Earth is too small! Back to school.

We are fairly out of synch with the traditional "school year". A school calendar, for us, would be mostly a log of what the year looked like, rather than what it might/may/ought to/hopefully will look like. We go year-round, taking breaks when needed, but never really stopping or starting a year. The back-to-school sales always catch me off guard. When people begin posting questions here and there about the best way to start the school year, I'm usually stumped.

This isn't to say (in an exaggeratedly snooty accent), "OHHHHhhhhh, WE go year round so we NEVER have to deal with that." Oh, no. No, no. Ask me again in February, after yet another birth, or mid-November, after we've moved *again*, or sometime in the middle of April, between visits from family, and I've got ya covered. We can kick start like pros. It's just the "this is the start of the school year" tag line that causes me to trip over one of my left feet and look around to see if anybody actually saw that.

However, among the starts and stops, I've figured out a couple of things. During those late night gab sessions with good friends over curricula and reading lists, I've been given some real gems. Occasionally, as I talk to Zorak while he sleeps, we experience a stunning epiphany and make all manner of life-style-altering-really-big-adjustments. (Yes, "we". I poke him in the head when I need feedback. Whatever works, in a pinch.) Today, you get absolutely nothing deep, but hopefully something useful.

When I see questions that begin with, "I have everything planned for the first day of school..." I smile. I'm not mocking them. I'm mocking myself of four years ago. She was a funny, compulsive woman.

What I've learned since then: if you must plan it all out, write it in pencil. Lightly. Trust me.

When I read, "What can I do to make the first day of school special?" all I can think is, "Do you have a timer on your coffee pot? And a cattle prod? Perhaps a backup plan? And tell me you wrote your plan in pencil." Each day is going to be as special as we choose to make it, but there are definite phases to "special". It's easier when the children are younger and stickers make everything special. It's harder when they're old enough to know that you're not actually allowing them to "help" make cookies when you give them a bowl, a whisk and a tablespoon of flour to play with while you bake. Then it gets easier again when they can bake cookies on their own, and better yet when they surprise you with a clean kitchen. See, "special" is such a subjective term. Don't set yourself on fire in an attempt to make something spectacular. Not only will you set the bar way too high, but your insurance company is going to stop paying the burn center after three or four incidents.

What I've learned: concentrate on making bonds and memories; traditions will bloom from those roots.

"What am I missing?" Oh, my, you're missing a ton. We all are. Homeschool, public school, private school, highly paid live-in tutor - nobody can cover it all. There's simply no way to learn it all, not even if you give the little darlings a caffeine drip and run them like dogs 24/7.

What I've learned: It's better to ask yourself "what do I want them to take from this year", and then ask others how to flesh it out. There's just too much. But if you can get them moving, intertia kicks in and it gets easier.

And you know, out of three dozen balloons, we haven't any small enough to make Mercury, Earth, or Pluto. Our solar system is now flying around the living room and the rest of science will have to wait for smaller balloons. But that's okay - there's still plenty to learn, plenty to do. Thankfully, we have cookies to bake and I wrote the week's plan in pencil!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy