family life

The BEST thing about homeschooling teenagers is…..

September 8, 2017 by Edie Wadsworth 17 Comments

So, you’ve probably heard.

I’m homeschooling again. Sort of. I mean, my girls are in 11th grade and taking classes at the local community college (dual enrollment) along with taking a few classes at home, so technically we are doing an independent study year.

And Y’ALL. It’s AMAZING.

First off, let me explain why we decided to come back home after spending several years at an awesome classical school. I think part of the journey for us has always been really paying attention to what the girls need. The only reason I ever decided to homeschool initially is because one of my daughter’s needed one on one attention. After being home for a few years with me, she began to THRIVE and eventually wanted to try “real school” again.

So we did. We went to “real school” for 7th-10th grades and it was wonderful. They made some great friends, they learned so much, they were challenged in ways I could never have challenged them at home and it was a great decision for the time.

But these two sweetie pies are mature for their age and were kind of “done” with high school. They were having hours of homework every night and not having any down time. Between a heavy load at school and dancing 2-4 hours at night, they were exhausted. And my Elea complained that she had no time to read. (She’s her mother’s daughter!)

And listen, I feel like after you homeschool for any amount of time and have your kids home with you, it’s hard to let them go. It’s hard to give up all that time with them and we were THRILLED when they mentioned they might want to finish high school with independent study.

So, they take 3 classes at Walter State Community College (10 minutes from our house!). They have Spanish, English Composition, and US History there. Then, they do Algebra 2 (teaching textbooks, so mama doesn’t have to try to relearn Algebra!) and Chemistry (Apologia) and then later this semester, we’re adding Dave’s Ramsey’s Financial Peace course. And we are all LOVING IT!!! The best part is having them around so much!

The girls are so much more relaxed and happy and we see each other throughout the day all day. I can’t even tell you how much I love having them around during the day again. It’s been such a gift.

And given the fact that I know how fast this all happens, I’m so glad that they get to spend their last two years at home like this. It’s really a WIN WIN.

They were telling me last night how prepared they feel for their college classes. They are both very self motivated so I don’t have to worry about them doing their work and assignments. And college classes have been VERY eye opening. Their history professor told them the first day not to come in hung over or stoned. YES, HE DID. So, that led to some interesting conversations but overall, they love their classes and are enjoying the little bit of freedom it gives them! They were ready for that and honestly I think it’s made them even more mature and responsible.

I am so glad they wanted to try this. It’s been a huge success so far!!

Do you veteran homeschoolers have any advice for homeschooling high school?

I feel like a newbie again!!

On Humility, Parenting, and Being Teachable

September 29, 2014 by Edie Wadsworth 36 Comments

When he was four years old, he walked in with me to a Gross Anatomy lecture, his smile a mile wide and his tousled hair with his signature cowlick making him the cutest thing since sliced bread. He wasn’t feeling well (or just wanted to spend the day with mom?) and since the lectures were only supposed to last an hour or two, I toted him in with a stack of BatMan paraphernalia, knowing that he’d sit quiet and play until class was over. Typical first born he was—obedient, eager to please, driven to succeed.

Now 24 with a tamed colic but the same wide smile, he’s sitting in Gross Anatomy without me, himself a first year medical student, as eager and driven as ever, same magnanimous personality as when he won over the hearts of my classmates 20 years ago. [Read more…] about On Humility, Parenting, and Being Teachable

The Most Important Thing to Remember About Parenting

September 8, 2014 by Edie Wadsworth 47 Comments

The sun was pouring into the east sky, scattering orange like a blanket over everything. She was sitting in the front seat, unable or unwilling to look at me, her head turned decidedly away and her body clinging to her side of the car sending its message loud and clear. Was there a tear in the corner of her eye? I don’t know because I was too angry to ask. We were on our way to a rare social gathering and I just needed her to get over herself already. What I was really thinking is that I wanted her to show my friends how well homeschooling was working out, how smart and well adjusted she was, how pleasant and kind to be around—all of which would translate into some imaginary points for me. What I didn’t want was for her to sulk through the whole thing and make me look bad.

And we were running out of time, because we were almost there and neither of us seemed capable of moving toward reconciliation. [Read more…] about The Most Important Thing to Remember About Parenting

Something More Than a Miracle

August 25, 2014 by Edie Wadsworth 96 Comments

I’m writing this in part to tell you that if you ever wonder what you’ve done in your life, and everyone does wonder sooner or later, you have been God’s grace to me, a miracle, something more than a miracle. ~Marilynne Robinson, Gilead

It was a crisp October day when we stood on the back porch of our brand new house looking out on this near perfect landscape.

We could hardly believe that this was the exact same place we had stood nine months earlier and watched our house burn to the ground. We were overwhelmed with gratitude at how these ashes had turned to beauty—not just how God has raised up a house, but how He had once again raised hope in our hearts. We wanted this house to be a house of blessing. We prayed that maybe we’d even be able to adopt another child. We went so far as make an appointment with an attorney because we had always felt this sense that our family wasn’t finished—that we wanted to raise a son together. I would dream about “him” and in my mind, I knew just where I wanted the nursery. More than anything else, I wanted the chance to raise a child without the added pressure of working a high stress job.

I already had a name for him. John Elijah Wadsworth. We’d call him Jack after C.S. Lewis.

While my dreams for another child were bubbling over in my heart, we kept on living our life. We homeschooled our girls. We lived hard in these rooms—cooking, sewing, crafting, reading, learning. And a few months into enjoying our new place, my husband’s son moved across the country to live with us and get his life back on track. He moved into our guest room with his oversized backpack, his barrel o’ monkeys mustache, and his heartache.

Those early days were long and hard. There were so many tears. There were days we weren’t sure we’d make it. And we were often unsure if he would.

There was that fight in the garden when he yelled and I cried. There was that time he ran off and we worried we’d never see him again. There were those times I should have reached out and didn’t. All the mistakes, the misunderstandings, the failings. And then there was that day we made salsa in the kitchen—the first time I thought that maybe, just maybe this was all gonna be okay. There were those hundreds of meals he and I cooked together. The food that tastes so good that you know it had to be made by someone who loves you.

And then there was that day.

The one I couldn’t have prepared for in a million years.

The day he left.

I stood outside and watched him load the last of his things. I promised myself I wouldn’t come apart. I was so happy for him—that he’d come this far, that he was standing on his own feet so well. And that’s when I saw the miracle. God had given me another child to love. Not one born of my flesh but one so stitched into the fabric of my heart that he will never be anything to me but a son. I told him how grateful I was for him—how he had so blessed us by being here. I told him I couldn’t love him anymore if he were my own. I watched him drive away and cried for two hours straight.

Turns out God answered my prayer. There was no cute nursery to decorate. There were no baby blankets to wash. But the sacredness of this life intertwined in mine is no less a miracle.

And to think I almost missed the grace of God because it came dressed up like a wayward boy.

Maybe I’m finally learning that grace almost never looks like grace at first glance.

Around the Table

August 13, 2014 by Edie Wadsworth 48 Comments

“How to announce the return of comfort and well-being except by cooking something fragrant. That is what her mother always did. After every calamity of any significance she would fill the atmosphere of the house with the smell of cinnamon rolls or brownies, or with chicken and dumplings, and it would mean, This house has a soul that loves us all, no matter what. ” Marilynne Robinson

We’re losing one from around our table this weekend.

I’ve been a mom for 24 years and I haven’t always known how sacred a thing it is to gather with my people around the table. This place where we feed them, listen to their stories, laugh at their jokes, and occasionally sit quiet because life with its grief and anger has gotten the best of us. This place where we teach them what it means to bow in thanks for daily bread. This place that breaks our backs because how can we possibly cook one more meal? This place where we’ve never been more aware of our shortcomings, but we just keep showing up to feed them anyway.

And then the long days turn into fast years and you face that first meal without that one you love.

In my mind, I try to avoid counting down the dinners because there’s a wall of tears that doesn’t need reminding.

Just 4 more dinners. How to say what these years have meant? How to hold such weighty things in our hands and hearts?

I remember how I’ve despised this job sometimes—the planning, the shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. Why are they always hungry every. single. day?!

I never saw the day coming that they’d go and an empty chair would leave my heart heavy.

This is no small thing what we do everyday, mamas. This meal is important. This table is sacred.

Sometimes we’re feasting and sometimes we’re just getting by but the time together around this table is changing us all.

We are so blessed by those who’ve come and gone from these chairs.

I hope you’ll linger extra long around the table tonight.

And remember that the time and effort you spend here feeding these people, with food and love, is so very special.

You are meeting your neighbor’s need in the most beautiful, life-giving way.

Bless you for your labor. It is not in vain.

And bless the ones who must leave.

We love you and it has been our privilege to share this table with you.

*******************************

(I keep this quote close to me in the kitchen. It helps me remember.)

If you’re short on time for planning, let me offer this one little suggestion. Over the next month, add the meal you make for dinner to your iPhone calendar and then *repeat* it on your calendar every month. If you eat out, maybe add what you would like to have cooked for that night. (There’s no shame in your game!) A month from now, you’ll have a month’s worth of meals in your calendar and all the sudden, you’ll be a meal planning genius! I’ve got a whole meal planning series on my blog, but this little tip will get you started with almost no work!

Here’s what I’d love to know from you—what are your struggles when it comes to family dinners? Have you found any solutions that you’d share with the rest of your internet sisters?

Fairer Than Day

April 27, 2014 by Edie Wadsworth 56 Comments

I breathe deeply, and certainty enters into me like light, like a piece of science, and curious music seems to hum inside my fingers.
Is there a single person on whom I can press belief? No sir. All I can do is say, Here’s how it went. Here’s what I saw. I’ve been there and am going back. Make of it what you will. ~Leif Enger, Peace Like A River.

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You probably wouldn’t even have believed me had you been there. But sometimes, the combination of weather and circumstance and near perfect humanity will leave you feeling like you’ve witnessed a miracle. And I needed one in the worst way.