Rachel Callahan

The General Woods Inn: Downton Southby.

October 10, 2012July 13, 2013 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, The Blissfulness of Life

For the weekend before my birthday, Chris took me to one of my favorite places on earth: The General Woods Inn.

I’m not a Bed and Breakfast person, but yet this and only this Bed and Breakfast has stolen my heart over the past three years.

Why?

1. It’s Front Porch
2. Looks out on this:

3. It’s only two hours from my front porch.

A quick geography lesson: my city, Birmingham, is at the very tippy-bottom of the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Which means that we could by no means be considered a “Mountain City,” but we have hills (that we refer to as mountains) that we’re very fond of – hills that give us views like this:

Thanks to our foothill status, it only makes sense that if you start driving north out of Birmingham, you’re bound to run into some fabulous vistas very quickly.

My favorite of these vistas happens to be located in the part of Georgia that is pinched so hard between Tennessee, Alabama, and I-59 that it probably has a water blister.

The town of Rising Fawn, which houses The General Woods Inn, General Woods himself, and his precious wife Nadine.

And us – if we’re lucky that day.

We discovered it by accident three years ago when I needed a quiet place to retreat for my Birthday, and since what trip, returning there has been my recurring daydream during every moment of stress. We’ve been back a couple of times, and we love it so much that we even forced my parents to relax there.

(As an aside, they spent their visit touring one of Nadine’s other business interests: chicken farms. By request. My parents are so weird.)

(As another aside, Nadine is also working on renovating and opening another Inn in Michigan for all you northerners. You’re welcome.)

When I called to reserve a room for my birthday this year, Nadine, apologized because there would be a wedding going on while we were there, and so she gave me a lower rate.

(Chris and I both felt guilty taking the lower rate, because we were unduly excited about the wedding lurkage that was to come. But we took it anyway.)

We arrived a few hours before the wedding, and the dreaminess of the inn was only enhanced by the nuptial preparations.

[As an aside, doesn’t that hallway look like an ideal location to angrily kick tuxedo hangers about in the late evening? That’s what one of the groomsmen thought.]

The romance floating in the air made me begin wondering how I could talk Chris into marrying me again. In Downton Abbey attire.

Even without a wedding going on, the inn is magically decorated with both an antique flair and a General’s memorabilia,

And I really felt as if I needed one of Mary or Sybil’s fabulous dresses to dine there. Or at least a dress belonging to one of their Wild American Cousins.

I could very nearly picture the Dowager Countess sitting upright and unduly bothered in one of the highback chairs as I conveyed the matters of America to her from the couch.

And – where was Carson?? It’s time for the bullion course!!

Outside, wedding preparations could make even the most unromantic O’Brien swoon.

Old Church pews, shaded by a white drapery tent, enveloped by stunning vistas on every side,

all facing the most amazing backdrop that any wedding has ever known.

Lining the bride’s walk was a touch of Southern Charm, Mason Jar tea lights.

Under the reception awning, beautifully draped tables and chairs were prepared for guests, highlighted with burlap, gold, and flowers.

A garden of rose bushes surrounded the reception awning. [Which is apparently quite dangerous to get in a fight with. Or at least so claimed a bridesmaid much later that night.]

The courtyard and pool area was prepared for a live band and cocktail hour. [And a thorough post-dinner party that ended with a tux in the very frigid pool.]

A couple of hours before the wedding, we assumed our highly anticipated position on the front porch, where we usually do nothing but stare at the mountains, and excitedly waited for our added benefit of getting to be those nosy inn-dwellers who watch other people’s weddings, analyze the interactions between the parents of the bride and groom, and make assumptions about the familial relationships of the future.

By the end of the pre-wedding photography, we had their Future Grandparent Styles pegged.

We lurked around until after the ceremony, then headed out to dinner during their Cocktail Hour. The reception awning was beautifully lit and ready to be enjoyed. [And the tablecloths sat elegantly and innocently, not realizing that two of them would later be stolen and tied to the getaway car.]

When we got back from my lingering birthday dinner, their dinner was also long over, but the lights were still blazing.

We assumed our nosy position on the back porch, overlooking the growing-in-frenzy party that had moved back to the pool area.

It was fabulous. Never have I been so entertained at a Bed and Breakfast.

When we had finally gotten enough post-wedding amusement [and had watched the Bride and Groom escape right before the ‘friends’ of the groom were able to successfully tip his brand new Jeep over and down the long hill], we retired to our room. Although I preferred the romantic décor of our usual place of rest, The Patterson Room, by the next morning, I had decided that from now on, we would be staying in the O’Connor Room.

The bed was MAGICAL.

I woke up the next morning, perfectly sunken (sunk? sanked?) into the mattress, knowing that it was made for my body.

I considered stealing the mattress. Surely Nadine wouldn’t notice… right?

Since she’d already nearly lost a couple of tablecloths [they were rescued just in time], I decided a more honest approach would be in order, and asked her about the mattress at breakfast instead. I discovered that it was locally made by Murmaid Mattress.

I spent the rest of the day trying to talk Chris into the fact that we need a new mattress. Aren’t they only supposed to last for 10 years? And we’ve been married 11 1/2 years. Clearly our mattress is totally shot and we will find ourselves at a place of imminent death and/or injury unless we replace it.

After breakfast, we headed back out on the porch, doing nothing but watching the sky play silently with the multi-colored, panoramic mountains.

Sadly, the time came to go home. After all, we had kids, and jobs, and blogs, and other such intrusive responsibilities.

But if we could move them all to The Inn, we totally would.

Birthday Introspection.

October 9, 2012October 8, 2012 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Anal Retentivity to a Fault, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Just My Luck

So today is my birthday.

31 years of living on one planet can really make you stop and ponder, can’t it?

I had some time to think this weekend…

(and wear my first ever pair of red jeans, which can only help the depth of one’s ponderings…)

What have I contributed to this world?

Why am I here?

What is my purpose in life?

And, most importantly, WHY haven’t I EVER been summoned for jury duty?

Seriously. I’m 31 years old now. In my state, you can start serving on juries when you’re 19.

Twelve Years.

No Postcard.

No Explanation.

No Contact AT ALL.

How have I gotten left out of the system?

Ignored, shunned, forgotten…

I pay taxes!

I vote!

I have a social security number!

AND I AM THE ONLY PERSON IN MY STATE THAT ACTUALLY WANTS TO SERVE!!!

Not to say that I have some sort of selfless goodwill toward the justice system and a thirst to be a part of the striving for fairness and equality for all.

No – I’m not that altruistic.

I want to see how the justice system really works, when criminals aren’t really trapped by their words and pressured to tell the truth in a burst of dramatic courtroom remorse a là Matlock.

I want to live-tweet a murder trial.

I want to blog every detail of a corporate embezzlement scam.

I want to text my Mom for a lifeline when trying to decide whether they’re guilty or innocent.

I want to be the first to break a stunning courtroom news story.

I want to –

Oh – what was that? They won’t let you do any of that?

You can’t even check your email during the trial?

Never mind then.

(But it would still be nice to be asked.)

So. Share. How old are you, and how many times have you been summoned?

I need to gauge the severity of my Justice System Snubbing.

A Day in Our (Home)School.

October 8, 2012September 23, 2013 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Actually Possibly Informational, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore.

One of the most common questions I get is “what does your day look like?”

And after that, “What curriculum do you use?”

This post should answer those questions. At least for this month – I have a feeling that our typical day will continuously change.

So, as of right now, this is how it all goes down.

(All times are estimates, especially my time of awakening.)

7:30: I wake up, have my bible study time, and take a shower. Ali also wakes up, takes care of her personal grooming, and plays in her room until I’m ready. Noah is a blessedly odd bird who never tells me when he wakes up, and plays quietly in his crib until I get around to fetching him.

(As a note, none of us see Chris in the morning. He leaves quietly around 7:15, before any of us rouse.)

(Don’t hate me already if you have sadistically early risers. I’m sorry. I truly am.)

8:30: Breakfast. Nothing special – cereal for Ali and I, and Nutri-grain bars and dry cereal for Noah. If kids can be stunted or permanently traumatized for never being fed hot breakfasts, mine will be the first in line.

9:00: We start school.

We always start with math – I figure Ali’s brain is fresh and fueled with highly nutritious Apple Jacks or Lucky Charms, so I better put it to good use. I talked some about our math last week, but to clarify, I am currently doing about 60% Mommy-Provided and 40% Curriculum-Provided Education.

Mommy-Provided currently includes addition and subtraction problems, multiplication tables, and division.

Any time we can make this more fun, we do. For instance, last week, Ali had a Math Fairy helping her:

She’s great for doing the heavy lifting that tends to wear out a five year old.

For curriculum, we’re using Miquon Math (the Red Book), along with Cuisenaire Rods. This is a great visual math curriculum, using pictures, rods, coloring, dot-to-dots, and standard math problems to learn. I also like it because you’re encouraged to skip around (because it’s visual and easy to understand and the lessons don’t build on each other), and it teaches many different aspects of math in each book, rather than harping exhaustingly on one skill.

It’s drawback: very little teacher help in explaining concepts.

Ali’s favorite pages have been the fraction pages, because it encourages you to draw and color to produce the answers.

(And yes, that was the photo with the little brother interruption.)

(For more information on what Noah does during school, you can check out his guest post here.)

Math usually takes between 30 minutes to an hour, depending on how quick Ali’s brain is working from her artisanal breakfast. And because that’s her favorite subject, we spend longer on it than anything else.

9:45: Bible and Handwriting.

For bible, we’ve been using a book called My ABC Bible Verses. It has a memory verse, then a little story to explain the verse. I read the verse and story on Monday, and then Monday through Friday, we use the verse as part of our handwriting practice.

We talk about the verse a little more each day, and she typically has it memorized within a couple of days.

However, I had issues with handwriting early on, as it was the first item of schoolwork that made her cry.

(Which, by the way, when you’re homeschooling and school makes your kid cry, your Mommy Guilt goes THROUGH THE ROOF.)

I had impressed upon her that the reason for handwriting was to learn how to write letters really well, and during an especially stressful school day when I was dealing with Noah and a dozen other things (and had probably already been short with her), she wrote what she felt was a “bad C”, and burst into tears before I even saw it.

I pondered this, and realized I needed to take a different approach: positive, rather than negative reinforcement.

(Duh.)

So starting last week, I told her that I was going to make a dot on all of her perfect letters each day, and TWO dots on the letters that were better than mine, and when she got 100 points, she would get a special surprise out of my reward drawer (which houses random crap trinkets that she adores.)

Sure enough, this motivation worked wonders in her handwriting excitement, and she had gotten over 100 points by the end of the week.

During handwriting, which takes about 20 minutes because she’s so bent on getting her points, I take the opportunity to spend time with Noah. We read books and play, and this helps him stretch to make it through our (oh-so-long) two hour school day.

10:00: We take an Art break. We either do drawing, a craft, or some other such project. I have a few books from Usborne that I LOVE for this time, including 365 Things to Draw and Paint and Lots of Things to Find and Color, the latter of which has the added benefit of working on reading instructions and comprehension.

10:20: We move from the dining room table to the couch.

(Please note: We DO NOT have a fancy schoolroom that you can pin on Pinterest. It’d be nice, but really, with a toddler running around, it’s easier to be in the middle of the house to minimize melee.)

To the couch. We take a book for Ali to read to me, a Sciencey book for me to read to her, our history book, and a read-aloud book.

For her reading, we’re borrowing early reader books from the library. Her favorite series include Fancy Nancy, Pinkalicious, Fly Guy, Dr. Seuss, and my personal favorites, Jane O’Connor’s Non-Fancy-Nancy books like Snail City and Splat.

The first week of school, it took the whole week for her to read me one or two of these books, and she hated it.

Although her reading improved every week, she still despised it for several weeks. But somewhere during the fifth week of school, she proclaimed, “I like reading now!!” – it was a beautiful moment indeed.

She is now up to reading one book a day in about 20 minutes (except for Seuss – his books are painfully long, so we spread them over multiple days.)

For history, we’re using A Living History of Our World: America’s Story, which is a conversationally written chronological book. It’s meant to be supplemented with ancillary reading from biographies and such, but since Ali is so young, we’re just reading through it.

I like it because it’s written from a Christian perspective, but presents all sides of the story and offers discussions about many different views of an event depending on the perspective of the person witnessing it.

I bought the journal to go with it, but quickly realized that it was overkill and way too much work for Kindergarten.

So we ditched it.

For read-aloud time, I’m working through my list of 215 Read-Aloud books (we’re currently in the abridged version of Pollyanna), as well as supplementing with fun learning books, like Usborne’s Princess Treasury, which thrills Ali as it teaches about how historical and modern-day princesses live.

For science, I’ll pick up a stack of learning books from the library on whatever subject Ali is interested in that week (Sunflowers, trees, bugs, the body – her favorite book by far has been Reader’s Digest’s Looking Into My Body), or we do an around-the-house science experiment from Science Play.

(When it comes to Science, my philosophy so far has been to learn a little about a bunch of completely random stuff.)

11:00: We’re done for the day.

Things that I need to add to our day:

1. Spelling. I bought Spell to Write And Read because I liked their philosophy on using phonics-based spelling as a basis for writing and reading, but I can’t understand how to teach it for the life of me. I even bought an explanation DVD – which I haven’t found time to watch.

2. Hands-On and Creativity. I’ve been pretty lazy thus far, and would like to do more science experiments, nature walks, projects, and FUN stuff.

3. Organization and Neatness. My office, and house in general, have suffered with the addition of two hours of homeschooling a day. (And Noah being bored for two hours a day.)

Are you homeschooling? Want to share about your day? I would LOVE to see how other family’s days work! Link up here:

Feel free to ask any questions about our day, or about homeschooling in general, below!

The follow-up, our day in First Grade, is available here.

The Dark Side of Education.

October 5, 2012October 5, 2012 Rachel Callahan Guest Post, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore., NoahBlogs

Hi! Noah Here.

So. A lot of people have been asking The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy how I’ve been coping while she and Ali do school.

Dear Lot of People,

You know I’m human too, right? If you have a question, just ask me?

Rude.

But despite your going behind my back in your attempts to get the low-down gossip about me, I’ll answer your question anyway.

School is hideous.

I’m pretty sure that our house has turned into an anarcho-syndicalist commune, except that I never get my turn to act as a sort of executive officer of the week.

No, of course I have no idea what all that means. I just heard it somewhere and it sounded ominous enough to describe my current state.

So. What do I do during a school day, they want to know?

Well, I start out by doing a lot of checking in.

“You done yet?”

When I receive no response, I do the responsible thing and go entertain myself.

Oh yeah. That one was really fun.

So then I check in again.

“How about now?”

They give me nothing.

But despite my indignation at such blatant ignoring, I take the high road and offer my janitorial services.

As an aside, have you ever emptied a wet wipe box just to watch it die?

Let me tell you – that is some good clean fun right there.

Hee. Clean fun. Get it?

So when I run out of both adult and toddler butt-wiping implements, I check in again.

“Hey guys – um, how’s it going in here? Getting any closer to quitting time?”

“SERIOUSLY! You could at LEAST respond to a guy!!”

At that point I get a tiny bit irate. Goodbye Mr. Helpful. I need to medicate with some destruction.

Isn’t it amazing how therapeutic that can be?

Around that point, I come to realize that clearly, I need to retreat, regroup, and rewrite my strategies and procedures.

So I take a more subtle approach, this time appealing to the innate desire to play that HAS to still be alive somewhere within The Sister Who Calls Herself Ali.

(By the way, don’t think that hidden roll of toilet paper wasn’t tempting every cell of my Old Self. But no. I’m a new man. I’ve got a new plan.)

What was that? You didn’t spot me?

Zoom the camera, people!

And do you know what she did?

She asked The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy to please remove me.

REMOVE ME, I SAY!!!

So you know what I did? I went and climbed on the other table, found her water cup, poured it out, and RUBBED my diaper in it.

Remove THAT, Sister.

Now in fairness, it must be noted that The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy has made a few (albeit pathetic) attempts at keeping me entertained during school.

Trying to convert my love of cars into being captivated with Car Stickers, for one.

She did not, however, factor in the extreme frustration that occurs when stickers have the unfortunate issue of being sticky.

Defective – every one of them.

She probably bought them at some half-off sale or something.

Ultimately, the best use of school time that I’ve found yet is hanging with my homies. My bros. The only ones who truly care about me.

That’s right – my rides.

But…I have to admit something.

Something a bit embarrassing.

The real reason I don’t like school time?

Because I love The Sister so dang much, and it’s really hard to hug her when she’s holding all of those sharp pencils.

And also?

Because I’m the Executive Ruler. And they’ve all seemed to forget that.

Celebrating Fall’s Arrival: Taco Soup.

October 4, 2012October 3, 2012 Rachel Callahan Can I get a copy of that recipe?

Fall is my favorite season. I love the exciting crispness in the air after 100 degree summers, I adore the excuse to buy new boots and jeans, and of course I love that it brings about the month of celebration for my birthday.

(You celebrate for a month, too, right?)

(As an aside, I’ve always wondered if there is any correlation to people’s favorite season and the season of their birth– especially when their birthday is right at the beginning of it, therefore associating the wonderful feelings of a brand new season with the glee and joy of their special day. Is this true for you?)

I really enjoy celebrating the coolness of fall with soups and chilis. Or, if necessary, pushing the season along by making those things in hopes that the chilly weather will soon follow.

(This strategy is often necessary in Alabama.)

One of my recent favorite recipes is from my friend Ashley. She served it to us last year, and I embarrassed myself by how much I ate.

It was divine.

Besides the perfect flavors, what I love about this recipe is how easy it is to make, and that it’s only half fresh-vegetable-chopping-labor-intensive.

You chop a couple, and you get a few more out of cans. Fresh yet easy – the best of both worlds.

(What? You don’t have a grocery store called Piggly Wiggly? I do hope yours doesn’t have some boring name…)

I’ve modified Ashley’s recipe a bit, so here’s my version:

2 lb. Ground Beef (Her recipe calls for 1 pound, but I always double the meat in everything. It increases the chances of my husband loving it by approximately 117%.)
1 Red Onion
1 Bell Pepper
5 Large Tomatillos (This is my addition – I have a previously documented addiction to Tomatillos. If you can’t find these or don’t care for them, they’re totally optional. They add a tart, green tomato/Salsa Verde flavor.)
1 Can Tomato Soup
1 Can of Vegetable Soup, no meat
1 Can Diced Tomatoes
Ro-Tel Lime with Cilantro (Or Ro-Tel Original if you shop at tiny, oddly named grocery stores like me that don’t carry the entire lineup of Ro-Tel.)
2 Cans of Corn (I also doubled the corn. Everything is better with more corn.)
1 Package of Taco Seasoning
1 Package of powdered Ranch Dressing Mix
1 Cup Water
Salt

Garnishes:

Cheese
Sour Cream
Fritos or Tortilla Chips

The recipe has three (THREE!!) simple steps:

Brown and drain the ground beef.
Cut the vegetables.
Pour the cans (not drained) and powders in the pot with the above items.

Before cooking, it looks like this – beautiful and vibrant:

Cook on low-medium for as long as you like but at least until the vegetables are soft. After cooking, it looks like this – warm and cozy:

Garnish with Cheese and Sour Cream, just like every meal should be treated.

Chris also adds a chunk of Five Alarm Pepper Cheese to the middle of his soup, so if you need further help in convincing your man that this is a suitably masculine dish, he highly recommends it.

(And if you want to add more heat without the cheese, you can also cut up a jalapeno and throw it in at the beginning.)

And the best part? One bowl of Taco Soup, before garnishes, is only 280 Calories.

I call that winning.

So. I need to know – is your favorite season the season of your birth?

The Temptation of Match.

October 2, 2012October 1, 2012 Rachel Callahan Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice, Shopping: A Girl's Best Friend

A couple of years ago, I wrote about the Continuum of Match. It housed, if I may say so myself, groundbreaking and perception-changing clarifications of parental types. If I were the Doctoral Candidate type, it might become a significant part of my thesis.

Let’s review the categories contained therein.

Level 5 Matchers: These parents believe that complete matching is synonymous with holiness. They not only match ALL of their children, both male and female, all the way down to their socks and underwear, but also match their OWN outfits to their children’s.

Level 4 Matchers: These parents regularly match their children, both male and female. Although they don’t typically also match their own clothing with their children’s, they feel compelled to do so for family portraits and holidays.

Level 3 Matchers: These parents tend to always match their children of the same gender (especially girls), but don’t subscribe to cross-gender matching or parental matching.

Level 2 Matchers: These parents find occasional pleasure in matching their children, but don’t make it a requirement.

Level 1 Matchers: These parents are Easter-Only, same-gender-only matchers, and refuse to match their kids at any other time.

Level 0 Matchers: These parents scoff at (or secretly scoff at) any parents with a matching level above their own, and absolutely refuse to EVER match their children, sometimes even consciously choosing to make them clash – on principle.

I am a Level 2 Matcher who would be 96% more likely to be a Level 3 matcher had I been gifted with two children of the same gender. But I’m never tempted to match my own clothes to my children’s attire, and often consciously make decisions to prevent being mistaken by others as consciously matching my children.

Except.

Once a year, right around the dawning of that cool, crisp, magical fall aura that enters the air and makes Mommies want to go out and buy entirely new autumn-colored wardrobes for the every family member, a bizarrely intense temptation arrives at my doorstep, in the form of Hanna Andersson’s holiday catalog.

No one in my family has ever owned a single garment from Hanna Andersson. Not even hand-me-downs. Yet this catalog sends me into an immediate trance, endangering my budget, my familial harmony, and my sanity.

I’m pretty sure they lace the entire catalog with Mommy Crack (the drug, not an inappropriate amount of butt hanging out of jeans), because although there is nothing about the Mommy-Style in Hanna Andersson that looks similar to anything in my closet, I swear that something comes over me and creates a nearly-inescapable draw to buy every piece of clothing in their catalog . For me, for Chris, for my children, and for age brackets of children that I don’t even possess.

What is it about their coordinating and contrasting prints that enraptures me so?

(I NEED that hooded sweater onesie!! Surely I could shove Noah into it for a month or two. And OH – the striped tights are divine!!!)

(Stop it, Rachel. Cable-Knit sweaters make you look lumpy and barn-shaped. For the love, woman – get ahold of yourself.)

But then I turn the page.

I don’t even like plaid, and I certainly don’t like sweater vests. So why does this set make me wish I had a tween son to dress En Matche with my husband?

(Oh…I so need a sweater dress. Why haven’t I owned a sweater dress in my entire life? Has it all been a sham?)

Then I turn the page.

To a woman’s cardigan.

A CARDIGAN, I say!! Straight off of Maggie, circa 1991, Northern Exposure!

(Ali would look SUBLIME in those red tassly boots!!)

(Hey – I wonder if they have those toddler boy ‘fro wigs available? I could totally order one for Noah to finish off the look.)

It was at this point that I looked up for a second and noticed Noah watching me with incredulous fear.

Just not the plaid!! JUST NOT THE PLAID!!!

I looked back down, re-entering my daydream of our family of four, all coordinating in our idealistically matching duds, strolling about a quaint French Countryside Farmhouse.

But then I made The Mistake.

You know, the one where you open the catalog to your favorite page and tell your husband in that shopping-lust voice how awesomely enriched our family life would be if we could wear coordinates like these every day?

Um, yeah. I got The Look.

And then I compounded my mistake by accidentally slipping my grip from my favorite page and allowing him to see that I had earmarked matching pajama page.

The Look, paired with The Eyebrow Raise and Downward Tilted Head.

“But look how gleeful that Daddy looks!! Don’t you think we’d sleep better if we had matching dancing penguins all over our long pajamas?”

“Pajamas. Pajamas??”

So I tried the “Just This Once” Technique.

“You know, for the Christmas memories!”

Chris recoiled.

“Do you know what I would look like in those pajamas? I’d look like the Lorax, or some other round-bellied Seussian Beast. The Dad in the Hat.”

“Well, if you’d rather go with something a little more belly-appropriate, you could coordinate with this one…”

“That reminds me of Will Ferrell walking through New York in Elf shoes buying lingerie for his long lost dad.”

But it’s all good. My husband’s reaction helped me regain my senses, break away from the Crack á la Hanna, and remember: I’m just a Level Two.

Eat Your Remainders: Teaching Division to Kindergartners.

October 1, 2012September 30, 2012 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore.

I’ve been hesitant to blog too much about homeschooling because I know most of you don’t homeschool and probably wouldn’t be interested in my droning on and on about it. However, I’ve come to realize recently how much curiosity is out there about how homeschooling works and why someone would choose it.

So I’ve decided to do a weekly(ish) series on homeschooling for a while, describing our day, answering your questions, and sharing some game-like techniques that you can use with your kids whether or not you homeschool.

Being that I was homeschooled for 12 years and I have been informally teaching Ali since she was 18 months old, I feel like I have a bit more information than my years of teaching may imply. I am also not offended or defensive about any questions you want to throw at me, nor do I think that homeschooling is the best option for everyone. I’ll be answering the questions that I’ve already been asked sporadically through the series, and if you have your own questions, please leave them in the comments on this or future posts.

Also: For those of you who do homeschool, I plan on doing a link-up or two. Next Monday (10/8), I’ll be sharing what our homeschool day looks like (including curriculum, structure, and dealing with little brothers), and will give you the chance to link up your day as well. So work on documenting it this week!

Without further annoyingly loquacious ado, Today’s Post.

In true homage to her parent’s geekish tendencies, Ali is crazy about math. One of the benefits of homeschooling is being able to go as fast as a kid desires to go in any particular subject. So although our reading, handwriting, and many other subjects are progressing at a normal pace, math can go much quicker. This keeps her interested, proud of her work, and excited to learn more.

In the first four weeks of Kindergarten, she learned carrying and borrowing in addition and subtraction (With the use of her beloved Place Value Houses), how to solve a multiplication table, and basic fractions.

$Math First Four Weeks$

(Yes, her ability to neatly write numbers needs a bit of improvement. But I figure focusing on computing them has got to be more useful.)

But during all of that learning, she was insistent that she wanted to understand division.

I didn’t start out the year with a math curriculum (although I recently added Miquon to our day), so I was trying to teach her concepts on my own. However, explaining doesn’t come naturally to me, so it took me a few days to come up with inspiration in how to teach it. Finally I realized that I simply needed to use her love of Event Planning to convey the concept. I pulled out the single digit blocks from our Cuisenaire Rods, and I wrote five boxes on a page. I then told her a story.

“You are throwing a birthday party. You’ve got twenty cupcakes, and five people attending.”

(I wrote names above the boxes as I talked.)

“Mommy…Ali…Noah…Gramamma…and Pop. So you need to divide up your cupcakes evenly between your guests. Can you do that?”

She set to work, and after she had them divided up and she told me how many she gave each person. I then informed her that she had just figured the answer to twenty divided by five.

Hopeless nerd that she is, she was elated.

Thanks to this party planning fun, division quickly outranked multiplication tables as her favorite math game.

After a couple of days of verbal word problems and explaining the problem that she had solved, I switched to just writing the equation and letting her make up the story and fill in the answers.

I tried letting her divide them up without the visual clues of the circles for each person, but she wasn’t cognitively ready for that, so we went back to drawing the circles.

She also didn’t understand why you couldn’t just divide any number by any number like multiplication, so I told her, “Well, it’s complicated.”

…then I realized that I should just teach the kid remainders.

Duh.

So I began drawing an extra, smaller shape, and explained that if she didn’t have an even number to divide between her guests, she could place the extras there.

During one of these lessons, Noah was standing at the pantry door screaming for gummies…which prompted a revelation: eating one’s remainders would make division even MORE fun.

So I gave her a pile of gummies, told her to work her problems with them,

And AFTER she wrote down her answer (so that the sugar didn’t impede her already messy writing,)

She could eat her remainders.

(Yes, our homeschooling has the recurring theme of using high fructose corn syrup to encourage learning.)

(And yes, it makes for very happy students.)

Feel free to ask any questions about homeschooling. I’ll answer anything, and If I don’t know the answer, I’ll find it for you!

Left and Wrong.

September 27, 2012September 26, 2012 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, I embarrass myself just for your amusement., Weird Strange and True

I’m not sure whether my Mom exposed herself to too much Aqua Net or drank too much Tab Cola, but I was born with a defect: I have never been able to tell my left from my right.

But before you begin to question my intelligence, I have a great sense of direction – I can tell you where every store is located in any mall that I’ve ever been to. I can even tell you whether I’m looking North, South, East, or West at any given moment, but tie my hands behind my back and ask me whether you’re on my right or my left, then prepare yourself for much laughter and scoffing at my disability.

Although Noah’s fate is not yet known, Ali did not inherit my disability. I don’t know who taught her right and left (I was too afraid to attempt such because I’d probably get it backwards and ruin her life forever), but she’s been correcting my errors for years.

When I have a need to be accurate, my rings are my cheat sheet.

If you ask me for directions, you have to be quick, but you’ll catch me casting a stealthy glance down to my hands to see which one houses my wedding rings. Or if I’m feeling really self-conscious, I might just feel both of my ring fingers with my thumb.

(I know, I know, I’m supposed to do that “stick your thumb out and create an L” thing, but then I’d probably get confused then about which way an L was supposed to be written, because I’m illiterate like that.)

So the real complications happen when I need to take off my rings.

Like last week, when making hamburger patties.

I prefer my rings free of raw ground cow guts (RGCG), so to form our hamburgers, I took my rings off and set them on the table. I molded the RGCG, washed my hands, and then went to put my rings back on.

I have three rings: my engagement ring, my wedding ring, and my Mommy Ring with kid’s birthstones, which Chris created on my favorite-ever jewelry site, Gemvara, in January for my Jug Present*.

*Jug Present: my husband’s creation of the sequel to a Push Present (or, in my case, a Cut-You-Open-From-Side-To-Side Present), which is to be received upon the closing of the breastfeeding era.

I stared at my pile of rings for a minute, trying to remember to which hand each belonged. But then the hamburgers needed my attention, so I quickly guessed and got back to work.

One day later, I was offering technical support to another Vault rep for our computer program.

“You should see so-and-so on the left side of the screen, and such-and-such on the right.”

“No, nothing is showing up on the right side of the screen, and such-and-such is showing up on the left.”

I double checked my hands to ensure that I’d told her correctly. Yes, yes I had.

“Well, clearly something isn’t right – you need to call technical support and get that fixed up.”

Another day later, I happened to look down at my hands.

And noticed that they didn’t look quite right.

Were my right and left backwards? Yes, yes – I think they were. But how to know for sure?

I put my rings on the opposite hands.

No, that didn’t quite look right either.

I swapped them again. And stared.

I swapped them again. And stared some more.

I tried to remember how I used to know my left from my right in my pre-marriage days.

Ah! Yes, my scar from breaking my arm in the seventh grade.

But then I had to remember more. Was the arm I broke my left arm or my right arm? And why is this so complicated?? And why can’t I just be normal?? Real people don’t have to do these things.

Let’s see….I’m left-handed…and I could still write when I had a broken arm…so it had to have been my right hand.

I put my rings on with the visual aid of my scars – there, that must be correct.

And then I tried to remember which they originally were…and wasn’t quite sure. Had I been right or wrong for two days? To how many people had I issued erroneous directions?

Who knows.

But at least they’re right for now.

…Maybe.

Interview With The Couch.

September 25, 2012September 24, 2012 Rachel Callahan Kids: The Experience., Toddlers: The Experience, Weird Strange and True

Rachel: Thank you for sitting down with me today for the purposes of this interview, couch.

Couch: Is it really considered “sitting down with you” when you’re sitting on me?

Rachel: You know what I mean. Thanks anyway. Clearly, you and I have met many times, and some other people may be familiar with you as well since you make many appearances on Facebook. But for the purposes of the rest of my readers, can you introduce yourself?

Couch: I’d be glad to. I’m a leather and suede couch, ottoman, and love seat grouping that resides at the house of Rachel’s brother’s family.

I started out life in a furniture showroom, both elegant and beautiful, with the guarantee of a fulfilling life ahead of me.

The brochures promised me a pristine environment, one where I would be the centerpiece of a quiet, calm, model home.

Five years ago, a young couple came to my showroom. They looked around with a spark of excitement in their eyes – I knew that they were furnishing their first home.

Aaaah, young love. There’s nothing a couch enjoys more.

Much like Corduroy the Bear, I SO hoped they would pick me. I just knew that I could add to their many years of quiet cuddling and romantic evenings.

When they pointed to me, my synthetic polyester stuffing jumped with joy! I was going to get my brochure destiny after all.

We started our life together blissfully – it was just as I hoped it would be. A beautiful home, a giant television, and the opportunity for me to offer many opportunities of rest and relaxation to my owners.

However, I’m the sensitive type, and it didn’t take me long to realize that the female owner was getting a little heavier every time she sat upon me.

A few months later, I realized why.

He was a nice enough baby, and now I got to enjoy a greater pleasure: long hours of being the chosen place of cuddling with their new bundle.

Sure, he screamed sometimes. But he didn’t make messes – except for baby puke, but that’s fairly easy to wipe off of my high quality suede seat.

But then. My life changed.

Rachel: How so?

Couch: Well, as it turned out, this new member of the family seemed to have an uncontainable artistic streak.

Rachel: Yes, yes indeed. But how did this effect you, exactly?

Couch: Apparently, he felt that I needed a bit more design than my factory specifications offered. And he decided that he was the man to offer those missing aesthetics.

Rachel: I see. And what medium did he use to implement these necessities?

Couch: Sharpie.

Rachel: Sharpie? What mother would leave Sharpies in reach of an artistically bent child?

Couch: Did I mention that he was also a very agile climber? He could scale an eight foot bookshelf in 30 seconds flat.

Rachel: How did he know the Sharpies were at the top of an eight foot bookshelf??

Couch: Ah. That IS the mystery, no? Perhaps a very keen sense of smell as well.

Rachel: Well, at any rate, how exactly did he use these Sharpies?

Couch: He covered us. All of us.

Rachel: Oh MY. Sharpies are Permanent, aren’t they?

Couch: Not as permanent as they used to be. Magic Erasers truly are magic. But it took no small amount of effort on the lady of the house’s part, let me assure you.

Rachel: Well, I’m sure you were relieved when you got back to normal.

Couch: That’s the thing. Normal never returned. Somehow, he multiplied. Very quickly.

Rachel: Oh, but they’re so fantastically adorable!!

Couch: Adorable, yes. But Artists, the whole lot of them.

Rachel: So what happened next?

Couch: The middle girl. She had a thing for mixed media. Especially in the form of an entire makeup bag.

Rachel: I’m afraid to ask. But was lipstick included?

Couch: And mascara.

And not soon after, the original artist tried to recreate his work – this time with a green Sharpie.

Rachel: But you weren’t always the victim of his masterpieces, right?

Couch: True. It was the window and sill (and his hair) that received The Great Fingernail Polishing of 2011.

Rachel: And after all, none of your damage was permanent. For that you can be thankful!

Couch: Well…

Rachel: Uh Oh…

Couch: There was the Steak Knife.

Rachel: No…

Couch: Yes – tiny pricks were made in my Love Seat.

Rachel: How did he get steak knives??

Couch: You know that Bible Verse that says, (paraphrased,) “Nothing is out of His reach?”, well this kid has some similarities with Jesus.

Rachel: Well, Jesus did like drawing in the sand…

Couch (abruptly changing the subject): And then there was The Great Pee.

Rachel: Go on…

Couch: The middle one. She was potty training. And she decided to allow me to take part in that fun stage of human development.

Which was fine – I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been exposed to toddler bodily fluids in the past. The pee itself was rather blasé – a pitiful attempt at shocking my past-shock self.

Rachel: So why is it mentionable?

Couch: Well, when the lady of the house scrambled to clean me up, she thought she had grabbed the anti-urine-smell stuff.

But right after she dumped it all over me, she realized that in her haste, she had grabbed the bleach.

Rachel: I bet you don’t smell like pee.

Couch: Indeed.

Rachel: So is that all?

Couch: It was – until a couple of weeks ago. When The Original Artist decided to return to his work with the steak knives, except this time, much older and wiser in the ways.

And with ten knives.

Rachel: Wow. Well there you go. So I guess you’re wishing you had been picked by another family, huh?

Couch: No way!

Rachel: What? Why not?

Couch: Job Security! I have more than any model-home-couch ever dreamed of having. Until the last one goes to college in 2028, they don’t DARE replace me.

The 15 Stages of Having Nothing to Blog About.

September 24, 2012September 23, 2012 Rachel Callahan I'm a Blog Geek, This is TONGUE IN CHEEK People - Don't take me Seriously.

1. Impending Doom – In thinking through one’s long list of blog post ideas…and realizing that there aren’t any. Not a single one.

2. Optimism – Surely something will come to mind. Something always does. It will be totally fine.

3. Annoyance – Clearly, Mental Mutiny is afoot.

4. Blank Stares – THINK, computer screen!! Why haven’t you learned how to think for yourself?? Do I have to do everything for you???

5. Desperation – Surely, surely, SURELY if I take my kids to the mall in seasonally inappropriate clothing and with no naps, SURELY something bloggable will happen.

6. Depression – It’s happened. It’s finally happened. I’ve run out of original thought.

7. Justification – Why is this so important anyway? It’s a dumb blog with little redeeming value. Who cares if I don’t have a blog post up at 7:45 Monday morning?? It’s not like people are waiting here hitting refresh because I’m giving away an iPhone 5 to the first hundred commenters or anything.

(Mental Note: Should try that.)

8. Blank Stares – Come ON, computer screen!! WHY AREN’T YOU INSPIRING ME?!?!

9. Vocalization – Maybe if I tell my husband that I have nothing to blog about, he’ll happen to have half a dozen fabulous ideas…

10. Inspiration – Wait a minute…I can blog about having nothing to blog about!!

11. Glee – Problem solved! Now I can relax!!

12. Self-Doubt – Blogging about having nothing to blog about is the stupidest, most inane blog idea of all time.

13. Defensiveness – Dear Self: Unless you’ve got any better ideas, shut up!

14. Blank Stares – Seriously, computer screen?? You can’t even write about having nothing to write about?!? You are dead to me.

15. Impending Doom – But what will I write about tomorrow…?