THANKSGIVING THOUGHTS, OR HOMESCHOOLING THROUGH THE HOT FLASHES
I happen to be writing this on my birthday. I am reminded that I am getting older. We are all getting older. I don't feel like I'm getting older most of the time. The routine of my life hasn't changed much in the last twenty years. I still wake every day and organize the household for a day of homeschool.
But once in a while, I feel like I'm getting older. I woke up the other day and my left thumb felt like I'd sprained it. How? Why? But I had the recent realization that Other People think I'm old. I fell recently. Twice.
Don't be worried.
I don't have an inner ear imbalance or anything. The first time I was on ice skates. So that doesn't count, 'cause if you're not Kristi Yamaguchi, you're kinda asking for it when you put on ice skates.
But the second time.
It was just me, in stupid, painful high-heeled booties, walking across a polished tile floor in a restaurant slipping in front of all the guests and waitstaff. I've fallen in public before, accompanied by supreme embarrassment, but what made this incident different was the look on people's faces and the swiftness with which FIVE people exclaimed “Are you all right?” with a very concerned look on their faces and hands outstretched to help me up.
True, some of it maybe could be written off as restaurant staff afraid of being sued, but not all of it. Some of those people truly think I'm old and had genuine concern for my “brittle bones.” But I'm not old yet.
A few Sundays ago, when I went to pick up my youngest after Sunday School, a small girl in his class shouted, “Soren, your grandma's here!” But I don't blame her. She's young and I do have grey hair. That's what I get for having my last “bundle of joy” at the age of 43. When adults have a questioning look in their eyes, not knowing if I'm mom or grandma, that's another matter. I'm not old enough yet, I think in response.
It's a weird stage to be in...
having young adults making their way in the world AND still homeschooling elementary. I feel the pull of old-people interests (I suddenly find the game of golf fascinating, for example), but I'm not old yet. I still get up every day and organize the household for a day of homeschool. Phonics still has to be covered, reading, multiplication, nature study, grammar, and copious amounts of read-aloud. So I can't be old yet.
So for now, I'm persevering. I'm parenting through peri-menopause. I'm homeschooling through the hot flashes. I still have my life's work ahead of me and it won't do to slow down or give up yet. Granted, I do things a little differently than when my olders were starting homeschool, maybe a little slower in some ways. But that's due to a philosophical shift rather than a physical or mental one.
What hasn't shifted is the belief that this is the right thing for our family.
This is my life's work, the greatest work, the highest calling. This is my MAGNUM OPUS. This is what I LOVE to do. This is where I love to be. On ALL the days, not just the good days.
And I'm so thankful. Thankful for my five “bundles of joy” (yes, even the last one born when I was 43.) Thankful for spending all day with them every day (while it lasts.) Thankful for a business where I get to buy books, READ books, sell books, rearrange books, deliver books, and even, occasionally, smell new books.
Sure, I slip on the ice once in a while (what was I expecting if I tried that anyway?) I slip on the tiles once in a while, too. But it doesn't bother me like it used to. I don't feel an overwhelming embarrassment or shame that makes me want to sink into the earth like Rumpelstiltskin did. I just acknowledge the concern of other homeschool moms, take one of the hands extended to me, and GET BACK UP.
And I know I will continue to get older.
But I'll not get old.
At least not today.
Not this year, or next year either.
Every birthday, every day, is a gift, and I look forward to many more days, many more years, of extending my hand.