Yet here we are, with me shoveling piles of my own words in my mouth. Maybe someday I'll tell you all about why I'm doing this, but honestly today I don't feel up to it. I mean, it's not some huge major story, but I have a cough and I'm about two minutes away from falling asleep at the keyboard, so we need to make this one fast and dirty.
I figured a good place to start with this home schooling series is to go over what I needed to prepare for our school year. Yeah? You good with that? Super, let's get started, fellow brethren. Please say that last sentence in the creepiest drink-the-kool-aid cult voice you can think of.
I bought my curriculum online on the recommendation of my friend, Brooke, who home schools her little potatoes. I bought the "Deluxe" package, which came with some supplements like an ant farm and butterfly house and some other random stuff. I'm not sure if the ant farm is actually going to happen, because...well, really. Why would I willingly bring them into my home? Get out of here. But the butterflies? Oh, yes, we are totally doing that science project. But I digress...
Along with all the fun stuff came a box full of learning material in loose leaf form and a bound teacher's manual. Is that what I should call it? I don't know, it sounds like I'm fixin' to work on a car. Although both automobile repair and kindergarten education are equally unfamiliar territory, so maybe it's only fitting.
First things first: the loose leaves had to be organized. This Type-A personality couldn't handle the risk of losing a single one, so that night I went out and bought a mini filing cabinet type thing and some hanging folders. (Naturally, all the
Now as a first time teacher but long time crafter, I have a butt-load of supplies. However, I don't want him breaking all my good stuff. Is that wrong? But seriously, I bought the super fine Martha Stewart glitter for me, and it will not be wasted on your project that will probably end up in storage where it will get wet and grow mold and eventually we will throw out but pretend we are super sad about it. Because I'm a selfish mother, I had to stock up on a few things. We were good on crayons, because I'm a sucker for Crayola products, but we needed those cute little kid scissors that can hold approximately one and a half adult fingers, glue sticks, construction paper, and water colors.
Can I just say, where the H were paint sets like this when I was in grade school? PINK?! TURQUOISE?! No. Fair. I hope these greedy little ankle biters these days realize how privileged they are. In our house we considered a good day if we actually got to buy new paints instead of using the tired old set that someone passed down to us. It was an even better day if we didn't have to pick out the crappy RoseArt palette. Am I right? I feel like I'm getting a lot of "Amens" on that last one.
Also, I didn't buy these, but I couldn't be more excited for these freebies from Candice:
Dixon Ticonderoga pencils are my favorite. I could literally talk about them for...minutes...on end. (Justin is probably going to roll his eyes on this one, because he has heard this story a thousand times.) So you know when you go to pick out school supplies in August? Every year, I would ask for a box of Dixon Ticonderoga Number Two pencils. They have the smoothest lead, and the erasers ACTUALLY WORK. But I was always shot down. Instead, I ended up with a box of the cheap-os with the erasers that actually made your paper look worse when you used them. I would take one to school, and then usually within the first week "borrow" a Ticonderoga from someone who had cooler parents and would use it until it was a little nub. I always argued the fact with mom that a box of good pencils would last me forever and would be worth it, but alas, she would not budge. True story: when I started at Z's I bought a box of Ticonderoga's. That was 7 years ago. I still have twenty-ish pencils left. BOOM. Whatcha' gon' say now, Diane?!
Okay, that got a little out of hand. Moving on...
I bought a notebook that we can store our projects in. This year he should learn to do some cool stuff, like write small words and read. I want to make sure these memories are safe and secure. And if all goes well, I might make a habit of doing this year by year. It's better than the current storage system I have, which is throw it in a pile, until I get annoyed at the clutter, then throw half of it away and the other half in an element vulnerable box.
Another thing that's needed is space to store all this junk. Luckily I have some space already dedicated to the creative side of life, so I just threw this stuff in with it. And by "threw" I mean meticulously placed, because I don't do disorder. I'd show you a picture, but it's the laundry room. There's probably bras hanging up all over the place. Ha! Yeah, right. I don't wash my bras all the frequently, and I certainly don't care for them like you're supposed to. Any bra that enters this house gets the Bridget treatment: throw it in with the coloreds and hope for the best it comes out of the dryer still connected to its other half. How did we even end up here?...
And there you have it. We're working on the introductory lessons right now, which are kind of boring, but I don't want to screw him up so we're doing it anyways. We'll start in on Unit One in a week or so, and hopefully it will give us a better idea of what we will be facing throughout the year. If not, you might see a post titled "Screw This Noise" on here. I kid. I think.
I'll leave you with this, the sweetest little picture that I never want to forget. His tiny little legs, swinging in the chair while he practices writing his e's. "Down, across, across, across!" Someday, son, you won't even have to think about writing your e's. You'll just do it. And another little part of your babyhood will disappear.
Oh, sassiness, Milo Sage! I feel like he's saying with his eyes, "Mother, really. I'm trying to color the sky, I can't have you distracting me right now."
Anyone else see those chubby little fingers? I still like to bite them. Except now I have to inspect them for poop beforehand. Just being real here, people. Just being real.