Sit down.

~ Florida Georgia Line

TGIF!

When I ask for regulation of roads, I make those roads the sole property of the regulator.

When I ask for regulation of hair salons, I make those salons the sole property of the regulator.

When I ask for regulation of schools, abortion clinics, veterinary hospitals, restaurants, water parks, I make those all the sole property of the regulator.

Because the regulator can manipulate the way the thing/service/action is operated, but more importantly, the regulator can shut it down, close it. What is a greater testimony of ownership than to cease operating?

And now there is a large outcry to regulate Monsanto and other such horrific-crimes-against-nature food companies. That action, to regulate, will make food supplies the sole property of the regulator. Newsflash – The regulator is the government.

Say goodbye to your sustenance. You chose this.

I crossed Greater Alamance Creek and looked left, down stream, and thought, “What a beautiful evening for a canoe trip.”

I passed a freshly cut hay field near Mt. Hermon Church and noted it would be baled by end of week so I need to call Rusty tomorrow so I can begin refilling the loft.

Many pick-ups were in my view as I drove. I do truly enjoy the sight of a pick-up.

I turned onto Friendship-Patterson Mill road and as I crested the hill above Cedarock, the bright, warm sun welcomed me. It was a beautiful sight.

Now I watch boys, playing or learning, I can’t tell. I appreciate not knowing.

Some birth and use the moment to begin a life with the human they grew.

Some birth and check a box.

Some birth and move onto the next thing on the list.

Some never birth but use the moment of meeting to begin a life with the human they met.

Being a mom is hard. It hurts my soul almost daily as I watch them grow and I choose to let them fail and make mistakes. But I am with them. I will never leave them, nor forsake them.

I am with them.

We are in a rainy spell here in central NC. While my sky blanket looks like a return to winter, there really have been a lot of good things.

Today, whenever the rain breaks, the kids will escape outside, leaving experiments, LEGO builds, coloring wherever it was the moment the last few drops were falling.

Lots of mud races and mud contests. And laundry.

And many more of cooler weather’s warming dinners like meatloaf, casseroles, BBQ, and soups.

I am always grateful for rain. Even when I grow tired of it, I am grateful.

It’s 810p and finally blue skies, about 60F, 83% humidity with a light NE wind. My breath condenses as it hits the cool, moist air. I’m sitting by this fire thinking about how I intended to blog about the communist atrocity that is May Day but then I think about the gifts of time I have been given this week, and my attitude changes.

Practices and clinics were canceled giving us an evening. A friend took two young ones to play giving me two hours at home alone while the others were at a clinic and golfing. And tonight the children entirely made dinner and mostly cleaned up dinner. The gift of time is so precious.

And I thought I’d share something I did kind for someone today. It is not easy to be my friend. I know this. It is not easy to be my acquaintance. I know this, too. I have few filters and make fewer apologies for the lack of filters. But even I can be nice.

So, this afternoon after my workout and before the three oldest finished tennis clinic – I am stopped, engine off in the HT Express Lane, typing to a student on my iPad. A suburban slowly creeps up behind me. A cute, fit, middle-aged woman gets out with a redbox in her hand and I assume returns it.

Then, she sidles me. The two youngest were with me and so I became suddenly physically postured in defense mode.

The woman says something like, “You need to move, you are blocking traffic.”

And pretty harshly. I replied, “I’ll move when my truck is loaded.”

“But I need to move and you’re in the way.”

“Oh. Would you like me to push the button and ask them to bring your order out at the same time?”

“What order? I just need to pass through.”

“Well, I can drive around and you can pass through. I am waiting for my Harris Teeter Express order. That’s what this lane is for – for express grocery orders.”

“Oh. I thought it was to get the redbox people out of the way of traffic. Thank you for moving, I just can’t back the Suburban up.”

And all was well. That was such a weird and funny exchange. I’m still chuckling about it.

Back to my fire and knitting.

And so are people who think we all look alike. That all Christian homeschoolers look alike. Newsflash – we don’t. And I don’t think all public schoolers look alike nor that all private schoolers look alike. Mostly because I actually know many public and private schoolers. My family is typically one of the few homeschooling families that the conventional schoolers know. So who has less worldly knowledge?

So, no, we Christian homeschoolers do not all look alike. Take this homeschooling family for example. They wake at 530a. Not here. They use school in a box, er, online. We do not. They eat every meal together. We do not. The mom thinks public education is acceptable. I do not. The mom does not mention government influence in education. It’s about all I can focus on sometimes. So it is safe to say we are different.

But listen to people discuss Christian homeschoolers. Read articles on Christian homeschoolers. Apparently we are all doily-covered-bun wearers dressed in homemade dresses that button up to the neck. Uh. Not me. I like a bun, but that takes too much effort. If my Husband is nearby, I show as much cleavage as is acceptable with my children around.

Apparently we also only buy Bob Jones or Abeka curricula and only listen to K-Love.

Uh. Not here. We use Saxon. In our own way. We use some other random stuff with Biblical reference, but Biblical is not the focus. Good, true knowledge is. And my 8 year old is at this moment breakdancing to a song about calling 911 because Shawty’s fire is burning on the dance floor.

And did I mention we only have 5 kids? Surely we’ve come short of the glory of God. At least based on mainstream views of Christian homeschoolers.

Are we heathens? I don’t think so. I love my Jesus and I pray our children will love Him as much as I do. We share Christ’s love and His life and His history with them.

But I don’t look like the Christian homeschoolers the media wants to show the 81% of people who do not learn at home. The media wants us to look like freaks. I am OK with being a freak. And a Jesus Freak. I am not OK with others generically calling me a freak. After all, that would not be very tolerant, would it?

I have the most wonderful life!

This month is poetry and humor. I’d mention it is National Poetry Month, but really? National anythings are such a crock and waste of paper and breath. But anyways…

We focused on poetry and as one of our activities last week, we learned a method for creating haiku and then wrote and illustrated our haiku.

Here is my simple haiku inspired by gardening. Yes. I draw and color like a kindergartner. And I am good with that.