I am a reforming perfectionist. I still like all my cans in the pantry facing the same way, but I no longer kill myself over making sure all tomato products are together (ok, I do once or twice a year but then I let it go). I have taught my children the best way to fold towels and match socks, and while they seem to doubt me, I assure them that I have tried out enough methods through my years that they should just trust me and do it my way! I like the vacuuming done in an orderly manner, and I chase down every speck I can see trying to evade a Dyson capture. Clean isn't clean until it feels clean, and because I like it perfect, I sometimes leave things dirty a little too long until I have time to do it "right".
In my early days of mommying, I was paralyzed by my perfectionism. If I couldn't make it perfect, I wouldn't even try. If it made a mess, I avoided it like the plague. Hannah and I read and read and read. I knew how to do that. We colored a lot, because who in their right mind would give a toddler anything as messy as finger paints! Crafts bothered me, not only because of their mess but because they never turned out looking like the thing they were meant to, so I stopped doing them. So we read more books.
Fast forward to starting to homeschool... besides being a perfectionist, I was also clueless. When I am clueless, I tend to fake it until I make it, which generally means I will look around for someone to emulate. I had a sweet friend, she was homeschooling her three little kids, so I just followed along, read what they read, bought what they bought. It didn't occur to me until years later (and much frustration) that in my copying of her I had made no allowance for the fact that her children started at four years older than Hannah! Not realizing anything about gross or fine motor skills, having no clue at all about what was "normal", I was overly exacting for fear of screwing up and proving everyone right (that I couldn't homeschool my kids). The scars of my insisting on perfection (even though I haven't for many years now) remain and I cringe every time I see Hannah or another child's countenance fall when I correct their paper or work.
I am thankful for how the Lord has transformed my mommying, and our homeschooling. I know that the Lord continues to work in my life, conforming me more and more into His image. I have joked with Hannah in many a tense moment, that God chose her to be the firstborn in our family because she was tough enough to withstand all the mistakes that the Lord knew I would make. I usually tell her to think about how easy she is making growing up for her little sisters and brothers, all my big mistakes will be out of the way. We laugh, but there is a lot of truth in it.
I remain cautious when grading papers, knowing the hurt I have caused, especially with H. I have prayed the prayer of Isaiah, that the Lord would restore the years the locusts had destroyed. And tonight, it seemed like a new blade of grass was growing in a field formerly destroyed by harsh words and demanding expectation.
I love teaching my children, but every once and a while it has been a good investment to "buy" teachers for them (like Steve Demme from Math-U-See on DVD and now Andrew Pudewa from Institute for Excellence in Writing). They latch on to an idea shared from a "professional" more quickly at times than one shared by "just mom". :) Tonight, Hannah and I were going through her IEW paragraphs. In the past, something like this would have resulted in tears. Loud ones too. We have such a track record of ending "check out" sessions with tears that I tend to dread them.
But God showered His grace on me today. It was a hard day, with lots of in-fighting among the children, slowness to do chores, grumbling over responsibilities, and of course, schoolwork. Nearing bedtime Hannah was ready to go over her work. I conjured up a smile to cover up my dread of the inevitable tears and dismay. Hannah had done a great job on the paragraphs, and she didn't mind that I was correcting her spelling, she was even teasing herself a little over some of the real whoppers. And then we got to the last sentence, "I sure am glad that God created the cephalopods, aren't you?"
When I edit, I tend to read out loud. And when I come to a contraction, I tend to read it like it was not one. So, as I read her sentence aloud with Hannah sitting beside me, I read aloud, "I sure am glad that God created the cephalopods, are not you?" Hannah's head snapped around and she said, "Are not you? Where did you get that from?" I reminded her that contractions can be separated into their original words before they were "squished" together and told her that I read that way all the time. She cocked her head, I bowed mine a little, fearing the onslaught of tears thinking I may have offended her. She said in a strange voice, "Are not you?" and then she laughed. I looked up, not sure if I heard right, then she started really laughing and saying it again and again like it was the strangest way of speaking she had ever heard.
At this point I began laughing with her. It did sound funny when read aloud. But not as funny as all the other examples we came up with...
"I am so glad Mom took us to the movies, are not you?"
"I think brownies are the best, do not you?"
"Was not that funny?"
"Did not you clean up your room?"
We both laughed so hard we couldn't talk and E came down to figure out what was wrong with us. He said it didn't sound like we were doing homework at all. Hannah and I finished going through her papers. We were still tearing up and laughing anytime we came across a contraction, poor girl will probably never read a contraction the same way again! And I am praising the Lord for such a silly and sweet time, on any day it would have been wonderful, but especially so today and even more so with Hannah.
