But it is, and is not, the start of a new school year. It's day two of my older one, the thirteen year old, starting in on this great big 8th grade curriculum. It's huge, unwieldy, ambitious, and challenging, and I don't feel prepared. I'm trying to help him get started with a bunch of different books (including the one titled 100 Days of Writing, which has him, and thus me, sitting down for 30 minutes right now, typing away on our laptops). And then, in the meantime, I need to give focus and attention to a child with a very different mindset. My younger one has an art project idea, that I got really excited about and was trying to help him do, and then right when I was on the verge of spending money on it, I found out his concept wasn't what I thought it was, and we don't know how to make that art project work. And so, I was trying to figure out the real logistics of how to make his art project work, and then he said, never mind, he doesn't want to do it. He wants me to go buy dry ice. Buying dry ice takes about 90 minutes, from committing to do it, to checking the address, to getting in the car, to going and getting the stuff, and bringing it home. Then, he needs supervision while he works with it. We probably could have done it today, but I just wasn't feeling sufficiently flexible, and so I'm kind of annoyed at myself.
Not all homeschool days are stellar, and each age/year has it's own challenges.
Right now, we're supposed to be writing about writing. Me? I'm procrastinating. My thoughts on writing? I used to define myself as a writer. I used to think I would be a great writer. Teachers told me so. I won writing contests, getting tickets to plays, and a trip around the world. Then I went to college and found out I only wrote about as well as other college students. Then, I focused on many things, and only improved my writing a little. I still wrote well enough to be a writing mentor, and a few bad habits got broken, a few new skills added. But mostly, I write really darned well, for a kid.
Sometimes, I'm in the flow. Sometimes, I'm not. Last night I had something I had to write, to submit to someone about an upcoming project, and I was just so tired, I couldn't form the words right. I did it anyway, because I had a deadline. It actually came back with polite corrections, which I gave my OK to, with embarrassment at having needed the assistance.
I think of writing now as one of many skills I have. I write adequately for many tasks.
And I might start entering some contests again. I like free stuff.
In the meantime, I'll try my best to enjoy our end-of-August time, and get on the ball, and be a great mom, and all that beauty.