Wired For Noise

photo credit: Margot Wolfs

I got up this morning, fed the kids breakfast, started laundry, and took care of the dishes.

Then I vacuumed, worked with Evan to make a lapbook of the Mycenaean Greeks, and tossed the laundry into the drier.

We dropped books at the library, dropped off recycling, and drove all the way to my grandmother’s to borrow her carpet cleaner and visit.

Fed the kids lunch, bought some seeds, got a few things planted in my starter nests (empty egg cartons), and tossed the kids out in the yard to play.

Now it’s 4:30, Saffron is napping, I’ve gotten 4 articles written already, the boys are riding bikes up and down the sidewalk, and I’ve got time to sit down and blog.

Oh, and dinner is 90% done. I just gotta toss it in the oven at 5 and I’m set.

Damn. I’m either getting better at managing all my hats, or the gods are setting me up for one hell of a doozy to hit tomorrow. I’m hoping it’s the former, but guessing it’s the latter.

We’re supposed to get one last blast of winter snow this weekend, but today the sun was shining and the birds were singing. The boys rode their bikes until their legs ached. And Saffron tried out her land legs chasing after them across the yard.

Any day now she’ll be taking off on her own. All my lower level baby proofing will be moot when she can walk and reach the higher shelves, cords, and plug-ins.

At least the practice walking wears her out. Tonight she was out by 7:30 PM, a whole hour sooner than usual. Hopefully she’s tired enough to actually sleep all night. Then I might have more time to blog and write all the articles I need to each day.

Bring on the walking!

As she edges into 11 months, Saffron is a wild mess. And I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

She stands, trying to take more than a few ungraceful steps, before stumbling and falling on her butt or into the wall she was holding onto. Her face bears bruises from the failed attempts. She’s only about half as determined to walk as the boys were, but when you’ve got a big brother willing to carry you everywhere you go there isn’t as much need to make an effort.

Talking is limited, but excited. She rambles on, fast and screechy, in baby babbles and screams. Dada is still her #1 word, with mama, ni-ni (night-night), nah-nah (food), and ne-no (no-no) getting small spots here and there.

She has a bucket full of toys in the living room, open access to her brother’s room and their toys, and toys on the floor of the dining room. Yet the only things she wants to play with is A) the litter box, B) the plug ins, and C) the entertainment centers. My day is a big bag of redirect, redirect, redirect.

She’s stubborn, opinionated, loud, and in charge. Gods I hope she stays that way, shell need it when she’s older.

Even though we’re not doing a formal curriculum, I’ve been following the Classical approach to history. Which is basically following history in the order that it happened.

Right now we’re in Ancient Crete, about to move into Greece. The library didn’t have much, but the librarian suggested I take Ancient Greece!: 40 Hands-On Activities to Experience This Wondrous Age home with me. I flipped through and it and it seemed cute enough, but I didn’t really look at what all it said.

After today, I want to buy a copy to have.

I opened it up to the chapter on Crete and looked for a cute craft idea. What I found was a short history of Crete, a discussion on sexism and fat acceptance with changing cultural standards, and a craft idea that tied into it all. We read about the Minoan Mother Goddess, discussed her many shapes (she’s shown as thin, large, and a bird), did an art project on her, and then segmented into sexism both then and now.

It’s not like we don’t already have those conversations, but I’ve never seen them given so much importance in a history book. In a children’s history book no less! And fat acceptance! Even in the books that discuss sexism, I’ve never read the “health at any size” argument pushed instead of the “be as skinny as you can” argument.

I love this book. I love the person/people who thought it was important to talk about these things, instead of pretending they don’t exist.