Moments

An unusual moment of winter coats and gumboots in the middle of December. We ventured out in the rain to jump in puddles. I'm getting to the point where I can hardly tell the difference between my boys if they've got their back to me or if their eyes are hidden. I can't quite believe that last picture of Kian – he's not even two. I was in two minds to put it up here, because whilst I think it's beautiful, it's a reminder that he growing up so fast. Too fast.

A lovely moment at the end of a strenuous week. Mummy, Mummy, please can you take a picture of me with my orange beetroot?

The moment we found a cicada with its glassy, veined wings on our doorstep, followed by several moments of giggling and whispering between two brothers as they discovered its chirping, buzzing sound whenever they gently touched it. It was as fascinating for me as it was for them.

More fleeting moments.

Joining in with Lou here.





Three children

It was winter last week (with thick snow only two hours away!) and it's full-on summer this week. The weather's confused and so are we. I've been back and forth digging out winter clothes that I thought wouldn't have to come out again until next year. Now it looks like I can definitely put them back.

I stay in when it gets to the thirties, otherwise it starts to fry my brain and whatever smidgen of patience and capacity I have for listening to my children just dissipates in the hot sun. I start madly scrambling around looking for a way out and I start to panic.

Panic is what I almost did two weeks ago when it reached 35 degrees. I had promised the boys a trip to the Reptile Park if they sat quietly while I took pictures of the sourdough bakers for my deadline later that day. A promise is a promise. Even if I didn't know how hot it would be. Thick sunscreen and wide-brimmed hats did nothing to stop the panic from creeping in. But something else did.... Sprinklers. I scooped Kian out of the buggy, took my shoes off and told Luca we were going to get wet together. We ran in and out till we dripped. After a quick cuddle with a koala and a pat of the Galapagos tortoise, we were dry again. So we did it again. Kids joined us and parents thought I was a little crazy.

Water saved the day yesterday too, when my long-haired pair were starting to drive me loopy inside the house. I found some shade on the decking, filled their wading pool and gave them empty laundry bottles and straws. They played together for almost two hours, only coming in to ask for chalk to draw on the outside of the house. We kept Sydney wet and she took shelter in the shade of the trampoline. She was too hot and bothered to ask for a walk.

It was blissful for once, listening to running water and the sound of my children giggling without anyone tormenting Sydney and without Sydney nagging me to go out.

That is, until I discovered Kian bent one of my hydrangea flowers and Sydney lopped it off with her tail. Until Luca had a pee in the pool and Kian started to drink it by the bottle. Until Kian decided to feed all his chalk to Sydney. And until they decided to dig up the garden and pour mud all over Sydney's kennel and themselves... When it wasn't bath night.

It's like having three children out there sometimes. Except it's nothing like having three children.

I've found myself wondering lately what that would be like.  Would it tip us over the edge or would it complete the picture?*





* I can wonder all I like. It's still very much a 'no, thank you' from my spearfisherman.

Little moments

Ducks on a windy day

Trains

Flour-tortillas-cum-flaky-flatbreads for lunch

Transforming a side-of-the-road find into a play kitchen with 'dadda'

Swinging at home

Thank God for little moments.





To school or not to school

Proud as punch of his colourful crab – a WilderQuest Discovery activity in
Wyrrabalong National Park

We made the decision a while back that Luca wouldn't be going to school next year. It didn't take us long to decide. In fact, my heart knew in an instant.

I'm really grateful that it was an easy decision.

We want him to have a long childhood. We want him to have more time to play and have fun. There's a lifetime ahead of systems and institutions and rules. I'd rather all that wait for a little while longer. Truth is, I'd rather put it off for as long as possible.

It really was very easy to decide. Especially when I started reading about the Finns and how they've reformed education in their country. Hearing that children don't go to school until they are 7 was music to my ears. Particularly when theirs is such a success story – the country has one of the highest performing school systems in the world.

The Finns are, apparently, fans of the 'less is more' approach. They do extended childhoods. They like simple and they like common sense.

I'm quite a fan of the Finns. Heck, I'd even move to Finland if I didn't think another move round the world would kill me.

Seriously, though, I think it's all very good. Luca turns five next year and he'll be doing pretty much what he's doing now. Two or three days at a preschool that genuinely embraces unstructured, play-based learning and the rest at home.

Trouble is, we're looking ahead to 2014 when he turns 6. We don't know where he'll be going to school. Have I looked into schools properly? Not really.

You see, one of the main reasons for keeping him back is because Luca is a highly sensitive child. (I might do another post on this trait, because I think it could help a lot of parents who might not know they're raising a highly sensitive child.) He wouldn't cope. The world can be a bit too much for Luca most days – and too much for us, as a result! There's the fact he needs a lot of downtime (he still naps). I just know, as his mother, he'd go to pieces in a school playground.

Maybe the reason I haven't started looking at schools is because I don't think the school system, as it stands, is where Luca will thrive. Not in his early years, anyway.

We've been talking about homeschooling. A bit strange, given that I've always ruled us out as a homeschooling family.

Keeping him back was the easy decision. It's knowing what to do after that.

Do I want to homeschool? I don't think I do. But then I'm speaking as someone whose days are filled with endless bickering. Toddlerhood will be past us by then. But I still need quiet on my own every week.

How will I homeschool and work at the same time? I've heard that you only have to do three hours a day when you're teaching children at home. But does that work in practice?

There is a huge homeschooling community here on the Central Coast, which is comforting to know. I know the resources are there, and I know it can be a much richer way of learning.

In fact, from the little information and insights we've gleaned so far, we both agree it would be perfect for Luca.

This is how he'd thrive. This is how he thrives now. He's infinitely curious, questions everything. I fantasise about all the different projects we could do, walks we could take, trips we could go on.

I think about all the gardening he wants to do, and how he could carry on really indulging his creativity and his love of drawing.

But I don't know if I could do it. We know what's best for him, but are we committed enough?

Maybe we'll homeschool till he's seven, and make a decision then.

Or maybe I'll find this elusive small school that I've set up in my head – the one that couldn't care less about results or about homework. The one that doesn't tell parents what they want to hear. The one with a proper fruit and vegetable garden that isn't just there to give parents a warm, fuzzy feeling about where they're sending their kids every day. The one that lets children learn at their own pace. The one that does school three days a week, so I can homeschool and watch him learn the other two.

Have you seen it?

I have no idea what to do. But we have time still.

If you're a parent facing a similar predicament, what are you doing? Have you found a school that fits the one in your head? Or do you homeschool? How do you homeschool and keep sane keep everyone happy? I would love to hear from you.




P.S. Drum roll please... Giveaway winners about to be announced. Congratulations Carly and Joanna!

A secret muddy puddle

The lull is passing.

I packed two changes of clothes. Flannels. Bottles filled with warm water. Two sets of bowls, muffin tins and wooden spoons.

We were off for a walk and heading for the mud.

There are lots of puddles near us. But only one passes the squelch test.

It's become our secret muddy puddle.

Luca was, well, like a pig in mud. Pigs would love this, was the first thing he said. His friend, little piglet, was joining in all the fun. Apparently.

I watched as he made me chocolate cake, chocolate muffins and a chocolate roll.

I expected – and wanted – Kian to do the same. I was prepared, for heaven's sake. I was hoping to watch Kian, especially, wallow about, throw clumps of it at his brother. Have a mud fight. Even play in the watery puddles. Anything.

He took a few steps towards the action. Very steadily. Then turned right around.

There was a moment of stirring, but it was just a moment. And I had to bring the mud over to him.

Yoghurt gets smeared and rubbed in at the table. Dog bowls get played in and poured all over each other. Food under the table gets squished and fondled.

Mud in a field?

Not when Mummy wants me to. And not when she's all prepared like that.

They KNOW. That's what it is.

Sydney got muddier than anyone. She doesn't play the same toddler games.

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