Wednesday - Day in the Life

Useless day. I'm sure you'll be glad to hear I have days like this. The kids spent too much time on the computer. The day seemed to trickle away down the drain. I'm not sure what happened to it.

I woke up at 7:30. I'm pre-reading "The Ruby and the Smoke" by Philip Pullman for Erin. I love it; I'm not sure she will, because it's a mystery. But maybe, since she loved the "His Dark Materials" trilogy so dearly, she'll cut Phil some slack and give this one a go. I think she'd have to read with more attention to detail to keep track of the characters and the plot, which would probably be good for her.

Got out of bed at 8:15, with a chipper Fiona in tow. Erin of course had been up for a while. Noah and Sophie got up about the same time. Chuck had meetings this morning so he'd been off early.

I folded and sorted laundry for what seemed like forever. Erin played one-on-one with Fiona in a lovely way for about an hour.

Fiona and I took the dog to the vet for a well-puppy visit. She's doubled her weight in the month since her first visit. I thought so!

I went out to the garden and harvested the madder I've been growing for 3 years. Sophie and I washed it and chopped it and set it to steep. I set up an alum mordant bath for some unbleached hemp/silk fabric I've had in reserve for a year or two. Sophie and I talked about mordants and what they do.

Noah and Erin spent a good part of the morning writing on two different computers. Noah's building some sort of calendar in his journal, so he wanted to know how many days in each month. I taught him the "knuckle trick" for figuring out which months have 31 days. [Put your two fists together so that the eight knuckles line up in a row. The knuckles are the long months (with 31 days), the "valleys" between knuckles are the short months (with 30 or 28 days).] Erin seemed to be making a long list of descriptive opposites but I would never confess that I peeked.

I looked for gluten-free muffin recipes for a friend. I responded to some e-mails. I think the kids fended for themselves for breakfast and lunch. Sophie and Noah played some Blokus.

I did a little more drywall mudding. I put the fabric into the madder dyebath. Sophie and Fiona stirred for a while. It started to go a nice dark red. Put another bit of fabric in the mordant.

The kids asked to go to the beach. I told them to forget it, because I had asked them repeatedly to do some housecleaning to help prepare for our holidays and our house-sitter/locum, and no one had yet lifted a finger. I felt lousy about saying that, but I can see a last-minute housecleaning marathon settling onto my shoulders and I'm already feeling resentful about it.

I folded more laundry and cleaned out the fridge. Wiped the kitchen counters more often than was strictly necessary. Have I mentioned how much I love my almost-complete new kitchen?

Erin's friend called to invite her to a birthday party on Saturday/Sunday (tube-floating down the river, then sleepover). Erin decided to sew a little carry-bag for hair fixings or jewelry for her friend as a gift. She chose a funky print from the fabric scrap bin and a contrasting aqua colour. I cut the circles out because we couldn't find the good lefty fabric scissors. I walked Erin through the construction (she'd helped with one of these before, but it had been a long time). She did almost all the sewing, all the pinning and ironing. She even used a protractor to divide the circle into eighths for the pocket seams. It took about 90 minutes from start to finish and looked really nice. Basically it's a circular drawstring bag which when opened reveals a largish central compartment and eight small pockets arranged around the sides. Very simple to make but quite elegant to look at.


I went into Noah's room, looking for more fabric in his closet, and found him lying on his bed. Asked him if he was tired, planning a nap. "Nope, just having a think," he replied. He's so sociable these days that it's easy to forget he's an introvert.

We played Pre-Rummy Roots and Rummy Roots 1 & 2. Erin and Sophie went off to their bedroom to play more games.

Chuck came home and we had supper. The kids played outside for a long time. I had to remind them about practising, which they all did without protest, all except Sophie, who whined "No, I don't want to." I responded without missing a beat by asking "Are you saying you're not going to practice, or are you pretending you're not going to, because you're having trouble getting started right now?" She looked at me, grinned, and said "Pretending." Fifteen minutes later she began practicing happily with me and did some good work on her bow arm and on the nasty fingering passage in "Gavotte from Mignon."

I pulled the first fabric out of the madder dyebath and put the other one in. The first is a lovely variegated but deep red. Well, pretty deep for a natural dye. The next will be a pale salmon or peach, I think. I acidified the bath to make it a little yellower. I've been saving vegetable-dyed fabric for a while: now I have a greyish-tinged pink made from rhubarb root, a medium yellow made from onion skins, a pale blue made from woad, and my red and light orange from the madder. I feel a quilt coming on. What I'd like to do is get the kids to make mandala-like print blocks that we'd use to create repeating images in black fabric paint on various squares of vegetable-dyed fabric. We'll see what evolves. This is a project I began almost 3 years ago when Erin and I dyed the first fabric with onion skins.

More drywall sanding and mudding before bed. Then the obligatory 30-40 pages of "The Star of Kazan".

Tuesday - Day in the Life

I woke up and read for an hour in bed, since I figured Fiona would pop up as soon as I left bed, and I was relishing a quiet hour of R&R. Erin was up and about, playing with the puppy. The wind was blowing outside. Fall is blowing in.

By the time I stopped reading and I got up (with Fiona popping up immediately as predicted), Sophie and Noah were also up. Chuck was up too and making the coffee. I left the kids to their own devices and went upstairs to clean the big bathroom. In 10 days we have to turn the house over to a locum-cum-housesitter, so I have to get it out of health-hazard status. One room at a time. Fiona helped with the bathroom-cleaning. She was actually more help than hindrance, though I did run her a bath at the end to keep her happily out of the way of my work.

Then I came down to the dining room to do another smidge of drywall mudding. With Fiona around I rarely get to do more than a little bit. I washed dishes. Noah dried.

Sophie and I played a game of Rummy Roots. Noah joined in and we did another game. Erin was writing on the ancient laptop. She was using some sort of code to keep the text illegible to passersby, but she was very serious and prolific in her output. Her touch-typing is very fast these days -- probably 40 wpm, I'd wager. I hadn't even really noticed until just recently that she was totally touch-typing.

I had to go to the bank, and to the medical clinic to get caught up on some paperwork. Fiona came with me. I'm not really sure what the kids did while I was gone. Chuck had the morning off and was working on finishing carpentry in the kitchen. I picked up more drywall mud while I was out.

We ate the last of the cinnamon buns for lunch, among healthier fare.

Did a big sanding of the drywall mud after lunch. As I was cleaning up as much as was possible, a friend showed up. She was dropping her 10yo off for a much-desired playdate with Erin. My friend and I chatted about this and that for 20 minutes or so. Sophie and Fiona showed off their piano 'skills' for my friend.

After my friend left, I sat down for a stint at the computer and to nurse Fiona into her afternoon nap, which she seemed to be needing today.

The friend who was here for the playdate changes the play dynamic here for the better, but in an unexpected way. She tends to sit at the computer and play games the whole time she's here, being rather controlling and demanding of Erin. So Erin tends to move off into another room to avoid being ordered about (some assertiveness would not be amiss here, but Erin is who she is). Anyway, what often transpires is that my three older kids play together beautifully, very imaginatively and without the games, gimmicks and technology that live in the family room, because of their desire to get a little distance between them and M.. So Erin, Noah and Sophie had a wonderful giggly time together in the living room, and M. played on the computer ten feet away in the next room, and then complained at the end of the afternoon that Erin hadn't spent any time with her. :-P Oh well.

At 4pm M.'s brother and her dad came for the brother's violin lesson. I went to the basement to teach B. for what ended up being almost an hour. Afterwards I chatted to the dad, B. played with Noah, M. continued on the computer and Sophie flitted around, sometimes watching M. on the computer.

After they left I cooked supper. Chuck came home. We ate supper. The three older kids did the dishes. Then they all did all their practising. Sophie and I in particular had a wonderful productive session together. Noah cut his viola short because his 4th finger had been injured while wrestling with Erin. After practising, the kids continued the work/play they'd started during the afternoon on the "Euwy Folder". This is a loose-leaf binder that they've started which contains information, notes, cartoons, humour pieces, background, stories and pictures of the characters that inhabit their imaginary "Planet Egypt". Today they added a restaurant menu from a restaurant called "Brown Teeth of the Ukraine" which consisted of various overpriced inedibles with hilarious descriptions. They did it in Microsoft Works after discovering the publishing wizards there.

Noah and Sophie spent some time in the late evening browsing through the Sears Christmas Wish Book catalogue which had arrived earlier today.

Noah did some writing / journaling in "YeahWrite".

I scrubbed the dining room ceiling to get it ready for painting.

We read three more chapters from "The Star of Kazan", which I highly recommend, BTW. Erin was already asleep tonight before Sophie headed for bed. Phew!

Monday - Day in the Life

This week I'm blogging as part of my moment in the 'spotlight' on the iVillage Unschooling Board I help moderate. I'm doing a very "Day in the Life" style of blogging, since that's the sort of thing new homeschoolers are often hungry for at this time of year. I figured I'm doing all that writing, I might as well get double credit for it. So I'm going to copy and paste it in here.

Monday

Erin was up early as usual and had looked after the puppy. She was reading a science magazine when I got up. I checked my e-mail and made coffee, and before I knew it Fiona had woken up. She and I went out and played with the puppy, refilled the dogfood container, watered and fed the chickens and collected the eggs.


When we got back in, Noah was awake. He and Erin spent some time playing Age of Empires II - the Titans together. I started making cinnamon buns.


At 9:15 am I awoke Sophie and made sure everyone was out of their pyjamas and fed. I rolled up the cinnamon buns.


At 9:45 am I packed the van and we headed off to our 10:00 GRUBS meeting. GRUBS is our gardening/environmental club. There were four other families there, with a total of 9 other kids. We beachcombed and found another piece of driftwood suitable for a couple of fenceposts. The kids foraged for blackberries and we all snacked. Everyone weeded and tended their individual plot. Together we pulled all the gone-to-seed lettuce and spinach out of two of the communal beds, mixed a bunch of manure in, and every child planted a couple of short rows of fall crop (cool-crop lettuce, spinach, arugula, radishes). We made plans for our fall harvest festival and talked about plans for upcoming meetings. The club broke up at about 12:15.

We came home and had lunch, followed by cinnamon buns. I did some drywall mudding in the dining room while the kids amused themselves on the computer and with the board game Blokus. They also went outside for some bike-riding and swinging and climbing on the rope. They played with the puppy.

Sophie did her violin practising with my help. Noah did his piano practising and refused my help but did a fantastic job with some challenging new repertoire. He got very annoyed when I commented on his hard work, but recovered enough to carry on. Erin went off to her room to read and write.

I made supper. I had thought I was on the schedule for work in the evening, but when I called to confirm, it turned out someone else was taking the clinic, so I had a unexpected free evening.

We did the dishes together. Erin went off to practice violin and piano. Noah did his viola practising. I did more drywall mudding. Sophie went to her room to read for a while.

As it got close to bedtime I pulled out our current readaloud "the Star of Kazan" by Eva Ibbottson and began reading. Erin, who has already read the book, listened to a chapter and then went off to her room. Once there she writes in her journal, and then reads aloud very privately to herself for about half an hour. While she's reading aloud she won't allow Sophie into their shared bedroom.

So I finished reading three chapters of "Star of Kazan" and Noah and Sophie headed off to bed. Noah put on a mythology story CD and crawled into bed, but Sophie turned up in the living room again because Erin wasn't done her reading aloud and had banished her. Sophie is always tired, mildly annoyed, but very accommodating when Erin does this. I've recognized that this unfair treatment by Erin bothers Chuck and me more than it bothers Sophie. So I tried to do something more constructive than just getting angry at Erin on Sophie's behalf, and invited Sophie to come up to the master bedroom and lie down with me and Fiona (who had long since fallen asleep on my shoulder). We had a lovely talk about this and that for about 20 minutes.

Erin had finished reading, so Sophie was allowed into her own bed to go to sleep.

Confidence and challenge

Three or four years ago I used to write about Erin all the time. I felt a little guilty about this. I worried that maybe I had an unhealthy preferential focus on issues I faced with her. But there just seemed so much more to write about with her.

Now it's Noah's turn. And he's about the same age she was at that time.

Noah has had, all told, about 18 months where he's had a rough, un-motivated, frustrating time of it on piano. After the VSSM, which he enjoyed, but didn't find particularly motivating, I took some time to discuss with him what he wanted to do with his piano studies. I suggested it might be a really good time to take a year off and just focus on viola, since he seemed so excited by viola. He protested loudly. I suggested that he might consider a change of teachers, or a change of approach. Again he protested.

So I figured we'd forge onwards. Since we're here at home for 2 1/2 more weeks, and then taking our traditional September family vacation, I wanted to capitalize on this little window of opportunity to get a toe-hold on something new on piano. I know that what Noah is lacking on piano is confidence; he feels he's not progressing, he panics when faced with written notation, he cries when he plays a note wrong more than once. Grappling with the alto clef this past year has not helped his piano reading skills any, and he really isn't sight-reading very well. I wrote to his teacher, whom we won't see until October, and asked her if it was okay to try to perk him up with some Grade 2 work, since he's felt very "stuck" at the Grade 1 level. She agreed, basically saying "anything that gets him interested in playing piano is okay at this point".

Pushing him ahead a little made sense to me, since on viola and in academics I've noticed that while he shies away from leaps in difficulty and complexity, and rarely seems properly ready for them, when they're thrust upon him he usually makes great progress as a result. It's as if he only breaks out of his methodical 'beginner mindset' when the complexity of the task requires that he chunk his learning down and internalize it so that he can take in the new stuff. I had an inkling that moving him up a notch in difficulty on the piano might result in the same leap. It seemed really odd, really counter-intuitive, to consider curing a lack of confidence with an increase in challenge, but I figured at this point anything was worth a try.

So the next day I went to pull out the Grade 2 books, but couldn't find them. After a long and fruitless search I threw up some Grade 3 pieces. And wouldn't you know... he had absolutely no more difficulty learning them than he'd had with any of the Grade 1 repertoire. Not only that, but once he realized he was getting it, and that these were pieces nominally two grades more advanced than he thought he was capable of, he began smiling. He began searching the written music for clues and cues. He began teaching himself, working through problems, sticking with difficult work, rather than collapsing in tears.

The next day we found the Grade 2 books under the couch, and he chose a couple of representative pieces from them too, though his favourites are the two Grade 3 pieces he's decided to stick with. He's working hard on his sight-reading. He's using his strong by-ear skills and lovely touch and dexterity. He is sounding terrific, and he knows it. What a breakthrough.

Today, after he'd finished working his way through the Grade 3 "Arabesque" hands together, brilliantly and all on his own, I wandered through the living room and told him how proud I was of him ... not that he was managing this repertoire, which I'd had my suspicions he could do, but that he was working so hard and doing his own problem-solving from the written score. "You're really working hard at the piano, and at the reading. It sure shows!" I said. He burst into tears, told me I'd wrecked it, and that I should go away.

I apologized and left the room. Sheesh. You just never know what's going on in this kid's head.

After a few long minutes of silence he started working again. He even did some hands-together sight-reading, something I'd been trying to work him gradually back into.

Funny kid.

For those who are wondering what's happened with his request for an incentive system, he hasn't, thankfully, mentioned it again. We've been working together reasonably well on viola, and I've changed my vocabulary from "fixing things" and "polishing up" and "working on issues" to "practising to make things easier". He seems to like watching the chart I set up for tracking the ease of various tasks progressing towards "easy as pie". No candy has been necessary yet.

Help me out here, Alfie Kohn

As a child I felt a deep discomfort with rewards, incentives, bribes and punishments. When rewarded, I felt like I was participating in some sort of dishonest scam, because I was either selling myself out or reaping benefits I didn't truly deserve. When punished I felt drawn into a power struggle, determined to win the next skirmish through deviousness or sheer force of will.

So as a new parent, I instinctively veered away from behaviourist approaches. During the early years I certainly wouldn't have been able to articulate in a philosophical sense what I was doing, but I knew that it felt right to wait for my newly-3-year-old to decide to use the toilet, rather than bribing her into it with jelly beans.

Then I read Alfie Kohn's book "Punished by Rewards". Kohn's extremely convincing book spelled it all out for me. It articulated why I'd felt an almost visceral aversion to rewards as a child, and why as a parent they just didn't sit right. Now I had a philosophy and a policy to go with my instincts. For many years I delightedly shared these ideas and worked at refining this style of educational and parenting guidance.

But now what? I've run up against a curious phenomenon that I can't figure out. I've got a child (Noah, 8) who has grown up in an environment that is virtually rewards-free. Most kids whose parents swear off rewards and incentives meet up with occasional reward systems in school or extra-curricular activities. Even Erin endured 2 years of getting treats every week for having logged 100 minutes of piano practising. Not Noah, though. Thanks to a combination of timing, parental design and blind luck, he's grown up 99.9% free of behavioural manipulators. I was firmly committed to non-coercive parenting by the time he was out of babyhood, and all of his extra-curricular activities have been in similar environments.

Yet lately he is asking for reward and incentive systems. When we discuss the state of his practising, ways to overcome the hurdles he's facing, he suggests I give him candy or money for his work. I voice my concern over rewards, enumerating through clear examples the types of potential downfalls I see in these situations. He still wants to try them. When he asked for a dollar for completing a week's worth of detailed practising work, I suggested that if he wanted more money, I could just increase his allowance. No, he said, he wanted the money contingent on his practising. What if he decided it was easier to busk at the market for 45 minutes and make $30 than practice 45 minutes a day for 30 weeks for the same financial reward, I asked. No, he'd still want the reward, he said. What if he was really rich, and a dollar didn't seem worth it any more? What if he had $10,000 in the bank? Surely a dollar wouldn't seem worth practising for? Sure it would, he said. What if he decided he wasn't particularly interested in money, or in buying anything, for a while? Wouldn't that make him feel like he didn't need to practice? He looked at me like I'd grown another head. Could I just give him a stack of loonies or a big box of candy and get him to dispense one to himself every week for the work he's done? I really would like to get myself out of the position of judge and enforcer, I said. I want to be his helper, not his boss, I explained. No, he told me -- someone else has to do the dispensing, and that would be the way I could best help. I suggested using more games and gimmicks, instead of rewards, to make his practising more palatable. He didn't think this was a good idea -- games are silly, and they take charge of the work and take up time. What about using a chart or a value-less token system to keep track of the work done? No, this wouldn't work, because "it has to be something I'd like to get."

I said I'd think about it some more, and we'd talk about it again. My inclination at this point is to agree to what he's asking for, on the assumption that the toxicity of rewards is the result mostly of their unilateral imposition by adults intent upon controlling the recipient. Of course there's the sticky issue of what I do with the other kids. If Noah's getting extra money or candy through his reward system, how do I prevent that from affecting their interest in a reward system? Do I just hand out candies to them? Do I give them the option of a reward system? What happens if Noah fails to 'earn' his reward? Do the girls get a dollar or a candy anyway? What a mess.

A tale of two weeks

Last week's Suzuki institute was a heady experience for all. The structure of daily classes and activities was school-like, but there was so much respect for the children and their needs that it wasn't particularly stressful for my introverts. They thrived, loving the challenges they met and the friendships they made. They came out of the week absolutely psyched over the violin and viola. Erin practiced like a maniac all week and three separate times the day afterwards. Noah and Sophie are begging for more lessons and for next year's institute to roll around again really fast.

In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say that the kids' reaction to the week was an indication that they might really thrive in a more structured, school-like setting full-time.

But then on Sunday we had to switch gears and get prepared for the piano summer school. It's not going very well. Partly I think the kids had just had their fill of long structured days away from home and needed some down time. Partly it's that they're feeling so stoked about their stringed instruments that it's hard to set those aside and get centred on piano. But partly I think it's the format of the two different summer programs.

This week's program is mostly large-group-based. There are almost no intimate small-group experiences (with the exception of piano duet coaching -- which the kids really enjoy - but it's just 10 minutes a couple of times a week). In groups of more than 6 or 8, my introverted kids have a hard time forming comfortable relationships quickly. They cope with the master classes of 8 to 14 fellow students, teacher and onlookers, but they don't feel the comfortable sense of intimacy, of bonds forged, that they get easily in Suzuki-style masterclasses of 4 students and teacher. Also, because this week is a "drop 'em at the door and pick 'em up later" style program, the kids are kept in class for basically the whole time, with breaks limited to 15-minute teacher-supervised recesses. There's little time to forge friendships. During the Suzuki week there were hour-long breaks interspersed during the day for practising and socializing or just curling up in the corner with a book.

The other real difference with this week is how product-oriented it is. With three kids involved in various different levels and components of this week's program, our family is involved in almost every student concert, and everything during the week is focused on those end-of-week concerts. We'll be sitting through parts of two concerts on Thursday evening, totalling almost 3 hours, and three separate concerts, including a 3 to 4 hour sweltering marathon final concert, on Friday. This is without taking in any of the discretionary concerts. By the end of the week (this is our fourth year) my kids are inevitably swearing that they hate concerts and don't ever want to be involved in another one. Not really the desired sentiment at the end of a music summer school. And then, to top it off, because all the energy is focused on concert preparation, once the concerts are over there's little for the kids to take home with them to spur their learning forth after this week.

Back to my thoughts on structured group instruction and whether the kids would thrive in school. Interestingly, the things that are bothering my children about this week's experiences are things that they and I would find difficult about school -- the sheer length of time spent there, especially time sitting and waiting for things to happen, the focus on product rather than on ongoing learning and its motivation, the preoccupation with specific learning rather than with the big-picture growth and development of the child, the separation from parents rather than inclusion of them, the large-group nature of the teaching -- and the competitiveness and territoriality that seems to arise in the absence of any cohesive philosophical vision of education.

I know that some schools are able to answer to some of these issues -- while others are just the nature of institutional schooling. It makes me wonder what a school based on the Suzuki institute model would look like. Pie in the sky, I know.

At any rate, this year's music summer school experience has proven to me that while my kids love occasional doses of a certain style of group-based structured learning, and can cope with other styles if need be, unschooling is definitely the place for them to thrive.

Noah came home this afternoon, discovered that the computer mouse wasn't working properly, tried the standard dust-bunny-banishing procedure which failed, shut the computer down, found a non-magnetized screwdriver, took the thing apart and discovered, deep within the wheel mechanism, a hidden wad of lint which he dug at and blew at until it was gone. He spent some time curiously examining the remaining circuitry and mechanics, then reassembled it, confident that it would work properly. And it did. He's beginning to see himself as mechanically adept, to have confidence in his ability to figure out how to fix things. A little snippet of unschooling on the shoulder of a very school-like day. Nice to see.

Institute Vignettes

It's the week of our first-ever local Suzuki Institute. Total enrollment: 42 (about 30% from our region, the remainder from far afield).

Erin and her quartet-mates in flamenco poses, practising hand-spirals, courtesy of their many-talented quartet coach, as part of the quartet's stretching routine mid-rehearsal.

Noah, smiling and self-satisfied after playing through his latest piece with a couple of teen violists in viola group class. He confesses later that he really likes viola group because for a change he's back-row material (not tall enough, really -- actually the shortest in the class -- but as the third most advanced violist, he's in the back row with the big guys).

Sophie, holding hands with Hana, a fellow 6yo, a friend from her master class, all the way through family choir.

The sound of the Bach Double first movement, being played at top speed (and surprisingly competently) by two violinists in a windowless practice room. It turns out the violinists are Erin and her close friend J., who generally retreat to windowless rooms to giggle and goof around -- but here they are practising like maniacs.

Fiona, showing her beautiful bowhold to Sophie's master class, after being offered a special treat -- her own 2-minute 'lesson' at the beginning of the class. She is further-spoiled by being given a colourful "assignment sheet", which she spends much time folding and unfolding and carefully placing in her case beneath her cardboard 'violin'.

Erin's nametag now reads "Erin Burkholder -- the Gypsy", courtesy of her master class teacher. She's working on the Czardas by Monti, a new piece and a real departure for her in terms of the flamboyant assertiveness required. I've been banished from the master class by my independent 11yo, but I'm told by those who are allowed in the room that she has transformed her playing this week. The nametag addendum is the only tangible evidence I've been given so far.

Sophie (6) and B. (12), taking a few spare minutes before class to play through their ensemble music together, side by side, mutually encouraging.

Noah, with his trademark self-conscious almost-smile, acknowledging the applause of his master class after managing to play his minuet with the assigned "fanatical bowing".

It's been a great week so far.

Puppy love

Since well before our old dog died we'd been talking about getting a puppy or young dog. After Stikine died the search had become more urgent. I feel so much more comfortable with a watchdog to warn us of wildlife intrusions -- bears and cougars especially concern me. The kids had been asking for a good two years for a puppy. The kitchen renovation and impending music summer school / Suzuki institute weeks made the timing less than ideal, but last week at the local open-air market a puppy fairly fell in our laps.

She's a golden retriever / akita / rottweiler / shepherd / collie mutt with a mother who is locally acknowledged to be an absolutely wonderful dog. We picked her out of the litter, reserved her, and spent a very long and at time impatient week waiting to pick her up. Yesterday she came home with us. She seems like another pea in the pod already. The kids took her to the market today while they were busking with their violins (proceeds: just $36.96 -- but it was looking like rain, so things weren't terribly busy) and she just lay there quietly and patiently listening, looking too cute for words. She was so much just like the kids I couldn't help but take note of the similar temperment -- and a few other people commented as well.

Good thing the rest of the carpet in the kitchen area is coming out in a couple of days as part of the renovation. Puppyish deposits join the years of various 'droppings'.

The new floor will be cork with a robust polyurethane coating. The kitchen is nearing completion. Functionally it's about 90% there. Flooring, new countertops and backsplash will take another couple of weeks. Or more, realistically speaking.

Harry Potter Day

Of course we made the trek to a bookstore for the new Harry Potter on release day. It was a good day for a trip to Nelson for grocery shopping, so we did that. I stalwartly resisted the lure of loss-leader Harry-Potter-racks at the big box stores and headed towards the independent bookstore in Winlaw and spent almost 50% more to support one of my favourite small businesses.

Erin read the entire book between 12:30 pm and 8:30 pm, with breaks for meals and to allow the rest of us an hour or so for a couple of chapters as a readaloud. She's listening to the readaloud too.

About six months ago, Erin began reading aloud to herself. She does this only in private, in a very disciplined way. After years of speed-of-light voracious reading, she's discovered that reading aloud slows her down, allows her to appreciate the writers' turns of phrases, increases her comprehension. So every night before Sophie comes to bed, Erin reads aloud to herself in her bedroom. She's read the Philip Pullman "His Dark Materials" trilogy, the J.R.R. Tolkein "Lord of the Rings" trilogy and the five earlier Harry Potter books this way and is now starting in on Tove Jansson's "Moomintroll" books.

A year or so ago she seemed to lose interest in our family readalouds; shifting her bedtime so much earlier than everyone else's isolated her from that part of our family routine even more. Lately she's been listening in again, during the day at least. And she's listening to Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince with the rest of us. How could she miss that?

The New Deal - continued

The New Deal on practising was a dismal failure. Sophie managed to practice once, Noah did about 6 out of the 14 practices he should have during the week. I managed to keep my mouth shut, perhaps the one 'success' of the week. I was very proud of myself.

Erin practised every day. Somehow in the past 9 to 12 months she's become totally autonomous in motivating and executing her practising. In essence she'd been living by the New Deal for months already and was clearly ready for the responsibility. For the other two, though, the experiment was a failure. They readily admitted this.

Solutions were not immediately forthcoming at our next family meeting. We thought we'd try fixed times, attempt to limit computer use, try harder, resolve to do better. I explained that I felt the ultimate solution was not really a new system or set of rules, which would at best work temporarily, but for the kids to simply take responsibility for it themselves and decide to practice. Once they just decided to get on with the job, the problem would no longer be mine, or anyone's. Noah nodded with some satisfaction at this explanation.

A few days after the meeting, Noah said, out of the blue, "I'm still trying to figure out what it was that made me want to practice around last Christmas-time." I didn't remember whatever rip-roaring level of self-motivation he was recalling, but I didn't say so. I just told him that was a great way to attack the problem -- by looking at something that had been working well, and trying to figure out why. It reminded me of an organizational management paradigm called Appreciative Inquiry:

"The approach is based on the premise that ‘organisations change in the direction in which they inquire.’ So an organisation which inquires into problems will keep finding problems but an organisation which attempts to appreciate what is best in itself will discover more and more that is good. It can then to use these discoveries to build a new future where the best becomes more common."

So anyway, we shot some ideas about. I asked him whether it was the practising he was enjoying in and of itself, or the idea that it would get him somewhere he was dying to go. He thought it was maybe a bit of both. We talked about what goals, experiences and role-models he has found inspiring in the past. Again, we didn't really get at a clear solution, but I was gratified to hear that he was clearly thinking through the issue on his own and trying to find solutions for himself. While Erin sometimes does this, I certainly don't hear about it; I can only infer that something of this sort has gone on by seeing the results. It's such a treat having an introspective child who is at least partly communicative.

A few minutes later he said that he thought it would be helpful to limit his practising to half an hour per instrument. This struck me as an interesting comment, since lately his practices have been very short, often only 10 or 15 minutes. For whatever reason, though, he liked the idea of clear temporal expectations. A couple of weeks ago I'd been trying to encourage him to work through a tricky part in his new orchestra piece and I'd told him I'd leave him to do the work himself (he hates me hovering!) if he agreed to keep working until 5:40 pm, i.e. 5 minutes work. I reminded him of this episode and asked if he'd liked that system. And he said yes.

So now we have, at his direction, a list of 6 broad tasks for piano and 6 for viola. He sets the egg timer for 5 minutes and works on each task in succession for 5 minutes each. On balance he is practising on his own far more productively than he ever has. He still tends to play through the parts he knows over and over rather than trying to help himself tackle new challenges. For instance, he'll repeat the 42 bars of the orchestra piece that he knows three times rather than deal with learning the next 4 bars. Sometimes, listening nearby, I ache to nudge him forwards. But I know that in the grand scheme his autonomy and sense of mastery and re-assertion of control over his own daily habits of practising are more important than whether he can play the whole of the Cascade Suite by the time the summer school starts. And repetition is one of the hallmarks of the hard learning work -- not the only one, but it's a start.

I still think Noah lacks the maturity to motivate his painfully perfectionistic self through the emotional bumps of long-term daily practising at the level of musical ability he's attained. But he does seem to be developing more meta-cognition, more ability to think about his own thought processes. And this is like a light at the end of the tunnel for me.

Sophie ... well, she clearly just needs clearer expectations, more parental leadership and less wiggle room. I printed out a fancy new violin review chart, gave her a pile of mini-stickers to fill it in with as she saw fit, and told her "Here's the deal for this week. You practice because that's the rule. You practice now. Come on; it'll be fun." And she managed. And the next day there was less resistance. And the next day there was less.

Since we're in the habit of finding solutions co-operatively as a family, it's a delicate dance to help the kids to understand why rules and expectations need to be different for the three of them. Age alone is too simplistic an explanation for them; they have plenty of examples and experiences where age is clearly not a relevent criterion. Truth be told, age is too simplistic an explanation for me too. Yet it's hard to explain that the rules and expectations need to be different because of differing levels of maturity, different personalities and different psychological needs, without the kids wanting to compare themselves with each other. Noah needs to accept that he still needs his hand held through a responsibility, and Sophie needs to accept that she still needs to be carried, without either of them feeling like their maturity and capabilities have been found wanting. I'm wondering if the practising issue shouldn't be dealt with privately with each child, rather than in the public forum of family meetings. In essence that's what Noah and I did this week, and it worked beautifully.

Summer panic

It happens almost every year. I look forward to the slower, saner pace of summer. I put so much off that summer ends up being crammed full of "catching up" stuff; and if I don't have catching up to do, I come up with new projects that keep me overly busy. And then, a couple of weeks into summer, I begin to panic, because the lovely orderly productive family days I'd dreamed of aren't happening, and summer is slipping inexorably by.

At family meeting this week I apologized for being so grumpy and annoyed the previous night that I'd gone to bed without reading aloud. I'd complained about their lack of productivity and lack of help around the house. I'd told them how angry I was feeling about this stuff. And then I went to bed. I hate ending my kids' days like that.

I told the kids about my summer dreams ... of a sweet little homeschooling family reading together and doing projects together, and exploring and engaging in activities, all pulling their weight around the house, living a tidy co-operative existence with plenty of time for everything everyone wants to do and a comfortable rhythm to their days. Kids would say "hey mom, the laundry needed to come in off the line, so I did it." Mom would say "anyone want to help me make a batch of muffins?" and the kids would excitedly bounce up and down begging to be the one to read out the recipe or break the eggs. Everyone would eat the fresh wholesome meals, and at supper time the family would laugh and talk and recount their favourite part of the day.

And I told them that because our summer wasn't working out like that, I was dealing with my disappointment, and also my regret that my supposedly wide-open summer 'holidays' were feeling as busy and unproductive as those chaotic weeks in April and May.

The kids laughed and accepted my apology. And they understood where some of my frustration was coming from and promised to make an effort to help around the house a bit more. It's particularly hard for all of us right now with the renovation still proceeding full-tilt. The last couple of days have been better. Noah and Erin are making an effort, and Sophie at least managed to practice today.

We are still eating at the dining room table in the family room. The living room is still filled with a couple of dozen boxes of kitchen stuff so that there's barely a path to the bathroom and the piano. And we're still doing dishes on the deck with a garden hose. But things are coming along. We moved the range in a couple of days ago. Today we got enough cabinets installed to add a temporary countertop along one wall.

Here is a photo that really show how far things have come. This is looking down the small side of the "L" towards the pantry we've framed in at the end of the kitchen. This is where we started installing the cabinets, so things look pretty finished here. We still don't have a fridge or sink, and the whole other wall is still empty. But this photo is inspiring us to keep plugging away.

A GRUBS Day

Today was a typical GRUBS meeting and I thought I'd write a little about how the sessions operate, since we've kind of evolved into an approach that works.

Donna (the other main organizer) and I both had things to bring and pick up on the way to the meeting. I stopped with the kids to pick up the first garbage can of donated compost from a lovely older lady who's moving later this month. We had to do some problem-solving to heave the garbage can, now weighing well over 100 lbs., into the van. Some 2x4's as a ramp did the trick.

We arrived at the garden at 10 am and for a while we were the only family there. I started working on adding mounting cross-pieces to the bat-house pole with the power drill, some 2x4 bits and some lag bolts. My kids drifted off the to the lakeshore. Noah had brought his rockhounding 'kit' (some equipment he's cobbled together himself) and so he began chipping away at rocks on the beach. Free play on the beach is wonderful, but we've decided to ban it during actual GRUBS meetings since we can't properly supervise the non-swimmers there and we can easily lose all the momentum of the meeting. So it's fair game to play there before and after, but not during meetings.

Finally the other families began to arrive. When we had what seemed to be a quorum, we summoned the beach-dwellers with the 'gong' (two pieces of scrap metal found on the beach). First we looked at the difference in growth in the veggies in the heavily-manured areas vs. the untreated beds. There was up to a five-fold difference in growth. We discussed the soil macronutrients and what was likely missing from the untreated soil and what we ought to do to improve the soil. Our solutions: side-dressing previously planted untreated beds with compost, and planting fallow areas with a green manure cover crop. We had about 7 jobs to get done, besides the standard weeding and watering of the kids' own individual garden plots, so I wrote them on the white board and we picked three to start with. We split into three groups. One weeded the corn 'field', one unloaded the compost and one cultivated and then planted alfalfa as a cover crop on a hitherto fallow area. Then we switched to the next three jobs on the list: levelling and mulching a new raised bed to encourage composting of the turned-over sod it's been made from, weeding the herb garden and starting work on the worm bin. I took two 6yo boys to the adjacent hospital for shredded paper for the worm bin; as there was little in the bag, we had the thrilling (to them) job of running a few hundred sheets of recyclables through the shredder.

Someone had brought a watermelon and was sharing slices out. D__, another GRUB, arrived, fresh from a family reunion weekend with three of her cousins. Her little plot had been growing like crazy while she was away last week, so we all had fun looking at the size of her peas and radishes and showing her cousins around. The kids got busy weeding and watering their individual plots. And the final job was a big cherry picking party. A number of nearby feral cherry trees were laden with fruit, so the kids picked and ate and we ended up with a couple of litres of surplus cherries to take home and throw in the freezer to be made into ice cream topping for this fall's Harvest Festival.

We noticed that the transplanted plum tree that we thought was completely dead had sprouted some lovely new green leaves around its trunk. There was general wonder and rejoicing.

Then we had a final circle time. The GRUBS had been invited to go on a garden tour this evening with the local adult-oriented garden society, so we discussed etiquette and appropriate behaviour for anyone who decided to come. We talked about plans for next week (solar oven cookies, a talk and demonstration from a local vermicomposting expert, and possibly raising the bat-house pole) and asked the kids if they had any other activity ideas for GRUBS. Noah mentioned his idea for a "museum," which is I think what in a classroom might be called a "nature table." He wants a place to display interesting specimens found around the site ... rocks, bones, shells, etc.. There seemed to be a lot of enthusiasm for this idea so we agreed to pursue it further in the weeks to come. The kids were encouraged to harvest their Romaine lettuce this week and take it home for big salads.

We cleared the white board and wrote down the date and time of our next meeting, leaving a space for anyone who shows up later this week to water or weed to mark down their visit. And then we packed up the tools we'd brought, put away the buckets and garden cart and other tools and headed home for lunch.

With D__'s cousins we had about 23 people there this morning. Normal total is about 18 or 19. It's a wonderful group of curious, respectful, motivated kids. It doesn't always seem like we've accomplished much (though today did feel productive) but I look at the garden and think about all the activities we've done and I realize it's all really adding up. There's a wealth of experience accumulating amongst those attending, and the garden is gradually transforming from a wasteland of rocks & roots into a vibrant, vital place.

This afternoon I did some more teacup birdfeeder glueing with Sophie. We're making a couple of dozen of these things to sell as GRUBS fundraisers. We epoxy a thrift shop cup to its matching saucer, then glue on an inexpensive stainless steel spoon. Once that's dry we turn the thing upside down and glue a copper pipe end cap onto the bottom. Then we cut a length of copper pipe, push it into the ground and friction-fit the teacup onto the top. The teacups will be labelled with instructions and some info about GRUBS and filled with a starter-baggie of wild bird seed. They look very sweet in amongst perennials in the garden. The spoon acts as a perch. I hope they'll sell quickly at the local outdoor market. They'll increase the club's visibility in the community too I think.

This evening we went on the garden tour. The local landscaper, who had created the garden, and who is president of the garden society, led us around. The place was amazing -- it had all been carved out of the forest within the last year. The boulders used to define the raised beds and retain soil on slopes were apparently about 50 truckloads worth (at $400/load, we were told) and that obviously wasn't where most of the money had gone either. This residential garden was estimated by those in the know to have cost somewhere around $80 - 100,000. There were two large natural-looking deep ponds fed by a waterfall forming almost a moat at the front of the house and expansive views of the lake and the wilderness park of mountain peaks on the far side. The property is off the electrical grid, but they have built their own power plant on the creek and don't seem to want for wattage. Quite the experience visiting it. The kids were wonderfully behaved and enjoyed themselves a lot.

Renovation

It was 11 years coming, but it's finally begun ... the kitchen renovation. We spent yesterday and this morning madly packing away the entire contents of our kitchen into boxes and setting up a tiny area in the dining room for some small appliances, dishes and food storage. The kids helped scrape the old vinyl tiles off the floor. I managed to bake 8 loaves of bread, two pizzas, two extra pizza shells and a double batch of baked beans. Then, at around noon, the three friends we've hired to do most of the big work arrived and divested us of stove, oven, sink and running water.


We have a laundry tub and garden hose arrangement on the deck for washing up. Meals are pretty much organized and manageable on an outdoor propane stove and in the microwave. We'll survive.

The guys doing the work were great about showing the kids what they were doing and how all the tools work. Blake started the day with a little "in-service" talk, showing off what he was going to be doing. Later Barry began chiseling mortar and bricks apart and looked up to see Noah standing there watching him with safety goggles on. Barry sighed, grinned and quickly put his own eye protection on.

We expected the unexpected in removing the old flooring and cabinetry, and we haven't been disappointed -- rat-gnawed wiring, detritus under the cabinets, sorry-looking insulation, bits of concrete in the wrong places, awful smells. But nothing insurmountable so far.

It doesn't look like Fiona has chicken pox after all. I think she's got a cold and more than her fair share of bug bites. But we may never know for sure.

The New Deal

Three months ago at a family meeting we came up with a 'rule' for practising that actually worked, and that everyone was happy with. If you miss your practising, you don't play on the computer the next day. It was Noah's idea. We discussed this as a question of balance. If one day is balanced in favour of unstructured play and computer time, it makes sense to right the balance the next day and stay off the computer. During the first couple of weeks there were occasional missed practisings (sometimes Erin or Noah would only manage one practising on a particular day) but after that the practising was quite consistent.

But then the computer was out of commission for 3 weeks; the kids hardly missed it at all.... and interestingly they were just as good about doing their practising, even without the computer contingency. But then the computer got fixed a couple of weeks ago and we experienced a bit of a novelty effect. And this week at our meeting they asked for a change to the practising and computer rule. This week they want a maximum of an hour at a time on the computer (then they must take a break and let others take a turn if they wish). And they want to do their practising without reminders, pressure or coercion. And, of course, if this doesn't work, we deal with it at our next meeting and change the rules.

So far Erin has mostly practiced just fine. Noah has practiced about half the time, and Sophie has missed three or four days in a row. I have managed to stay pretty low-key and am determined to wait out the week, no matter how abysmal, and see what the kids decide at next meeting. I know it'll be clear to the younger two that this is not working. An imposed solution will not be as effective as something they participate in coming up with.

Pox?

None of the kids in this family have had chicken pox, despite many casual exposures. Chicken pox has been running rampant through the community for the past 6-7 weeks and I was hoping it would arrive in our home, but after all the end-of-term performances.

Fiona has been snotty, cranky and mildly febrile for 24 hours and has a few suspicious-looking itchy spots. This may be it for us. The other three will then get it within 14-20 days. The timing is great - no groups lessons, rehearsals, performances, art classes or soccer games to miss. Everyone better in time for the summer music camp weeks.

In the midst of whatever it is she's got, Fiona has had long spells of being her usual funny self. When I pulled up her shirt to look for more spots, she looked down at her flat chest and commented "I don't have any breastfeeders." Breastfeeding is still a central theme in Fiona's life.

As I type this, Noah and Sophie are perusing a "book" that Noah made with folded copier paper, a construction paper cover and a stapler two or three years ago. They are enjoying poring over his rudimentary spelling and printing. "Rainbow" is spelled "RAMBO". Noah made dozens of these books at that age; I'm glad this one survived. It's wonderful for the kids to see clear evidence of their academic progress. Without artificial milestones like "passing Grade 3", these tangible indicators of progress are worth their weight in gold.

Today we moved the dining room into the family room and moved the fridge into the dining room (even cleaned it in the process!). Tomorrow the kids are looking forward to tearing up the old flooring in the kitchen. We've been packing boxes of kitchen stuff and hiding them in the attic. Tons of work still to do, but the renovation should begin in earnest in a couple of days whether we're ready or not.

Thanks for coming!

One of the kids' friends showed up for a sleepover fresh from School Track & Field Day. A homeschooled friend, no less, who thanks to a receptive teaching staff, joins the schoolkids every now and then for fun projects and activities. Anyway, she showed up with 5 ribbons. Apparently everyone got at least four. Some got more, if they'd placed well in races and competitions. Her ribbons all said "Excellent", except for one which said "2nd place". An "excellent" ribbon was a 'participation award.'

At the end-of-year soccer wind-up a couple of days later, every child received a commemorative medal. Erin, Noah and Sophie compared this approach to that of the track and field day. Did the track & field ribbons meant anything in terms of the excellence they superficially stated. What did "Excellent" mean if "2nd place" was better? Was there any value in a "Thanks for Coming" award if there were real awards to the winners? Were the soccer medals awards or souvenirs? Did calling a ribbon an "Excellence Award" make it more or less meaningful?

A couple of days later Noah asked Sophie who her best friend is. The idea of comparing and rating came up again in this context. I expressed my discomfort with the idea of rating friends as "Best", "Second-best" and "Third-best". What if, I said, you were kicking the soccer ball around after practice with a couple of kids, and you told one "you're my best friend" and the other "you're my 'thanks for coming' friend" -- how would those kids feel? Sometimes a "thanks for coming" award is demeaning or hurtful. The kids laughed at the idea of a 'thanks for coming' friend.

"Grandma gives 'thanks for coming' awards" said Erin with a smirk, referring to the stickers that are dispensed at the end of violin lessons.

"True, she does," I said, "but she doesn't try to pretend they say anything about the worth of the lesson. They don't say 'excellent', and she doesn't give out 'first class lesson' stickers some of the time."

The kids all seemed to understand the difference, even without me articulating it. There is no implied comparison or judgementalism in grandma's "Thanks for coming" stickers. They're just part of the ritual of lessons. A souvenir, like the soccer medal.

The kids have latched onto the "Thanks for coming" phrase though, as a humourous put-down. It fits in anywhere they want to say "nice try, too bad about the results." Now they just quip "Thanks for coming."

All of this is particularly funny because it was about a week ago, before all these discussions, that Fiona began shouting out "Thanks for coming!" any time she's taking leave of someone. She goes to grandma's house, has a nice long visit, and upon leaving, cheerfully shouts out "Thanks for coming, grandma!" She soaks up social niceties like a sponge, this kid, but she doesn't always quite sort out their precise social contexts on the first go around.

It was odd that this one phrase should take on two quite different, but equally funny, significances in our family in one week.

A Big Ride

The kids wanted to do something special on the first day of summer. I suggested a bike ride out to Three Forks along the highway, and then back along the Galena Trail. Sophie wasn't sure she was up for it, being the least experienced cyclist. Nevertheless I spent an hour reattaching the baby seat to my bike hoping she'd rise to the challenge. She did. I took her up the driveway hill so that she could show me that she's learned to use her coaster brakes to slow down. This is a skill she didn't seem to have a couple of weeks ago. We checked -- she could do it.

So we headed out. The ride out along the highway was mostly uphill and very hot with full sun exposure. We soldiered on and were all very pleased to drop down into the creek basin at three forks, getting off the highway and onto a gentle single-track trail.



About half way back, the trail crosses Carpenter Creek. The kids always love the cable car, and this was, I believe, Fiona's first ride. The trail was beautiful, in good shape, and absolutely deserted. Because it's an old rail grade, most of it runs at a steady 3% down-grade, which was just perfect for Sophie as she's on a gearless little-kid bike. I had forgotten how narrow and precipitous the trail was beyond this point. Sophie had fortunately proved herself very reliable at riding a straight and narrow trajectory on the highway so I didn't worry about her. As it turned out it was Erin who went over the bank when Noah, trying to ride a radical high line around a curve, clipped her back tire. Both kids were a little shaken up by the mishap, though no one was hurt and Erin just slipped 6 or 8 feet down a weedy slope. Still, they know that parts of that trail, especially just below our property, drop off cliff-like into the creek canyon. They rode very conservatively as we went past the canyon.

The whole ride took us about 3 hours and the kids were very proud of their stamina. This is by far the longest ride we've done with Erin, Noah and Sophie pushing their own wheels. A litre of ice cream disappeared in fairly short order upon our return.

Tonight the kids are still full of energy and are running about on the lawn, eagerly trying to soak up every last minute of the longest day of the year.

Morning Rounds

Most mornings Fiona and I go outside together and survey the world. These days our first stop after letting the chickens out is in the garden. Every day there is something new -- enough rhubarb for yet another crumble, garlic setting flowers, raspberries filling out, strawberries red enough to eat, tiny carrot sprouts all in a row.

Here Fiona is inspecting the snow pea blossoms. She's just walked through the hoop-and-chicken-wire tunnel and is under the runner-bean frame. The scarlet runner beans are poised to begin their growth spurt. We expect they'll grow at least 3-6" a day over the next two or three weeks.

Things are growing like crazy down at the GRUBS garden too. The club seems to have found its stride. There's excitement and familiarity to the routine of our meeting weekly. We work to develop the site, pull weeds, notice the new growth and explore a new activity or two. Today we moved some of the compost pile, installed a notice board, the kids picked and ate some lettuce and radishes, we collected, identified and sketched some wildflowers, watered and weeded the little plots, and the younger set made summer solstice paper plate suns with pastels and tissue paper. Then we headed up to Mick's organic market garden for a tour where everyone was able to sample some baby carrots and snow peas and help do a bit of weeding in the greenhouse amongst the tomatoes and eggplants. GRUBS comprises a huge range of ages (2 to 12) but it really seems to work.

Tonight we were back down at the GRUBS garden and its adjacent beach taking full advantage of the long day. The kids swam and played on the beach and the lawn; I sank a fencepost and transplanted some feral raspberries into a corner of the site. At 10:10 pm it's now time to complete the day. Fiona and I will go out in the last light of dusk and shut the chickens in.

The laundry joins the dishes

This is my new laundry airer. Actually, this is my laundry. The airer is what the laundry is hanging off, and you can't actually see it. This photo is angled up towards the living room ceiling. The airer is a pair of cast-iron end arms, four wooden dowels spanning the distance between them, a single and a double pulley to serve as anchors in the ceiling and a length of long braided rope that goes up from each end of the airer, through the pulleys, and down to a cleat on the wall. I got it installed during a week of pouring rain, which pleased me to no end. Outdoor line-drying was out of the question and I have maniacally been lowering, unloading, reloading and hoisting my airer all week. Our vaulted living room ceilings are very high, and all the warm air accumulates in the triangular space the ceiling encloses in front of the woodstove. In the winter time, this will keep all the wet winter clothes, all the mittens and boot liners and snowsuits and hats, up out of the way as they dry. When the airer is pulled up as far as it can go, you have to make an effort to look up to see the clothing at all.

So will I swear off the automatic clothes-dryer just as I've sworn off the dishwasher? I don't know. I will say that there is a lovely rhythm and routine to loading and unloading the clothes airer.

Today was violin recital day. Noah blew me away with his viola rendition of the Bach Gavottes from the end of Suzuki Book 3 (adapted from the Bach Orchestral Suite No. 3). Powerful tone, committment, musicality, confident posture and even some pretty nice trills. He really turned it on. Gosh, I was impressed. Sophie and Erin did fine too, but Noah's performance was the one that made my jaw drop. Now we are home and relaxing, our window sills filled with all the lupin-dominated wildflower arrangements we put together for the tables at the recital. I remember the smell of wild lupins from last year's post-recital evening.

Turning the corner

It's summer in just over 48 hours. And as the seasons turn, I feel a tremendous sense of relief at turning the corner with our activities roster. In the past 7 weeks we've had an orchestra concert, the last of the art classes and an art show, a zillion soccer practices and games and the final soccer wrap-up barbeque, piano recital, the last of the piano lessons, Erin's rehearsals of her piano piece with orchestra and the performances... and all the usual stuff including the garden going in, the annual accounting and tax deadline, and the GRUBS club in high gear. With tomorrow's end-of-year Suzuki performance party, the last of the extra activities fall away and we are free to slide into summer.

For weeks I've been putting the kids off when they ask about doing this or that: "Wait until after all our stuff is done." The kids all have big lists in their heads of things they want to get to in the weeks to come. They want to devote a day each week to hikes/bikes/canoe trips, to major/messy arts and crafts, to building projects, to child-led cooking & baking and to the beach. I know it will be easy for things to slip into lazy days of chaos and serendipity at home; that's nice in its own way, but they're asking for some help getting some of these things organized and done, and I'll do my best to help. We may end up having a fair bit more self-designed structure to our summer than we've had to our 'school year'.

Erin's Bach Piano Concerto performances were great. The KiwiVine Guest House we stayed at in Nelson during the final onslaught of rehearsals was excellent. It was private, well-appointed and very kid-friendly and comfortable. We were there for four nights and it felt just like home. We had a lovely relaxing time and I think all four kids really enjoyed the time. I worried a little that the week would seem so focused around Erin's needs, but we had so much child-led time and relaxing that everyone felt quite happy.

Musically things went very well for Erin. Her movement was dead easy to put together with the orchestra and she played nicely, very much in control and with a sense of musicality. She also had the chance to deepen her relationship with her teacher and to hang out a little with the two older pianists she was sharing the concerto with, something she somewhat surprisingly quite enjoyed. She suffers not a speck of performance anxiety, but normally she is so unaware of the importance of the audience that she looks almost sulky and lazy as she takes to the stage. But suddenly with these performances -- Wow! She was wearing a sophisticated-looking formal dress and it was as if she'd suddenly gone from being a sulky child to a charismatic young woman. She walked smartly on stage, smiled welcomingly at the audience, bowed and took her place at the piano with calm assurance. Afterwards she smiled and bowed graciously and exuded some real Stage Presence. I felt like I was watching someone else's kid. She looked like she actually cared ... both about the audience and about her performance for them.

Fiona has been incredibly needy for the past week and a half. She's still a chipper little thing most of the time, and funny and enjoyable to be around, but she seems to want to nurse and hug her mom almost full-time, day and night, lately. I hope she'll get full of whatever it is she needs and things will settle down again soon -- it's exhausting for me.

The kitchen renovation, after being put off for a few weeks, is set to move ahead in a week or so. That will carry with it its own sort of chaos... missing plumbing, no stove, no cabinets, drywall dust, outdoor food preparation and the like. But after surviving the past few weeks this seems like small potatoes.