Maine with Kids: A Moose Safari in Greenville

One of my favorite activities from our summer adventures in Maine was a trip to the Highlands for a guided Moose safari.

Lake Moosehead is a huge lake, the biggest in Maine, and spans more than 120 square miles. In the winter it actually freezes over solid and Spring does not officially arrive in Greenville until the Katahdin steamship can safely travel across the lake, at which point the Ice-out date is declared, marking the beginning of the tourist season. Like in Virginia, Maine's winter was particularly harsh and long, and when we visited in early June, this sleepy little town was just waking up.

We stayed at the Chalet Moosehead Lakefront Motel, recommended by our tour guides at Northeast Whitewater Maine Moose Watching Tours, which offered two-bedroom accommodations. We have decided that suites are the way to sleep when away from home, even if that means we stay in the economy tiers—it beats the alternative of post-bedtime crowding in the darkness around a laptop on the floor (as we have survived in the past). Chalet Moosehead was a fine pick. Family owned, and offering beautiful views, easy access to town amenities, a kitchenette, and plenty of space to spread out.

After a relatively quick 3-hour drive from the coast, we checked-in and then set out to explore the property where we found breathtaking views of the lake, and paddleboats that we used to check out the docked floatplanes.

We went into town to grab some groceries at the Indian Hill Trading Post, which has a Hannaford's grocery store on one side and a sporting goods/gift store on the other. I love odds and ends stores like this one and they had two full aisles dedicated to a good assortment of quality kids toys so I grabbed an angry birds card game and a playdoh pack for evening entertainment, some lucky moose socks for the boys, as well as some breakfast and snack essentials to last us through lunchtime the next day.

On our way home we ordered takeout dinner from an inviting little restaurant called the Stress Free Moose Pub and Bar, and then headed back to our room to settle in, eat, and play before bed. The kids and I surprised Andy with a blueberry pie that we had stowed away. It was his birthday and I'm pretty sure we ate the whole thing.

Roscoe and Merritt went to bed well before the sun set around 9:00 and so Andy and I had our room and a lovely view to enjoy before the knowledge of our early morning wake-up call demanded sleep.

We woke up the next day at 4:45am, quickly dressed in layers, and drove a few minutes to the Northeast Whitewater lodge where we were greeted by our tour guide Jessica, and a welcome sign with our name on it. We chose a private half-day tour for flexibility to accommodate the kids' attention spans and moods, with the benefit of a dedicated tour guide to field all the questions I knew the boys would have.

We were only the 5th tour of the season, but our guide was encouraged by the success of previous tours despite Spring's late start, and the subsequent late hatching of the black flies that are the primary force to drive out the moose from the deep woods, where the cows have recently given birth, and nearer to the water's edge where they can more easily be viewed.

We moved the kids' carseats into her Suburban, distributed smoothies to the boys, and set off on a 45-minute drive up into the mountains.

Foggy morning views in the highlands of Maine. Perfect moose weather!

The air temperatures were chilly that morning and heavy fog enveloped the road and the forests leading up to Moose Pond. Our guide drove slowly as we climbed higher, mostly to keep an eye out for moose on our behalf, but also because it is one big moose crossing up there and they can be as tall as 7 feet high and weigh as much as 1500 pounds each—you don't want to hit one! We were all on the lookout when Jessica noticed moose tracks, like deep scuff marks patterned into the dirt, on the shoulder of the road. We were getting closer!

We exited the paved road after a while and drove on a gravel access for another 9 miles. When we reached the lake Jessica encouraged the kids to be quiet and to use inside voices. They sneaked down to the waters edge, but their excitement was hard to contain. I wasn't sure for how long they would be able to stay quiet.

We don't moose safari without our lucky red moose socks. 

We put on life jackets and swatted at swarms of insects that had started to gather around us as Jessica made her first sighting: a young female timbering gracefully along the shoreline, digging up foliage from the lake's bottom. Very cool!  The kids were happy but indifferent as the moose was pretty far away with a silhouette that was hard to distinguish from the surrounding mist.

Looking for moose

I asked Jessica if the swarms of insects were the biting kind. She laughed and said they were not, just black flies that could be very annoying. She left briefly to retrieve a canoe for the five of us, and fortunately we could all fit into one since the kids were able to squeeze into spaces nestled at our feet and beside us.



The lake was fantastically gorgeous. Serene, and peaceful. I love every angle of Maine.

We rowed along, the only visitors on the entire lake save for one fishing boat on a far edge. We paddled into a cove where we spied a young bull, maybe only a year old. We stopped and watched him as he made his way across the waters and into the woodland scrub. The kids were a little restless, requesting the paddles, and putting their hands in the water, and beginning to ask a lot of questions about things unrelated to moose.

Meanwhile, I noticed blood dripping down Andy's neck and pointed it out to Jessica. She said, "Oh, I guess those are the black flies." Then I noticed Roscoe had blood in his ear. Jessica assured us she never gets bit, and I wasn't feeling any bites yet. I kept an eye on the kids, and swatted around their heads just in case. Andy was in front paddling and unable to swat the flies away.





We decided since we were already out in the middle of the lake, to go for it, and check out one more cove before heading back to shore. We didn't find any moose there but on the way back we met a five year old bull up to his neck in the middle of the water. He was swimming through the deeper parts on his way to the other side. We slowed our paddle, and he stopped to watch us for a moment before continuing his morning routine.

Then it was only a few more paddles to the shore where we hauled our boat to dry land.

Jessica offered us homemade brownies, granola bars, and sweet tea to refuel before the drive home.

Our tour guide was patient and great with the kids. It was a very kid friendly tour.

Roscoe found part of a moose antler as a souvenir and back at the lodge they found more accessories to play with.

A small gory note on the black fly: They are tiny and ferocious. They bite with a numbing agent so you don't feel them, and they leave open wounds that bleed and swell up in an alarming way. We all were bit to some extent (except for our guide, naturally), and Andy won with more than fifty bites on his head and neck alone. As it turns out, a lot of black fly bites at once can give a person the Black Fly Flu, and so Andy felt achy and off for the better part of the following two days. The bites itched horribly and took weeks to heal. WEEKS. Thankfully our bodies were almost entirely protected by our clothing, and, had we known, we most definitely would have brought some bug repellant, although I've read conflicting reports about it's effectiveness. The timing of our trip and the hatching of the hungry flies was an unfortunate coincidence and the boys have staunch opinions about the black fly, having declared they would never visit Maine or go on a moose safari again because of them. Really, though. The experience was very special and we got to see another side of Maine that we wouldn't have trekked up north for were it not for the moose, so my vote is that the flies get a pass. If you ever consider a moose safari remember the black flies, wear light clothing, and cover up as much skin as you can. Don't wear perfumes or wash with strongly scented shampoos or soaps, and look into a bug spray you feel comfortable wearing. I might also suggest a reservation later in the Summer after the birds have picked off most of the flies. This site, although from Milwaukee, has interesting facts about the black fly. 

Traveling with kids from Virginia to Maine, a few tricks that made it easier

We have been exploring Maine for just over a week now and are feeling right at home. It was my intention to write nightly and post photos in a timely way but without a break in parenting responsibilities it has been a tough routine to create. While I overestimated the energy I would have at the end of every day to do anything at all productive, Andy joined us last Thursday night so I hope to find a groove this week. If you want to follow along in a way that more closely resembles real-time check us out on Instagram @MarblesRolling.

Our little house has an incredible lakefront view that we look forward to morning and night.

The drive up was lush with Spring and all the way through Connecticut the landscape felt pretty much like Virginia does this time of year: leafy, rolling hills in shades of green, blue, and gray where distant mountains appear in layers at the horizon. We saw a spattering of brick and concrete through New Jersey and Pennsylvania but mostly it was winding roads through countryside.

We broke up the drive into two days: an 8.5-hour first leg and a 4-hour second leg, which ended up taking us 14.5 hours total. On our first day of travel we left Richmond at 7:20am and made it to Hartford Connecticut by 4:00pm; we managed only to stop twice along the way: once for gas and the restroom, and again for a side-of-the road potty break (our favorite kind).

The kids were surprisingly cool about all the time spent in the car. It helped that my expectations were low and that I planned ahead in timing (they missed the last day of preschool so we could get an early start) and for ways to keep them well fed and entertained. We have been planning for this trip for more than six months and their personal investment and excitement for all parts of the adventure was evident; everyone was pleasant, and cooperative for the duration. Unheard of.

When we arrived at our hotel in Connecticut we ordered dinner in our room, and the kids' enthusiasm continued as they exclaimed love for the glasses we drank out of it, love for the bedsheets and comforter, love for the view of Hartford from our hotel window. They hugged and kissed each other a lot. After dinner we went for a swim and then fell asleep relatively early.

The second leg of the drive began early the next morning and felt a lot more tedious because we were that much closer to our final destination, and the shorter drive just didn’t require the stamina that the previous day had demanded. As we left Connecticut and moved into Massachusetts the quintessential New England landscape emerged with steeples and rooftops poking up and out of fluffy textured tree cover. We stopped in Massachusetts for gas and to eat breakfast, then piled back in the car eager to cross into New Hampshire and eventually Maine. 

We were in need of escape from the confines of the car, Maple's to the rescue

When our path began to parallel the ocean I knew we were getting close, so I loosened up a bit on taking a direct route and we veered off for another pit stop just passed Portland for a few scoops of Maple's Organics incredible gelato. (It seems that many of our friends are traveling to Maine this summer, so for those of you who are, this is a nice little place to relax for a bit if it's near to where you are staying or on your way to somewhere else.) 

I had a lot of anxiety leading up to this trip, a function of my usual catastrophic thinking mixed with a little fear for embarking alone with the kids on a six week stay in an unfamiliar house and town. As the minutes to arrival counted down on GPS, and as I finally set sights on the sign that marked our street, and then turned off the main road on to a dirt drive my heart lifted a little; and when I parked the car on a little flat spot above the house and caught glimpse over the rooftop and through the trees of sunlight sparkling on the lake I felt awash with relief. This town, this house, this lake, they really do exist! 

A few tricks that I found helpful for traveling long distances with young ones:

• Keep the goodies out of sight until you really need them: I kept all the activities that I packed for the kids up front with me until the circumstances or attitudes warranted a change. We started the drive with only the usual suspects: a snack, their books and magazines (National Geographic Kids, High Five, Ranger Rick Jr.), and their saved Playmobil and Lego catalogs). 
• Bring one of everything, not one for each kid: I found that having only one of each toy/app/activity worked out well because the boys had the opportunity to grow bored and then trade the "old" for the “new.” 
• Maximize nap time: I made a rule that whenever one kid napped the other could use the iPad to watch a movie, which bought me double the quiet time because they each took naps at separate times. Timing the road trip around naptime is probably an obvious help.
• Download a few new apps and games, or movies: Before we left I downloaded a selection of the movies we own from Apple TV and also bought a few new game apps for the iPad (Toca Builders, MineCraft, and Lego Juniors). Minecraft is too advanced for Merritt but Roscoe has taken to it easily.
• Consider giving audiobooks a try too: We love audiobooks for car travel because they keep the kids’ attention while still allowing them to stay engaged in what's happening in the car and out on the road–audiobooks don't seem to engross them in the same way that dvd players do. The kids have really enjoyed The Cat and the Hat and Other Stories, so for this trip I downloaded My Father’s Dragon, which is the perfect storyline for up-and-coming kindergartners, and probably kids of all ages.
• Invest in a few travel style games: 
• Open ended, and fascinating in a tactile sort of way, the kido freeplay magnatab was a huge hit. The pen brings the little magnet balls to the surface and then they use their fingers to push the designs down.
• Another travel must-have was the On-The-Go Colorblast notepad by Melissa and Doug, which held their attention for a long time. I loved stuff like this when I was a kid too.
• Pack a cooler of portable snacks: I brought a small cooler with a big waterbottle of diluted juice and another filled with water; portable yogurts and applesauce; grapes and bananas; cheese; peanut butter and jelly sandwiches; fruit snacks and fruit leathers; and gum for chewing. I also packed two meals for them that served as lunch, but these extra snacks and treats kept everyone happy in between meals, and we had plenty leftover for our second day of travel.
• Throw in a few unexpected surprises: I brought along a package of freeze-dried Neapolitan ice cream (developed for astronauts!). The kids thought it was very interesting and we had the opportunity to talk about why in the world would astronauts need to eat their ice cream freeze-dried and out of a pouch.

If you are a frequent traveler, or infrequent like us, what do you find works best to keep your littles happy while on the road?

Lessons from nature on bats and rabies

Last Friday, Roscoe found a dead bat by the river.

It was a tiny bat that fit so sweetly cupped in the palm of his hand. We guessed it was only recently dead, it's brown fur too soft to resist, with velvety wings that fanned out.

My little expert on the natural world—well-versed in all things Kratt brothers and Jeff Corwin—Roscoe was incredulous at this chance sighting of a real bat. He couldn't contain his joy and reached out with bare hands before I could properly devise my approach.

I told him at first, "Only with this stick," and demonstrated how he could gently lift up a wing, or even flip the bat over entirely to get a better view, and then I offered it to him to give a try.

It crossed my mind to follow the lead of a friend who was sharing the trail with us that day, she firmly made it clear to her own children that in their family they do not touch dead animals. I vacillated but Roscoe's contagious energy swayed me. The way his fingertips danced across the bats belly, gliding up over its face and caressing those fuzzy ears. By my own omission he claimed the bat as his own, the newest member of our crew—4 kids deep and two mamas trailing behind.

Roscoe hung the bat by its claws from the side of his outstretched finger, "This is what a bat looks like when he sleeps. See, his wings fold up like this. Isn't she a beauty?" He was using a familiarly proper and most scientific tone to narrate the bats characteristic features.

He walked on to the beach and buried the bat in the sand, then picked up the corners of its wings like a little napkin, heavy with a sandy load, and carried it over to the river's edge where he slowly dribbled the granules into the water's murky depths.

He washed it next, meticulously dipping its wings and then submerging the furry corpse before wringing it out like a washcloth and darting back up into the treeline for more batty adventures.

By now I was thinking it was time to let the bat go.

One called out to give it a watery grave. Yes, I agreed. "Throw it into the river!"

In hindsight, in just this one case, I'm so grateful for my four year old's insistence to not listen to a word I say.

"Bury it in the sand!" another said.

"Hang it by its toes on the bark of this tree?" I pleaded.

Get rid of it, we encouraged. "It's time."

But he was adamant that when he finds bats in nature it is easy for him to get attached and next he insisted that he would much prefer to bury it in our backyard at home.

No. That was going a little too far. "I'm sorry, but that's not happening," I empathized. "I know it's hard, but you must."

I wrestled him for the bat and dropped it into the nearest dark space that I could find, just off the trail where the weeds grew tall.

What came next: 

Back at home as the day was winding down, a nagging little feeling hung with me, and so while the kids made believe they were pirates in the backyard, I pulled up the CDC website to settle my mind about rabies.

Any contact with a bat—dead or alive apparently—warrants a call to the pediatrician. The triage nurse insisted and we complied: call the police to dispatch animal control, retrieve the bat's body from the trail and arrange for it to be tested, head to the emergency room to begin the rabies vaccination series.

I couldn't believe it. Really? No one had been bitten, the bat had been found dead. In fact, Roscoe, Merritt and I had all been "exposed" having touched the bat to various extents and so we were all candidates for vaccination. (They were very confident on this point.) I was told the boys could only receive their doses at the Emergency Room, a potentially exorbitant cost for a series of 4 vaccines each, but Rabies is 100% fatal and so there wasn't room for skepticism.

Roscoe and I stayed at the pediatric emergency room for more than three hours. The nurses fawned over him coaxing him to repeat his version of the story to any newcomers.

"Now tell her. What did you find by the river?" They would say with anticipation. "And where did you touch it?!" Everyone was hysterical at his telling, nodding somberly and stifling their amusement as they waited for the best parts.

Roscoe would articulate from the beginning and then point to his nose and mouth with a smart grin. He did touch the bats teeth, but not the tips, he only rubbed them across the front he would say, demonstrating with his finger on his own teeth. "I didn't touch the canines," he assured us. The details were becoming clearer to him with every telling.

When we were alone though, I could tell he was a little frightened, alarmed and bummed that his play-date with the bat had come to this. He made me promise to go first when it was time to get our shots.

Around midnight, after consulting with the state epidemiologist and other infectious disease experts we learned that because the bat was in custody we could go home and wait for the test results to come in on Wednesday.

If the bat had been rabid and if any of us had even truly been exposed, the statistical odds felt so far-fetched that we doubted it was true and so we were not surprised, though terribly relieved, when we learned that the test results came back negative.

How do you balance your children's curiosity in nature?

How We Came to Homeschool Part 4: Looking forward to kindergarten

This is the last post in a four Part series about how we came to our decision to homeschool. 

If you want to catch up on the rest, check out

Part 1: Let me Begin at the Beginning
Part 2: Saying Yes to the BoldHeart Life, Saying Yes to Homeschooling
Part 3: Calming the Fear and Moving Beyond

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The preschool year ends on May 29th, the same day we'll be heading north to coastal Maine for an extended Summer vacation. I'm planning to take advantage of all the natural learning opportunities that we'll encounter there by getting plenty of PBH journaling practice in while we are away. When we return home in the first of week of August I'll refocus my attention to readying myself for a September start to the upcoming school year.

Fortunately, the three most important aspects of my preparation are already in place. I've reorganized the main spaces in the house to encourage Roscoe's independence and to maximize everyone's ability to enjoy spreading out and getting to work (this was part of my homework for the PBH Master Class), my journal lies in wait, and we have integrated into our routine dedicated project time by virtue of the fact that Merritt will be in preschool for a couple hours each morning of the week. Of course, Roscoe will be able to work on his projects at any time, but we'll both benefit from having an hour or two set aside every morning when he can expect my undivided attention.

Sometimes planning long-range can feel overwhelming, so another feature of PBH that gives me peace about homeschooling is that I don't have to write weekly or yearly lesson plans. The curriculum is child-led and emergent so I need only to observe, document, and mentor Roscoe's process and help him to dig deeper into his interests as he explores them. I love the simplicity of it.

We'll continue to look to nature and the changing seasons to inspire our activities throughout the year, exploring art, the great outdoors, our community, and whatever else strikes our fancy.  Although we are taking an informal approach to the kindergarten year, I am looking into a play-based elementary Spanish course offered through a local homeschooling academy. One day I hope we can all be conversationally fluent.

I also made a list of the themes and holidays that I want to acknowledge or celebrate in a timely way—this isn't really homeschooling related but knowing that he won't have that structure outside our house has compelled me to make it one of my priorities. I'm sure that developing a new daily routine will be in order too as we transition into new and different ways of spending our time together and apart, with Roscoe at home and Merritt in preschool 5 days a week. Eventually, I look forward to letting go of the construct of the "school year" all together so that we can really take advantage of the flexibility that living off the grid offers to all of us--maybe working year round or perhaps taking off the Winter or other portion of the year as it appeals to us.  

I'm still considering local co-ops and other opportunities for Roscoe to routinely work and play with his peer group. I've started conversations with some of the families of his preschool buddies to create opportunities for them to continue their friendships but the kids are all headed to different school districts next year so I'm thinking it may be a challenge as our need for social time outside of school hours will likely be higher than theirs. I've considered starting a project-based group or a lego club, but also feel that the newness of all of this may be more than enough for me to tackle in the first year. I would love to join in with an already established and thriving group of families, but I haven't found it just yet.

I gather that homeschooling life is ever-evolving and there's still so much I don't know but I'm just going to go for it and learn through doing.

If you're a homeschooling mama do you have any tips or advice to offer? I would love to hear!

How We Came to Homeschool Part 3: Calming the fear and moving beyond

This is Part 3 in a series about how we came to our decision to homeschool. 

Catch up on previous posts in the series:
Part 1: Let me begin at the beginning 
Part 2: Saying yes to the BoldHeart Life, saying yes to homeschool

___________________________________________________________________________

While I loved the overarching promise of how PBH could enrich our lifestyle and family culture as one that supports and promotes meaningful work, I still needed to find my confidence in homeschooling in general, which was buried in fear that choosing to homeschool would deprive Roscoe of something crucial—information, skills, relationships, or experiences. I wanted to be confident enough to think outside the box of education as I've always known it. I wanted to see how far we could carry this homeschooling gig past kindergarten. I wanted to explore the data and I wanted to to know what is best in education.

You can read all about Project Based Homeschooling at the Camp Creek Blog, but the gist is this (excerpted from the What Is PBH? primer) :

Project-based homeschooling combines your child’s genuine interests with long-term, deep, complex learning. It is the part of your curriculum when you mentor your child to help him learn how to direct and manage his own learning.

PBH works with any homeschooling method, and it can be a way to unschool. It is the essential portion [you get to decide how big that portion will be] of your child’s learning life when you devote time to helping him do his own self-chosen, self-motivated work. 

• You create a space dedicated to doing meaningful work, set up to both attract your child and allow him to work independently. 
• You offer him an interesting variety of high-quality materials and tools. 
• You build blocks of time into your routine for project-related learning, making, and doing — time when you are available to support and mentor. 
• You become a trusted resource who will take him where he needs to go and help him meet his own goals. 
• He provides the interest and the ideas, so his work is self-motivated. You help him keep track of his plans, intentions, and questions.

—Lori Pickert, Project Based Homeschooling 

It was easy for me to see right away the logical connection between this approach and say, art or the natural sciences, but how would his interests organically arch to complex mathematics or the physical sciences like chemistry? How would Roscoe learn to read? Do homeschooled kids go to college, and how? Would Roscoe be a weird kid and then a weird adult? (I don't mean only in the sense of being different from his public or private schooled peers, but would homeschooling affect his affinity for meaningful relationships with co-ed friends and eventually romantic love?) What about socialization, and how much extra effort and added responsibility would be required to create opportunities for him to develop friendships outside the context of compulsory school days? What quintessential childhood memories would he miss out on by not attending traditional school? Would he be "well rounded", and is that even important? What opportunities are available to homeschooled kids for joining sports teams and other extracurricular activities? How would he learn a foreign language? Would he be satisfied later with the choices that we're making for him now?

At the same time that I worried about how I would facilitate Roscoe's academic experience, I also worried about how choosing to homeschool would affect my life. I had for the last five years assumed that when Roscoe turned five he would be off to school every day for much of the day, which would free up my time for another baby or a return back to full-time work, perhaps. Our commitment to homeschooling the boys would mean no school day away. Ever. Could I handle a pregnancy and another baby in addition to this new responsibility to homeschooling? What about my career, would I ever have the time or desire to go back to work? How would I carve out time in our schedule to pursue my personal interests and work, and nurture my need for time alone? Could I be a good mother and a good mentor? Would choosing to homeschool even further isolate my mothering experience? Would I be able to hack the homeschooling lifestyle—would our time together crowd out other (better) influences, and would it serve to magnify the less than perfect parts of me? What if it was a negative experience for all of us? And frankly, who did I think I was to take on both these roles, I know nothing about any of this education stuff!?

It was easy to feel overwhelmed by all the what-ifs, so before I got too carried away I bought the book Project-Based Homeschooling. I needed to understand the big and little ideas of PBH to know if it was truly a good fit for us. Through reading the book I fell in love with the method. I felt that if we were to choose to homeschool, PBH was definitely for us!

I began to furiously research every facet of doubt, worry, or wonder. I started a Home Education Pinterest board to bookmark articles on the topics that resonated with my thinking process.

In January I met with Roscoe’s preschool teachers to discuss his personality and learning style, his strengths and weaknesses academically and socially, and to get their perspective on what they thought would be the best learning environment for him. Public school, Waldorf, homeschool? While I was excited about the opportunities that homeschooling offered to our family as a whole, was it the right fit for Roscoe? I wanted to hear their perspective on everything.

Then, in an effort to learn more about what homeschool looks like in real life, I had coffee with several local homeschooling mamas to hear what the experience is/was for them, what methods and curriculum they used, how the decision played out for them over the years, what their children thought about it then and now, and what their kids are up to these days. Every meeting inspired confidence in the process, and encouraged me to take small steps in my own journey.

In February I enrolled in a 6 week online PBH Master Class that bridged the gaps in my knowledge about the method and the nuances of its implementation. I joined the forum and had direct access to Lori for all my specific questions. While I initially thought we would "unschool" through exclusive PBH, I realized that we want to also incorporate some academics after the kindergarten year.

Last month I attended two introductory sessions at the VAHomeschoolers Conference, Homeschooling 101: Homeschooling for the Non-Homeschooler, which helped me to see how my family fits in statistically with the larger homeschooling community, and Beginning Homeschool an overview of the law and getting started. I'm already looking forward to attending the full conference next year.

It has been a steep learning curve and while there have certainly been days when I felt like I was having an identity crisis, through my research and exploration of our decision I am feeling very comfortable and confident to trust myself, and trust my kids, as I always have in my role as their mother.

I don't know what is the best environment or approach to education, but I do know that traditional methods are not the only way to instill a love of learning, or to help children become strong thinkers, learners, and doers for success in a life of their own choosing. Homeschooling is one option in the patchwork of educational choices available to us, and to choose the best method of education for my kids, and for my family, feels as deeply personal as any other parenting decision that I've been charged to make so far. Roscoe's memories of his childhood and of his learning will be just as good as mine were, they will just be different. Yes I sometimes wonder if I am cut out for this, but I don't want to choose not to homeschool based on a fear that I am not good enough. I feel called to the challenge, and I am motivated by the potential rewards of negotiating and navigating authentic and lifelong relationships with my sons. There are few things more important to me.

Just as I trust that the boys will become skilled thinkers and learners, accept and work through their mistakes, and ultimately find out what they are good at and what inspires them, I trust that I will find my way as their mentor. I'm giving myself permission and opportunity to learn and grow alongside them. I doubt this first year will work out exactly as I imagine. I don't think it will be easy, but parenting never is! I truly hope that homeschooling will be for us everything that it promises to be, and that we will forever homeschool but our intention is to take it one year at a time and always remain sensitive to everyone's needs.

Next up, Part 4: Looking Forward to Kindergarten

How We Came to Homeschool Part 2: Saying yes to the BoldHeart Life, saying yes to homeschooling

This is Part 2 in a series about how we came to our decision to homeschool. 

If you haven't already, check out Part 1: Let Me Start at The Beginning

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My favorite fridge magnet from the lovely Colette Paperie

A few weeks ago we received an acceptance letter from the Waldorf School for Roscoe's kindergarten year. I waited until the very last day to respond knowing that it would make our decision final. In my note I shared that we had recently made the unexpected decision to homeschool and that Roscoe would not be enrolling for the 2014-2015 school year. The Director's message back was to the point: “Well, that is a surprise!”

After years of assuming that our kids would attend public school, and then the last two and a half years spent establishing a relationship with the local Waldorf school in anticipation of that kindergarten acceptance letter I wholeheartedly agree, it has been a rather quick and unexpected change of heart. I’m giving myself at least a few months to let it fully sink in.

I rely on my short and long term plans, which umbrella numerous lists and goals. If it's in my head it gets put on paper. The exercise gives me mental clarity and a sense of direction while it also offers some semblance of control. Though I haven't always given myself the freedom to change my mind or to stray from the Plan, my mothering presents a very compelling circumstance. The big and little decisions I make deserve my full attention, particularly the ones that affect my kids, my work, and our family life. Allowing myself flexibility to diverge from even the best laid plan gives me the greatest chance to get it right, to grow with my kids, and to give everyone a voice in how our journey unfolds.

I’ll never say never again. 

Back in December Andy and I shared some wild conversations in the dazzling calm that followed Christmas. By wild I just mean that I doubt our former childless selves would have guessed that their future parent selves would be the kind of people who give birth at home, or bedshare, or breastfeed into the toddler years, or quit their jobs, or change their worldviews, or homeschool, of all things. 

I couldn't have seen it coming, but lying nose to nose in the pitch darkness of winter provokes courage in the same way that difficult or passionate discussions are often made easier by riding in a car while staring out of the window at the streetlamps passing or far off into the distance where the sky meets the road. In the face-close of night, the illusion of infinite space exists to fill it up with what you really mean to say, to be bold with new ideas that come to life and grow big above our heads and then drift late into the sleeping hours. And that moment when I mistook Andy's silence for having fallen asleep? He surprised me with words that rang like truth, affirming my greatest hopes with his enthusiasm and support. 

I came across Lori Pickert's blog about project based homeschooling (PBH) on a whim internet search of homeschool and Reggio-Emilia—an approach I've become familiar with through the boys' preschool. Really I was just exploring the possibilities for after Roscoe's kindergarten year in an effort to look at all of our options. While I had my own misunderstandings about who homeschools, and why they homeschool, and how it looks or how their kids fare, I was immediately struck by the ways in which the PBH approach offered a natural extension of our parenting and really embodied the vision that Andy and I have long shared for our family life. Project Based Homeschooling resonated in ways that for the first time made it possible to see myself and my family as the homeschooling kind.

Homeschooling really took hold of our imaginations when we considered how we could more creatively use our time and money to live our big ideas. At the time we were considering just the kindergarten year, but what if instead of paying $7500 for private school we homeschooled and used that money to begin to travel to all the places we've always wanted to go?

I was soon on the internet reading “Top 10” and “Best Of” family vacations, pinning to my Family Travel Adventures board with wanderlust that suddenly felt surprisingly within reach.   

Admittedly, we are inexperienced travelers, particularly with children and especially internationally. We quickly tapered down our expectations and found equilibrium mapping out several small East Coast trips that we could really get excited about. When I booked a small lakehouse in Maine for 6 weeks this Summer it felt like we were really getting on to the good stuff.

With more discussion about finances, and priorities, and the life that we really craved to live, I committed to the idea of homeschooling with ~68% of my heart.

But I still had so many questions.

Up next, PART 3: Calming Fear and Moving Beyond

What's the BoldHeart life? 

Buoyant

I'm still struggling to shed the weight from Merritt's pregnancy and while I am working on it, I am also working on feeling comfortable in the body I've got for now. This is the last one from the South Carolina series.
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There is freedom in a properly fitted bathing suit and a poolside audience who neither knows me nor gives a shit about appearances, or so I gather from their own presentation. The water at first feels warm, but beneath the surface it’s cloudy cool. I let down my hair—hesitating momentarily, aware that thoughtfully ironed curls will melt straight here. Pulling the elastic from a high ponytail I hold my breath and disappear slowly under the surface. I emerge for air and wipe the water from my eyes now burning from traces of a full face of makeup. I use my hands to rinse away what remains, like I do at the end of every day. There's satisfaction in letting go of all of it. The clothes, the hair, the face. There’s happiness here and I welcome the weight of my hair drenched and heavy on my head, the tips floating freely like flotsam on the surface of the ocean.

The Magic Aquarium

This is another one from South Carolina. Next trip I'll try to post them in a more timely fashion!
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Merritt’s hands spread out like starfish, reaching to feel the shark pups as they swim by with their cat-tongue skins. His frantic excitement calls to us to hoist him up and over the edge of the touch pool and in the next breath demands to be put down, his body and limbs darting from one staging area to another in anticipation of where the little black one—his favorite—will be headed next. His expressed exhilaration of something wild moving through his fingertips is palpable, and familiar.

Snapshot of a Family On Vacation

I'm taking a creative writing class right now and it has been fun to try to capture the small and meaningful moments that we shared while on vacation. Here is another quickie from South Carolina last month.
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Humidity in the indoor pool is at 100%, the warm air heavy with suspended particles of chlorine that cling to the balls of our eyes. I accept subtle innuendo from him, and the kids frolic without restraint in and out of the water. Their dependence on us to keep them afloat and to know just how far is far enough as they navigate their own comfort in unfamiliar waters fills me with a mix of something like terror and awe.

We gently prompt them to choose the deepest part of the pool to jump into, away from the stairs, and insist that each give the other enough space so as not to leap into a tangled family pile here in the middle where he and I stand vigilant. We offer encouragement, giving them space to jump big, and remain in good spirits despite the turbulent waters that result from their enthusiasm.

Once, I turn away from their little bodies hurtling toward me from the poolside, arms and legs outstretched, in position for perfect belly flops. A peel of water jets into my ear and muffles their squeals of delight. “Are you proud of me? Was that a really big one?!” they need to know.

South Carolina Sunrise in Winter

One of our goals this year is to travel more. Not necessarily to travel far, or for long periods of time, but to take the opportunities we have to leave town and explore new places together. This is a post I wrote from South Carolina last month.
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I pull back the weight of the coarsely textured curtains and we peer out to the ocean. It is wrapped in sheer darkness and adorned at the shoreline with sea foam illuminated by a cool glow that emanates organically from the miles-long string of man made high rises. The waves break gently, lapping at the sand just beyond our hotel balcony. We’re called to beat the sun to the shore, to be the first to discover what the tide has left behind for us. A few treasures lie in wait among the bumpy pebbles and nubby shell fragments, we just know it.