Unschooling school and other assorted strangeness

Jos decided this week that he'd like to try school at home. He set up a schedule that begins with him leaving by way of the front door at 10 a.m., "catching the bus", and entering the back door two minutes later, to be greeted by his teacher, Miss Rose.  Wednesdays after recess there will be art and Fridays, cooking. Saturdays will be led by the male teacher, Mr. Max Power. Though today Jos came downstairs beaming and said, "No school today. It's raining and the bus driver can't see." It will be an adventure no doubt and on our list of "school topics" we have such joyous subjects as scuba diving, deep sea creatures, Spore and a visit to the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago to look at the exhibit on evolution. We decided to make the classroom in Isaiah's room, which required the disassembling of Isaiah's bed. Joe handled that while Jos and I played LiteBrite. As we played, I said, "It will be sad not to have Isaiah's bed around anymore," to which Jos replied, "Yes, but we still have Isaiah in a jar." True, my beautiful child, true. Later, we put on music and had a jump fest across Isaiah's bed, which we were sure he would've loved.

In my own adventures, I just finished reading the YA novels Stargirl and Love, Stargirl. They were a delightful (if I may say so) read!  Someone amazing (ok, poet Jack Ridl) sent along an article about introverts today; I laughed with recognition and I highly recommend it to all the friends and family I drive crazy with my unwillingness to talk on the phone. I love you, but...;)

As for Joe, when asked what I might share with all of you, he said he continues to be mystified, baffled, befuddled by the insanity of my desk space. I say, he continues to work on top-secret exciting projects and is trying to line up some pros to see if we can sell in these downtimes and move to GR. Preferably before the Michigan winter.

Virgo: wisdom, garnered in the fields of experience

I am not a big fan of birthdays, either because I frequently forget those of the ones I love or because I dislike the inordinate amount of attention it brings to me one day out of every year.

Today, I sat in some small amount of dejection before the computer, said to Jos I was having a hard time escaping. He responded, "That's because the computer is negative energy." This, soon after Joe suggested I flee to the woods. So the boy and I fled into the arms of grasshoppers and apple trees, shared river logs with garter snakes and the path with something Jos called a mole and likened to a Bidoof in Pokemon, and which I can only guess was a woodchuck or beaver.  We fled into the living peace I needed and few understand better than Mary Oliver.

For you, Ame, and anyone else that can't flee in this moment:

When I Am Among the Trees

by Mary Oliver

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

  but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, "Stay awhile."

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,

"and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine."

Happy Birthday.

Day of Birth, Eight Years Later

Jos has been playing around with the PhotoBooth feature on my Mac a lot lately, recording various faces from funny to alien. For his birthday pic, he decided to go with a pose to match the shirt, though moments ago he had his action hero professing, "I'm a gladiator of love." 

On our afternoon walk, he said it's getting harder without Isaiah, because he's remembering more so we talked some about the ideas of shock and forgetting for protection. 

Yesterday, when I searched and didn't find a water bottle I wanted to take to the park, I swore. Jos looked at me and said, "Why did you say shit?" I responded with something about wanting the water bottle and he said, "A water bottle's not worth all that anger," and proceeded to offer me several other options, from jelly jar to plastic cup and by the end, I was laughing.

As he grows, Jos continues to be a gift, one that challenges us to learn how to live with more patience, more peace, more questions and more joy. We give many thanks.

Us, redefined

I've been feeling that it's time to move from the site that hosted so much of our pain the last six years. That does not mean moving from Isaiah; he will always remain Jos' little brother, our curly-headed little boy. It does mean moving from his pain and coming to a place where we can celebrate his memory joyfully, as well as our living. 

In case of confusion, Jos is the boy formerly known as Joey. He prefers to be called Jos (rhymes with gross) these days, and while it's difficult at first (believe me, I know), it does get easier with practice.

Jos and Joe recently read Alice and Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass,  Jos has been listening to the Sisters Grimm books on CD, and I've been reading poetry like mad, so we all came together over the Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll. Hence, my beamish boy; hence, our frabjous day. Welcome to the fray!