Last night during the standing ovation after Ben's final homeschool orchestra concert, it hit me. He got his diploma in June, orchestra class is finished. That's it. July 1 marked 18 years since I started the homeschooling journey with the kids at 10 months, 2 years and 4 years of age and now we are at the end. What is that overused saying? The days are slow but the years pass quickly? That's it in a nutshell, even if it's not word for word.
I have struggled with what's next for the past few years. The kids did high school on their own with help from the internet. I know their education has gaps, but they will fill them in as needed. Teaching yourself what you need to know is easier than ever. So is falling down rabbit holes when looking for information, but I did that all the way through school. Went to the library to research an assigned topic and came out with a stack of novels and a few nonfiction books on things that caught my eye. Too bad the internet isn't always that benign as most forks in the path lead more toward funny videos or memes than anything semi-useful.
I don't think I realized what an impact computers would have on our homeschooling. We had one, ONE, at the time. It was on dial-up, I used it off an on during the day, Matt at night after work and we barely touched it on weekends. The other stay at home moms I connected with were the same way. About 4:30 local time, we'd start signing off with, "See you tomorrow!" Or Monday if it was the weekend.
When we first got the computer, Matt suggested I could store recipes on it, I barely touched it. After a few months, I joined a couple bulletin board chats and the first time I got a direct response, which at the time went right to your e-mail, I was SO excited. An E-MAIL! I joined a ghost story site, bought things from one of the early auction sites-everything from toys to an elliptical machine. We still use a small cabinet I got for the bathroom.
We got a printer and I printed out worksheets from one of the two or three websites with them at the time. We printed out directions for trips, and later confirmations for campsites or hotel rooms booked ONLINE. I messed around with building websites.
The kids had several computer games that taught them shapes, typing, reading, spelling, math. The levels progressed all the way through 5th grade and computer time was scheduled into the days. We got a second computer, a laptop for me. Then that was passed to Chandler and I got a new laptop. Matt eventually built his own for gaming and Jake and Ben shared the family computer until Ben was 13 and got his own Dad-built computer.
I look back and wonder how many hours we spent sitting around the kitchen table vs sitting in front of a computer. We used to go to the local state park on Wednesdays when it was free and do school at the picnic tables. They would finish their lists and I would check their work while they played. That is honestly the only 'sit together and work' time I recall outside of co-op. They usually sat while I went over the daily goals and we would read history twice a week and they would do math sheets twice a week, then science and whatever experiments we had going before lunch. After lunch was computer time, reading, copywork and then journaling as they got older. Friday was art, roller skating, friend time, field trips. Everyone we knew had a similar schedule, Friday was Fun Day. After a while, we turned Tuesday into the hangout day, most often at our house, and kept it that way for years. Jake was 19 before we stopped hosting. The last gathering was his birthday/graduation celebration.
We did Charlotte Mason when they were very young, then unit studies, then child-led as they got older and their interests went different directions. Then unschooling, with me not so much strewing as just sending them assignments from Khan Academy on Sunday night. I don't know what it was at the end. Lots of me with lists of things they 'should know' and stocking the shelves in the bathroom with all the high school reading list books, sending links to Crash Course, pointing out various colleges. I'll call it Hopeful Nagging.
And here we are.
Last night Ben thanked his band director, his friends who played with him, his friends who came to see him play, his sister for her support, his Dad for pitching in last-minute to cover drums and that was it. No 'thanks Mom' at all. And that's how it goes. That 18 years of them growing up was 18 years of my life as well, time I am glad I was able to spend with them day in and day out.
I will keep blogging for a bit here before swapping to a new blog. The website is gone, "roamschool" is no more, though I will retain the name a little longer. Not ready for just anyone to be able to set up shop under what was our banner for many years. It may have been a thankless job, but it was my whole world for a long time. And I was very lucky that it was.
Showing posts with label endings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label endings. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 3, 2018
Monday, June 19, 2017
Farewell, Cleo
I had Cleo put down this morning. It was harder than I realized, we have not had an animal need intervention before.
She had injured her leg and after rounds of antibiotics, no change. She was still in a great mood, eating and purring and loving being petted. I kept putting it off and putting it off, convincing myself it looked a little better, that she was still getting around, that she was still seeking us out for affection.
I did not sleep last night, I woke up at 12:17 and laid there until I finally peeled myself out of bed this morning. It wasn't getting better. The vet had given us a new type of meds that were a 'last resort' for badly infected puncture wounds, but a full week into the 10 day round, it was not looking any better. The vet suspected snake or spider bite, the wound was necrotic. She wasn't acting like she was in pain because the nerves were too damaged to feel it.
I had decided to wait until Saturday to decide if she needed intervention, so Matt could help. But after feeding her her med-laced food and using wipes to clean her face and body, I realized this is what my life has become. Every day I watch her, all day long. I shovel her poop into holes I dig for her, I poison ants (with borax) when they start making lines toward her leg, I clean her bedding and wash her body and spray her leg with peroxide and work a doll brush through her tangled hair, which had begun to fall out in clumps. I have not gone anywhere in nearly 3 weeks. I didn't want to give up hope, but how fair was it to keep her in this limbo?
Yesterday, she changed locations about a dozen times requiring hourly searches to relocate her in order to keep the dogs from harassing her. I was taking Nia and Murph out myself all last week, never letting either out of my sight. It was constant reminding the kids to watch for the cat, daily prayers that she would pass easily in the night. I was so stressed.
Today, I found her under a car, then under the porch, then splayed on the sidewalk, then on the porch, then in the mint and I finally realized she just can't get comfortable. That was a change, but not for the better. I went out and tried to soothe her and she just yowed. The vet had said I would 'know when it was time'. I didn't understand it until I did.
I went in to get a basket and a towel. She purred as I carried her to the van. She purred as I talked to her going down the road. She purred as I held her for the vet to examine one last time, her body so hot, her face pressed into my neck. The fever was new. I took her to the vet a week ago and she was running normal. Over the weekend, she felt cat-temp. Today, it was like holding a sunbeam.
I signed the paperwork saying I gave permission to euthanize her. That to my knowledge she had not bitten anyone. The staff at the vet's office was so kind. I had envisioned being scolded for choosing to put her to sleep, or being debated or talked into trying yet another type of medication. But none of that happened, they were gentle with us both.
The first shot, she did not even flinch. She purred and we petted her and I cried and cried and cried, tears splashing off my sandals, running under my feet so that later, every step, I squelched. She went very limp and the vet gave me a minute. I adjusted her body on the towel and helped her close her eyes. I rubbed her head until her last purr faded and she was breathing shallowly and I rubbed her as clean as I could with the combo of baby wipes and copious amounts of tears I had on hand. It didn't seem right for her to be dirty, she was always messing with herself, fighting that long fur to lay smooth. Cats are filthy. I wiped her feet, her mouth, made sure her ears were clean inside. Got the fur smoothed down her spine. She was so thin, this cat who, in her prime, was a hefty 13 pounds was now just over 5.
The next shot was a tiny pink goo-filled syringe. It took a couple of seconds to get it all in her leg. The vet set the needle down and listened for a heartbeat. She was gone. It was that fast. She never seemed stressed or scared or hurt, even the car ride in wasn't hard. She drifted off being petted and if there is any justice in the universe, that is where she still is hovering-in that memory of that feeling of no pain and many hands, of running her purr engine and making biscuits on the old towel I had wrapped her in.
The vet arranged her body like she was asleep and placed her in a bag that she taped off. I paid at the desk and went back in the room to get her. The bag was hot, that poor cat. I feel so horrible for both letting her wait so long and for letting her go so soon. She still had 4 days of meds left.
But they were not helping at all, the vet told me during the exam that the only thing left to try was amputating it and she doubted Cle would survive the anesthesia.
At home, I dug a spot outside my window. It's not where the rest of our pets are buried and I hope she doesn't mind. The bag was still warm as I lowered it into the hole, careful to keep her arranged in a comfortable cat curl. I put a double stack of brick on top because the very last thing I want is to walk outside next week and see shredded green plastic and ecstatic dogs.
Of the 4 cats we have had for well over a decade, Wonder is the only one left. After Muta disappeared, Wonder has stuck close to the house, despite the fact that Murphy and Nia are little shits to her. There is a stray orange male kitten who has moved in to the shed. While he seems sweet and I have not seen him mess with Wonder, efforts are underway to trap him to take to the pound. I can't do it any longer. I don't want more pets. I don't know if it's my age or the fact that I thought we HAD to have animals for the kids-who really don't seem to notice we have pets-or the fact that a 'quick' exam at the vet is now $160 a dog. Or if it's the weekly washing of the vacuum filters because they get clogged with dog hair. Or if it was losing Zephyr and then Kaiju. Something along the way fell off my personal radar and I feel done.
I can only hope dogs do what dogs are supposed to do and decline quickly and die at home after just a day or two of illness. If I have to put down Jessie or Kuma, I will break.
I don't know what the future holds. On the way to the vet, I told Cleo to find me again, when I was ready. She meowed once, and was quiet. I talked non-stop the whole way and that was the only time she replied. So maybe, when I am 70 and ready to stop running around so much, I'll go to the pound and see a little grey stripped long-haired kitten with green eyes and a meow like a bell and I'll say, "Well, hello there Cleo Della Rosa, how have you been?" and she will say, "Meow". And I will be forgiven.
She had injured her leg and after rounds of antibiotics, no change. She was still in a great mood, eating and purring and loving being petted. I kept putting it off and putting it off, convincing myself it looked a little better, that she was still getting around, that she was still seeking us out for affection.
I did not sleep last night, I woke up at 12:17 and laid there until I finally peeled myself out of bed this morning. It wasn't getting better. The vet had given us a new type of meds that were a 'last resort' for badly infected puncture wounds, but a full week into the 10 day round, it was not looking any better. The vet suspected snake or spider bite, the wound was necrotic. She wasn't acting like she was in pain because the nerves were too damaged to feel it.
I had decided to wait until Saturday to decide if she needed intervention, so Matt could help. But after feeding her her med-laced food and using wipes to clean her face and body, I realized this is what my life has become. Every day I watch her, all day long. I shovel her poop into holes I dig for her, I poison ants (with borax) when they start making lines toward her leg, I clean her bedding and wash her body and spray her leg with peroxide and work a doll brush through her tangled hair, which had begun to fall out in clumps. I have not gone anywhere in nearly 3 weeks. I didn't want to give up hope, but how fair was it to keep her in this limbo?
Yesterday, she changed locations about a dozen times requiring hourly searches to relocate her in order to keep the dogs from harassing her. I was taking Nia and Murph out myself all last week, never letting either out of my sight. It was constant reminding the kids to watch for the cat, daily prayers that she would pass easily in the night. I was so stressed.
Today, I found her under a car, then under the porch, then splayed on the sidewalk, then on the porch, then in the mint and I finally realized she just can't get comfortable. That was a change, but not for the better. I went out and tried to soothe her and she just yowed. The vet had said I would 'know when it was time'. I didn't understand it until I did.
I went in to get a basket and a towel. She purred as I carried her to the van. She purred as I talked to her going down the road. She purred as I held her for the vet to examine one last time, her body so hot, her face pressed into my neck. The fever was new. I took her to the vet a week ago and she was running normal. Over the weekend, she felt cat-temp. Today, it was like holding a sunbeam.
I signed the paperwork saying I gave permission to euthanize her. That to my knowledge she had not bitten anyone. The staff at the vet's office was so kind. I had envisioned being scolded for choosing to put her to sleep, or being debated or talked into trying yet another type of medication. But none of that happened, they were gentle with us both.
The first shot, she did not even flinch. She purred and we petted her and I cried and cried and cried, tears splashing off my sandals, running under my feet so that later, every step, I squelched. She went very limp and the vet gave me a minute. I adjusted her body on the towel and helped her close her eyes. I rubbed her head until her last purr faded and she was breathing shallowly and I rubbed her as clean as I could with the combo of baby wipes and copious amounts of tears I had on hand. It didn't seem right for her to be dirty, she was always messing with herself, fighting that long fur to lay smooth. Cats are filthy. I wiped her feet, her mouth, made sure her ears were clean inside. Got the fur smoothed down her spine. She was so thin, this cat who, in her prime, was a hefty 13 pounds was now just over 5.
The next shot was a tiny pink goo-filled syringe. It took a couple of seconds to get it all in her leg. The vet set the needle down and listened for a heartbeat. She was gone. It was that fast. She never seemed stressed or scared or hurt, even the car ride in wasn't hard. She drifted off being petted and if there is any justice in the universe, that is where she still is hovering-in that memory of that feeling of no pain and many hands, of running her purr engine and making biscuits on the old towel I had wrapped her in.
The vet arranged her body like she was asleep and placed her in a bag that she taped off. I paid at the desk and went back in the room to get her. The bag was hot, that poor cat. I feel so horrible for both letting her wait so long and for letting her go so soon. She still had 4 days of meds left.
But they were not helping at all, the vet told me during the exam that the only thing left to try was amputating it and she doubted Cle would survive the anesthesia.
At home, I dug a spot outside my window. It's not where the rest of our pets are buried and I hope she doesn't mind. The bag was still warm as I lowered it into the hole, careful to keep her arranged in a comfortable cat curl. I put a double stack of brick on top because the very last thing I want is to walk outside next week and see shredded green plastic and ecstatic dogs.
Of the 4 cats we have had for well over a decade, Wonder is the only one left. After Muta disappeared, Wonder has stuck close to the house, despite the fact that Murphy and Nia are little shits to her. There is a stray orange male kitten who has moved in to the shed. While he seems sweet and I have not seen him mess with Wonder, efforts are underway to trap him to take to the pound. I can't do it any longer. I don't want more pets. I don't know if it's my age or the fact that I thought we HAD to have animals for the kids-who really don't seem to notice we have pets-or the fact that a 'quick' exam at the vet is now $160 a dog. Or if it's the weekly washing of the vacuum filters because they get clogged with dog hair. Or if it was losing Zephyr and then Kaiju. Something along the way fell off my personal radar and I feel done.
I can only hope dogs do what dogs are supposed to do and decline quickly and die at home after just a day or two of illness. If I have to put down Jessie or Kuma, I will break.
I don't know what the future holds. On the way to the vet, I told Cleo to find me again, when I was ready. She meowed once, and was quiet. I talked non-stop the whole way and that was the only time she replied. So maybe, when I am 70 and ready to stop running around so much, I'll go to the pound and see a little grey stripped long-haired kitten with green eyes and a meow like a bell and I'll say, "Well, hello there Cleo Della Rosa, how have you been?" and she will say, "Meow". And I will be forgiven.
 |
| maybe |
Thursday, June 2, 2016
GA Aquarium #1
The GA Aquarium is #1 in the nation, but it's also #1 on our Summer List of Things To Do Before Chandler Starts Working
I had mildly fretted about going after school was out, I don't like crowds or noise or lines. But I love Disney and there are all of those there, so I figured I would live.
Happily, it was not packed, the only thing I had to wait for was some Nemo-obsessed mother/daughter pair to quit pointing 'him' out to the younger brother who gamely held a stuffed clownfish and said nothing, no matter how many times they screeched. I imagine he knows as well as I do that Nemo is animated and a real clownfish is not. That wasn't Nemo-you stand your ground, kid.
We drove over and back in the same day, Atlanta is just under 4 hours away, making it a LONG day trip, but doable.
Alex is going twice a month to an allergy specialist who has had great success in helping with food allergies. He has a peanut allergy and has to have an epi pen at all times. The 'cure' won't magically and with Alex wolfing down PB&J, but over time he can build up a resistance to them so that he can be exposed and not end up in the ER.
I think of it as the Dread Pirate Roberts Plan
So anyway, they are in Atlanta often, so we tagged along!
I'll say no more.
I don't know what my kids are doing, they made silly faces in most of our family vacation shots too. It makes me sad.
We went to see the Niafish
We went to the dolphin show, which I really enjoyed! The trainers seem crazy about dolphins and the dolphins seemed happy and willing. The jumps were amazing, but not surprisingly, them riding around being pushed by a dolphin was my favorite. There was discussion afterward with the trainers about dolphins as rescue animals, which is totally doable as far as training goes-they would go get people and haul them back to shore. I decided they would have to be wearing a sign or something, I can't imagine being near death and BAM, a huge dolphin comes up and starts snouting you. They are SCARY. I would not want to be out in the wild with one.
We got to the aquarium around 12:30 and left around 6 to get some food, then Katy talked our way back in and we stayed until they closed and were nearing 'poke with a stick' mode to get us out.
We spent at least an hour during the day just watching the whale shark tank.
Cichlids
And it does take all of them to make a dolphin!
I can do it in 17 jumps.
That requires belly muscle
Art from beach debris
Ben...well...
Full of food, we head back in!
We got back home around 11, I zonked right out! Looking forward to a possibly rainy day in which laundry and Netflix are my major considerations. 60% chance! It would be the first time in 3 weeks, so we need it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)