I'm with Her

January 1979

When you grow up in the same house and you're with your siblings everyday, it's easy to take for granted that you know them. You have experiences and family in common, and though you're not the same, you're close. Inevitably when that whole process of "growing up" occurs, and time and space intervene, the closeness stays, but the "everyday" element doesn't. Which is why when Courtney told me she was coming to visit, I couldn't wait.

One of my favorite things about having siblings is getting to know them in different stages of life. It always amazes me that inside of each family member are streaks of individuality that run the scope of talent, thought, and creativity. For me, being far away from family can be hard, so a visit from my sister felt like Christmas come two months early.

On arrival day, I was smiling before I even saw her and even (or especially?) in her jet-lagged state, she was hilarious. She has a gift for taking the weight out of situations that don't merit it, and giving weight to situations that do. She made me feel home and happy and almost fourteen again. We laughed and I cried and we talked about life. She helped me feel like me and find a few pieces that I had misplaced. We watched our kiddos and saw ourselves in them. And when I got a chance to peek into her everyday, I stood in awe. Not just for her perfect Reds, or because of the food she cooks, or the sacrifices that she's made- but because of who she is.

(Still hanging on to her.)

It was so fun, to see my sister.

I am an Elementary School

So I'm teaching the kids at home this year.

Some call it "homeschooling." That still sounds a little too crazy-Christian to me, so for now I'm sticking with something more like "doing school at home" or "domicile teaching." Now if you are like most, as you are reading this you are thinking, "Hmm. I wonder why." Me too. Not that I don't enjoy domicile teaching. I do. I just don't have a simple answer to that question. Why or how do any parents in unique circumstances make such decisions? Does it suffice to say that after much study, thought and prayer (I know, but still not to the "crazy" level), we just knew that it was right? Would it be equally crazy to say that there is a part of me that feels like I've been being prepared for the this stage of life for years? And what about loving it?- Because even after only a couple of weeks, we do.

The Mascotts' curriculum for the 2010-2011 school year:

(M-F) Saxon Math

(M-F) Reading

(M-F) Writing

(M-F) Grammar

(M-F) Spelling

(M, W, F) History: the Ancients

(T, Th) Science: the human body, plants and animals

(M, W, F + Rosetta Stone) Latin/Spanish

(T, Th + Rosetta Stone) Latin/German

Music: piano, guitar, recorder

Art: art history, drawing and sewing

Home Ec: lunch time and snack recipes, plus taking turns as sous chef

And there you have it.

I am Submerged

I am Mesmerized

This was the washing machine in our apartment in Ukraine. It's a good thing we don't have one. I don't know what it is about these things, but the minute I'd see it there in motion, I'd stop. And stare. The round and round. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I may as well have had a dangling watch swinging in front of my eyes, or a tranquilizer dart in my hind quarters because I was hooked...and soothed. I loved it.

I am not a Slavic Beauty

After spending 10 days among the women of Ukraine, I became sure of two things:

1. They won the gene pool lottery and-

2. I am no Ukrainian.

They are beautiful. All of them. And that fact made me sure of two more things:

1. I have no idea why my husband chose me after looking at that caliber of woman for two years and-

2. There's nothing that a little dark lipstick and high heels can't improve.

I am Marker Material

Some men write music

Some men write poetry.

My man writes on the bathroom wall.

I am an Essayist

I entered an essay contest in college, and almost won. The essay I wrote was called "Tapestry." And it was good. I remember sitting at my computer for days and being duly conscious of the words I was writing and the ease with which they came. I wrote of a tapestry and how it is made by weaving threads together; the completed cloth telling the story of all of the individual threads woven into one.

My essay pulled at three of my most bold and colorful threads. Relationship experiences that had shaped who I was. It told of their place in my tapestry, how they came to be woven within it, and how they changed the face of it.

I loved writing the essay and was I pleased when I found out that it was one of five finalists. I knew however, that it could not, and should not, win. While my essay may have been judged as interesting, entertaining or even structurally sound, my essay was not complete.

It could have been that while the three relationships I wrote of were important, they were too bold within my young tapestry and they did not yet have the balance of being braced against newer and equally vibrant threads. And perhaps my essay simply came too soon. Too soon for my young author self to see how the essay was to end.

Looking back now, I see the tapestry from the perspective that comes from years of additional weaving. I can still see those colorful threads, but now their boldness blends much more beautifully and subtly with the other colors in me.

To my young self, I am grateful, for seeing the importance of those threads. I did not have the perspective then to see what I know now, but even though I wasn't yet able to draw all the conclusions, I still entered the contest and wrote about their place. All those years ago, I wasn't able to give my essay a proper conclusion.-

-I wonder if I could now.