while i nurse pearl...

... George helps himself to a snack. Strawberries. The entire carton. Minus the top halves.


I love this view because it shows exactly what I saw when I went out to the living room to see what he was doing and why he was so quiet. He's just lounging on the couch enjoying his snack quietly by himself, discarding the parts he doesn't want on the coffee and end tables.


This is why I will wash and cut the tops off of the strawberries from now on before they are put away in the refrigerator.


Along with eating strawberries by the half, George does things that make me laugh every day. He tells elaborate stories, asks thoughtful questions, and still loves to cuddle. He is so curious about what letters spell and is constantly saying things like, "Mom, what does G-P-E-T-O-O-L spell?" He is getting the hang of writing his name and he loves to point out letters that are "his" (meaning in his name) wherever we go.

George loves reading (by reading I mean having them read to him) the scriptures and is the first to remind us to do so before we put him to bed. He is fascinated by the stories of Ammon, Abinidi, the Stripling Warriors, Noah and the Ark, and Nephi. We are trying to reinforce that it is really cool to be the good guys, but George isn't totally convinced; he loves the parts of the stories where people use swords and arrows and often says he'd rather be Laman than Nephi when acting out a story. We're working on it :).

John and I found ourselves backpedaling one day when George overheard a conversation we were having about Satan and asked about him. We tried to explain who Satan was and what he did, but all that ended up happening was George sobbing about a scary man that lives in a really dark place where there is never any light who tries to make people be mean and do bad stuff. "Does he live in our town?" he kept wailing, and we were like, "NO! Just forget about him!" which is why we tried to tell him that he lived far away in a dark place (outer darkness, ya know?), but that was so scary for his little mind, too. Ummm, how do you explain Satan to a three-year-old? We calmed him down by reminding him that Heavenly Father could help him feel better and peaceful and asked if he wanted to say a prayer. He did, and there haven't been Satan tears since, but there have still been questions. I guess we're still working on that one, too. How have you taught your little children about this? Have you? Maybe three is too young.

Another thing we have had a hard time conveying to George's inquisitive little mind is the Holy Ghost. We explained it to him and have talked about how it is a feeling of peace and safety and that The Holy Ghost can come to you when you are scared or need comfort. He was okay with that until one day he was alone in the car for a few minutes while I ran in the house and got scared. When I got back out to the car (I was literally inside for less than a minute) George was sobbing hysterically. I hugged him and tried to soothe him but he just kept sobbing, "I said a prayer to Heavenly Father and I thought the Holy Ghost would come, but he didn't!" which of course made me feel like a failure as a parent. I told him the Holy Ghost would come if he was scared, and with his perfect faith, he believed me. But how was he supposed to understand that the person who is the Holy Ghost would not likely actually come to him in the only way that would have made sense to him (an actual being coming to him when he called)? I know that this is actually a really sweet and endearing (maybe even a little funny) story, but it has actually caused me quite a bit of heartache. I can't bear confusing him and losing his trust, and all I can think about is how I will do better to provide him with experiences where he can feel the Holy Ghost, where I can explain to him what that is, and hope that he will understand. Do you guys have experience with this? I would love to know how you have explained these really not-concrete things to your young children.

While it may sound like we are spiritually failing our son right and left :), one place that I think he does have a pretty good grasp is prayer. Somehow he understands that he can talk to his Heavenly Father (and, *wince* don't think I am apostate, but Heavenly Mother, too) through a prayer and that he will be heard. He prays constantly. Almost daily I hear him in the backseat saying things like, "Heavenly Father, please don't let a big storm come to our town, okay Heavenly Father, OKAY?" And then he will announce, "He said okay!" So far we haven't run into any issues with something happening that he had prayed wouldn't happen, but I am sure that conversation is not too far down the road. How do you explain to a toddler that yes, Heavenly Father will always answer your prayers, but sometimes it might not seem like it because it may not be answered in a way we would expect or hope? Agh, this parenting stuff is not for the faint of heart. It makes me weary just thinking of it all.

So I have put all this out there and I know that there are some people (dear people that I love) that may think, "So if you can't even know how to teach your child about God, or how to answer a three-year-old's questions about how the Holy Ghost works, how can you actually believe in these things, how can you perpetuate these confusing concepts onto your child?" And to them I would say with all of the sincerity and honesty in my heart this: while I don't necessarily know all of the best ways to convey these things to my children right now,  I truly do know that teaching them about God and their spiritual natures will eventually bring them more answers than I ever could, that it will be the key to finding peace when they are confused, that it will offer them hope and light when anything or everything else fails them. I don't always know how to teach them about these things, but I know that if I don't, if I don't do my very best to at least try, I will be failing to give them the one thing in life that I am 100% sure of: my knowledge that they are children of divinity, that they have access to happiness and peace and love bigger than anything hard or scary that may come their way. Even if I don't always know how to teach them, I know that I must teach them. And I know that I, too, have access to Heavenly Help as I seek to care for and nurture these precious little souls that have been entrusted in my care. I could not do this whole motherhood thing if I wasn't sure of that.

the students

It is not very often that you can say that every member of your family is in school, but that is the case for us right now. John is in his masters program (freshwater biology) at BYU, and G, Pea and I all started another year at the Elizabeth Academy a couple of weeks ago.

I wasn't planning on teaching again this year, but when it came down to it, things fell into place too perfectly for me to not feel like that was the right direction for our family. I feel so incredibly lucky that things have worked out this way because I really never planned to work after I had children, and if the stars hadn't aligned so perfectly I never would have.

When I left work last year right before I had Pearl, I knew that I wasn't going to be coming back to teach. I didn't want the stress and pressure of getting babies out of bed early and dragging them into school with me (because by some miracle I am allowed to bring my children with me). So I had pretty much thought that I was done. But then this summer the founder of the school (Gail Williamsen) offered me a position as a teacher mentor, helping the teachers in the classrooms plan for and know how to work with the students that have disabilities. That position basically gives me the flexibility to come and go when I (and my kids) need to. I try to be there Tuesday through Thursday for about 3 hours in the morning, but if I can't be for some reason, I don't have the pressure of a classroom full of kids that need me. It is the best of both worlds because I am still working with these precious little students that I adore, helping them learn to succeed, but I definitely feel like my number one priority and obligation gets to be to my own babies. It is such a blessing.

Like I said, George and Pearl get to come with me. Pearl sleeps most of the time that I am there (she has her own little room with her Pack 'n Play set up), and I wear her in a sling when she is awake. The kids LOVE her. George gets to go to his very own class this year (last year I kept him in with me), and he is loving it so much. I was really worried about this at first because I hadn't planned to put him in pre-school this year at all. I still felt like 3 was a little too young for that. But holy cow, he was ready for it way more than I was because he is sad when it isn't a school day (he is just there the same three mornings a week that I am).

Now that things have all worked out this way I have realized the enormous blessings that have come from this. What a blessing to have G in such a beautiful school, learning with the montessori methods and materials that I have come to value and love so much. The tuition for his class is $200.00 a month-- a price we could NEVER afford right now, and what a blessing it is that we don't have to pay for a dime of it since I am teaching there. What a blessing for me to keep up on my teaching skills and still have the opportunity to spend some time working with these little ones that truly brighten my life. What a blessing that I am able to contribute to our family financially and take a little bit of that burden off of my incredibly overloaded husband. And most importantly, what a blessing that I am still able to mother my children, to feel like they are getting all of me that they need, and to realize that this change of scenery is good for them. There are other parts of our lives that are challenging (and even this isn't perfect-- I still sometimes would rather stay in bed and cuddle than get up and get ready), but in this area we are feeling full of blessings and are so grateful.

Here is G, in all of his first-day-of-school glory. He was so excited and happy.

A little kiss before we left. Nevermind the fact that I look like I am in pain.

And then there is John. I do not know how on earth he managed to make his hobbies and passions his school and career path, but his classes this semester (things like aquatic entomology and limnology) cannot possibly feel like school to him since the homework involves things like this:

hi gross little guy!

Remember how he has been collecting and preserving aquatic insects for the past couple of years just for fun? Yes, well now he is required to. It is almost comical when he calls me up and tells me that he HAS to go on an overnight field trip to a river or lake somewhere with one of his classes. Last night I helped him sort and label some of the samples from his most recent gathering expedition. I decided that I was most helpful in the labeling arena-- picking up dead, squishy bugs with forceps really doesn't thrill me that much.

His job on the left, my job on the right, thank you very much.

I am glad I was paying enough attention last night to realize that John has been using our plastic food containers to sort bugs in. I asked in horror if he has always been doing that, and he never really answered, which means that of course he has. I kindly suggested that he could just go ahead and keep those little tupperware containers as his very own bug sorting ones. I am positive that before this conversation those had just been getting put in the dishwasher and then put away in the cupboard ready to store leftovers in. Ew.

As much as I dislike looking at the jumble of icky bugs floating in my tupperware, I have to admit that they look kind of cool once they are sorted into their vials.

Here was last night's finished products, all lined up and ready to be organized into the boxes of bugs that live above my computer. John said that I was talking in my sleep about something being "so gross and disgusting." Can you really blame me when this is what I did right before bed?

cleaning my mental house

So there are these two questions that friends have asked me in comments on blog posts that I have never answered, and every time I think about it I feel like a loser. So today I am (finally) going to rid myself of the guilt and answer the questions! And instead of just answering to the people directly, I am posting the answers here because I think they may be of interest to a few more of you.

Quite some time ago my friend Lindsay (who is also a teacher) asked me if I was working. I have truthfully been meaning to post about the beautiful school that I work at for the whole year because I think everyone should know that such a place exists, but I'm only now getting around to it. So the short answer is yes, I am working. But the details are what really matter. I had never planned to go back to work after I had kids (unless I HAD to). In the summer of 2008 I talked about the Montessori training that I went to. That opportunity has blossomed, and the woman who paid for my training started an INCREDIBLE school and asked me to teach at it. The school is called the Elizabeth Academy. Click on the name and go to the website-- I love the mission of the school and believe so strongly in what we are trying to do there. Here is a little blurb about the methods and approach of the school from the website:

"The structured Montessori approach is so individualized, so adaptable and so focused on the child's need, rather than the teacher's need, or the parent's want, or the state's dollar, that the child can't help but flourish.  And yet, as the child becomes the teacher's focus, the child becomes less focused on himself and more aware and respectful of the world around him.  There is no better model, no purer way to be inspired than through a Montessori education.

Elizabeth Academy mandates legitimate inclusion-- creating a slice of the real world with a safety net of real professionals at arms length and open arms to competently and lovingly help navigate the path."

The school mimics the actual population by including a ratio of about 20% of kids that have special needs into the classrooms with their typical peers. The students have learned from each other and grown to love each other, without even really noticing the differences between them. It is really remarkable. I fit in as the "Readiness Teacher." There were a few students who weren't quite ready for the full classroom environment, kids who needed more support and structure due to their special needs. I was asked to come in and be the teacher in that small classroom. Why I said yes (other than the fact that I really loved the idea of being involved in such an incredible school)? I was able to bring my little boy along with me as a typical peer model for these kids. Little G has been able to get up and come to school with me (we are only there three mornings a week for three hours) and it has been such a blessing to have him there learning alongside me. Also amazing? The classroom is staffed with three (3!) diversely educated adults-- me (special education), Miss Maria (speech therapist), and Miss Kelly (Montessori teacher). Also amazing? The resources that we have available to us to work with these children. I am seriously constantly shocked at the materials and resources we are given. If we need something to work with a student? We can buy it. We are not limited by government funding, and the founder of the school truly wants to spare no expense to enable these children to thrive. It is really incredible. We started out with five students in my class, and have since transitioned one (who was ready) to the other classrooms, and added 4 more typical students. This was a picture of us at the beginning of the year:

Oh how I have grown to love these little people. I will miss them (all except for the cute one in the yellow shirt-- that one I am taking with me :)) when I leave in a few weeks to have my baby. I may be back next year (can you believe that they will allow me to strap my baby to my body, bring my three year old, and teach?!), but I also may not be. But I feel so grateful for the opportunity to have been affiliated with such a beautiful school. It is truly a model for how education should be, and people have begun to take notice. We have had visitors from around the nation come observe in the school, and hopefully there will be more like it popping up all around. I would feel so blessed to one day be able to send my children to a school like it.

Okay, now onto the next question. Many of you have inquired what I meant by "doing without any extra stuff" as it pertains to the birth of this baby in my belly. Yes, it is true, I am planning an unmedicated, intervention free (hopefully) birth this time around. Let me be real here-- I am not your typical hypnobirthing woman. No no, in fact, I grew up in a house with an OB/GYN as a father who spoke these words often: "Why wouldn't you want an epidural?! It's like getting your appendix taken out without any anesthesia!" So when I got pregnant the first time I didn't even think twice about getting an epidural. And honestly, I had the most incredible experience giving birth-- it truly was just about as picture perfect as I could imagine, epidural and all.

So why would I want to do things differently this time around?

Giving birth that first time made me aware of my identity as a woman, created specifically to bring babies into the world. I felt like my body had been made to give birth to babies, and I knew I could do it just like women have been doing it for thousands of years. I felt (and feel) a desire to connect with childbirth at its roots-- just me, strong and empowered, giving birth the way my body was designed to. 

I also really love the notion of controlling my body with my mind. I have been taught since I was little that I needed to use my mind to keep my natural man tendencies in check, no matter how strong the desire or appetite. And while this is a little different in that I do not in any way think that choosing an epidural makes one mentally weak, I do personally feel a strong sense of wanting to strengthen my mind and use that strength to get through something that is physically difficult.

And lastly, it really is just safer to not have an epidural. No I do not think that epidurals are typically dangerous, and yes, I would potentially consider getting one myself again one day, but still, any kind of medical intervention poses some risk. If I can give birth without submitting myself or my baby to any unnecessary risk (no matter how small), I think that is a good thing.

So I (along with my very supportive husband) am half way through a six week course in Hypnobabies training. I practice deep relaxation and positive affirmations every day. I am truly confident in my body's ability to give birth naturally, and am grateful daily for the time I am spending deep in meditation and thought as I prepare. I think about giving birth constantly and honestly, I am SO looking forward to it. I know that there is a chance that things may not go as planned, but I also know that I am doing the work that I need to now so that I can have a truly incredible experience on the day that this babe decides to come. I know some of you have used hypnobabies/birthing before and I would LOVE to hear any and all advice you have. I also know that some of you will be skeptical and doubting. That's okay, but please, don't leave comments about it because I don't want to have to put up my bubble of peace when I read them :).

civil rights in a new light

I had a little experience at work yesterday that had made me think a lot over the past 24 hours. I think it is something worth sharing because of the passionate feelings it has generated in me.

I am currently working at a school in Granite School District(GSD) for two mornings a week (both mornings J is able to be home with Baby G because those are the days he goes straight to school instead of going in to work, so it has been a really fantastic situation). However, I am not employed by GSD. I am employed by The Elizabeth Academy, which I wrote about in a previous post. It is a private school, and since this is its first year and we weren't quite ready for our own place we teamed up with GSD. Anyway, the point is, that in the classroom (it is a preschool for typical children as well as kids with disabilities) there are at least two other adults at all times that are the GSD employees and they are technically the ones responsible for all the students in that class. I am there to work with the students that have special needs on a one on one basis, and I help a lot with classroom management as well. So, with that background, this is the important part.

Yesterday I had a small group of kids that I was working with. The other two adults were with the other half of the class on a walk to look for letters of the alphabet around the school. When they all came back one of the teachers came up to me with a disgusted look on her face and said (loudly enough for the students to hear), "We sort of have a problem with L's diaper." L is a five year old little girl with Down Syndrome, and she is not yet potty trained. I wasn't sure what she meant. I was like, "You mean she needs her diaper changed?" And the other two adults were all, "Uh yeah, and it smells really bad."

I was honestly shocked. I sat there for about two seconds looking at them and realized that each one was waiting for the other one to step up to the plate and offer to go change the diaper (it is supposed to be their job to do this since I am not even an employee of the district). Before either one relented, I got up, walked over and grabbed L's backpack, bent down and whispered to her that we were going to go change her diaper. The other teachers gave me looks of both relief and pity as L grabbed my hand and we walked into the hall. When we got into the bathroom there was a student in one of the stalls. We waited outside and looked at the fish until the student left so that L could have some privacy. Then as I changed her I quietly talked to her about her family and her dogs. When we were finished, I lifted her to the ground, we washed our hands and discreetly walked back into the classroom. As soon as we were back one of the other teachers asked, "Was it bad?" I pretended not to hear her.

So tell me, what is wrong with this picture? Are you as upset about this as I was? Let me let you in on why I am still fuming about this whole thing.

People, ALL people, deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. Even 5 year old little girls with Down Syndrome. L did not deserve to have the news of her dirty diaper being broadcast to the other kids in the classroom. That is embarassing to her. Clearly the other adults did not think that she would be aware of those social cues, but let me tell you, she is all too aware. She didn't need someone changing her diaper who was going to make her feel like a disgusting animal while they were changing it either. She knows she has a poopy diaper, and she knows that it isn't pleasant to change. She should NEVER be made to feel like she isn't worthy of having dignity. That is why I quietly talked to her while changing her. Trust me, she is uncomfortable with being naked on a table and having the contents of her diaper looked at. It is obvious. She deserved to be made as comfortable as possible in that situation. We slipped back into the classroom in a way that the other students wouldn't have even noticed that L was gone until one of the teachers had the nerve to ask how the diaper change had gone.

Are you kidding me? Do you really think that it is fair to L to sit there and discuss her diaper in front of the other kids? Are there really people in this world that think that just because someone has a disability they don't have the right to be treated with the same respect and concern any one else deserves?

In college I remember one of my professors (hi Katie!) saying something to the effect that the fight for equal treatment of people with disabilities will be the last civil rights battle we will all face. I think she was right.

lessons in montessori, part two

I almost don't know how to write this. There were so many really beautiful insights I had while learning the Montessori philosophy (and you should know, this is the true Montessori philosophy, done right-- there are MANY institutions operating under the name "Montessori," but in reality are far from the true application Dr. Montessori intended. You have to find a school that is certified and accredited to get it done right), and there are so many things I want to share, but I can't decide how to organize all of my thoughts. Hopefully this doesn't just come out in a jumble.

Probably the key "lightbulb" moment for me came as we discussed the idea of nurturing a child's spirit in the classroom. This is a concept that resonates with me so strongly, and as we talked about it I became emotional just thinking about the beauty of truly seeking to meet a child's spiritual needs in the classroom. It is important to point out that this is NOT teaching a specific religion or doctrine. Spirituality, in this sense, is the notion of exemplifying the highest of human qualities, things that our "spirits" are born with, like love, compassion, forgiveness, empathy, etc. In this sense, the Montessori philosophy seeks to foster spirituality through educational practice. I think that in traditional education we have had to so strictly separate church and state that we have neglected to teach spirituality in this broad sense. It is almost taboo to mention a child's "spiritual" development at school. The Montessori philosophy, however, teaches ..."what is the use of transmitting knowledge if the individual's total development lags behind?" That quote is from the book Nurturing the Spirit in Non-sectarian Classrooms, by Aline D. Wolf. I love that I was required to read a book called Nurturing the Spirit! I got my degree in Special Education at BYU, which is a religious university. But I honestly think I got more training in fostering spiritual growth in my students in my one week Montessori training than I did in two years at BYU. I love that the spirits of the students we teach are so important to the educational philosophy in a Montessori classroom! Of course spiritual growth would also be important to the teacher education department at BYU, but it wasn't something that was explicitly taught. I think it should be. I have never before been so motivated to teach to a child's spirit-- to teach ABCs and numbers, but to do it with the student's glorious potential in my mind. Another quote from the same book: "Education should no longer be mostly imparting of knowledge, but must take a new path, seeking the release of human potentialities." I love that, and how much better would we be as teachers if we saw each student as a spiritual being with incredible potential, not only to learn, but also to bring about much good in the world?

One of the things I LOVE about special education is that the teaching/learning are INDIVIDUALIZED based on the child's needs. I have always gotten a pit in my stomach when I think about how general educators teach a concept to the whole class, and then have to move on, regardless of if all the students have mastered that concept. In Montessori, children have very individualized learning-- they move at their own pace and they can practice a concept for as long as it takes them to fully understand it. All different learning styles are accomodated, and the teacher takes time to re-teach and re-teach (in a one-on-one setting) if necessary.

In that same vein, as each child moves at his own pace, choosing what to work on for that day, he becomes a self-directed learner. It is amazing to look into a classroom and see students staying on task, working hard, and not being forced to do it! And isn't that what they will ultimately have to do once they enter college and the work-force anyway? Why not start giving them that earned freedom to make choices while they are young? Of course this all has to be monitored because there are some students who will take advantage, but if it is done correctly, I really believe this is the best way for teaching and learning to happen.

During the work periods in a Montessori classroom there is freedom of movement. Children move around, choosing works as they please (obviously there are some ground rules here-- like they cannot distract others and cannot get too close to another student who is working without permission). Why on earth did it not occur to me sooner that this would be necessary?? What are we thinking when we expect little children to sit still in their desks for looong stretches of time? And then we want them to pay attention, too? We must be crazy. It just makes sense that kids would need to move around more than they are typically allowed in a general education setting.

Silence is taught and cultivated in the Montessori classroom. It is NOT used as a punishment (the way it is typically used in general education). Children are taught the concept of self-control, and silence is used to stretch their capacities. How beautiful is it to cultivate a health desire for quiet in our children?! I want my son to grow up with the ability to just be still with himself, and spend time pondering and focused. I love that that is taught in the Montessori classroom.

Children have sensitive periods for learning specific skills, and will gravitate toward whatever it is they are sensitive to learn at a particular time. That is one of the reasons that children are allowed to choose their own works in a Montessori classroom. I knew this before, but hadn't ever spent a lot of time thinking about it. And I have seen it in action with my Baby G over and over ever since I became more aware of it. He discovered stairs about a month ago, and one day at my parents' house he was desperately wanting to go up and down the stairs over and over again. I thought to myself "Ah! This must be a sensitive period for him with this!" So I followed him up and down those stairs dozens of times. Oh how I don't want to squelch his innate desire to learn and try new things, and if that means climbing up step after step behind him, I will do that. I am more committed to doing what is best for him, not what is convenient for me.

There are no rewards systems in a Montessori classroom. Kids are taught to work hard for the sake of working hard and for the feeling they get when they do a good job. The focus is on intrinsic motivation: doing the right things for the right reasons-- not because someone will see you and give you a reward, but because doing the right thing feels good. Kids are taught to pat themselves on the back, to recognize when they have done a good job, and find satisfaction in that-- they don't need to go show the teacher for praise, they can feel it for themselves. Again, this is a skill that is so vital for a child's healthy development, and I think it is getting left behind in most classrooms with rewards systems and token economies (special ed. is a whole different thing, friends, and sometimes--maybe even often-- rewards are necessary in that setting).

Oh, that was a lot. There are probably some other things I am forgetting at the moment, but I think I touched on most of the big lessons. Obviously, there are exceptions to everything, and to make this philosophy work in the special education setting we are going to be doing a lot of modifying. But I really love the general concepts. I honestly can say that I felt spiritual confirmations of the truthfulness of the basic philosophies (if done correctly), and they are all things that I plan to implement in my home with my children.

So tell me, what do you think?

lessons in montessori, part one

Apparently Michael Phelps was more exciting than blogging last night. Baby G has been napping for about 47 minutes (but who's counting?), so we will see how many of my thoughts I can crank out before he wakes up.

I need to preface this post with a disclaimer: it will most likely be long, with lots of text and zero pictures. If you hate that kind of blogging you can stop reading now. Also, it will be about education and will include my unfiltered thoughts about the education system in our society. I think my special ed girls will find it interesting, people with children may want to read it, but everyone else might be bored. Just so you know.

So I have adored and loved this past year of being a stay-at-home mama. Nothing has been more rewarding or brought me more fulfillment. I would be happy forever to just get to stay home with my children. I understand that not everyone feels that way. Some women need the outlet of work on the side. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. I just don't happen to be one of those women. So when Gail called me up and offered me a teaching job I was REALLY not planning on taking it. Even thought we really could've used the money, we were making things work, and both J and I were committed to me being home with Baby G.

Then Gail started telling me the details. She is starting a school called the Elizabeth Academey. It will be a private school for kids with disabilites who will be intermingled in class with typical students. This first year it will just be for 4 and 5 year olds (my favorite ages to teach). It will be VERY part-time: 4 days a week, 3 hours a day. It will be a mixture of different teaching philosophies, including Montessori (which I wasn't familiar with, but will get to in a minute-- that's actually the whole point of this post). There will be one regular education teacher, two special education teachers (that's me!), one speech therapist, and one paraprofessional all dedicated solely to one class of 16 children (where no more than 4 will have disabilities). Oh, and the pay is triple what I made teaching diagnostic kindergarten for a district. Sounds pretty dreamy, right?

Well, I still wasn't sold. I would have to leave my baby. It almost made me sick thinking about it. But I knew that it could be an incredible opportunity that I might not want to pass up. And I knew how much we could use the money, and I knew how much it would take the pressure off of my incredibly hard-working husband (working two jobs-- one that starts at 3:30 AM-- and going to school is A LOT). My mom immediately offered to watch Baby G. She said it would be silly of me to not at least consider the opportunity, adding that she would have "so much fun" taking care of my baby for a couple of hours a day. J looked at his school schedule and realized that he would be able to be with Baby G until 10:00 AM every day, so that my mom would just have him until I got done at 11:45 AM. Things were falling into place.

So I prayed and prayed. I wanted to take the job because I knew that it really might be the best thing for our family. But I also didn't want to take it and then end up resentful and hating going to work every day. So I prayed, determined to do whatever the Lord instructed me. I felt frustrated though, because I wasn't really getting any instructions. I finally asked for a priesthood blessing so I could get a little clarity. In the blessing, the answer came to me: there wasn't a bad choice. I could do either (stay home with Baby G, or leave to work for a couple of hours), and both choices would be acceptable to the Lord. So I made my decision: I was going to sacrifice what I wanted (staying home, free to do whatever I please whenever I please-- seriously, it really is the life), for what I felt was perhaps a little bit better for my family in the long run (taking some of the pressure off of J, adding some income), and what might end up being an incredible personal learning & growing opportunity for me.

But I still felt uneasy. I was required to attend a week-long training to become certified in the Montessori teaching philosophy. Up until the moment I got to the training I questioned my decision and wondered if I was doing the right thing. I hated the uncertainty I was feeling. Leaving my baby with my mom for that first morning of training was hard. When I introduced myself to everyone at the training I started to cry and had to embarrassingly explain that that was the first time in his life that I hadn't been with my boy all day. The other people in the room seemed to understand. As the other women introduced themselves a feeling of peace and calm came over me. I had the feeling that I was in the right place.

That week-long training was hard (8:00 AM-5:00 PM, more homework and reading each day than I had daily in college, not enough time to get it all done because now I have a one-year-old who doesn't like to be ignored, and the stresses of not being with Baby G all day), but I can honestly say that it changed my life. I know that I was supposed to be there. It has changed the way that I will teach, and has also changed some of the ways that I will mother. It felt good to be back in the educational groove again, and it recommitted me to being a lifelong learner. My education did not stop just because I got my degree. I needed that reminder. So, let me tell you about some of the things I learned and some of the ways my thought patterns shifted.

But let me do it in another post. This is getting mighty long already. Perhaps later today, but most likely tomorrow. Unless this is boring (which it very may well be, and that won't hurt my feelings, honest)-- let me know if you would like me to share more because if no one cares I won't waste my time typing it all out (I already have many of my thoughts recorded for myself in a journal).

Love me some kindergarteners