The Secret Trick of Homeschooling

We begin for our kids, we keep going for ourselves

Johannah at the Coliseum in Rome in 2005.

This is the second in my series of journal entries from back when I was homeschooling. For paid subscribers. Enjoy!

Nap time. Mine theirs. Who cares?

Where sleep is involved, you’ll find me championing the cause. The kids know that after I read aloud to them, my head slowly gets sucked toward the couch in a plunge until my feet flip up onto the cushions and my eyes slam shut. As I’m going down, I say things like, “This will only taaaaake a fewwwww…” Lights out. Kids dribble off the couches and chairs, moving into quiet mode where they keep poking and teasing to a minimum while mom is passed out like a drunk. So yes, I love naps.

But I loved them just as much when my kids took them. Lunchtime found me panting like a dog, hurrying the kids through the end of the clean up and meal, herding them toward the bedrooms with mustard on their cheeks, tape cassettes in hand to soothe them into something resembling quiet, baby latched to a boob, olders reminded that they could not get up until I came for them.

Sometimes the space between my ability to hold myself together and their naps didn’t quite make it and I’d undermine the mood with a sharp comment like, “Get your butt in gear, mister!” Of course, who doesn’t come completely unglued once in a while with one or three or seven little kids under foot?

One nap time stands out in my memory.