Last night, Jenny laid out clothes and said they were “for tomorrow.”

This morning, she picked out different clothes to wear. I pointed to the other clothes and asked her why she wasn’t wearing them.

“They’re for tomorrow,” she replied.

She needs to get with Katie and learn that today is tomorrow.

Today, I am wearing tan pants and a light blue shirt. To be more specific, I am not wearing red or white or navy blue. Why? Mainly because I got an email telling me to wear red, white and blue today to show my patriotism and support of the troops or whatever.

I’m not going outside and hanging an American flag today, either. Truth be told, there’s already one out there, and I’m too lazy to take it down (well, too short). I wouldn’t normally want to take the flag down, but when someone tells me I ought to be flying it, then I want to do the exact opposite.

I’m not going to drop everything today at noon for a moment of silence. And I’m not going to think fondly of all 3000 victims of 5 years ago and know in my heart that they are all in heaven as another email boldly proclaimed. I wonder if the author of that email also thinks that 70 virgins greeted these martyrs when they got there?

(Ouch, yes, that was biting, I’ll admit.)

I WILL pray for the victims and their families all day today, as I do on other days throughout the year. I WILL pray for peace. I WILL pray for justice. I WILL pray for freedom and for our country.

And I will pray for an end to spam emails.

Or rather, I will pray for an end to emotionalism, as described by Eric Scheske in this Catholic Exchange column from a year ago. I really don’t want to spend the day crying, as I did 5 years ago. I really don’t want to spend the day angry, as I did 5 years ago.

Patriotism is love and loyalty to one’s country. Time and again, the sages warn those seeking marriage that love is not an emotion, it’s a choice. This applies equally to patriotism. I choose, happily, to live in this country. I will defend the cause of freedom in any way I can (primarily by voting in every election). Symbols like the flag and wearing our nations colors are fine and dandy. But like wearing a wedding band, it is not the outward display that makes you committed to a cause, but rather the actions of daily life.

Have you hugged a soldier today? I did. Now that’s showing support of the troops.

Friday, 3 pm.

It’s afternoon cleanup time where I (and 4 helpers) spend 10 minutes straightening up the day’s messes in order to make room for more.

Where to start?

First the classroom (aka: the dining room). Katie is tasked with picking up the castle made from base ten blocks, and the other helpers are sent to different rooms with specific chores. I spy the magnetic pieces of our United States map puzzle all over the floor, pick up a handful and put them on top of the puzzle board on the table (a future job for Fritz). Next to the board are scattered pencils which I gather and place in the pencil box while filtering the other debris in and amongst them: a damp kitchen towel, a dirty cup and straw, a broken crayon, a CD (relocated from the den by Pete), and some random pieces of trash.

I snap the pencil box shut, put it on the school shelf, and stoop down for another handful of puzzle pieces only to discover an abandoned dress, socks and pink tennis shoes. I pick up those instead and take my now full armload to the kitchen. Trash in the proper receptacle, dirty laundry thrown in the laundry room just off the kitchen, dirty dishes in the sink and I’m off to the den to replace the CD.

In the den, I see a huge stack of CDs, pulled out of the bookshelf by the baby earlier in the day. Throw them on the shelf (in no particular order), and then pick up a dozen colorful daggers along with the rest of the Pop-Up Pirate game. Close the door to the shelf and remind myself again to put a rubberband around the cabinet handles to prevent this from happening tomorrow. I straighten up a few piles of paperwork on the floor, turn a despairing eye on the mess on my desk, and head back to the dining room. Along the way, I find a few more items of clothing and more shoes which get placed on the steps to go up later.

Back in the dining room, I pile the rest of the states on their board and call Fritz in to assemble the puzzle. I thank Katie for cleaning up the base ten blocks and ask her to take the Playmobile residents of the now demolished castle back to their former home upstairs. The last remnants of schoolwork are placed in the proper folder or cubby to safely remain for the weekend. Billy cleans up the 100 pieces of a Fantastic 4 puzzle which had been scattered all over the only large non-carpeted floor besides the kitchen and bathrooms – the tile entryway. Jenny puts the animal block puzzle together, and all the puzzles are returned to the puzzle cabinet, which needs straightening badly (some other day).

Finally, I put the chairs under the table and head to the living room. A not-oft used room, thankfully, I gather a sippy cup and a few more random items of clothing, put the talking sit-n-spin and the pretend lawnmower off to the side, and check the bottom of the double stroller (which is usually parked in there) for hidden treasure and discover another pair of shoes. Shoes on the stairs, clothes in the laundry room, cup in the sink…where I find Jenny who really wants to do the dishes. I tell her she has to wait until I do the breakable ones.

Next stop: the family room. Helpers put cushions back on the couch, take light sabers out to the garage, pick up dozens of books and return them to the shelves. I gather more shoes and clothing (you’d think we had no closets, dressers, or hampers in the place) and some miscellaneous trash and go to my last stop: the kitchen.

Torture time is over for the kids, and I release them from cleanup duty. Jenny, though, really wants to do the dishes and is waiting impatiently for me to permit her. I load the breakable bowls and glasses into the dishwasher, handwash the muffin tin from this morning and the heavy skillet from last night (forgive me, Flylady, for I have sinned…), and hide the dish soap lest she use all of it as she’s been known to do. She gets to dive in and play wash dishes, while I clear the counter of peanut butter, bread, Ovaltine, Cheerios and Corn Flakes boxes, raisins, and undesirable peels from apple slices (some opt to eat around the peels instead of enjoying the entire slice). The counter and kitchen table get wiped down removing the last traces of jelly, peanut butter, mayo, milk, and bread crumbs.

You know what? It’s time to start chopping onions and grating cheese for dinner.

And lo, I hear the sound of CDs being thrown on the ground…

If ever there was a goody two-shoes, I’m it – at least in the last decade. I’m the sort of person who will drag all the kids back into a store to pay for an item that I forgot on the bottom of a grocery cart. Even in my days of youthful indiscretion, I was never arrested or affiliated with a questionable organization.

My record is squeaky clean.

And yet, my every fiber of being recoils at the idea of having a background check done on me. I don’t need to be hiding drugs in my body cavities to resent a strip-search. My privacy and my person is violated.

My last church required background checks and training for any adult who worked with children on a regular basis (defined as more than a few times a year). As a CCD teacher, I had to submit to this. I didn’t mind that…too much. I understand that it is necessary. As a teacher, I would be alone with children. As a teacher, I would be gaining the trust and confidence of children. I was happy that my parish was getting smart and proactive and doing what they could to prevent the abuse of children. And the training class, although emotionally difficult to endure, was very educational and empowering (it is empowering to understand exactly what behaviors in others are triggering that internal alarm).

But I belong to a homeschool group that meets at a building on post and is part of the child services. The child services runs the before-and-after-school care as well as most of the sports and educational opportunities for kids (from soccer to gymnastics to dance). Their building is filled with classrooms for their before-and-after-school kids which sit empty during the school day. The homeschool group is allowed to use the building at this time, but all families must comply with the child services rules: No children under 4 permitted in classrooms (not child-proofed). Parents must stay in the building at all times. No children left unattended. No corporal punishment to be used on any child.

These are all fine, and I have no problem agreeing to abide by them to use the facility. {Side note: one mother said that she had been told that the “no corporal punishment” rule included her restraining her child in her lap. She had a young child in full violent meltdown and was told she could not calm her child by this method. The rep from the building denied that being the policy, but somebody got all uppity.}

But there is also a vague policy about background checks. Of course, they have a background check policy for any adult who works with children. That makes sense. The homeschoolers have a co-op, and those involved in that type of classroom situation should have to comply under the terms of the building use. But I questioned the president about the rest of us. I have no intent on participating in the co-op. I have no intent on ever escorting somebody’s children to the bathroom by myself (I’ve got 5 of my own to worry about, I don’t need to watch someone else’s kids!!). I may attend a party or a playdate at this building, but I don’t see myself being alone with children other than my own (they follow me everywhere I tell you!). I don’t feel that the background check policy applies to parents who are simply attending social events with their children. I did not need to have a background check done on me when Katie took a dance class there, and I sat in the hallway and waited for her. I should not have to have one done on me to take my kids to a party.

But the president decided to err on the side of caution and told me that anybody who uses the building should have the check done. So, I would not be able to take my kids to a Christmas party unless I complied. And her point is this: wouldn’t we all feel safer if we knew that everyone had had the background check done?

Yes, I suppose.

I suppose I would feel safer if we all submitted to a strip search before entering the building, but I sure as heck wouldn’t be happier!

Am I wrong? Is the background check becoming the latest big WHATEVER in our lives, like taking off shoes, walking through metal detectors, and having our diaper bags scanned?

Any suggestions for a good retort to her “we’ll all feel safer” position?

Today is the day we begin the official school year. Learning, of course, takes place year round.

This will be my fourth year teaching, and my first year with three school-aged children plus a preschooler. I’m sure it will be quite the adventure.

I begin every school year much as I began school when I was a student: with the full expectation and confidence that this will be the best year ever. I love to learn, and I get to learn right alongside my kids. Experience tells me that there will be days where school is more drudgery than fun, but for right now, today, I can’t wait to begin!

UPDATE: Oh, thank goodness. It’s noon and Fritz has completed all his work for today. Billy was done by our 1030 am recess break. I think Katie was done by 10 am. Katie and Jenny will be tough to keep busy this year.

Billy dug in his heels first thing this morning saying he hated school! I’m very glad that we got off to a good start and the day went smoothly, not too hard. I didn’t hold anything back – we did a full day’s work. I was concerned that several subjects and workbooks were being picked up where we left off – so no review or slow beginning like when you start a subject anew. His reading lesson was tough, but we went slowly and I didn’t push it. He did fine.

Fritz didn’t magically develop the ability to stay on task and work independently in the last three months. Too bad. I hate pulling teeth. Fortunately, after 3 years, I’ve learned how to explain a lesson and then give him some time to work on it. If he’s not doing his job, we move on and all his assignments pile up at the end, and if he chooses to spend the afternoon sitting and staring at his work, that’s his problem. At least I can get supper started without worrying that I haven’t covered his history lesson.

All in all, though, a good start, an early ending. Would that all days be this pleasant…

Last night, Bill asked who would watch our kids this morning when we took Fritz to an appointment with the oral surgeon. I explained that finding a babysitter for 7 am on the first day of school would have been problematic at best.

So, this morning found us all in commuter traffic on our way to the hospital. The radio was on. They announced the day.

Billy: Mom, is it really Tuesday?

Me: Yes, today is Tuesday.

Fritz: When do we start school?

Me: Wednesday.

Fritz: When’s Wednesday?

Me: Tommorrow. You guys are lucky. Everybody else is starting school today.

Fritz: How about Zack?

Me: Okay, not Zack. They’re going on vacation this week. Everybody else is starting today.

Fritz: How about Jacob?

Me: Yes, the school opens today. He’ll be there.

Katie: Erin’s friends, who are also my friends now, said they are starting school tomorrow.

Me: Did they mean yesterday’s tomorrow which is today?

(Pause while she cogitates.)

Katie: Mommy! Is today tomorrow?

Me: Yes, Katie, today is tomorrow.

Billy: And when are we starting school?

Me: Wednesday.

Billy: And when’s Wednesday?

Me: Tomorrow.

Katie: But, Mommy, today is tomorrow.

And I Don’t Know’s on third.

This week’s Carnival of Homeschool is here.

It’s a good news/bad news thing.

The good news is that I turned off that pesky word verification thing for comments.

The bad news is that is turned on comment moderation.

It’s not that I feel I have to screen comments before they appear here. It’s just that blogger is only notifying me sporadically when people do comment. So, I’ll get an email showing me one person’s comments, and I’ll go to the post and discover one or two that I didn’t know about. And chances are, if somebody comments on something more than a few days old, I’ll never know.

I love feedback from my posts, enough that I want to be sure to see it. Even though you won’t have instant gratification in seeing your comments, this is probably better than your comments going unread. Please comment away!

I never mind waiting for a doctor or other appointment if the waiting room is stocked with interesting home decorating magazines (and if my children are either not with me or are happily occupied with something else). Flipping through pictures of gorgeous kitchens, organized mudrooms, elegant living rooms, and spacious bathrooms gets me to daydreaming about my “perfect house.” That “someday” house.

Although there are some styles that don’t suit me or my background or where I live (Southwest and African themes just don’t work for me), most of the time I argue with myself as to what style I really like. For example, I find the sleek, simple and clean lines of Contemporary, Japanese and Swedish designs really please the organized and uncluttered side of me. Cottage and Country styles appeal to my desire for comfort and a house for living (not for show). And Traditional or Victorian styles harmonize with my old-fashioned nature.

Despite hundreds of hours logged at pouring over various magazines throughout the years, I’ve yet to see any that truly capture my own style of decorating. I guess “Eclectic” might be a good catch-all phrase, but I think there may be better, more descriptive identifiers for the various stages of my home decorating life.

My first apartment, as a new college graduate, I shared with my sister. It was done in what I like to call the Dumpster Diver style. At first, few of the pieces were actual curbside retrievals, but after a while, my sister became quite adept at locating not just new items to add to our collection but also young male owners of pickup trucks who were willing to do all the hard work.

After a few years, I moved from the Dumpster Diver style to what my husband’s parents call Early Married. This consists of two different Dumpster Diver collections joined with some cast-offs from sympathetic family members plus furniture left behind from previous tenants/owners of your apartment/house. Also, your combined incomes enable you to buy used furniture, like a matching crib, changing table and dresser set for your great expectation.

After children arrived, and one big salary departed, I found myself stuck with Early Married well past what one would consider the newlywed stage.

Then, for a brief period of time, I flirted with a comfy version of a traditional style, but rapidly moved into my current style: Homeschooler. My dining room walls have a nice print alphabet with animals for the different letters. This will soon be joined by another alphabet in cursive. There is also a big calendar where the kids can add the date as the month progresses, and of course, there is a big clock. Once school is underway, we’ll add maps and samples of their schoolwork to the walls.

Instead of knick knacks, cabinet-tops are filled with math manipulates, puzzles, a pencil sharpener, and a CD player for listening to the Music Masters CDs. At some point this year, we’ll add a globe.

The Homeschooler style is not usually restricted to one room of the house. Other rooms may have more art displays, art-in-progress and art supplies on any free flat surface and science projects in windows, closets or on top of the piano (the ultimate out-of-baby’s reach spot). And no Homeschooler style home would be complete without piles and piles of books.

The most notable aspect of this style is shelving: everywhere, burgeoning. This year, with three elementary aged children plus a preschooler, the amount of easy readers, workbooks, manipulatives, pens, pencils, crayons, markers, glue, scissors, paper, and whatnots is becoming overwhelming! I just bought a new 8 cubby organizer from Target, and each kid picked out his or her own color canvas basket to store loose items (you can buy them individually at the store). But it’s not enough. Fortunately, this shelving unit is stackable, and I’ll be adding another one for 16 cubbies of storage. Where a non-homeschool family may have a beautiful china cabinet displaying grandma’s favorite gravy dish or an heirloom porcelain tea set, I’ll have a 4′ x 4′ grid of pigeon holes.

I’m not complaining, really. I don’t have an heirloom porcelain tea set to display. I love teaching my kids, I love books, and I even love math manipulatives. I just didn’t realize that these things would one day become my decor! And although most decorating styles make some sort of statement about who you are, few are quite as overt in proclaiming your lifestyle to a random guest.

My house is far from the house of my daydreams, whatever that may be. I definitely don’t plan on continuing in the Homeschooler style once I am no longer homeschooling! But even if my real house is not my dream house, my real life is my dream life.

I can wait patiently for an heirloom porcelain tea set to adorn my shelves in my “someday” house. And if I had the capital, I’d start up a home(school) decorator magazine. There’s an ever growing market…