Life amid the Mess

Life is messy. Anyone who doesn’t already know that is in the process of learning it. Homeschooling is life with your kids, with academics thrown in the mix. We know how much the normal kid loves academics. That makes homeschooling really, really messy.

 

Homeschooling isn't always fun crafts and cool science projects.
Sometimes it's struggles and meltdowns over math

I’m a homeschool graduate, but when I started homeschooling my oldest with two toddlers underfoot, I was blindsided by how many days my plans went awry. Days of struggle over phonics and reading. Days of temper tantrums—sometimes mine—and toddlers smearing goop on the walls while I was trying to teach sums. Over time, some things have gotten easier. Most things have simply gotten…different.

And life remains messy.

Seasoned homeschool moms aren’t taken off guard by the struggles in our homes right now. It doesn’t make them easy, but maybe it makes them easier. Those of you suddenly thrust into homeschooling with no planning or preparation, you may be getting into a routine (probably not). More likely, the little routines and projects of last week may have crumbled, and now you don’t know which way to turn. Hopefully you have a spouse to back you up; many of you don’t, and you’re trying to shoulder it all by yourself. You may feel like a failure.

I’ll be honest, when we first went into self-quarantine, I was a little excited. I began March feeling too busy. Piano lessons. Tumbling lessons and the upcoming track season. Homeschool co-op. 4-H cooking, art, photography, and archery. I was realizing I’d overextended myself. Then, Quarantine, I thought. I don’t have to go anywhere. It was like balm to my introverted soul.

Over the weekend, my husband was home from work. We got a break from schoolwork. The weather warmed to the 60s. The sun was shining. We did outside work and spent time as a family.

That was the first week of quarantine.

This is the second week, the first week of I-don’t-know-how-many weeks under a stay-at-home order. Play dates are now not only frowned upon, they’re a Class C misdemeanor.

On Monday, my husband went back to work. The sun clouded over and the temperature dropped. The kids and I were tired, restless, and more than a little cranky. My children asked to play with friends and didn’t understand why I said no. My 11-year-old acted like the emotional, hormonal tween she is. My 7-year-old daughter also acted like an emotional, hormonal tween. My son, though never the best at staying focused, is usually quick at math and highly motivated by the thought of finishing the grade and moving up. On Monday, he acted like a chimp on a sugar high. When I looked over his final worksheet, I gave him a letter grade—ADHD. During his school breaks, he teased his sisters. Doors were slammed. Tears were cried. The screams were eardrum-shattering.

I tried my best to handle it all with equilibrium, to be the calm in the storm, the one voice not shouting, the grown-up. As the day wore on, though, I spiraled downward. First came the lethargy, then the sense of helplessness. I prayed. Next came the sense of hopelessness. I prayed. All I wanted to do was make it through the day to (their) bedtime. I prayed some more. All I wanted to do was sit down beside my sourdough starter and cry. For a while I wallowed in self-pity. Then I got up and hugged my children, because they need that more than they need any standardized testing.

Some days your family rediscovers the joy of cardboard boxes.

The day wasn’t done with me. It kept unraveling long past bedtime, actually, but I survived. Tuesday was better. We were a little more rested, the sun shone just a little brighter, and the fights were fewer. Today was a mixed bag. My eldest, quarantined because of the coronavirus, still managed to pick up a stomach bug that kept her on the couch half the day. Balancing that, though, were my two younger children, eager to do their schoolwork quickly so they could go play. There wasn’t a single fight till late afternoon. (Roughly the time my eldest got off the couch, but I won’t comment more on that.)

COVID-19 or not, quarantine or not, each day is its own—its own struggles, its own triumphs. Every day we’re in a place we’ve never been before. Some days leave you feeling flattened. Some lift you to the mountaintop. You simply have to take them one day at a time. Cling to Christ. Love your children. Give yourself grace.

I needed a message like this this week. I thought maybe you did, too. Hang in there. You’re doing great.

I didn't just cry into my starter. I made something with it. Bernard Clayton's recipe,
simply entitled "Sourdough Loaf," with Amish friendship starter as a base.
I think it's the best bread recipe so far.