STYLE
Quiet
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Muted
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Scream


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Sunnyside Up
The Long And Short of December
Kicking Up Our Heels, Literally
Just To Be Near You
It's All Good (Even Nog Sans Rum)


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OTHER VOICES


MISCELLANEOUS
Webcam

Things feel partially back to normal. At least today does. I have spent a majority of the day doing mom/teacher stuff. Mostly trying to blur the line between the two.

We didn't do much bookwork today. In fact, the only bookwork we did was Multiplication and Division. Yet I feel that the day was well spent. We read three chapters from Farmer Boy. I am reading it to them. The next book in the series I am having read to me. I am also working on an idea to help my oldest little person start a daily journal. I am making a list of topics for him to choose from and including possible supporting ideas for each topic. This way I am taking some of what he dreads most away from it. I am hoping to nurture some creative thinking without dwelling to much on the mechanics of it. I think for the first few months I am not going to pressure him about revising and correcting grammar and spelling and punctuation. It is hard enough to get him to think for himself. Maybe this will rekindle his imagination. Hopefully, he won't need my list of topics for long. And hopefully he will incorporate what he has learned in Language Arts without to much prompting.

I am noticing more and more that I am not writing so much about my thoughts about myself. I had decided that I would try to curb writing about school and children and pick up where I left off on my other site. But I can't seem to dig that mask out of the closet. Try as I might, I am just not in tune to myself nearly as much as I used to be.

This is probably because this has become the busiest time for me ever as a mother. I look at my children and see my future. Teaching is only going to get more complicated and more time consuming with three children. I knew the day that Logan was born that my life was then and forever not my own. That statement is now magnified times three. I look at my writing and it looks foreign to me. They look like words from someone elses brain. I want to try to find what ever powered that part of me. For some unknown reason, I keep making excuses as to why I can't.

Posted by gwendolyn on May 07, 2001 at 05:40 PM