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Are you doing the work?
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Link in bio to read all about the perfect natural period pairing. I do talk about menstruation in all its bloody glory so if that makes you feel uncomfortable, then lean in closer so we can dismantle your patriarchy-based shame while going over the tools that make my period healthier, cheaper, easier, and eco-friendly.
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How many hours a day does it take to homeschool? None. All. Rather than giving you a number (which I couldn’t do even if I wanted to), I’m going to challenge your idea of what homeschooling even is. Spoiler alert: it is not school at home. It is not a number of hours that my children are sitting at a desk logged into a computer or filling out worksheets. We are learning all the time - every minute that we are alive. For us, homeschooling is simply living life, complete with nourishing connections and rich experiences. We are always homeschooling because it is a lifestyle and a state of mind. As I write this, my kids are kayaking on a lake with friends attempting to lure the bald eagle closer with a fish it just dropped. Before that they were making a Lego chess board. Before that they were making lunches. Writing a song. Doing dishes. Reading books. Playing video games. All homeschooling. There is not a time at which learning begins or ends for us. We’re always learning. Sometimes I’m working while they’re homeschooling. Sometimes I’m lying in the hammock on the deck reading a book while they’re homeschooling. Sometimes I’m sitting at the table helping them while they’re homeschooling. It’s all just living life together. So, how many hours a day does it take to homeschool? All of the hours and none of the hours because life is learning.
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Me wearing makeup and not looking like a clown. Hallelujah! It’s quite a story (link in bio for the full story of my make up with makeup). I opened my makeup bag an hour before the arrival of a professional photographer and found my stash completely unusable: hardened, dried out, rancid, empty. And so, I scrambled to make the best of it. I ran to my teenage daughter’s stash, which consisted of products she inherited from her grandmother and gifts she received from friends as a pre-teen. Looking in the mirror, I saw a stranger. A teenage grandma stranger. A stranger who all the bullies were right about. A stranger who betrayed all my principles. A stranger who could not live up to her mother’s standards. It’s a miracle I didn’t dissolve into a puddle of grief laden tears. (I saved that for the following day.) This experience, though hard, was an invitation that presented me with an opportunity for growth that I hadn’t been able to access while my mother was with me. And if you know me at all, you know I am all about bravely doing. the. work.
