then it repeated.  Again and again. 

Finished things off with some fireworks and it was a

night full of fun for all. 

Next week we will attend a combine harvester demolition derby.  It may blow this experience out of the water.  Photos to come.....