True Nature Meme

My true nature?

Doing a meme, explained below, I found this sentence, that supposedly tells me what is my true nature:

"She is a teacher - a really, really great teacher - and I am a radical unschooler, but we can still communicate deeply and honestly, even about learning."

It's from this post, about my sister.

Not bad - I do frequently find common ground with folks. I do like to communicate deeply and honestly. And I'm a radically unschooling mom, that's part of my true nature now.

Here's the meme, which I found at Ronnie's blog:


1. Delve into your blog archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.


Not Back to School

Just a small note to say, I am SO SO glad we're unschoolers, and the boys aren't going "back to school" today.


I've been wanting to say that all day, and I didn't want to post on my facebook wall because many of my friends either teach or have kids in school. I know it's MY wall, but if you're my friend, I've invited you there, basically, and I don't need to be all in-your-face about how awesome it is that Seth's found unschoolers to game with on XBox Live, and Evan is sleeping in, and we're all home, together, and there won't be homework battles or getting-up-early battles, or long bus rides. I won't mention how cool it is that my kids can pee when they need to (without having to ask permission), get food when they want it, chew gum as much as they want, rest when they need to, read or watch TV or play games or cuddle or talk or daydream as they wish. On another day, besides back-to-school day, I may very well post some of that stuff.

But today, I'll just post it here.

Phew. (again) So grateful.


A Note to a Bowl

Dear Little Plastic Bowl,

Just a note to let you know, I have decided you are fine as you are.

Yes, you are stained, and yes I *could* clean you until you were discolored no more. I briefly considered scrubbing you with a Brillo pad, and leaving you to soak with bleach so you would be free of that red-orange hue.

Ah, but bowl, I have come up against my perfectionist tendencies before, and I know the crazy, Windex-streaked path that can lead down.

So, for today, I will let you be.

You still function perfectly well; you are everything a bowl needs to be - round, deep, the perfect size to hold soup and, apparently, Beefaroni. (Or maybe that's spaghetti leftovers.) You are one of the boys' favorites, and I'm sure you'll be with us for quite a while. You do not need to be perfectly clear to be well-loved. Your colorful sides will serve to remind us of meals happily eaten. And, if you were clear, you would be but one of a million bowls in homes and Wal-Mart Target department stores everywhere. But you, you are our bowl, and you are perfectly fine.

I know myself, and I would spend upwards of a half hour ridding you of every! last! spot! no matter what it took! to the exclusion of all else, while the rest of the dishes sat undone, dishwater growing cold, with me, irritated at interruptions to my single-minded quest. Instead, I'm doing the rest of the dishes, putting you all away cozy in your cabinets, and spending time with my guys.

I know you'll grow to appreciate your new/old look.


p.s. Tell your friend, the copper-bottomed pot, that our appointment with the Bon-Ami is canceled.