TOS Review #1 - How to Have a H.E.A.R.T. For Your Kids

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I am going to be reviewing homeschool products and services as part of This Old Schoolhouse magazine's (found here) Blogger Crew!

As it turns out, I'm due for my first review right smack dab in the middle of my trip out west to visit my family! That's okay, I think I have managed to bring, write down, or actually remember all of my logins, passwords, and even brought my notes with me!

Last month I received the book, "How to Have a H.E.A.R.T. For Your Kids" by Rachael Carman, Apologia Press, found here for $13.00.

It is a small, hardcover book, a little more than 200 pages, and I really wasn't sure what to expect when I opened it. I haven't read but a few homeschooling books, and those were all sort of dry, list-making, why-you-should-be-doing-this type of books.

I guess I expected a similar experience with How to Have a H.E.A.R.T., a wheels-to-the-ground, daily routine list of ways to get that experience in my homeschooling mom's heart.

What I found instead was much better. Inside is a guide, really, to how a mother can learn to give her own heart to God, for if she does not rest wholly on Him, her heart will naturally have an agenda outside the plan that God has for her and for her children.

Aside from the introduction, which is the story of how she became a homeschooler, and the encouraging epilogue, the chapters are titled: Have a Heart for the Things of God, Enrich Your Marriage, Accept Your Kids, Release Them to God, and Teach Them the Truth, completing the acronym in the book title.

Each of the chapters have several hard-hitting statements that make you really stop and think about your own life, choices, and motivations as a parent and a homeschooler, as well as some great word picture examples to really set the thought in deeper. None moreso than the Teach Them the Truth chapter. You can tell Carman has dealt with many different types of learners while teaching her seven children; she puts forth the same idea in a few unique ways to help every single reader understand the important concepts! I have a whole bunch of that chapter underlined and notes in the margins. I really enjoyed it!

It is, of course, written from a homeschooling mom's point of view but could very easily be read and appreciated by a father or a teacher! I truly appreciated Carman's delineation of her journey into homeschooling in the introduction, with all of the gritty details and struggles against self along the way. I can relate to that so well right now as I begin this homeschooling experience!

I also appreciated the many word pictures. Some were incredibly powerful examples in nature of the way God is able to work in our lives and those word pictures will stick with me in life as well as in my heart as I homeschool.

One of the features that I did not utilize was the "Heart Checkup" set of questions at the end of each chapter. Oh, sure, I scanned through the questions, but I didn't actually answer them. I'd love to get together with a few other moms and read this together like a book club group and answer the questions within a setting that would encourage discussion.

As I read through the book, I found several things I'd like to share with other homeschooling moms I know, and by the end of the book, I had a list of them that I'd rather like to share the whole book with. I enjoyed the bright, cheerful, encouraging tone of the book as a whole and would recommend it to anyone starting out in the sometimes overwhelming and confusing world of homeschooling.

In the end, the point of "How to Have a H.E.A.R.T. For Your Kids" is really - first you must have a heart hid in Christ. There is no way on earth to love your kids fully, freely, and completely without Christ as your Supreme Guide, Friend, Father, and Counsellor. Oh, and He wants to have your heart so bad! Not just to gain your presence in His kingdom, but to gain your children for His kingdom as well!

Apologia Press is a part of Apologia Educational Ministries.

I was given this book to read and use in return for an honest review.

You can find more reviews of How to Have a H.E.A.R.T for Your Kids here

at the Old Schoolhouse Homeschool Crew blog!

Lord, It's August.

And I'm just not ready for August.

The month is going to fly by, I won't be ready for fall, and I just can't seem to get myself organized!



Weddings, packing, flooring, driving, flying, visiting, reviewing... how on earth am I going to do all that and not lose track of anything that needs to be done?

I don't have my curriculum or lesson plans done, I don't even have half of my list ordered, let alone organized!



We're going to be late starting our year! We're going to be behind! My head is going to spin and I'll be grumpy, anxious, full of doubts, and everyone (including me) will question my sanity!



Wait, what? You got this? Are you sure, Lord, 'cause I'm not used to this sort of thing, this giving it up to You and watching you work things out. I think I'd feel better just spending the next 5 weeks WORRYING. Don't you think that sounds reasonable?

Oh. Yeah. Worrying is not in Your plan at all, is it?

Deep Breath.

Let it go.

He has a plan. He always has a plan, and it's ALWAYS better than mine.



"...consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin and yet I say unto you that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these..."

"...for your Heavenly Father knoweth you have need of all these things but seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness..."
Matthew 6:28-33

Driving Me Crazy

Driving anywhere in the T.C. area in the summertime is insane. It's a small city with a population of about 15,000 that gets (according to some) something like 500,000 visitors during the Cherry Festival alone!

Let's just take a moment to reflect upon how traffic patterns are affected by adding that many people to a town of 15,000.

Yes. Are you feeling my pain now?

Sure, the rest of the summer isn't quite so horrid traffic-wise as that, but all the locals know that between Memorial Day and Labor Day driving to T.C. or anywhere near T.C. will cause you headaches and nightmares.

So this is me: driving along in my rickety old get-out-of-debt car, with four kids in the back, all the windows down 'cause there's no air conditioning, wind whipping hair in everyone's faces, and brakes that make the entire vehicle shake like a leaf whenever they're employed.

In T.C. traffic.

I am trying-not-to-be-but-already-am-before-I-left-the-driveway ANNOYED.

And then it happens.

I drive past The Big Sign.

The sign is a new thing, just added this year. It's right off the side of the road, blocking the view of a business or two, big as a billboard, and says ONE THING:

"URHOUZZ"

It's an 'Indoor & Outdoor Design' services and warehouse. Lovely stuff.

"Did you hear that?", I yelled back to the kids over the noise.

"Hear what?", they replied.

"That...VOICE...it was sounding like....", and my voice trailed off as I realized:

It wasn't an audible voice, it was...

IN MY HEAD!

That's right, in my HEAD, I was hearing this:

"Err-Howzz" said in my best, deep voice, Governator Himself impersonation.

Whatever "normal" way to say that name is, I CAN'T DO IT!! Every. Stinkin'. Single. Time. I pass that billboard (which is so RIGHT THERE in your face it's impossible not to see) I hear the (former) Governator IN MY HEAD.

Err-Howzz.

Err-Howzz.

*sniff*

**sigh**

I've never seen the Terminator movies and I don't ever plan to, but apparently during those times I've watched one of his other movies... er, my husband watched, I mainly sat next to him with my face buried in a shoulder...I LISTENED. So apparently I've LISTENED enough to his voice to get to LISTEN to it making commentary in my own head.

Great.

And who does this, anyway?

What marketing expert decided that this idiotic nod to the txtme generation was a good idea?!

Not only do they not know how to spell or know when to use 'your' vs. 'you're' (vs. UR?), they DON'T KNOW that they don't know these things.

Don't encourage them!!!

Makes me want to go lay the smack down on someone. It'd go like this:

"What on earth were you THINKING?! The sign is obnoxious and not only should you fire the marketing expert or whomever sold this idea to you, you should totally move the sign so the business next to you can see the road again! Lovely store, by the way. Great stuff. Oh! My. Look at that price tag. Gotta go!"

We contiued on our way, stopped at the stores we needed to stop at....

"Don't touch anything!"

"Stop bugging your sister!"

"Please don't hide in the racks, I can't SEE you!"

"Why doesn't this store have CARTS?!"

And then slowly, haltingly, made our way back through traffic towards home.

"Did you hear that?", I yelled back to the kids over the noise.

"Hear what?", they replied.

Oh. Right. Just passing by the sign again.

"Err-Howzzzz", the (former) Govovernator said in my head.

Grrr...

I looked over at the broken compass screwed to the dash of my car, bobbing up and down like a bobble-head every time I pressed down on the brakes to avoid the fudgie doing 25 on a 55 road.

A girl can only take so much.

I reached over, reefed the screw out, and threw the compass out the window.

Okay, maybe I didn't throw it out the window. But I sure thought about it!




* disclaimer: As far as I know, the Terminator is not affiliated in any way with URHOUZZ or any of its furniture makers, shop owners, design team, or *ahem* marketing people.

** another disclaimer: I have received nothing from URHOUZZ for this *cough* honest review of their sign.

Flub, Flub, Flubber

Have you ever played with....flubber?



It's pretty neat stuff. It's this gelatonous, starchy, rubbery, gooey STUFF that kids LOVE to play with. Particularly when their Auntie (say: ON-tee) made it all pinky and glittery, and when it's been sitting long enough to get really gooey.

Harmless fun, right?

Educational benefits outweigh the messy risks, right?

Those sweet faces convince us all of their complete lack of guile, right?!

Right?!



**crickets**


So while the girls played oh-so-happily with their flubber at the properly assigned, designated area (aka the kitchen table) and Joshua busied himself with taking the above self-portrait, I stepped outside for just a tad bit of privacy during a phone conversation.



Children, it turns out, should never be left unsupervised with flubber. Not even with strict rules in place which have always been previously enforced with gusto.

Nope. Should not be left unsupervised.

Unless you like to see your couch looking like....


This:



On a good note, a direct, vigorous, immediate scrubbing with straight white vinegar DOES dissolve flubber. Yet another good use for vinegar! Time consuming, yes, but fortunately for the couch, effective.

So, what have I learned?

Well, children should not be left unsupervised while...

oh, wait.

What did I leave my kids doing so I could write this post?

...'scuse me.... I gotta go!

Free Summer Issue of This Old Schoolhouse - Digital Edition!

So I'm not one to usually look at digital magazines and I don't have an ebook reader, so I was hesitant to even click on the link for this. I have to say, though, that I was very impressed with how easy to view and read the digital copy was! Hope you enjoy it, too!

Take a look at the brand new Summer digital edition of The Old Schoolhouse® Magazine. TOS is offering this digital issue of the magazine totally free with no strings attached. Enjoy this free gift from TOS—no registration or email address required to view the magazine! Take a peek here. Then share the link with your friends by clicking on the share button at the top of the magazine pages.

Away

We were there that night. Swimming in Torch Lake.

Raini. And me.

Our babies.

The sirens kept us from pulling out of the tiny little parking lot onto the road and shushed the laughter.

The lake had been a relief. A cold, long dredge from the deepest well of cool, healing water on a day you never want to do again. Washing away the tears from our faces, the sweat from our bodies and the anguish from our souls.

It was the day we sat together in a church and paid our respects to Grandpa and for a few brief moments we'd let the sadness go.

The sirens brought us back.

They kept coming. More lights. More sirens.

The dread grew in our hearts until it was as palpable as the sweat dripping down our backs. The coolness of the water we’d just played in was replaced by the steamy, sticky, humid air all around.

We prayed, silently, alone in our own hearts. But we knew.

We knew.

Late the next morning we heard his name, stunned that the life that was lost that night was that of a friend.



Friday came too soon, despite the dragging hot days in between.

I stood in the barn and saw the row of policemen closing the circle and wanted to stay in the shade of the barn and pretend not to see the tears of the men in uniform.

They had circled the wagons. I’d never seen that before. So many engines and rescue trucks and police cars; enough to envelope more than 600 people in the comfort of their strength.

We stood, in the sun, because there was nowhere left to sit, and around us the people continued to gather over the next hour.

“Greater love hath no man…”, the minister said, and the words hit home in every heart listening.

The bell rang. And rang again. And again.

Three times because that’s what you do when there is a man down. A man who has heard the final alarm and answered the call.

They folded the flag and carried his helmet and while I tried to look away, there were tears on the faces of all the young men and the pain was everywhere, unavoidable, and my tears fell with theirs. Not just because of Loren, but because I know what that first taste of death feels like, what that loss of a childhood friend does as it drags the innocence from your soul.



They radioed in a roll call from all the stations, calling goodbye to a brother down the open lines. And left it open while the static said more than any words could.

We moved around after the final prayer in uncomfortable camaraderie with everyone else there. In a while there formed three distinct groups: the boys out behind the barn, throwing back beer after beer in his truck, sweat pouring from their bodies, tears from their eyes; the ems and firefighter crews hiding behind the wall of trucks, seeking privacy to mourn their brother in uniform, a brother who will never be forgotten, immortalized in the halls of their particular fraternities; and the rest of us in the middle. Attempting to comfort each other; the family; the community.

I stood in the group at the front, taking some pictures, reading the cards on the flowers, looking at the old photos of a little boy riding a horse.

And then there was no one else left in line and I stood in front of her, wondering how to do this, how to… how…

I stepped forward.

I hugged her and whispered the lamest words on the planet and stepped away, looking into her eyes, wondering whether she recognized anyone at all. There ARE no words to say, not even from a mother to a mother unless you have walked that path through hell and back.

She has walked it twice now.

She is Job.

It was hard to turn and leave. As we walked away there was this knowledge that when the hugs are finished, when the words of condolence have evaporated with the heat, when all the people are gone, those who loved him most will wake up to pain.

Pain and hopefully dim memories of this god-awful day.

The sirens wailed for us all as his brothers drove away, down the dusty road.

Away.







* Loren worked for Colby one summer a few years back. He died trying to save the life of his friend while swimming in Torch Lake on Sunday, July 17, two days before his 22nd birthday.

Loren Hazen