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Tuesday, September 8, 2015

First Day of School

Today was a miracle.

I kept saying that I needed an entire day...or maybe a month...to get ready for this school year.  That day never came and I pieced together curriculum and supplies over a course of several months when I had a few moments.  So I knew I had all the pieces of the school year, but hadn't actually looked at those pretty teacher books or organized workbooks until yesterday

Bubby playing Minecraft while I organized the school room
 And while I have the obstacles of a deployed spouse and late organization, by greatest concern for this year is teaching with my little tornado around.  I've tried and failed at every advice I've received from seasoned homeschool moms.  School with my Charlie is a puzzle piece I haven't figured out and even my friend, who is a trained teacher, said that this would be my hardest year of homeschool.  
3rd grade, Kindergarten and Preschool...here we go!

 I felt like someone was praying over us this morning.  There was a calm in the house and the kids were eager to start school.  They fell into our school routine with ease and I was surprised how not-behind I actually was.  Best thing I accidentally did was buy curriculum that tells the teacher exactly what to do and say!

We even rearranged the room a little.  Whatever makes the Princess smile; she was excited for her own space.  I still need to figure out what to do for Charlie's space.  Our little table broke and I'm just not sure what kind of work space he needs.  He doesn't sit still anyway, so for now he get's a box of supplies on the floor.
 

By a miracle, there weren't any tantrums or counting bears thrown at siblings.  The biggest distraction of the day was shooting noises with a lego "gun".  Count them, make them into a gun...same difference.  I let Charlie watch letter videos on my computer and he seemed to be content with that, if you didn't mind listening to him sing along with the songs.  I tried to keep the perspective that there would be plenty of random distractions in public school and maybe Charlie is just helping them adjust to real life.

Art today was painting our schoolroom window.


If you thought about being impressed, you can now start laughing.  Window painting happened because I bought these as my secret weapon for our 4 day drive.  I hid them in my purse in case of a major meltdown.  Thankfully the kids never came close to a meltdown, which is lucky because I was completely dreading having to explain to Hubs why there was pink all over the windowsills of his precious car, and the kids were excited to see what was in that secret bag I've had for so long.

Our school day ended and a plumber came to make the hole in our ceiling bigger.  Awesome sauce.  After he left, the kids had some quiet time and I found myself deep in thought.  I wanted to be excited that our first day was a success, but could only think about how it was one more thing Hubs missed.  It was one more thing on that plate of things I can't fully share with him.  He didn't come home for dinner and see the kids work and listen to their stories.  He wasn't here to get ice cream with us to celebrate and talk about our favorite parts of the day.  

I'm finding myself anxious about him coming home and I hate that feeling.  I think about him coming home all.the.time.  But our normal is gone and his coming home is a new beginning.  That should be exciting, right?  I think the root of it is, knowing that his coming home is not the end of a hard time is overwhelming.  It's knowing that his return is the beginning of a new hard; a time of stepping on each other's toes as we figure out a new dance of life and trying to sympathize with the hard things we've both been through individually.  Hubs emailed me earlier this week that he is praying over his return and praying that we would be gracious and forgiving to one another...and my pride shot up.  Gracious and forgiving?  What in the world would you have to forgive me for?  You best not complain a lick about how I've taken care of things!  And since I'm being way too honest, in selfishness, I'm getting irritated that it's all about him!  I feel like not a moment passes without someone asking when he is coming back.  What about me?!  I'm here, right now.  Why is the emphasis on the person who left and not the person who stayed behind?  
However, if you know my husband, you know he is the most gentle and loving person on the planet.  His words of praying for us were meant for encouragement and his words are truth; we will need to be gracious and forgiving.  We are both sinners and no matter how fabulous my husband is, he is still going to say or do something that offends me...and I will have to suck it up and be gracious. 

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