As you’ve probably correctly assumed, we have begun another school year, starting the last week of August. I meant to tell you about this then, mostly so you could send me flowers of condolences or supportive boxes of chocolate-y goodness. But now that we’re about to begin our eighth week of school Monday, you can send me supportive boxes of chocolate-y goodness or flowers of condolences.  In honor of this school year, here are a few stats* for you to glaze over:

14 years

126 months

567 weeks

2,835 days

11,340 hours

6 kids

1 teacher

Between mathematics, sciences, writing lessons, English, history, computer programming, finance, music, languages, phys ed, and many other minor electives, these are the numbers that represent our homeschool journey through time. *These numbers may or may not reflect field trips, time devoted to town sports, co-op days, or crying sessions because we “just don’t get it”. One might look at those figures and consider me an expert. One would be wrong. 

Actually, that’s not altogether true. I’ve become quite adept at showing up to school in clothing that looks suspiciously like pajamas. I can make judgment calls on whether or not to try out the next science experiment at a moment’s notice. (Not.) I’m excellent at forgetting I’d started a load of laundry in the morning and often have to re-run the cycle. I’m particularly known amongst local friends as having the ability to not know what I’ll be making with the meat that’s been thawing all day for supper half an hour before it’s time to eat. One of the areas in which I am most expert is taxiing the children everywhere. 

My skill set is clearly remarkable because all of my children know how to procrastinate, enjoy “second breakfast”, talk over one another, eat all the snacks, complain about what’s for supper (once I know what we’re having!), and beg to participate in even more organized activities. However, any of their actual talents and genius cannot be attributed in any way to my ‘expertise’ but to the One who loves them and cares for them and blessed them with their unique gifts. 

It truly is a joy to get a front row seat in my children’s lives. There’s not much that tops spending time with them, teaching, learning together, experiencing every ‘light bulb’ moment, answering every question–and boy have there been a lot of questions!– and watching the growth of fresh, inquisitive, and eager minds. I especially love observing the development of their passions and aptitudes, whether that’s in sports like volleyball or flag football, or in music on the piano, guitar, viola, ukulele or violin (fair warning: it’s noisy here!), or in artistry through sketching or painting, or even in creative papers that are written either for school assignments or fun. 

How fortunate I feel this way since I still have ten more years of this homeschooling stuff, Lord willing! Where are my flowers and chocolates?!

What rhymes with ‘long-anticipated boat ride up the coast on a beautiful weekend’? If you guessed ‘two sick boys and a missed adventure’, then you can pat yourself on the back in consolation and know that you’re just as bad at rhyming as I am. But I can try to tell you a story with an unfortunate beginning, a harrowing middle, and ice cream at the end. 

For weeks the plan had been to take a one-night family trip on the boat up to Camden, ME. It was to be our first true test of whether we had what it took for ocean voyages. We got tested alright, but not in the way we had hoped or considered. 

The evening before our departure, James and Caleb developed high fevers. It quickly became evident that they wouldn’t want me to go on the boat without them, so I had to do what all mothers everywhere have to do at least a few hundred times during their mothering career: eat chocolate and drink specialty coffee. Not quite a fair trade for not being able to realize my full potential as a sun catcher on the boat, but it was the caffeine lift needed to help me through my double overtime shift as stay-at-home nurse. 

After not getting any sleep that night, Danny decided to brave the open ocean anyway, and I’m not going to say that he ran out of the house right after Caleb threw up, but I am going to say that he quickly descended the stairs, opened the front door, and left. To be fair, it would have been a shame if nobody took the trip, and the girls deserved a reward for being awake by 7am, packed and ready to go. 

My day was then spent running up and down the stairs, burning off the coffee and treats, in my efforts to minister to the sick ones, monitoring their temperature and keeping them comfortable, hydrated, and medicated. While the medicine seemed to aid in the alleviation of James’s feverish symptoms, it didn’t seem to have any effect on Caleb’s ailments. For frustratingly unknown reasons, Caleb’s head pain worsens intensely when he is sick. It is so hard not having answers or a working treatment!

And if that isn’t distressing enough, here is the harrowing middle, brought to you by Ellie. 

As Anna and I were reclining against the comfortable cushions of Runtime’s salon, roughly an hour and 25 nautical miles away from our final destination, Dad pulled back sharply on the throttle causing the boat to lurch to a slower pace. Navigating the open ocean is easy… if you have a working GPS. Mid cruise, the CZone Touch 5 cord had disconnected, disrupting the signal to Dad’s screens. And if you can’t read the depth of the seafloor or detect other sailing vessels out on the open ocean, you could be in trouble. 

Thinking quickly, Dad placed me at the helm to continue our now very slow pace across the water and went to search Runtime for the source of the disruption. While trying to locate the mysterious and elusive beeping, Dad brought out his phone to text a technician from the boat company to ask for assistance. Mark F., who is usually on-call for incidents of any kind, supplied Dad with option after option, eventually finding a solution to bypass the system failure, allowing him to gain back the GPS.

Though the malfunction could have potentially made their trip a huge disaster, it was but a blip on their adventure radar. A large pod of dolphins encircled the boat during part of their cruise and basking sharks and a whale were spotted and that’s no fish tale! Touring the tiny town of Camden as t(w)eenage tourists was a unique and exciting experience for the girls. Shopping, eating out, each getting to sleep on a top bunk, soaking up the sun and salt spray, and hanging out with Danny surely made them miss their mother immensely. I mean, they were quite happy when they returned home. 😉

By the time the spunky sailors arrived home, the little boys were nearly back to full health. Knowing that our homeschool friends were hosting an Ice Cream Social that evening was key to their overall improvement, I’m sure. Despite the unexpected turn of events to our weekend, our mettle was proved, our iron was (hopefully) refined, and the ice cream was delicious.

I had an idea for a post I was going to share which would have been a tribute to being married for 21 years, as well as recount our wonderful time away in Portland and Camden, Maine. I was going to mention how amazing it was to be blessed with better weather than anticipated and how we got to choose when we woke up and where we would eat and what activity we wanted and none of it was dictated by parental duties. I wanted to wax poetic about revisiting our wedding locale, still finding it beautiful and special, and wandering coastal towns with the smell of salt on the breeze and boats of all shapes and sizes coloring the marina in nautical uniqueness. I thought of telling of the hundreds of thousands of steps we walked, up and down uneven brick walkways, in and out of brick buildings, within which were gorgeous paintings, homemade gifts, and one-of-a-kind antiques, purchasing commemorative trinkets from one store and refreshing ice cream from another. I had wanted to describe eating delicious food from hole-in-the-wall restaurants’ patios and chatting about everything and nothing without interruption. I was going to chronicle the growth in our marriage, expressing the ways in which Danny is the better half in this duo and what I’ve learned over the last two decades and a bit. 

However, I feel 1000% confident that you all will find what I am going to share with you instead far more exciting and worthwhile to read. Below is a text exchange I had with Jake while Danny and I were away for a couple of days this past week.

Jake: Umm, another update, there is a snake loose in the house

          Anna put one in her cage thing and it escaped earlier

          So yeah, there’s that

Me:    I’m not coming home until it’s found.

The next day….

Me:    Is there still a snake in my house?

After a phone call with Jake, who said he thought the kids found the snake…

Jake: Nvm, it’s still loose

Me:   Can they see the snake behind the desk? They know for certain that’s where

          it is?

Jake:  That’s where it was yesterday. But it had all night to get….anywhere

         Even…. upstairs…under a bed

You guys. There’s a snake. In my house. I’m not sure how much longer I can live here. I used to be just like you, not ever being able to correlate a memory of an anniversary with a snake. I miss those days. You can be sure this one won’t be forgotten any time soon! 🐍