Yesterday, the homeschooling journey was not smooth.
Sometimes I feel like a hypocrite, a loser, a failure. I'm not living according to my own expectations, much less holding my children to high expectations. I'm not pregnant, nursing, or getting up in the middle of the night. What is my excuse? hmm....
After complaining to Stephen about the attitudes in our home the night before, I made everyone pray a rosary first thing in the morning, before attempting to start anything else.
The kids reluctantly prayed along with me. Then, they reluctantly did three subjects- the three that I teach them each morning- English, History, and Religion. Finally, we sat down with some overdue library books that I've been meaning to read to them before I return. Renew, renew, renew.
The mutiny started. Several kids were no-shows. Two children helped themselves to shredded cheese in the kitchen, spilling it everywhere and then bringing it into the living room, where it was shared with a baby and spilled and spread and stuck into our carpet. I harangued and cajoled until all six were sitting down in the living room.
I calmly told them to be quiet and listen. I firmly told them to be quiet and listen. Then I yelled at them to be quiet and listen. And the thought, "This isn't fun anymore" crept into my consciousness from somewhere below the iceberg of unconscious thought. This isn't worth it... the mess was everywhere.
Then I said it out loud. "Kids, this isn't going well. No screens for the rest of the day."
I felt like, despite the noisy conjecture, Mary was with me on this decision. This was her way of helping us out of a shallow lull in our studies. Because we had stopped to pray, I felt a divine assistance I may not have otherwise had. I may not do everything right in this journey, but I have a feeling that whenever I need assistance, she will be there. The rest of the day was so much better, and I was thankful that despite protestation, I stuck to my guns. The rest is history.