Let the Homeschooling BEGIN!

Today is the first day of public school. My kids and I were hanging out together passing the morning the way we always do and Sarah noticed a school bus pass by the window. She realized that meant school was back in session and for the first time ever she seemed interested in going.

I have already made up my mind to homeschool her (and the boys, of course) so for a split second I wondered..."Am I doing the right thing?" In approximately 3 nanoseconds a solid, unyielding "YES" resonated throughout my entire being. Yes, this is the right path for our family. No one is going to be a better teacher for my kids than ME.

To make Sarah feel more official, I made a big deal about all the "school stuff" we did today. For example, the letter of the day is "B" and the color is blue. So we made blue play dough and banana bread. We rattled off every "b" word we could think of (well, almost all of them!). And we filled back packs with blue objects and Sarah went to school (aka-her room) and passed along her knowledge to her baby brother. It was such a good day!

**I am abandoning my post and switching gears...I have to share this story:
While I was writing this I had many thoughts going through my head. I planned on getting really in-depth about the misconceptions of homeschooled children (they are unsocialized freaks for example), and how the drive to homeschool is built-in...I was just stopped in my tracks. Patrick came and tugged at my shirt and he excitedly said, "I made Jesus". So I came and looked at his mound of play dough and sure enough there was a cross made by pressing a plastic knife through. He said he wasn't finished yet and started making blood spots and wounds.

I am honestly not sure what to do with this? This has been happening for months: he is fascinated by the crucified Jesus. I don't remember how it even started, but one day I explained what happened to Our Lord (the story of His Passion basically). I have walked into the room and seen Patrick standing under the crucifix, starting intently; several times he has even started crying because of Jesus' injuries. Another time I caught him in his room. When he saw me he had a look on his face like he was busted. Ususally this would mean there was glue in his hair or something was broken, but when I checked things out he had climbed onto a chair to reach the crucifix and brought it in his room to stare at it. He thought he was in trouble for touching it; all I did was walk away and leave him to it. He kept it for a long time and when he was finished (with whatever his little mind was doing) he simply put it back in its proper place-no damage, no swordplay...nothing improper at all.

Wouldn't be amazing if I am raising a priest!? :) But I don't know what to say to him. I get uncomfortable...I am making a promise to myself (and my kid!) that I will start praying for guidance. Hopefully when things like this happen God will take over and give me something wise to say instead of just standing there like an idiot and not taking advantage of chances to teach. I am taking a guess, but maybe God is helping me come back to Him through Patrick? I don't know...but it is working.