blueperiod.

paint your own

I go through these emotional/intellectual cycles of fully embracing the unschooling philosophy and holding the thing at arms' length, narrowing my eyes, trying to figure out if I can really trust it after all. During these questioning periods I'm driven to pull out dusty workbooks or seek out advice on handwriting curriculum and math manipulatives. I suddenly have no idea what is best for my children, and I scramble to piece together something that, for the most part, resembles normal. They humor me. They're good sports that way.

Luna enjoys the workbooks— probably because they appear so infrequently. She likes the word puzzles, the pictures of animals, and generally feeling like she is "doing school things." She has a fascination with school. I think more the idea of it than the reality. (The Ramona Quimby influence is strong with this one.)

She breezes through the sections on patterns and sequence. She answers the questions so quickly that I am convinced that she is a genius. And then I recall that she has spent the past two months consumed by Lego-building. I'm talking hours a day, for weeks, devoted to the construction of various creatures and habitats.

"Look, Mama. The walls of this boathouse [for some reason boathouses were big] are red, yellow, green, red yellow green. It's a pattern!"

And all those times I thought we were just playing.

So yesterday I was thinking, 'I really should be better about organizing art projects for them. It's been so long since she's done any painting, and really, how many times can he touch up the silver on his sword?' I made a mental note to search the library catalog for books on art projects.

Less than an hour later Luna's voice calls down from her bedroom, "Mama, can you bring all the paint and some brushes upstairs?"

"Uh, I don't think so," I responded. "I'd rather you paint down here, where it's a little easier to clean up afterwards. I can help you set you up at the easel."

"Well, I don't want to use the easel. And I can't bring the thing I want to paint downstairs. It's my dresser."

Okay. So I guess she'd been storing up some of that creative energy for something a little bigger than your typical preschool art project. There it was, that self-direction fueled by a natural desire to do and learn that all the unschooling folks talk about. Really, it's being born all the time, but I don't always take the time to acknowledge it.

Luckily none of that energy was lost in the redirection from the dresser to a more manageable piece of furniture; at least none that I could tell. She spent the next few hours happily painting the little Ikea table and chair that are normally splattered with paint from other art projects. Orange for the top, and alternating red and white for the legs. Hey, look at that-- a pattern.

peaches

We went peach-picking a couple of weeks ago and somehow managed to pick more peaches than I have ever seen in my life. The whole experience awakened something primal in me and I feel this instinctual rush to consume as many peaches as I can before the season is over, and it turns cold, and our fruit choices are reduced to whatever shiny colorful foods make their way across the country, or even farther, to taunt me at my local supermarket.

I don't know if it's just the general trend in our food-obsessed culture or if it is something particular to Philly, but I have never had so many options for eating almost entirely locally. This means that the bulk of our diet is made up of foods that were grown nearby. This is not too difficult a feat when you have a share in a CSA farm that delivers produce right to your neighborhood; or when you can't walk more than a few blocks without coming across a farmer's market any day of the week. And of course, there is Reading Terminal with homemade sauerkraut, homemade soap and everything in between.

We do miss our own backyard garden and the experience of growing our food, but this experience has helped to make us more conscious consumers; a completely invaluable lesson. We talk a lot about where our food comes from, how far it had to travel, how was it grown, and if it comes in a package, what the heck else is in there. Sol is very much into reading labels these days. 

"This says 'Natural' but one of the main ingredients is high fructose corn syrup." My favorite was when he went off on a rant in the cereal aisle at Whole Foods. "They think if they put 'Organic' on the front of the box you'll think it's healthy and buy it, but look at all the sugar in here. That can't be healthy. They are trying to trick you!" The looks I get sometimes from people.