So this is Monday. The day after the week end, but that would really be Sunday. Only, yesterday still felt like weekend. Monday is confusing. I think that’s why we don’t have a lot of great Mondays. I mean, you may have great Mondays, but for me, Mondays aren’t always kind.
On this Monday I am looking at the calendar. The scribbles are quickly filling little blank boxes. My kids are marching in parades – Memorial Day and Bicentennial Day for our town. FringeMan has preaching engagements. I have no life. At least that’s what my calendar says. It’s just that no matter what I scribble, my eyes lock on June 9th. No other day exists for me.
June 9th, a holy day on the fringe, is school’s out
for the entire summer day. Thank the Good Lord for His mercy. We almost made it through an entire year of homeschooling. I know you expect me to share a nugget of mommy wisdom, but I can only jump up and down in delight. We’re nearly through!
My children survived, if just barely. Although last Thursday tempted me to go all wolf spider crazy and eat my young, I resisted the temptation. My children live on. I have a few more gray hair, but I conquered the evil of my inner spider. Never underestimate the power of eight legs.
On the same token, I praise the good Lord above I do not have eight legs. Imagine the lifts, kicks, squats, and lunges eight legs would demand.
So this morning, I nudge my daughter. “Remember if you’re not done with your Math, you’re not done with school. No matter the date on the calendar, all your Math must be complete.”
I say this, but inside, that ugly spider spirit says to just tear up the last twenty pages of her Math book and bury them under the house. The Superintendent of Schools would never think to look there. Besides I did buy her three Math books. The extra practice in Math, her weakest subject, seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I wonder if I have become the Multiplication Nazi of the North East.
The title brings much responsibility.
So I sit and sharpen pencils, pass them around the table, and forge the deep waters
rising outside my house from all this blasted rain of the academic home stretch. I glance over our year, but all I can see are stacks of completed books. I’m still in the trenches and I cannot yet see freedom clearly.
I can say my children have done well. They’ve worked hard.
They’ve driven me mad. They have read a million words or more. I am sure.
I haven’t always fared as well. I’ve counted to ten, several hundred times. I’ve taken extended bathroom breaks to get some peace and quiet. I have prayed.
But those were the Mondays. There were also days when the sun shone. Days we finished early. Times I clapped my hands in delight over a job done well. Not every day is a Monday.
Now I wonder how this turned into a homeschool post. Not. My. Intention.
I guess it’s that circle on the calendar.
In other news, I saw a young college student in church yesterday. I hadn’t seen her in a while. She said, “I remember you! You cook.”
“Please don’t remind my family. They may grow to expect more than paninis and baked chicken.”
And so I am FringeGirl. I cook. I do not eat my young. I long for June 9th.