My sweet aunt had a sign on her wall when I was growing up that read
Motherhood Is Like Being Pecked To Death By A Duck
I found this to be a little strange. "Adults are so bizarre." I thought.
Now I realize that I love ducks, as I am sure my aunt did. I hear their quacking morning, noon and night and sometimes I dream about their feathers and bills and feet. And sometimes I just need to be far enough from the pond that I can't hear the quacking.
Today my husband took me out to lunch. I think he could see that my reserves were depleted both nutritionally and mentally and bundled me into the car at top speed, calling over his shoulder to our oldest (a very capable babysitter) that we would be back soon. A long lunch later I was feeling much better and thinking in complete sentences when the cell phone starting ringing. When my husband picked up I could tell from the distant squawking that my daughter was wondering if we were ever coming back. He reassured her that we would be back before she had to leave for her afternoon commitments and closed the phone.
Perhaps the people at the table next to ours thought that those Mormons have some very interesting customs.
"..........those strange people over there are quacking softly and rolling their eyes....what the heck."
I suppose most cowboys are unlikely to hang out in Subway quacking but I am so glad that the particular one that I married will- along with removing the toilet that had a new bottle of foundation flushed down it by the two year old ( plugging it off and overflowing it twice before it was removed and the culprit discovered), changing those two stinky diapers that needed attention when I was trying to catch up after a week of nightly sleep interruptions and hug and kiss those little ducks twice cause they want to tell Daddy "bye" when he's all dressed up to go .........out to the garage and is coming back inside in an hour for lunch.
I was absolutely right, adults are bizarre................
Maybe we are quacked up ......It ain't easy bein' a duck.
But there's no better way to fly.

There is a strange thing that happens to parents. Their lives before children disappear. Now you may remember a few tidbits that seem much more like a movie that you saw once or a book that you read (and then never returned to the library for all you can remember). It seems surreal and other worldly to think of the days when you were fewer.
That day that your first child was born you actually had two births. The other was rather un-heralded, the birth of your less selfish version may have escaped notice until a few minutes later when you needed something that could wait a minute, that baby needed to finish nursing those precious first minutes.You also had a death.
I believe that when we die it isn't the end of our self, we continue on in another sphere. Likewise our lives change when we become parents, we've entered a whole different realm- one that brings out the best in us as well as reveals those less than desirable traits we wish didn't exist. It is weird. Most of us recognize that we will never be the same but that forgetting thing that happens maybe hampers any logical comparison.
So celebrate the birth of a better, less self centered you, don't mourn the loss of what you were or had before your precious bundles were born- the sadness of death exists only in the separation, the change of spheres is no cause for tears . The life before you waits to open your eyes to the miracles and if you forget a few things......or a lot of things.....remember just this-"You are better today than yesterday because you have loved. Did you really have something better to do?"

What is the point of learning?
If you learn to count but never count your blessings why bother?
Of what use is the skill of drawing if you never see the beauty or share it with someone you love?
Drawing maps and learning the names of countries is of little value if you never learn their history, their stories, seek to understand their culture or enjoy the beauty of their language, their art, their people.
The learning of names of letters, sounds and words is just one more boring exercise if there are no stories to read, lives to explore, rhymes to giggle at and poems that share the loveliness of another's soul.
School is a privilege that is wasted if the students don't understand the reasons for their writing, reading, spelling and music, their geography, math, science and Physical Education. They may go calmly forward never realizing that within those books, behind those pictures and inside those hearts are joys, pains, glories and meaning beyond human comprehension. The mysteries that unfold for those who seek can make a life full and overflowing.
We are here for the learning to have joy in the journey............and I choose to make mine with my children because I love the sparkle I see in their eyes......and we laughingly give it an inadequate description (a grade) and call it Homeschool.