A Field Trip

I have never taken the kids on an “organized” field trip. We’ve done lots of things that qualify as field trips, mostly as a family but sometimes with a few friends. A friend of mine texted months ago that the Lafayette Homeschool Association Facebook page was planning a field trip to a local orchard – did we want to go? This is her first year to homeschool and she is all about socializing, so it didn’t surprise me that she asked. I thought it would probably be good to go on an organized field trip, so I told her to sign us up.

 

Since I was homeschooled way back in the 1990’s, homeschooling has changed a lot. Not just tech wise with the ability to take live classes online or with the massive amount of curriculum out there you have to wade through to decide on one simple math or spelling book. The whole idea of local homeschool groups has changed. For one, lots of homeschoolers are in co-ops. There is such a massive amount of information readily available about homeschooling (and every other subject) that parents don’t meet regularly to hash out ideas, offer support, or navigate new waters like homeschooling through high school. And, honestly, unless you’re on Facebook, you have no clue what is going on in the local “homeschool group”. And since I’m not on Facebook, I just take suggestions from friends and walk into them blindly.

 

When we arrived at the orchard, a hundred feelings I had not felt in over 25 years came flooding back. Most of them feelings my kids will never have as they were based on the idea that homeschooling was odd, strange and crazy and there was always a target on my back that demanded questions of why I wasn’t in school, did I live in a commune, and my parents had to be the most bizarre people that ever walked the planet earth. It was a really strange sensation to realize those feelings were buried deep within somewhere and brought me to a momentary halt. I had to remind myself I was not twelve years old anymore. Instead, I needed to figure out who was in charge and get my kids where they needed to be.

 

Which was another change that has come along with the whole changes in homeschooling and arise of the Facebook monster: no one is actually in charge. Oh, I figured out someone had organized it with the orchard but that someone had not actually come on the field trip. A few of the other random families knew each other (like we knew our friends), but the ten or so families that were there had nothing more in common than homeschooling and Facebook (or, in my case, a friend on Facebook). That left me a little bit upset. A field trip should have someone in charge who is organized, knows the answers to any questions, and points people in the right direction. Yet another reason I have – and will – never join Facebook.

 

Don’t get me wrong: the field trip was excellent. Since the unknown organizer of said event didn’t post much on Facebook outside of the time, place and cost; I thought it was just a day to have fun outdoors and pick apples. However, the owners of the orchard did a great job with giving the kids the history of their farm and orchard, a lesson on bees and their importance in the orchard, and another lesson on various kinds of apples and how they taste. We did pick apples, we tried lots of apples, and we had a good time. But I’m not sure I’ll rely on Facebook posts to decide my field trips in the future!

 

Listening to the lesson about bees.

 

The girls: Autumn, Emry and Ellyson

The End of Soccer Season

I think my kids think soccer had an inglorious ending. For Ethan, it meant he didn’t get the seven goals he wanted. For Emry it meant playing through a headache and slight fever as her 6-year-old molars are coming in.

 

All in all, Ethan’s team was evenly matched with most of the other teams they played.  Ethan was passionate on the field, never wanting to take a break, and usually in the middle of it all. This final team, though, had some really bigfive year olds on it, and he felt intimidated. So, he was upset with his own playing. There were even tears. But the trophy sure cheered him up: his first trophy!

 

Ethan getting his trophy.

 

Ethan and his team with their trophies.

 

Emry started the season passionately, but two things happened that stopped her in her tracks. The first happened at the church picnic when one of the dads of one of her teammates kicked a soccer ball really hard and she happened to be right in its trajectory. It nailed her on the head. The following Saturday one of the girls on her team got knocked in the head with a hard kicked ball by a fellow teammate. Learning from her own “mistake” and the “mistake” of another, Emry got very ball shy as the season progressed, afraid to be aggressive lest she find herself knocked in the head with yet another ball. I can’t say I blame her. And even though my little team was probably one of the least-skilled in their league (we only won one game), the second-to-last game they played was awesome.Nobody scored. The defense on both teams was so amazing they kept the balls out of the goal. Of course the kids didn’t think a game like that was very thrilling, but the parents (and myself and other coach) thought it was the best game all year! It also proved that while they may not be headed for the Olympics, their skills did improve.

Emry and her team with their trophies.

Oh, the Places I have Lived! - Part 11

The next part of my journey was a new chapter in my life. It was the first time I moved away without my family. Some would say that at the age of 29, it was about time. I would argue different. It wasn’t like I was some lost gaming kid living in their parents’ basement. I had jobs. I was responsible. But I was very Un-American: I had no debt.

 

But I got a job offer in Texas. A place I really didn’t want to live again. It just seemed like the Lord’s next step for me. So, I packed whatever I could in my Hyundai Tucson and drove to Corinth, Texas. Where I moved back into the house my parents had built there 26 years before. My grandfather had been widowed the previous year and he was lonely. He was happy to have me, even though it was an adjustment for both of us. I was glad for the opportunity to get to know him a little better. I moved into what had been Katey’s room. Gone was the primary color plaid-like wallpaper. My grandmother (who was colorblind) had had it painted Big Bird Yellow. Which goes with absolutely nothing so it didn’t seem to matter that nothing in the room matched it. With a fulltime job and a gambit of other activities I soon picked up, I didn’t spend a whole lot of time in the room anyhow. Thirteen months later I would move out as things weren’t going well with my grandfather. It was hard, but I was glad.

 

I mean, really, who wouldn’t be glad to move into a 6,3000 square foot ranch style house that was situated in what seemed like a very secluded spot. I even had to put notes on FedEx orders to tell the driver it was okay to cross over the railroad tracks. How I ended up living there with my old friend Haley (who had lived there since she was a teenager) is a rather long story. I won’t go into all of it, but her parents had been houseparents there when it was a home for pregnant girls. The ministry was trying to sell the house, but it was a bit more than most people wanted to take on. So Haley and I lived there for an insanely cheap rate, utilities included. Later that would change to no rent but we paid the utilities. Which still equaled insanely cheap.

 

To describe the house as “sprawling” would be accurate. I lived in what was really the front of the house (but since you could only approach the house from the back, a lot of people had never seen the front), in a “suite” that included my bedroom, closets, “living are” and bath. Haley lived on the other side of the house down a long wing in a big room with its own bath. We shared the general living area and kitchen-to-die for. There were two more bedrooms with a bath between, another two bathrooms, a dining room, a large second living area, an enclosed porch, three-door garage, large entry space, large laundry room and more closet space than you could count. We mowed the fenced in acre (or so) and kept it mowed just outside the fence as well to discourage the many snakes living in the surrounding acres of mesquite. The house needed some touch-ups and even some updates, but it needed nothing to actually live in it quite happily. And with so much space, some weeks Haley and I hardly saw one another. We’d leave messages for each other on the white board in the kitchen.

 

I’ll always have memories of that house. And I’ll always wish I could own that house. I built my dollhouse there. During November and December, the kitchen floor was always sticky with Haley’s endless batches of peanut brittle she sold. We’d block out Saturday mornings just to dustmop and mop all the floors. Haley taught me to use the weed-whacker. (I think she was a bit distressed over my abilities with that one.) We played lots of games of Scrabble, had friends and family over, and even though we weren’t BFFs, we talked through our highs and lows, laughed together, grew frustrated over all kinds of things, and generally did some life together. It was good, and I was did cry when I left. Not because I was leaving Texas (hooray!) but because I would miss Haley.

 

My next adventure led me straight north on I-35 that ran right past my Texas home up to Minnesota. It was like leaving one country and moving to another: sunny, warm temps to below zero and a snowstorm the first weekend I moved in. Southern twang versus the nasally Minnesota vowels. Wide open plains to rolling farmland. There in tiny Upsala, I moved into a little two-bedroom apartment which more than suited my meager needs. (And they were meager. There was a piano in the apartment Carmen – my predecessor at camp and the apartment – kept for Bill, the camp director, until he could take it to Minneapolis to his daughter. A few months after I moved in, I gave him my keys to retrieve it. He came back, handed me my keys, and said, “Melissa, I think you were robbed. They took all your furniture.” I laughed…since I had no furniture!) I really liked that little apartment. I did have a bed and bookshelf. Eventually I would get a chair, but my television would always be situated on a box I didn’t need to unpack. My parents even brought up my dresser. I had ample closet space, a kitchen I hardly used since I was at camp so much, and even a garage space for my bike and car (a necessity in Minnesota just so one’s car is more likely to start when the temps are well below zero for days!).  I could run all over that tiny town or go on long bike rides down country roads, walk to pick up the mail and go to the library. It was a nice, quiet space when camp life became very stressful. I loved it, and I was sorry to leave the little place a year and half later. 

 

By my adventures continued!

My First Sister

Thirty-nine years ago today, I became a big sister. 

 

At the age of 2½, I can’t say I remember the day clearly. Although I do have a memory of visiting Katey in the hospital, I don’t remember a whole lot about her arrival or the way it changed my life. Although I’m sure it did. Siblings always change your life.

 

I can’t remember my first clear memory of Katey. She’s just always been there. Story time at the library, dancing in the driveway in the rain in Texas, playing school or house in our upstairs room in Tennessee, or throwing imaginary coconut bombs and the imaginary pirates invading our backyard. Riding bikes, climbing trees, playing on the swing set. Using every square inch of our room playing Barbies andMy Little Ponies, or sleeping in our double bed with every stuffed animal we owned. Our interests differed and would take us different ways. I can’t draw a straight line while her house (and even mine) is full of art painted or chalked by her. Meanwhile, she would never think of spending her time in an office happily building excel spreadsheets. She loves music. I carve out a narrow sliver of time to bury myself in a book before bed. But today we’re both moms, we both have loads of laundry to do, and we both have meals to prepare that are devoured in less than half the time it takes us to fix them. 

 

As always, we’re very different. And very much the same.

 

I’m grateful for Katey…and that I can’t remember life without her.

Oh, the Places I have Lived! - Part 10

When my parents came back from house hunting in Indiana, Mom described the house they had found as “the big house on the prairie”. She was right.

 

In some ways, it’s strange that God gave my parents a huge house on nearly 12 acres of land just as their kids would start leaving home. I would move away nine months later. As the next many years passed, various of my siblings would move out for one reason or another. Some would come back and move again, or stay for a while. Only recently have they actually become empty-nesters. Although their house is still full of all our belongings.

 

The big house on the prairie has grown bigger since my parents bought it. They extended the upstairs, creating two more bedrooms and enlarging my sister Sally’s room. We’ve watching the trees along the driveway grow taller and taller. The evergreen trees near the road are so big now you can’t see the fields from the road anymore. And the space! Well, my kids wear themselves out on visits to Grandpa and Grandma’s. It’s great.

 

The house has become a place where we gather for holidays, or summer days, or just because. Before I had kids and would come home from wherever I was living, it was a place to go for a week and do absolutely nothing. I miss those days. Now I have three kids to keep track of, but it is one of the only places I can sit down for a little while and enjoy at least pieces of conversation and laughter while my kids are quite busy running all over the place. 

The house is large enough for all of us to be there: siblings, all the young cousins, aunts, whoever! Whether it’s nice enough to play outside or not. We’ve made lots of memories there and I’m sure we’ll make plenty more. 

Emry's First Tooth

Like so many kids, Emry has anxiously awaited loosing her first tooth. We’ve read books on it. (I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve read Fancy Nancy and the Too-Loose Tooth.) We had a “tooth bag” waiting for it. And we have garnered a whole trove of information from other kids who have lost their teeth already.

 

But Emry’s teeth are slow in getting loose. She’s had her bottom right tooth loose for months now. Slowly it has gotten looser and looser, but never to the point of being ready to pull. Most times she completely forgot it was loose. Which was the case on Saturday in the apple orchard. But one bite out of an apple, and she very clearly remembered. 

 

She walked up and down the rows, apple in one hand and other cupped over her mouth, telling me it hurt and asking if I could pull it yet. One look at the tooth now twisted sideways told me I could pull it, but I told her to wait until it stopped hurting. Once it did, I had only to push it with my fingers and out the tiny tooth came. She was delighted.

 

It was the subject of conversation for much of the rest of the afternoon and evening. Mixed in with just the strangeness of missing a tooth was the queries of the tooth fairy. Was she real? Or was I the tooth fairy? Would she really come? Was she real? Would she leave a note with the money (like Maddie’s tooth fairy)? Was she real? This was the main question, for Emry was certainly not convinced that tooth fairy existed. Still, the tooth went in a small bag and was slipped under her pillow. Better to make the attempt and gain some money than not try at all.

 

Well, the next morning there was both a note and money under her pillow. (It was a bit of a close call as I remembered just as I went to bed…) Still, she asked if it was me or the tooth fairy. And told me the tooth fairy’s handwriting looks a lot like mine. I wondered if she would notice that. Still a dollar is a dollar. And the tooth next to that one is getting looser…

 

That night at small group, Ethan was telling the other boys all about Emry loosing her tooth and the tooth fairy coming to give her money. 

 

“My mom and dad are the tooth fairy,” 5-year-old Judah responded matter-of-factly. 

 

Emry was not in the room when this discussion took place, so later that evening as they were getting ready for bed, I heard Ethan tell Emry excitedly, “Emry! Mr. and Mrs. Peycke are the tooth fairy! Judah said so!”

 

Emry didn’t respond vocally, but I have a feeling she sent him one of those “yeah-right” looks she can do so well. Ethan doesn’t catch them half the time, so he’s convinced. Mr. and Mrs. Peycke are the tooth fairy.

 

Does that let me off the hook?

 

Emry and her missing tooth.

The Farm

Emry and Ethan refer to Fair Oaks Farm, about an hour north of us, as “The Farm”. This Saturday, for Ed’s birthday, that’s where we headed after a morning on the soccer field. They were having a car show. One of Ed’s favorite things to do. So, of course we went.

 

It’s been a while since we’ve been up there, but the kids always love going. Who wouldn’t love a huge “pillow” trampoline, a train, a blow up slide, lots of room to run, and Emry and Ethan even go to try the rope climb this time. (Like at the water park, Ethan barely made the weight requirement…and the girl confessed the scale was probably off.) Plus, it’s apple picking season. Win-win. 

 

Except that Ellyson didn’t take a nap. I figured she would be tired with no morning nap and hours on the soccer field. And maybe she was, but she perked up when her siblings pointed out the miles and miles of windmill acreage we drive through to get to the farm. She was turning her head back and forth, pointing and exclaiming, “Wow!” over and over. Thankfully, she was a complete wreck for our afternoon venture. She can be a pill when she wants to be. 

 

It was a beautiful day, albeit a bit on the warm side for the middle of September. My parents and nephew Beto joined us. Ed went to look at the cars while the kids played. We then took the wagon out to the apple orchard. It was a very eventful trip to the orchard: Emry lost her first tooth! She was delighted. So was Ethan. Thankfully I had a container to put it in!

 

Loaded down with apples, we went back to play for a while. Mom, Dad and Beto headed home while we stayed and had Ed’s birthday dinner at the restaurant there on the farm. It was really nice, especially the dining area. Ethan was famished, Ellyson ate her weight in French Fries as usual, and Emry was just worn out. They all fell asleep on the way home. But they were so tired, it didn’t affect bedtime. All three of them were out like lights.

Emry, Beto and Ethan on the wagon to pick apples.

 

Ellyson and Papa on the wagon.

 

Me, Ellyson, Ethan and Emry on the cow seat.

15 Months!!!

Today Ellyson is 15 months old. I don’t keep up with pictures every month anymore, but I thought I would update everyone on many of the things she’s growing. She seems to be doing new things all the time and growing – relatively. All of my tiny kids grow relatively.

 

She’s got a few new words. One is “Sis” which she uses for Emry. She uses both. It seems like she uses “Sis” for every day and shouts “Emry!” when she really wants her attention. She doesn’t say Ethan yet, but the other day she shouted our neighbor girl’s name out the door. “Ava!” I guess she figured Emry wasn’t paying any attention but maybe Ava would.

 

Her fine motor skills continue to progress. She puts the shape puzzle together and sometimes one of the animal shape puzzles. And she always remembers to applaud herself on her accomplishments. Probably because the rest of us do!

 

She likes to climb. Not always carefully. She always remembers to come down off of things feet first, but the up part is precarious. She’s not afraid to try anything. Except one kid a few months younger than her in the nursery, she’s the only one not walking. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t found her climbing up the little slide when I go to pick her up!

 

No, she doesn’t walk. She has taken a few steps and she does think about it. She’ll let go, eye where she wants to go, say, “Step! Step!” and then sit down and crawl. She’s like Emry, who didn’t walk until 18 months. She’ll walk when she’s good and ready. And not before.

 

Because she certainly knows her own mind. Points to what she wants. Shakes her head at what she doesn’t. Understands the word “no” but chooses to ignore it. Even when you slap her little hand. Often I think I am simply too old to be parenting this child.

 

Ellyson and the penguins at the zoo.

Oh, the Places I have Lived! - Part 9

In the year 2000 at the age of 20, the Sturm family finally settled into a house we felt like we could really call “home” and mean it. Located on about four acres of land in Londonderry, New Hampshire; it was a long slightly raised ranch with three bedrooms and a finished basement with two rooms for bedrooms and another “mudroom” with steps up the garage. It included a nice shed in the back (for Katey’s art), and a huge deck with a pool. Not a selling feature for us, but windows in the kitchen and where Mom set up her sewing machine looked right over it so my parents didn’t feel overly concerned about it. It got tons of use.

 

I got my own room! My first since I was five years old. Not a huge room, but I managed to get more bookshelves in it than you can probably imagine. Enough for all the books I owned (at the time). With my desk, I happily put a bed in my personal library and had a space to read, write, laugh, cry, and figure out all the changes life brings in one’s 20s! 

 

My parents had a room across the hall with a ¾ bath. Katey had another small one next to me. There was a full bath with the laundry across from her. Then the kitchen and living area, breakfast nook/sewing space and dining room. Downstairs was small room my brother shared and a huge room my four youngest sisters partitioned off into four areas around the pool table that came with the house. (One of those thing someone got down there at one time and no subsequent owner ever wanted to get out!) My sisters had a ¾ bath off their room.

 

The house was great in so many ways. Space for Christmas parties, lots of woods for Caleb to roam and large cookouts with church friends, a wetland that would flood in the autumn and freeze in the winter so we could kill each other with pick up games of hockey, a large garden, and a good driveway to ride bikes, etc. It had it’s problems, too. Mainly the couple of time the basement flooded, much to the chagrin of my sisters. (My brothers’ room was slightly raised and the water never quite reached into it.) For that matter, none of us liked it. Once my dad even tried a bucket brigade which lasted quite a while until good-natured Grace quipped, “I think I’ve see this water before.” Dad had to give up after that.

 

A lot of memories – good and bad – were made in that house. We lived there for eight whole years.A personal record for me. The first few years of blogging took place in that house, so a lot of those memories will never be forgotten. And some I don’t think I wrote down. Like Caleb’s friend William climbing through the bedroom window to avoid a run-in with Brutus, my mom’s Great Dane who scared him. Or the hours we spent listening to Adventures in Odysseywhile stripping wallpaper from the living room walls. Or the bat that got into the girls room downstairs. And those are just the few that come to mind. It was a great house to call home.

Auburn Road - Londonderry