So, I’m still home. I’m facing the reality that life as I knew it might be a bygone thing, and I’m learning to find my peace with it. My therapist– and let’s face it, when you’re going through this sort of life upheaval, it’s really to your benefit to have a therapist– suggested, when I told her how much I miss writing and blogging that I channel that energy into writing about life with epilepsy instead. I thought about it, but then decided I really didn’t want to. I don’t like living with epilepsy and I certainly don’t want to write about it. Instead, I’ve decided to go back to blogging and writing about my passion– play-based early childhood education. At first, I wondered if I really could. I’m not homeschooling. I’m not teaching. I’ll have my children for the summer, but then they’re back to school. Can I really still blog about these things, or would I be a fraud?
As you may have gathered from my billion posts on the subject, my kids fell in love with the Blue Balliet books this spring and summer and along the way, fell down a bunch of different rabbit holes. Pentominos were one. Frank Lloyd Wright was another.
When they discovered Fallingwater was located in Pennsylvania, the children insisted on adding it to our summer fun list. And a few weeks ago, we were able to make that particular dream come true.
Online, at least. In real life, things are hopping.
Sunday was the nicest Mother’s Day ever. It started on Saturday, with Katie Grace’s ballet recital. Usually I go to the rehearsal and take lots of pictures and videos. With the twins, I wasn’t able to. She did such a beautiful job and smiled her lovely smile the entire time. All of the dances were just beautiful and I was once again so grateful for St. John School of the Arts and Ms. Teresa’s efforts to protect her little ballerinas’ childhood innocence.
You may have noticed that we’ve been a wee bit obsessed with pentominoes lately. A pentomino is a set of 12 figures, each made of five congruent (same size,, same shape) squares. Using at least three, you then try to make a rectangle by fitting them together.We became hooked on them after reading Chasing Vermeer and were introduced to three-dimensional pentominoes after reading the sequel, The Wright Three.
First day with the pentominoes
This is a big week for me. On Friday, we’re driving to Hershey to meet with the PPCM specialist. I’ll be having an echocardiogram to see how my heart is doing. Please, please, please remember me in your thoughts and prayers, if not for my sake, then for the sake of my dear babies and children, that their mother may be fully healed. For what it’s worth, I am mostly feeling better, except for every once in a while when I have a bad day and feel really awful. I am specifically praying that my heart is back to normal size and my ejection fraction has recovered,
Don’t forget to enter the Spring Seasons of Joy Giveaway!
It’s been a long time since I’ve posted A Day in the Life! One problem I found before was that I always did it on Tuesday, so you only got to see what a Tuesday looked like. This time around, I am going to try to do different days of the week. The other problem is that around noon I would poop out and forget to take pictures. Unfortunately, that didn’t change today. Maybe next week!
When I was little, being called a bookworm felt a lot like an insult. I’m sure it was intended to be one. When other kids were running around on the playground, I usually had my nose in a book. When I was supposed to be paying attention in class, I usually had my nose in a book. Heck, even when walking to and from school, I generally had my nose in a book. I often slammed my head into the traffic box on our corner because from first grade on, I had my nose in a book.
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king,
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to witta-woo!