Skipping School
This blog has rapidly become my number one source for homeschooling inspiration. It’s written by a girl named Kate who was unschooled, along with her brothers, for all her growing up years. She is passionate, opinionated, and articulate about unschooling, and she pulls it all off with a gracious maturity that far exceeds her twenty-odd years.

But then, I’d expect no less, seeing as she’s homeschooled and all.

Just KIDDING!

Seriously, it’s rare, too rare, that we get to hear homeschooled kids-grown-up reflect on their experiences. Her candor and insights are refreshing.

Whirley Popped Popcorn
I don’t have one.

I want one.

I’ve been scouring the thrift stores (or rather, thrift STORE, because I only go to one) and telling every other thrifter I know to keep their eyes peeled for the innocent looking pot that makes such fabulous popcorn.

I used to always make my popcorn in a stove-top kettle, but then my popcorn popping skeelz took a turn for the worse and I had to give it up and go with the tasteless, dry variety (but at least it’s not burned) that you get from an air popper.

We borrowed my friend’s whirley popper for the family reunion and I spent a good 45 minutes communing with the little contraption while I turned out batch after batch of the crispy kernels. Now the guests are gone but, despite having washed it clean and set it aside to tote back into town, we have yet to return the popper. And somehow, every night it makes it’s way back to the top of the stove.

Do you think my friend would notice if we returned an air popper instead of the whirley popper?

Our water pressure
For five years we’ve had horrible water pressure. It would trickle so slowly that we could wash stacks of dishes without the sink ever filling up, and it would take entire minutes before the hot water would start to run.

Then this passed weekend my uncle went out to the well with my husband, jiggled some gauges and knobbies, chanted a few incantations (walawalawalaBAM), and now the water thunders out of the faucets. It’s glorious.

This post on homeschooling
It’s the exact opposite of Skipping School, but still, I loved this post. Ann thoughtfully and carefully speaks about her family’s decision to homeschool. She is so NOT bumbly and loud and sarcastic like Yours Truly. People like her are easier to listen to than people like me.

This little nook
The kids spend hours here.

It is one of the smartest decorating choices I have every made.

Ted.com
I’m sure you’re all familiar with this never ending selection of mini-seminars that cover such a wide-range of topics. It’s a great source of entertainment for the bored or curious and an excellent resource for the homeschooling family.

Yesterday we watched one about a National Geographic photographer (and, qué sorpresa!, it actually overlapped with a National Geographic movie we had watched earlier in the day). (It was a rainy day and rainy days warrant excessive National Geographic screen time.)

Another fun talk we watched awhile back was about a guy who tried to make a toaster from scratch—as in, he had to go out and dig up the ingredients to make the plastic. And so on.

Making cookies on a rainy afternoon

I had my oldest son mix up the dough and then we ate them fresh from the oven with cold milk.

My daughter’s quotes

Here’s one: “When we were riding down the road we passed some goats and sheep and they were all having a little church service.”

If you are at all familiar with Biblical references or this book, you’ll get the humor (not that she got the humor).

Read Alouds

I’ve been reading a book to the kids called Remarkable Children by Dennis Brindell Fradin. Each chapter is dedicated to a young person who did something incredible, be it a discovery or an intellectual or physical feat. Some of the young people are Shirley Temple, Anne Frank, Zerah Colburn, Mozart, Hilda Conkling, and Cassius Clay. It’s inspiring. And I find it intriguing that many of the great kids turned into more-than-normal adults. Something to ponder, no?

I’m also reading The Hiding Place to the older two children. It’s such an incredible book and I look forward extra much to our night-time reading. But, at the same time that I’m loving it, I’m also feeling all heavy and sad because I am choosing to teach them about the horrible side of humanity. It is a weighty thing, this ending of their innocence.

Of course, they already know about a lot of unpleasant stuff (rape, eating disorders, poachers, suicide, the ozone, etc), but the horribleness of the Holocaust is on such a monstrous level that it leaves us reeling. The children are shocked, I think. And indignant, too.

When I was reading about Anne Frank in that first book I mentioned, the one about remarkable children, I sobbed my way through it. I cry a lot more when I read to the kids now than I used to. I think it’s because I’m finally reading stories that really hurt.

So to sum up, when my kids grow up they’ll remember our nighttime readings as one big ol’ sobfest. Boo-hoo.

Leftover donuts
We had two bags left over and every afternoon I faithfully trot down to the basement to fetch a donut to go with my afternoon coffee. After 20 seconds in the microwave, it is almost as good as fresh.

While we normally dig into the donuts while they are still hot, many of the adults (not the kids, though—the kids were like sticky-fingered vultures) waited for their salad to settle before indulging.

We all agreed that the donuts are best eaten fresh, as in within first hour after frying, but after—and this is key—they’ve had a chance to cool completely.

When the donuts have had a chance to set up there isn’t need to wildly contort your face while you wonder whether or not they are under-done or just very squishy soft, and the glaze hardens up into a thin shell that shatters with each bite….

Oh my. I do love me some good donuts.

My son getting weepy over his piano lessons

Not because he hates to practice, but because the melody for the new song he is learning is so hauntingly beautiful that it moves him to tears. So sweet.

Mud Babies

It’s been ducky around here lately and my kids have sprouted webs between their toes to go with the weather.

They splash and slip.

Mud oozes between fingers and toes.

Then mud balls get thrown and kids start to beller and I call it quits and loudly issue a proclamation that NO ONE MAY GO NEAR THE MUD HOLE FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.

And then they all come inside to get baths before lunch, but even after showers and hair washes, I still find mud in their ears and clinging to their hair.

Tis the season…

This same time, years previous: Garden tales, part two, talking points rained out, cinnamon tea biscuits

The first meal I served for our family reunion was the golden chicken curry that I’ve already told you about. I figured it would be a fast, nourishing, one-pot meal, something that the kids would like and that could be kept warm on the stove so people could eat whenever they ended up arriving. I made a double batch of the curry and then two kinds of rice: three cups of white rice cooked on the stove top and three cups of brown rice baked in the oven.

It was the first time I had ever baked rice like that and I wasn’t too sure it would turn out right. But I only have one kettle that does a good job cooking rice, and Cousin Zoe had said that it tasted really good, so I decided to go ahead and risk our dinner for the sake of convenience.

Which in retrospect is a really silly thing to say because that pan of brown rice made the best brown rice I’d ever eaten, I do declare, do I.

Each grain of rice was light and fluffy, nutty and toothsome, with not a trace of mushy gummy-ness to be found anywhere. I was thrilled.

Apparently everyone else was too, because it got eaten right up, at the same speed as the white rice. And then I had to make another pot of rice (white this time, for convenience and speed) because more guests were due to arrive and we had nary a grain of cooked rice left in the house.

The downside of this recipe is the extended hot oven time, but that could be a good thing, if, say, it’s winter and your house is on the chilly side and you’re looking for a good excuse to crank up the oven. Or, perhaps you’re baking an accompanying side dish anyway and it makes perfect sense to bake the rice alongside. Or, and this will put you in league of Amazing Kitchen Goddess, you bake this any time you are baking something else, be it baked oatmeal or spinach quiche or rhubarb cream pie, even though you’re not planning to eat rice right at that very exact moment—just stick it in the fridge after it has cooled and smile like an imp because you are so dang smart.

Baked Brown Rice
From my Cousin Zoe’s blog Whole Eats and Whole Treats

The chicken broth is optional but it does add such a lovely flavor, not to mention a nutritional boost.

3 cups brown rice
5 cups chicken broth or water, or a mixture
2-4 teaspoons butter
2-3 teaspoons salt

Combine everything and pour into a 9 x 13 glass baking dish. Cover tightly with foil and bake at 350 degrees for 1 ½ hours.

This same time, years previous: strawberry spinach salad, garden tales, part one, raspberry-mint tea, lemon-rhubarb chicken

I slapped out a quick post on Friday afternoon but then never got around to posting it. It’s mostly irrelevant now but there is one paragraph I’ll share:

The house is mostly ready. The food is mostly made. In two days, this family gathering that I’ve been planning and preparing for over the last couple months will be over. It always amazes me how much time and work gets poured into an event that is so quickly over.

And now it’s over. The guests have all traveled back to their respective homes, last night—right before I climbed into bed with a toddy of hot chocolate laced with Bailey’s and topped with a marshmallow (thanks, Honey)—there was a flurry of emails with video and picture attachments, and now, this morning, I have a load of towels in the washing machine.

Mostly I am peacefully happy, thrilled to have a fridge filled with leftovers and relieved to get back to my regular routine, but there are twinges of sadness, too. Because late Saturday afternoon I was hit with the realization that I don’t think I’ve had that this much fun in months and months and months. Surrounded by the hubbub of family eating, arguing, talking, playing, singing—in my home—well really, can an experience be any richer?

After such abundance, I can’t help but feel a little forlorn.

It’s always interesting to see how a family grows. It felt like things went in pairs this year.

For starters, there were two pregnant bellies. (Keep your eyes open and see if you can spot them in the pictures.)

There were two year-and-a-half-old baby boys who toddled around everywhere. At one point my son said to me, his voice heavy with longing, “I wish we always had a baby in our house.”

The two little girl cousins were inseparable and absolutely adorable.

But the newest addition to our family were my cousin’s two teenage Haitian step-children. A year after the earthquake their paperwork finally went through and they arrived in the states three months ago. They don’t speak much English, but it was clear to everyone that they are real sweeties—fun-loving, good with kids, and eager to try new things.

So, you all wonder, how did we pass our time together? Oh, let me count the ways!

But before I continue, can I just say, THE WEATHER WAS AMAZING. You know that horrible forecast I was moaning about? The forecast continued to be horrible, calling for lots of dark clouds that would surely dump lots of water on us for most of the weekend. But—get this—it didn’t rain! There was a shower right before everyone showed, a sprinkle during the night on Saturday, and then a blustery storm as everyone was heading out the door, and that. was. it. I was so thrilled with the turn of events that I got anxious when we weren’t sitting outside enjoying the not-rainy weather. (Moral of the story: I get anxious regardless.)

And one more thing: with all the commotion, it’s kind of odd that I would so miss the ones who weren’t able to make it—my uncle’s family, my brother, some cousins—but I did. My brother’s emails and blog posts got shouted out to the group, we all whooped and hollered our encouragements when Kate tried to get her husband to drive down after his track meet (she failed), and there were emails sent to a cousin who just arrived in Alaska.

Number One Way How We Passed Our Time Together: Conversation

We talked.

And talked and talked.

And talked and talked and talked.

We talked about health insurance. We debated the merits of cremation versus burial. We processed the recent suicide of my aunt’s niece. We talked about how we deal with conflict in our marriages. We listened as my mom’s youngest brother reminisced about watching his older sisters come home wearing the forbidden short skirts and his mother, my grandmother, crying after they left the house. My aunt retold the story of her stillbirth; the boy would be 18 this summer.

Number Two Way How We Passed Our Time Together: Foam Finger Rockets

A friend loaned them to us for the occasion and they were the hit of the show. These little buggers made for some serious class-A fun.

Here, take a look at this series of shots.

My daughter sneaks onto the opposing team’s side and snatches up a pile of rockets at the same time that her cousin takes aim.

My daughter takes off running as fast as she can in the little white dress shoes that she insists on wearing.

Her cousin lets fly and nails her in the shoulder.

Defeated, my daughter tosses the booty and retreats.

The kids played with the rockets constantly, and adults couldn’t resist them either. Even I kicked off my flip-flops and ran shrieking around the yard (it wasn’t till afterwards that I discovered my belly was peppered with welts).

Here’s John, always on the defensive.

He still got walloped.

When Nickel was guardian of the rockets, he hauled them all under the deck where he could keep a better lookout.

Smart kid.

But then the other team got frustrated and made him take them out in the open.

There were pile-ups, tears, victorious celebrations, and intense conferences.

We never even got around to pulling out the board games.

The Number Three Way How We Passed Our Time Together: Eating

Thanks to a bunch of prep work and a ton of assistance from my mother and brother and sister-in-law, we hardly cooked at all during the weekend and yet still managed to eat like kings.

There were… .

…flaming burgers

…and donuts

…and green smoothies

…and giant salads

…and three kinds of homemade ice cream.

I love it that my family possesses some kick-butt appetites and a willingness to eat anything and everything with gusto and loud appreciation. Feeding them was such a pleasure.

The Number Four Way How We Passed Our Time Together: Singing

We spent Saturday evening sitting around a bonfire at my brother’s house, telling stories, eating s’mores, and singing songs. My Haitian cousin sang a song in French and it was beautiful.

Sunday morning we sat around and sang hymns.

In between the group harmony crooning sessions, guitars strummed and the piano plink-plunked.

The Number Five Way How We Passed Our Time Together: Walks

Saturday morning, some of us walked the three miles to my parents’ new property, and Sunday morning there was another three-mile walk and some bike riding.

On one of the walks, The Baby Nickel pulled a large bouquet of ditch-side weeds out by the roots, and, in his eager haste to deliver them to me, tripped over his pregnant aunty’s foot and face-planted on the asphalt. (A later fall, one I did not witness, left him all bunged up on his torso, and last night when he came downstairs after being tucked into bed, because he was bleeding in bed—he’d picked a scab—and needed a bandaid, my exasperated husband declared that from henceforth, he has a new middle name: Bandaids.)

The Number Six Way How We Passed Our Time Together: Making Art

My crafty cousin brought down a big box of art supplies and set up shop.

It was supposed to be for adults, and adults did linger there, but Miss Beccaboo was totally entranced with a microwave flower drying thingy. I know this because she kept pushing a stool over to the microwave and getting in my way.

The Number Seven Way How We Passed Our Time Together: Other Things

*My dad hilled the potatoes and weeded the onions.

*Mountains of dishes got washed.

*Little cousins got toted.

*Sewing lessons were given and taken.

*And many, many pictures were taken (as if you can’t tell by this photo-filled post).

Back to those group emails that got volleyed around last night: at the end of one of them my aunt wrote, “If I haven’t told you lately, I love you all very much.”

My feelings exactly.

P.S. I just realized that my cousin, otherwise known as Paparazzi Zoe, posted the entire menu with links! (And with a picture of me closely resembling a horse in full whinny.)