Today’s homeschooling included two piano practice sessions, music theory, reading, writing, reading comp, grammar lessons, art, Newton’s laws of motion (including marble runs and having her draw all this in her custom lab book* from Uncle Steve, who goes to all the conventions and finds all the cool stuff), and a visit to a farm.

So…you’d think that this would have been a great day, right?

Well, it was a day. Last night she didn’t go to bed until 11. I could barely stay awake even through “MOM, I STILL CAN’T SLEEP!” every ten minutes, until she had me so wired I couldn’t go to sleep until somewhere before one. (I had PT at 8 AM today.) Normally I hit academics the hardest on Mondays and Wednesdays, but today my child spent almost all morning in hysterics. Losing part of a Wednesday is tough. We recovered and we did all the academics save math, but I had to cancel all but one of the activities planned. By the end,  I wanted to have a tantrum.**

In any case, Newton managed to rescue things at the end. I had her watch a video about the laws of motion before we started talking about them–lest you think I’m dumping physics on her too early, this is prep for a roller coaster science thing she’s doing tomorrow–and she saw Newton’s picture and said, “Hey, I think I know that guy.” And any time you get to roll exercise balls down the stairs and play with marbles (as opposed to losing them, as I ordinarily do), it’ll work out. Eventually.

As for me, I made minimal progress with Love in the Time of Cholera (I am on page 147 and wish I were reading this in Spanish, because I must be missing something). I managed to write a great deal, and for the third day in a row, I was completely confused about which day of the week it was. (I have been a day ahead since Monday.)

So yay for us. Tomorrow is the craziest day of the week. I suspect I have done enough work with pH and transitions that she handles them better than I do now, because I dread Thursdays.

Friday both pH and I are going to be re-allergy tested (this will be my first time in 15+ years and I am really, really hoping my insurance doesn’t cover the oral challenge for me, because Friday’s plan doesn’t involve calling kH and having him pick us up at the hospital).


As for lessons and planning, I gave up the basic planner for a Leuchtturm Master Notebook, 8.75 x 12.5 Inch. It’s huge; highlighter for scale. Mine is gray, from the Oblation purchase I didn’t get the discount for on my bridge-too-far day (and in fairness, even without the discount, I did pay less than the Amazon price).

I do like it, despite the unwieldiness, because I have magazine files with all the workbooks we use anyway, so it’s not like I’m going to forget a subject. The Leuchtturm gives me the flexibility to record things she says (when my old Nexus 7 tablet was booting and she saw “Google” she asked, “So are they good guys?” and I couldn’t stop laughing, because she knew nothing about Google and the avoidance of evil).

I record the crazy things she does, like sticking suction cups to her forehead, and leaving me to explain what look to the rest of the world like octopus hickeys. I can’t wait to explain it at swim class! I record moods and where and when and why she is fighting me. You know, like today. About everything.

*WITH A VELOCIRAPTOR EMBROIDERED ON THE COVER! Just typing that makes me feel a little better about the world. And the wonderfulness of non-blood relatives who do so much to make up for our crappy blood relatives.

**It was so bad kH intervened. He doesn’t normally, and our philosophy is one parent shouldn’t intervene for the other (to avoid splitting), but he asked and I said, “Be my guest.” After a long, quiet conversation, she pulled herself together and we did a fair amount of work in a short amount of time with almost no complaining…until later, when she had a tantrum at the farm regarding leaving. “I’ll never see those dogs again!” she wailed. “You will see them NEXT WEEK,” I said. (Because our other fabulous non-blood relatives are having us pick up their CSA share while they are off on sabbatical/vacation, and this involves going to the farm. It is so bucolic I almost want to read Jefferson and become a yeoman farmer–and I hate Jefferson.)

By the way, I have subsequently been made to understand that “seven days” and “forever” mean the same thing to a seven-year old.