Stuck in the Mud

Usually I write this column on Tuesday afternoon, our “day home” where I start the day with Pilates and everything seems wonderful because we have time to work and time to play and time even left over to cook a real dinner. On our relaxed home days I never regret home schooling and rarely ever fantasize about sipping margaritas during a day-long spa appointment while my kids are at the local elementary school.

The actual reality is that many days don’t go nearly as blissfully, and we face the same challenges that everyone else does in dealing with child logistics, struggles and rivalries. We home schoolers do it all day though, every day, and get to claim responsibility for all the successes and failures. The successes are sweet, but progress is not always regular and obvious. Life is messy, especially in a house full of people, and I have to constantly remind myself that the kids are still learning even when things don’t go exactly as I’d planned.

In fact, I’ve found it’s the days that go most cataclysmically wrong that are the ones that end up being our best learning experiences. At first, I want to pull my hair out—why can’t he just finish his math without whining? Why can’t they just get along? Why can’t we get even five minutes of piano practice done?

But then we learn: sometimes you just have a day where everything is hard; sometimes people you love make mistakes or say things they don’t really mean; maybe you shouldn’t leave your practicing until you’re tired. Sometimes (or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself) I’m sure that these “life lessons” are more important than any curriculum we might cover. At the least, these lessons are usually pretty memorable. For example, today:

We snacked on apples with honey and then went on a late morning hike figuring we’d be back by lunch. Plenty of time to do some work, even though we’d gotten a lot done already this week. The hike was wonderful, but then as we attempted to pull the car out of the parking lot, we got stuck in the mud; badly stuck, as stuck as a legless pig set on rooting to China.

My oldest child started to panic, even though I was the one covered in mud from trying to give the front tires something to grip. I called for a tow truck, and explained to him that it really wasn’t a big deal. We had our water bottles, a big bag of walnuts and cranberries, and a whole lot of good trees to pee behind. “I don’t like the trail mix,” he said, whimpering. “What’s going to happen to us?” Fortunately, we haven’t gotten to the Donner Party in our studies.

While my two younger kids chowed down, we waited for the truck and listened to a history CD about Benjamin Franklin. We talked about the Revolutionary War and Betsy Ross, and whether Franklin really did fly that kite. By the time the truck finally dragged us out, it was 2:30, and we were planning on going to karate at 4:15.

Lesson One: Sometimes things just don’t go according to plan.

I told my kids if we could stop at home for a quick change and a tick check, I’d take them out to eat to celebrate our deliverance from the muck. As we drove home, I reminded my son about the IMAX movie about Ernest Shackleton that we’d all just seen. He’d set off to cross Antarctica, but practically everything that could have gone wrong did.

“You think that was scary,” I said, “imagine what Shackleton must have felt when he saw the melting ice pulling apart his ship.”

“Well, at least they had provisions that the crew liked,” he said.

I had to pull over and look back at him. “Wiley,” I said. “THEY HAD TO EAT THEIR DOGS!”

Lesson Two: It can always be worse.

This time, I think he got it.