Nearly ten years of this

When I started Just Add Light and Stir, I didn't think "And I'll still be doing this in ten years!" In two days, September 2, year 11 begins. I suppose there's a possibility I'll still be doing it for another ten. 🙂

The past six months have been awkward and unsettling. After years and years of others looking askance at unschooling, though, and asking questions like "Don't you get tired of being together so much?" and "How can they learn without a lot of other kids around?" then all this happened. ALL the families were sent home to stay and learn.

Unforeseen benefits of unschooling are fun to collect, but I did not see this one coming. Unschoolers seemed to find that the transition from choosing to stay home to being told to stay home a while wasn't very difficult. Others, used to recitations about the crucial importance of school, of being around other people, and of scattering out every day, didn't slip as smoothly into being home.

Thank you for reading here, and for being examples others might be comforted or inspired by. Calm and peace are valuable resources.

This is my quieter-than-usual annual request for financial assistance. The main page of SandraDodd.com has a donation link at the bottom, but ignore this if you're not flush and comfortable these days. If money is short, put it toward your children's ease and stability.

photo by Jo Fielding

No one can envision everyone

To tell a young child something disturbing will not give him a context for distance, nor for the possibility of the problem being solved by you, or him, or by governments.

And if a parent of a young child is looking outward, and collecting hurts and sorrows and bringing them home to sort through and bemoan, who is holding that child and touching him gently, singing to him and smiling at him?

That's the end of something longer, at SandraDodd.com/politics/
photo by Jamie Parrish

What's in there?

Half-empty cups are substantially different from half-full cups. It's not just theoretical holy water in those cups. The half-empty cups hold a concoction of frustration and need and irritation. The half-full cups contain joy and hope and gratitude.

page 213 of The Big Book of Unschooling (or page 185, of the first edition)
photo by Karen James
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Many homey, happy things

Part of what makes a house a home is the familiarity of the dishes, towels, tools and chairs. Easily, we can forget to look, but in memories of childhood homes and grandparents' and friends' homes, you might recall things that seemed special to you as a guest. Sometimes I'll see a bowl, or pot-holder, or cheese grater that reminds me of my granny's house, or my mamaw's. One of my aunts had house plants and photos of Elvis, intermingled on shelves.

Some things about your house will be memories for your children and grandchildren, but you can't know which things those will be.

Dishes (and peace)
photo by Karen James

For one moment, or ten...

This post is from April 2013. It was called "Happy Monkey," the first time. It's a good time for a re-run.

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I went to the grocery store alone. It was crowded and people were moving fast, but were calm and smiling. I saw three young children. Their relatives were being very sweet to all of them. In other families, older kids were being helpful.

On the way to my van, a man who was 35 or 40 was happily riding the back of his shopping cart down the hill toward his car, with the wind blowing his hair.

On the way home, I thought of the cutest thing I had heard. A young mom had been holding a toddler, and he said something and touched her mouth. She said, "Monkey?"

He indicated that she was right.

"You're a monkey?"

"Happy," he said.

"You're a happy monkey? Happy monkey!"

And he was. He was very happy.

So easily, we can tip two degrees over into the sorrows and fears of the world. Without trying, we can fall into a pool of despair and take our friends and families down with us.

Not everyone can be happy today, but if your child is whole and well, for one moment or for ten do your part to help him be as happy a monkey as he can be.

SandraDodd.com/gratitude/health
photo by Julie D
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Being glad

Sometimes when my kids were little I would express a positive thought aloud. "I'm glad we can afford to go out to lunch sometimes," or "I'm glad we have a car and enough gasoline to go to the mountains!" Or "I'm glad our cats are nice."

And don't do it to train them. Do it because it's true. It will be uplifting, in that moment to kind of put a blessing on it.

from the January 2013 chat on gratitude
photo by Amber Ivey

A wonderful, surprising abundance

Megan Valnes, when her daughter was younger, wrote:

Today, while making my older daughter's bed, I was reflecting on the very act itself. The girls have a bunk bed and Lila's is on the top, so I have to climb up there and she has about 20 stuffed animals--it's what I would have used to think of as a pain. Instead of feeling overworked and underpaid as I made her bed, I found myself taking extra care to make her bed very nicely because I know how good it feels to sleep in a freshly made bed. I tucked the sheets and blankets in tight and cleaned off any food crumbs. Thinking of my sweet girl, I made the bed as perfectly as I thought she would like. Her stuffed animals are placed in their special places and her bed looks very cozy and inviting. Even if she never mentions it (which I doubt she will), I feel good knowing she will appreciate the gesture.

Is this the abundance everyone talks about? This fullness of heart that I no longer think of making beds as a chore, but as an act of service and gratitude? The feeling was such a wonderful surprise!

—Megan Valnes

SandraDodd.com/service
photo by Cass Kotrba