All roads lead to roam: saying goodbye

Showing posts with label saying goodbye. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 3, 2018

Fin!

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.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Rest Easy

It is with a heavy heart I sit here this afternoon to finish a story that was started almost 12 years ago with a litter of puppies with a single survivor. The bag was fished out of the lake, or so the rescue group's story went, by a man out fishing. One puppy was still alive. She was brought to the local rescue group and nursed back to health, eventually spayed and put up for adoption.

She was up for adoption for a long time. No one wanted her because she wasn't bouncy and licky like the other puppies, she was shy. They called her Cheyenne.

We went in 'JUST to look' with a 5, 7 and 9-year-old. We looked alright. We looked at every dog they had. Cheyenne was off my radar first thing because as a 7-month-old puppy, she had HUGE feet. She was going to be a monster.

After walking every dog they had, Matt said we might as well take her out too. We clipped on the leash and walked down to the little grassy area by the adoption event's space and she was about to pop! She peed and peed. After that, she was much happier to be looked over and played with. At one point I was consulting with Jake and looked over at her and Matt and she looked back, over her shoulder. It was the exact same way my childhood dog used to look at me. I teared up. I loved that dog fiercely and always felt safe with her. It was as if she had sent me a message saying, "I will take care of you" all over again.

We left with Cheyenne and renamed her Jessie Bear. She never again gave me that look but she did take care of us.

For the next 11 and a half years, she barked, drooled, shed, dug holes, and filled our lives with laughter, thousands of pounds of fur, and became a time-telling wonder. And she was a monster. 110 pounds of big ass dog who sat like a dainty princess, crossing her front paws just so.

We've spent the day retelling our favorite Jessie stories. How she loved to swim, how she loved to run. Once I let her off the leash to run at Whigg Meadow and she was so excited by the wide open space that as we watched, she peed and then pooped while in full gallop, the evidence trailing behind her as she went. She loved digging in mud, loved to flip logs and rocks and eat grub, loved to have her belly rubbed, loved being brushed. But more than anything, even more than us, she loved Kuma.

We named Kuma after Jessie, Kuma is Japanese for bear. He was her dog, she loved him from the minute we went to the same adoption event 9 months later and got him at 6 months of age. They locked jaws and ran around wagging tails and going 'arr arr'. For nearly 11 years, they have never been apart.

Her appetite, always huge, started to wane Thursday. She left food in her bowl, something I have never seen happen before. I watched her all day, but other than moving more carefully, she didn't seem off. She and Kuma both are stiff-legged these days. By Friday, she was moving from place to place, unable to get comfortable. I broke out the old blankets I was saving for when it got colder and made her a nest. She snoozed all day and did not want dinner, but she did eat some plain chicken.

About 1 Saturday morning Jake woke us up, saying she had collapsed in the yard. We got her back to her nest with a fresh bowl of water nearby to save her the journey again. It happened again around dawn, this time she barely reacted as we arranged her back on the porch. Her body was so cold from laying on the damp ground even though Jake stayed up all night checking on her and it could not have been more than a few minutes that she was out there.

We wrapped her in a blanket and rubbed her all over to get her warmed up and dry and she popped her head up and watched us talking. We were telling her it was okay for her to go. We would take care of Kuma and that her puppies were all grown up now, she'd done a good job. She's a good, good girl, the best dog. All of the things you say to make yourself feel better. Her eyes said she knew, and she was ready.

We came in for a little while to get dried off and cleaned up ourselves and when we checked on her next, she was gone. I hate that no one was with her other than Kuma but that's selfish. She had her life's companion there, the two of them were their own kind of family and I think at the end, that is what I would want as well. To know I was loved and beloved by all, but to have just Matt to see me over. I think she picked her time as best she could.

The hole was hard to dig. We picked a spot large enough to put Kuma next to her when his time comes. Jake helped even after being up all night. It was huge, she's a huge dog. We wrapped her in a blanket and carried her down, arranged her and covered her up with the blanket she liked best. Chandler scattered dog cookies around her, I took her collar. She knows she's ours.

We filled in the hole, making each other laugh and cry with all the memories of her, so many. Hikes and swims and walks in the woods, the time she slipped over the cliff at Caney Falls and her harness got snagged and we had to climb up and rescue her while she dangled, barking. The time she went crashing into a creek that was flowing out of a cave and Kuma went after her and panicked and ended up running 30 feet on his hind legs to get out of that cold mess! Diving off the docks at Jim and Loretta's and at Grundy Lake and at the marina. How she loved to go in boats, how her tongue flopped out of the side of her mouth, how her eyes could crinkle like she was smiling extra big to see you.

Times we took her camping, long drives when we'd have to spend $5 to vacuum the hair out of the van after, that picnic when she ate all the cookies and tried to drink soda and sneezed. Tying her harness to an inner tube and her hauling the kids up the creek at North River over and over. The times she would silent but deadly gas us half to death, oblivious as we gasped and accused her of attempted murder.

We are so lucky. So lucky to have found her, to have had her for so long, to have so many memories, that so many of them make us smile, even while we wipe the tears that have not stopped all day.

Oh, Jessie Bear. You were a good girl. Run play! Zephyr and Kaiju are there, and your cat friends, Kat and Cleo and Muta. There's Klover, the dog you reminded me of, and Dusty who was Daddy's dog long before you. I hope you won't be too lonely for Kuma and we will take care of him and try to keep him from being too lonely for you.

In the spring, we will cover her grave in the wildflower seeds we got at Uncle Jim's memorial service. We hadn't known what to do with them before, but this feels right. He once had to drive his Gator around looking for her and Kuma when they tried to take down a deer and got lost in the wilds of Kentucky. So many memories. We are so lucky.