Not trying to alienate my non-homeschooling friends, but I get asked this question a lot. Plus, it’s an easy post to answer, as all I have to do is copy and paste the question from my email box and the answer from my desktop schedule. I only mentioned that I homeschooled for the first time last month (I believe), and now I’m out of control with the homeschooling posts. (How many times can I say it? Homeschool. Homeschool. Homeschool.) It’s one of the things everyone just assumed about me—kind of like the cloth diaper thing.

I’ve never contacted you or left a comment, but I was just curious about your last blog about purchasing new homeschooling books. I will be starting to homeschool my 3 children this fall, after a couple of years in public school. (My oldest son will be in gr. 4 this fall, my daughter will be going into gr. 2 and youngest little guy starting Kindergarten) I was just wondering which books you did purchase. There is so much choice out there. I’ve looked up the websites and find it tough when you don’t get to see the product. Anyway, I’m getting long winded (lol), but if you have a chance, could you please let me know which ones you’d recommend or have heard others recommend. I truly appreciate it. Thanks again for your honesty and humour on your blog. God richly bless you and your family.

Natasha
Calgary, Alberta, Canada

Third Grade

Math: MCP (Book C)

Reading & Grammar: Pathway Readers and worktexts, Chapter Books

Vocabulary: Wordly Wise 3000 B

Spelling: Spelling Workout C

First/ Second Grade

Math: MCP (Book B)

Reading & Grammar: Pathway Readers and worktexts, Chapter Books

Vocabulary: Wordly Wise 3000 A

Spelling: Spelling Workout B

Kindergarten

Phonics: MCP. Level A and Bob Books

Math: Bob Jones, K5

Other stuff laying around:

Art: How to Draw

Science: God’s Design for Life series, Electricity kit, stuff with my husband

History: From Sea to Shining Sea, History Stories for Children, Your Story Hour CD’s, etc., etc., etc.

Logic: Critical Thinking Books

These aren’t the best choices out there necessarily. Just the best choices for our family at the moment. (I think. I hope.) I don’t buy teacher guides, so what we do might look very different from anyone else who uses the same material. I’m sure others will have lots and lots of advice for you. (1-2-3–Brace yourself.) Get your non-consumable texts used, so you don’t feel so bad when you ditch it in the middle of the year. Or in the middle of the first week.

Just another thought— do what it takes to enjoy your first year. Your kids won’t turn ADD if you don’t do Spelling for a year. Organize the day so that there is plenty of time for Bible and devotions in the evening with your husband. Everything else is just fluff.

OK. I’m almost done with the homeschool, homeschool, homeschool stuff. I have some books on the subject to review soon, and some free ones for a few lucky providentially chosen readers too! I can tell you can hardly wait.

(I’m working my way through the email on blueberries, birth control, and babies slowly. Be patient. I have a house to run and all.) That’s it for now.

The blah, blah, blah, blahhhhh curriculum post has now ended. Everyone say, “Amen.”

p.s. I sold my cloth diapers on Ebay when we bought a two-story house.

This salsa was a hit at a recent Memorial Day party. My tomatoes are still producing, even with the 90 degree weather. It’s because they’re in part shade, I think. I will begin another batch this summer in the filtered shade and see what happens.

Salsa for onion averters
Several tomatoes diced (ditch the larger clumps of seeds)
As much fresh garlic as you can handle, minced
Green chilies (fresh, but canned if you must)
Green onions
Dash of lime juice
Large batch of cilantro
Little salt and pepper
Some ground cumin to taste
Extra virgin olive oil

Process some of it if you like it runny. Let it chill several hours before serving to blend flavors.

Like sandwiches, salsa is a very personal thing. I don’t like raw onions, but I found that green onions are a good substitute. I don’t believe I’m missing any good thing from this recipe.

Just a side question— Why do all the men hang around the grill when there’s only one set of tongs? If it weren’t for the chip bowl, they’d never come inside. I’m just asking.

Last week I had one of those days that began with the kids waking up too early. Carpet installers were scheduled to arrive early that morning, but the kids still got up several hours beforehand. (What does the government have in common with our family room carpet? Right, they’re both federal disasters.) As if on cue, my fourth child begins throwing up. (Yes, the day of the new carpet.) Oh, and I broke another toe too. At precisely 8 a.m., the doorbell rang, the baby’s diaper leaked everywhere, and the toddler threw up for the third time (on my broken toe) and me. If there was a boiling pot on the stove, I’m sure that would’ve boiled over too. Thankfully, I wasn’t efficient enough to have breakfast started.

In A Lamp For My Feet, Elisabeth Elliot writes, If a man or woman honestly wishes to be a follower, the opportunity will present itself. Christ will say, “Here is your chance. Now, in this situation, you must make your choice. Will it be self? Or will you choose Me?”

An older missionary said something to Amy Carmichael when she was a young missionary that stayed with her for life. She had spoken of something which was not to her liking. His reply was, “See in it a chance to die.”

I read these words that afternoon when the house mercifully quieted down. Sometimes I imagine that only missionaries have great work to do for God, but each one of us have the chance to die, to trade our lives for His.

I had the occasion to relearn this in the quiet of my home one day last week. The reason, of course, is that I didn’t dare leave the house with the way things were turning out. I just knew the keys would’ve been locked in the van too.

When I mentioned that our family talked with a blueberry farmer when we went picking, several of you asked what we learned. Most of our questions centered on the economic aspects of the business, and since our new farming friend was chatty, we learned about everything else in between as well.

The first thing that struck me when we pulled up was that all the blueberry bushes were in pots. Yes, pots! This made for easy picking, as you didn’t have to bend down to get the lower berries. Since blueberries need acidic soil, pots make it easier to control growing conditions. I’ve since learned from my reading on the subject that oak leaves and pine needles are great organic ways to increase the soil acidity, which is good, because those are free and available materials in our own yard.

I would imagine that pots would make for easier weeding as well. I had a distant cousin who grew blueberries in west Florida, but she mowed them down because of the weeds. They were just too much to maintain. I noticed that the weeds were prolific on this farm as well.

As a side note, I wonder if U-pick operations haven’t tried some kind of method where pickers get to subtract the number of weeds they pull from the pounds that they pick. In other words, if I picked 10 pounds of berries and 3 pounds of weeds, then I would only pay for 7 pounds of berries. Just thinking aloud, as you’d probably have to adjust the ratios accordingly to make it profitable for the farmer and worthwhile to the picker.

We learned a few particulars about growing blueberries in Florida. I checked out a book on growing blueberries “in the south,” and it didn’t seem to square up with what we learned during our discussion. I’m inclined to believe the farmer, as we were eating blueberries while discussing them. The thing is, nothing I can tell you —save a bit about blueberries needing well-drained, acidic, organic soil— will help you grow blueberries where you live. Each climate is different; therefore, the culturing is not the same.

Next spring, we hope to get to a little place that grows blackberries. (The closest “farms” are two hours away, and the growing season is over this year.) I’m sure blackberries grow wild wherever you live, but in Florida, only the spring breakers are wild. Everything else is work.

Our new friend explained that growing food is more of an art than a science. You just have to try it, tweaking as you go. I agree with this, as even in neighborhoods, each yard has its own unique micro-culture. The neighbor across the street from me has better shade, and so his impatiens don’t need near the coddling as I do to mine.

At the nice little place we picked, regular blueberries were $3/ pound and organic blueberries were $5/ pound. The education, of course, was worth more than that.

During our trip across the state last month, we found someone growing peaches successfully. Unfortunately (or fortunate for them), they didn’t have time to school me on the subject, as they were catching a plane. The University of Florida and my local extension sites have been helpful, though, and I hope to have a plan etched out by fall. I’ve put a lot of time into research, and I hope it will be profitable.

Our family eats such a large amount of produce that it just doesn’t make sense to not try to produce some of it ourselves. I don’t understand other moms who complain about their children not eating; we should be so lucky.

So, I was cultivating an area that I planted with squash and noticed a strange vine growing among the squash vines. Maybe you remember my watermelon story? Only this time, I know that I have another wild pumpkin vine on the loose. I need to pull it or move it, I think, as the flowers could cross-pollinate and produce cherries or something. There is also another “something” growing there, and I’m hoping this time it’s a fruit salad bush. After all, I did plant squash.

Since I’m trying to create more healthy menus little by little, I decided to go for broke and add a large amount of raw spinach to my morning smoothie. I’m convinced that a Vitamix would’ve made it more palatable, but my husband still isn’t convinced that the Vitamix is more than just an overpriced blender. Any opinions on the matter?

My husband doesn’t realize that I was still listening when I left his class to tend the baby. Sometimes I will watch (or listen as the case may be) when he doesn’t know, and like watching sleeping children, it is a good thing to do. As I was listening to him teach, he said something that caught my attention: We are saved by grace, but so often we live by works. When really, we ought to live by His grace as well.

He was speaking last week on “Perseverance of the Saints,” and I was glad to be reminded of God’s hand in bringing His saints to the end. We will see Him one day, and it will be of His own good grace. This thought came to mind as I read this:

I am a 28-year-old homemaker that gets easily overwhelmed, depressed, and/or lazy pretty easily. I have a 4½-year-old son and a 1-year-old daughter. I have been married to my high school sweetheart for 8 years.

I read about becoming a hard worker in the home, raising many children, homeschooling, learning the art of homemaking (skills to employ in the home) and hospitality and I want to sink in my chair and take a nap. I read and read and take in a ton of info but rarely put it into practice. I have a college degree and yet I feel so incapable or at least just lazy with my home life… Do you have any idea what can help me?

Another nap.

What does God’s grace have to do with the small dailyness of life? Everything, really. There are many tips and tricks for motivating ourselves to get the job done: laying out clothes the night before, wearing shoes in the house (I don’t know why this helps me…), making lists, and creating some routine so that the children have a sense for “what’s next.” Women of the “old school” seem to have a better propensity to get things done, as opposed to our generation who grew up on a steady TV diet that encouraged us to, “Have it your way.”

Doing what we ought is a simple thing, really, yet it falls in the category of “easier said than done.” Motivation is difficult sometimes. Life is filled with choices and we choose that which we most want to do. Shall I fold the laundry while reading to the toddler and bouncing Baby Cakes or shall I turn on a video for the kids and take a nap? Hard choices. I know this because I don’t always choose what I ought.

But back to grace. So often women will use these common things as a measure of our spiritual conditions. If my girls don matching bonnets while they recite their catechism in between bites of homemade bread, then I must be doing a good job. When really, Jesus tells us there is another measure entirely in Matthew 22:36-38: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment.”

If we love Him, we will obey Him. This might work itself out in the things you describe. But the first question is this, “How can I love Him more?” Every glass of juice poured is a chance to do it for Him. There is no greater motivator in daily, common life than loving Christ more.

There are moments of clarity in life, and sometimes I get a few. For instance, when I was a kid, I distinctly remember the moment that someone informed me that “quarter past the hour” meant that it was 15 minutes past. Up until then, I’d always thought “quarter past” meant that it was 25 minutes past, since a quarter is worth $0.25. It is easier for me to use a childhood example, of course.

My son had one of these moments of clarity a few years ago during a discussion of time and calendars. He noted, “Hey…[long pause], I was born on my birthday!?!” Whenever anyone has a Eureka! moment here, we in the Scott household will mention my son’s famous tagline.

Speaking of birthdays, we just celebrated another one this week. Everyone is on even ages now (0, 2, 4, 6, 8), which makes it easier to articulate if people ask. So in honor of the occasion, I purchased a pre-made birthday cake. (Trust me, it’s right there in Proverbs 32.)

I don’t know what got into me, spending that kind of money on that kind of stuff. In years past, the cakes have been homemade: simple sprinkles, a baseball cake, pink cakes, flag cakes, and a space shuttle cake. My husband made the space shuttle cake with candles firing out the back, as he doesn’t trust my engineering skills on anything space related. The thing about these cakes is that they always get eaten; there are no leftovers because I use cool whip as the frosting.

Professional bakers don’t use cool whip, and so there are expensive cake leftovers sitting in my refrigerator. Even the plastic toy on top broke already. There are moments of clarity in life, and this is one of them. I won’t feel guilty serving economical, unprofessional looking cakes anymore. At least people (who were born on their birthdays) eat them.

During the quiet hour in our house today, I listened to this message by evangelist Voddie Baucham. All I can think to say is, I can’t believe he got away with it. If you are pressed for time, at least listen from 25 minutes until the end. He speaks on the state of the Church and how to close the generation gap.

Citing the current American birthrate of 1.9 children per family, he tells a group of Southern Baptists pastors: The French birthrate of 1.5 children per family, for example, is not only below the replacement rate, it is overshadowed by Muslim immigrants, who average six children per family. “Which means in two generations France will be a Muslim nation by sheer numbers alone,” Baucham said. “Why? Because they want prosperity more than they want children. And it’s the same for us.”

Further on, he states that the unwritten rule among Southern Baptists and others is two children per family: “We despise children in the Southern Baptist Convention. You don’t believe me? Find a woman who has six or seven children and follow her into a Southern Baptist church and watch the way we mock her. Watch the way people who don’t even know her come up to her and say, ‘Haven’t you guys figured out how that happens yet?’”

I especially appreciated his take on the Biblical qualifications of an elder, particularly being addicted to wine and ruling one’s household: “We’ve taken one quality and raised it, and the other quality and lowered it…” He calls us to repent and adopt a Biblical view of children, youth ministry, and church leadership.

Today my husband receives the third degree. No, I’m not nagging him again; he just graduates today with his third degree. Congratulations, Greg!

In honor of Father’s Day and all the men who won’t admit they read this site, I’m giving away a great book, Help! I’m Married to a Homeschooling Mom, courtesy of Familyman Ministries. I heard author Todd Wilson at the FPEA convention last month and enjoyed his seminar. The book is nice and thin, encouraging, and packed with funny cartoons. Guys will love it.

Here’s how it’s done: The drawing will be random on Saturday, June 17th. You can enter by email, comment, or link. You will be entered twice if you link, say something insightful, or otherwise do something else noteworthy. That’s it!

….Bill!

If you didn’t win, you can still pick up a copy here. It just won’t be free.

I like pizza. I especially enjoy it when my husband saves “one of those” days with a box in his hand when he comes home in the evening. I also enjoy making it from scratch in just the perfect way: with sauce, mozzerella, pepperoni, lots of feta, a little garlic, and fresh chopped tomatoes and basil—in that order. These are the best pizza toppings by far; generic supreme pizzas have no imagination.

Except for pizza with large amounts of onions (and anchovies, of course), it’s true that I enjoy eating pizza. Generally. A generalizaion is “the formulation of general concepts from specific instances by abstracting common properties.” (Wiktionary) Probably 99.99% of the times I’ve eaten pizza, I’ve enjoyed it. I’m not even picky: thin crust, thick crust, New York style, or greasy pizza joint style. It doesn’t matter. It’s all good.

It is true that I like pizza, but not necessarily in every instance. That is to say, of course there are exceptions. For example, one time in Hong Kong, I encountered a language barrier with a waitress at Pizza Hut, and she served me cheese pizza with Thousand Island dressing as the sauce. I clutched my throat and made gagging gestures, and so she replaced the pizza, this time with tomato sauce.

It is impossible to say everything all the time or else you end up saying nothing. Now, there is such thing as a “hasty generalization,” which is “the fallacy of examining just one or very few examples or studying a single case, and generalizing that to be representative of the whole class of objects or phenomena.” (Wikipedia) And then there is the “overwhelming exception.” This is related to the hasty generalization, but working from the other end. Again, from Wikipedia:

It is a generalization which is accurate, but tags on a qualification which eliminates enough cases (as exceptions); that what remains is much less impressive than what the original statement might have led one to assume.

It can get crazy. It’s just easier to say that I like pizza, than it is to qualify every instance that I wouldn’t enjoy pizza. It could really get ridiculous if one wanted to get technical. I’d have to note that I don’t like pizza topped with ice cream, kale juice, and any other weird food group. But really, who does? Probably some guy in Zimbobwa.

All this to say, all our words ought to be God-honoring, and to that end, the fewer that I say, the less chances I have to sin. You can’t say everything all the time, and so a generalization or two, whose mileage may vary, might be in order sometimes. For instance, I like pizza.

The Scott family scores again. Another church dinner produces an ample supply of leftovers for the freezer. I estimate there’s about 10 pounds of macaroni and cheese with ham here. I love our church family. (Especially when they overestimate.) We’re glad to know, love, and be loved by our friends.

When my husband and I married, we began the habit of sitting down together for meals. As soon as the children arrived, the temptation arose to do what was expedient at the dinner table instead of what was better (separate meal times, not sitting down together, etc.). Sometimes it’s crazy. But we’ve pressed on, and every evening, with rare exception, we eat dinner as a family. All seven of us, and sometimes more, gather to be nourished in body and spirit. It is loud, for sure, but it is a place to connect, be fed, and a time to try to get a word in edgewise. We enjoy our table and usually linger there for awhile afterward.

The nightly ritual of cooking dinner, getting the table set, and sitting down can be somewhat of a chore. I enjoy the eating and talking part, but I don’t always enjoy the preparations. But today when I watched The Family Meal Table (produced by Franklin Springs Media), I was inspired to continue the tradition, and to approach it with joy and flair.

Many of you might be familiar with Nancy Campbell, editor of Above Rubies. I’ve been reading Nancy for years, but I’ve never seen or heard her. In this presentation, she talks about the family meal table being the heart of the home. (In her sing-song accent, the word “heart” is pronounced “hot.” I smiled every time she said the word.) In this one hour video, she inspires, encourages, and equips women to make the family meal table a priority. Never legalistic or condescending, Nancy reminds us that the enemy of the best is sometimes those things that are good. Too much running around and misplaced priorities take away from nurturing our bodies and souls around the table. Her husband, Colin, also speaks to men about nourishing your family’s souls with God’s Word.

This is the stuff of life. When my children look back on their childhoods, I imagine that they will remember the “way things were.” With fondness I hope they will relish the comfortable traditions we found in the dailyness of life. The family dinner table is one of those things that people are homesick for, but they don’t realize that it’s what they are missing.

Gone with the Wind is the best movie of all-time. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen it, as there just aren’t any other movies worth watching. In it, there is a character named “Melanie,” who is as sweet and kind as the day is long. My husband is like Melanie, in that he sees the best in people and is an optimist’s optimist. The sky could be falling, and he’d be happy that at least the creek ain’t rising. He never jumps to negative conclusions about a person’s character. It makes being a good wife pretty easy.

Of course, my husband and I are polar opposites. He says that I’m a pessimist, but I prefer to refer to myself as a realist. One time, we were at a closing, and the seller arrived looking a little disheveled. I immediately whispered to my husband that she was going to rob us blind. (What can I say? Somebody has to make a judgment call.) He replied that I needed to give her the benefit of the doubt. I won’t mention how that situation turned out, but I will say that I haven’t changed my ways. The total depravity of man is a doctrine I hold dear, but only because I possess so much first-hand experience.

Yet, my husband’s optimism and my own realism come together in a long-term vision we both share about our family’s future dinner table. Let me explain. Things can get crazy and wild with five small children underfoot, each of them still not contributing more than they cost in time and energy. One day they will be able to iron a shirt, use the oven, and run an errand, but for now, the bulk of the home labor rests on me.

The Amish have a saying about this division of labor: before the age of seven, children are a cost to the household; between ages 7 and 14, children pull their own weight; and after the age of 14, children contribute positively to the household economy. My oldest son is eight-years-old now, but since he eats so much, I still consider him in the first category. In case you’re keeping score, that leaves our house with two contributors and five consumers.

I cite the Amish example as proof that things will improve, though. It will get better; it will get easier. When the going gets rough, my husband and I will put the kids in bed, and with the house still and quiet, discuss the future. With his optimistic confidence, my husband will relate to me details about our future, and I will grudgingly agree, but only because he uses facts and Bible verses. I hate being outwitted.

The picture, the future hope that we imagine for our family involves our dinner table. It will be full—with people, with noise, with food, with blessing. The table will have grandchildren squished in around it and the chairs will all be too close. There will be plenty of girls to help in the kitchen and energetic boys (trying to be men) to bring in firewood. The candles will drip wax and the dressing will spill, but I will be godly enough by then not to care about the damaged tablecloth. It will be even louder than our current dinner table, but I’ll probably be hard-of-hearing by then anyway.

In the meantime, I work because the day is coming that we will enjoy the fruit of all our labor, not only here but in heaven as well. It is a glorious hope, not over-imagined by my husband’s optimism and not diminished by my ill-tempered realism. I look forward to it with much hope. Imagine that.

Blessed is everyone who fears the LORD,
who walks in his ways!
You shall eat the fruit of the labor of your hands;
you shall be blessed, and it shall be well with you.
Your wife will be like a fruitful vine
within your house;
your children will be like olive shoots
around your table.
Behold, thus shall the man be blessed
who fears the LORD.
~Psalm 128:1-4

I received a new book in the mail yesterday, More Hymns Reharmonized - Creative Chords for the Church Accompanist. Excited to try new chord progressions, I sat down at the piano and lost track of time. This is what I found when I returned to the family room:

I think this could be the start of a new business– playing at homes where babies live. What do you think? I think I’ll practice more often.