Author Archives: michellereitemeyer
Day 50, Week 10
I’ve scheduled a hard break after week ten – meaning we’re taking all next week off. Hooray. Billy and Katie managed to get all their work done in a timely fashion, but Fritz, ever the foot dragger, had trouble getting his math done. He has six long division problems left for today (I’m sure he’ll drag it out for the next hour). Then he’ll have just one math test to do, and I’ll probably make him do it tomorrow just to get it over with. In all fairness to him, we ran out of time for school on Monday and Tuesday and so he’s had to do 5 lessons in 3 days. It’s a lot of work.
I’ve been using Abeka math from the beginning. I think it’s an excellent program. Last week, a friend told me that her 1st grader (Fairfax County public schools – among the best in the nation) is being moved up to 2nd grade math. The first graders aren’t doing addition yet. Katie, my kindergartner, is about half-way through the very easy Abeka K math, and is doing addition.
Yesterday, another friend whose son, like Fritz, is in the 3rd grade (Fairfax County public schools) asked me what Fritz was doing in math. I showed her that day’s assignment: adding numbers like $56.87 to $42.55, multiplying 23,765 by 6, basic word problems, what time does the clock say, write the Roman numerals from one to twelve, and dividing numbers like 5,421 by 5 (using remainders). Her son isn’t even doing multiplication yet. Not even 2 times 5.
Today’s assignment made me drop my jaw: pre-algebra!
N + 5 = 12 + 6
Solve for N.
I can see that Abeka has been leading up to this moment for years. In 1st grade math, a child has to fill in the blank with the right number for problems like blank + 2 = 5. In 3rd grade, you get N + 5 = 18. Abeka is not having the student subtract 5 from both sides, and I am frustrated that it doesn’t, since that’s how I learned algebra. But for now, I’ll trust the program and see where it heads (and I’ll teach Fritz to subtract 5 from both sides!).
But here we are at the close of business on Friday with most of what we set out to accomplish in 10 weeks done. I look forward to “relaxing” next week – I have 30 yards of ACU pattern fabric due to arrive on Monday.
Blessings
I can’t believe I’ve waited this long to post this news.
I am truly overwhelmed with blessings from God. In fact, I am so overwhelmed with blessings from God, that I frequently take them for granted. Oh, well, look at that, another miracle…ho hum…
On good days, I recognize the gift and offer suitable praise: not just a Hallelujah, but also by telling everyone I know about how awesome God is and the wonderful things He has done for me. Sometimes it takes me days or weeks to recognize the work of the Divine Master in my life. Most of the time, I realize that God is good, say a thank you, and then promptly move on with my life.
Such was the case this week.
As you may know, Fritz was diagnosed in July with a cyst in his jaw. In August, he had a biopsy and a week later we learned that it was a dentigerous cyst. He had a stent placed in his mouth to drain the cyst and to promote growth of his jawbone which was dangerously thin (no sports for fear of fracture). For seven weeks, we went once a week for a checkup at Walter Reed (an hour there and an hour back in travel alone). Then we had a three week respite, and then a month-long break. At his last two appointments, they took x-rays of his jaw.
On Monday, the oral surgeon looked at the x-ray and remarked, “It’s gone!” In August, he had told us that it might take 6 to 9 months for the cyst to shrink. It has been less than three. He was a bit surprised. I’m not. God is that good. I’m happy, but not at all surprised. Well, I am surprised that He blesses me so abundantly given all the crap I give Him in return. But I’m not surprised that He has made it happen. Miracles are just another common everyday event around here: they’re about as remarkable as the sun rising.
The oral surgeon turned to the new resident who had seen Fritz that day. He explained Fritz’s diagnosis and treatment (Fritz is a learning case; I think every resident has seen him). I was elated when the oral surgeon said, “It turned out to be a dentigerous cyst, thank God.” Yes, I silently agreed, thank God.
As we were driving to the appointment, Fritz had been asking some questions about his case. In the past three months, he has done a fair amount of complaining about the stent and his treatment. This time, he wasn’t complaining, he was just asking about it. I told him that he was really lucky. I told him that the docs thought it might be cancer and that he could have been fighting for his life. I told him that the docs thought it might be an OKC, a hard-to-eradicate cyst, and he might have had to spend his whole life dealing with problems in his jaw. He finally got it. He finally realized that he is the recipient of a miracle.
Praise God.
The soonest they could get him in again is December 18th. They will sedate him, remove the stent and clean out anything remaining of the cyst. I’m sure he’ll have to go back in a week for a follow up, but after that, he’ll just go to his orthodontist to figure out how to get his adult teeth in his jaw properly. And that’s that.
Besides thanking God for my son’s health and speedy recovery, I’d like to thank all my family, friends and fellow bloggers who offered up prayers on his behalf. Most especially, I’d like to acknowledge the celestial assistance of two saints: St. Apollonia, the patron of tooth problems who will continue to be petitioned by me for her prayers until Fritz’s adult teeth grow in properly, and St. John Newmann to whom our family prayed a novena before Fritz’s biopsy when we feared he had cancer. I found the novena in a book I love: (Mention Your Request Here): The Church’s Most Powerful Novenas by Michael Dubruiel. This book has been updated and is due for re-release later this month. I highly recommend it.
And now, back to life as usual. I wonder what fantastic, miraculous gift God will give me today…
…yawn…
USPS with a great idea
I got a little post card from the post office in the mail yesterday. In fact, unbelievably, it was the only thing in the mail box. No catalogs, no bills, no circulars. Two days ago, we had only catalogs – about 4, I think.
Anyway, the post card contained news that makes me very happy: the post office will pick up packages from your house!!! They have two flat rate boxes which should be the right size for most of the little care packages I intended to send to family – one size is 8 1/2″ x 11″ x 5 1/2″. So, I have to pay for the box instead of using the ones I’ve been saving and storing in my garage, and the flat rate of $8.10 (Priority Mail) might be a little more than what it would cost if I trudged down to the post office and waited in line for a half hour with 5 kids including a tantruming toddler and bi-polar preschooler. But one has to seriously consider how much it would be worth it to avoid waiting in line for a half hour with a tantruming toddler and a bi-polar preschooler. I often ask myself: if there were a 16 year old seeking employment who lived next door to me, would I be willing to pay him/her $10 to run this errand for me? If the answer is yes, then the extra shipping or service charge or whatever is worth it.
Hmmm…I’ll have to remember this idea when my son gets to driving age. I don’t know if we’ll still be homeschooling him for high school, but I think an errand service could be an excellent way to make money: grocery store, post office, pharmacy, dry cleaners. Market his service to stay-at-home moms with little ones, and he’d have a steady stream of customers.
I’ve already resolved, when my daughters are old enough, to start a house cleaning business with them. If they spent a few years under my tutelage doing that, they could do it themselves and make some serious dollars. Why work retail or fast food for minimum wage when you can earn $30 an hour (under the table) vacuuming rugs? I really wish I had thought of this when I was in college. It would have been nice to have some extra drinking money.
Crunch and Munch
It is recess time. I sit at my computer eating Crunch and Munch. I’m not happy that this huge can of Crunch and Munch is even in my house. I bought it to help support my sons’ cub scout troop. After weeks of sitting unopened in my living room, I finally caved last night and exposed the sweet joy contained therein. I told my husband, after I consumed half the can, that he was to take it to work with him today.
He forgot. I forgot.
So far, three of the kids have tasted the Crunch and Munch. Pete likes it. Fritz refused to try it, and I had to practically force one tiny piece into his mouth. He continued to believe that it was yucky. This demonstrates to me why some people can persist in believing something despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. It’s all mind over matter.
Jenny tried it after I used the word “candy” to describe it. She didn’t like it.
Katie just walked in and tried it. She doesn’t like it.
I called Billy in, and he likes it. If this child were not so bizarre in every other aspect of his personality, I would be thanking God that I had one normal child.
Unfortunately, I think I have none (it’s way too early to make the call on Petey).
Time to end recess. Still a good quarter of the can left to eat after lunch…now I have to fight Billy for it.
Movies, TV and vocabulary
I found a trackerball at eBay for cheap. It’s the same as my current one, so all I’ll have to do is pop the new ball into my old mouse and not deal with the mess of wires behind my CPU. Now I just have to wait for it to get here, and hope my hand doesn’t hurt too much.
A few minutes ago, Billy asked me what “affiliated” meant. I explained it to him and asked where he learned the word. He quoted some lines from The Incredibles, giving me yet one more reason to love this movie.
I enjoy movies as much as anybody, but have always considered life to be too short to watch them more than once. I’d rather read a good book five times than watch a good movie twice. However, when one has kids, repetition is forced upon you. If it’s not TV shows or movies, it’s books or songs over and over again. My mom had (still has, perhaps) The Cat in the Hat memorized. I used to recite The Big Red Barn to Billy as he impatiently flipped the pages of the book when he was Petey’s age.
But I don’t mind watching The Incredibles over and over. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never actually seen the whole thing from beginning to end without pause. I’ve seen the whole movie, just not all at once. {Insert grumbling about little children here.} But I just think it’s a really good story.
I liked it so much, I actually purchased the DVD which is not normal for me. Aside from strictly children’s shows (Thomas, Disney, even a Spongebob or two), the vast bulk of DVDs we own were bought by Bill. I assure you, I had no say in the decision to buy the complete collection of Mr. Bean. I’m happy to own the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but Bill gave them to me for Christmas. I don’t buy DVDs, but I also rarely have the time to watch them. Our Netflix rentals sit here for weeks.
Recently, I threatened the kids with removal of the TV from the living quarters (specifically, I said I was going to put it in the garage). The kids have certain times of the day they are permitted to watch TV: before school, during lunch, and after school. Rarely is the TV on after 6 pm. If friends come over to play, which happens frequently, the TV is usually off. If the weather is nice, the TV is off. On the weekends, the TV is on football, unless the weather is extremely nice and then I put my foot down and we all go outside. But those hours of TV viewing are sacred to my kids, and the idea of not having a TV was horrifying.
Billy suggested that I would be in big trouble with Dad if I put the TV in the garage. I probably would be! But I said I was willing to deal with his wrath. I also said that I could easily put our one TV in our bedroom and lock the door. {Idle threats: I really don’t want a TV in my bedroom – I may never conceive again!} Then he said that I would really miss the TV. I pointed out to him that I almost never watch it in the first place. I think this fact hit home, and his attitude became a bit more cooperative.
Now if only all the shows they watch would teach them 5 syllable words, I’d probably never threaten to remove that valuable resource. Alas for them, I’m confident that most of their new words will be ones they’ve heard me use or read in a story. Even if we have to read those books over and over again.
Hiatus
I’ll be taking a few days off from the computer. A few days ago, Pete and Jenny removed the ball from my Trackball and played catch with it. Since they aren’t very good at the “catch” part of catch, it fell on the porcelain tile (the one small bit of it in the entire house) and cracked the outer shell of the ball rendering it completely useless for anything, but most especially for use as a Trackball. I have a generic mouse, but using it makes my hand (and forearm) hurt really badly. Typing is okay, but clicking, highlighting and dragging and dropping really cause me problems that don’t stop when I walk away from the computer.
{Sigh}
Jenny gets in moods where the only thing I can expect from her is trouble. These moments can last for hours, but fortunately their frequency is diminishing to perhaps once a week. If one of her trouble-making sessions coincides with one of Pete’s nothing in the house is safe! The rest of the time, though, Jenny can be pretty amusing and charming.
Yesterday afternoon, she lay down on the kitchen floor and stretched her arms out toward her feet and over her head. How big am I, Mommy? This big? I assured her that yes, she was that big – a big girl.
Then…can I have gum?
Her heart’s desire is to be big enough to be allowed to have gum. And too soon she will be.
Friday
Since Bill was home on Friday, I reduced the boys’ already light workload to just math.
And since Bill was home on Friday, I left him in charge of school and went to the grocery store. Bill sat the boys down, told them to do their work, and walked away. Several minutes later, he returned to check on them and discovered they had accomplished very little. Billy, though, was very proud of his doodle of the Flash that he had made on his math worksheet. Bill was so frustrated that he grabbed an eraser and removed all traces of Billy’s artwork!
The math pages eventually got done. I’m not sure if the boys learned anything new to add to their expanding knowledge of math, but I think they learned one thing: Dad is one substitute teacher you don’t want to have!
Friday afternoon we went to Gunston Hall which had been the home of George Mason. George Mason wrote the Virginia Declaration of Rights which is strongly echoed in The Declaration of Independence and was the basis for the U.S. Bill of Rights:
George Mason was one of three delegates to the Constitutional Convention who refused to sign the Constitution because of the lack of a bill of rights (as was later added). Gunston Hall is a much smaller historical site than the nearby Mount Vernon, but the intimacy of the property and it’s lesser fame gives one a greater access to the wealth of knowledge contained therein: in other words, there were no lines.
We didn’t stay long: neither the children nor ourselves were up for a long visit. But we got a good enough flavor of the place to feel it was “done,” and left enough to warrant a future visit the next time we live in the area. As we were driving off the property, Bill slowed the van to a crawl and pointed to two deer – one on each side of the car. Since they were standing perfectly still, it took a bit for the girls to spot them. Finally one started moving, and Katie asked why.
Me: I guess he doesn’t feel we are a threat any more.
Fritz: What’s a “threat?”
Me: A danger.
Katie: Why would a deer think we were a danger?
Fritz: Some people kill deer!
Billy: Yeah, they eat it!
Fritz: They eat the meat!
Billy: That rhymes!
Fritz: Eat…meat! It rhymes!
Me: It’s quite a feat, to eat, the deer’s meat.
Fritz: Sweet!
Bill: What a treat! How neat!
Of course, the backdrop of this rhyming game is the look of horror on Katie’s face now that she knows Bambi could be dinner.
Veteran’s Day
Yesterday was Veteran’s Day Observed, and Bill had the day off work.
Today is the actual Veteran’s Day, and Bill has to work. I’m a bit grumpy about it, but I’ll offer it up for all the soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines who fought for our freedoms or served our country in the armed forces especially my own Dad (Air Force), my Mom (an officer and a gentleman in the Navy), and my Father-in-Law (Army). Thank you all for your many sacrifices.
Bill is attending a ceremony in Missouri honoring four Medal of Honor recipients:
Bill’s sister, Margaret, will be coming over tonight for dinner and cake to celebrate her birthday. Hopefully, Bill will be home before she leaves.
Be sure to thank a veteran today. If you don’t know anyone, you can always send an email to a deployed soldier.
To Dad
My sister, Elisabeth, said it best when she declared, “My Daddy stole fire from the sun!” My other sister, Barbara, and I agree completely. Our first and best hero ever is Dad, and today is his 60th birthday.
There are some things Dad taught me for which I am grateful. For one, Dad taught me to have a very healthy and generous amount of disrespect for authority. Lots of people talk about not trusting government or big business as a theory; for me, though, it is a tenet that these entities must be warily monitored at all times. In fact, I stopped supporting the death penalty – not because of the exhortations of Pope John Paul II (I was very very sad that I disagreed with him) – but because, in 2000, columnist George Will successfully argued (to me) that government by its very nature was incapable of making an error-free judgment, and, in the case of capital punishment where you can’t ever assign monetary reparation in the event of a mistake, it was grossly unfair to allow someone to be executed by mistake.
As a teenager, my Mom would often muse that perhaps my blondish hair and blue eyes might have spared my life in Nazi Germany (we’re not German, she was just using this as an example), but surely my lack of respect for authority would have had my head on the chopping block. Since I’d have much rather died than collaborated with that regime, I would have had my Dad to sincerely thank for my premature death.
But Dad is pretty clever, and I’d like to think he taught me a thing or two about not getting caught. Perhaps, had I lived in Nazi Germany, I might have done much good (if I could have managed to keep my mouth shut). “If you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’, ” is one thing my Dad always said. I think he must have driven my poor Mom nuts. I cheated once in the 5th grade, and I didn’t get caught, but my cohorts did. I never ever cheated again, and if I had, I think my Dad would have been really disappointed in me. Dad’s lesson wasn’t so much that one should cheat to get through life, but that sometimes you have to do what you have to do regardless of the rules. And sometimes, it is better to not be overt about not following the rules. Those who publicly ranted about the Nazis found themselves in Dachau; those who were quietly opposed sheltered Jews and saved their lives.
My Dad also taught me everything I know about courage, loyalty, and standing by my convictions all the time. When my friends got caught cheating and I didn’t, I stepped forward and confessed my role (Dad’s probably cringing over that: I think men have a different code whereby the fewest number of guilty parties hang as possible and the others chastise them for getting caught and commend them for not ratting the others out). My teacher was so overwhelmed by my actions, she (female teacher of course, I doubt this would have worked with a male teacher) wagged her finger and told us to go and sin no more.
Perhaps Dad would have behaved differently in that situation, but it is his behavior in other smaller things that is reflected in my loyalty to my friends that day. I have never in thirty-five years heard my Dad issue an oath stronger than “Jiminy-Christmas!” or “Criminy!” Dad was in the Air Force, and he was a para-rescueman. He has stories about bar-fights. I can’t imagine that he didn’t curse when he was a younger man. But at some point, perhaps when he became a Dad, he must have decided that swearing was inappropriate, and he stopped. Forever. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong all the time.
Dad isn’t Catholic, but he vowed to raise his children Catholic. By golly, he stuck to that vow. Never in my teen years could I get him to agree with me that the Church was wrong about some point. That would have been counter to his vow.
When I went off to college, Dad started going to Mass regularly. Years later, I observed him abstaining from meat on Fridays and giving up things for Lent. At some point, he told me he believed in the Real Presence. I just couldn’t understand why he didn’t convert, except that perhaps he felt that Catholic rituals were optional unless he converted, and then they would be mandatory. Dad is finally going through RCIA now, and will receive the sacraments in April. I fully expect to find my own observation of the Catholic faith challenged for the better as he strives to follow the faith he vows to follow, and I see my own shortcomings in the shadow of his commitment.
But the greatest thing my Dad ever taught me was about love and respect. The more dysfunctional people I meet, and the more functional people from dysfunctional families I know, the more I become aware how lucky I am to have had a mother and a father married and raising their family together. I’m not saying Dad is the perfect dad or the perfect husband, but he honors and respects my mother, and his behavior toward her and the tone he set in our house growing up has been the benchmark by which I have judged my own husband and home life. It’s hard, sometimes, for my husband to compete against the man who stole fire from the sun, but he’ll be judged by our daughters, not by me.
Happy birthday, Dad. I love you.
Reit This Way 