Patient or Lazy? You Decide.

"You must have so much patience" is the most inaccurate comment I hear when people find out I homeschool the kids. I would like to assert here that I do not have any more patience than that woman down the street. Instead, I think I choose the Path-of-Least-Resistance method of parenting.

Exhibit A:

Daughter #1 was born via unexpected c-section. (My) pain + her never-ending nursing = baby in my bed.

We tried putting her in the crib for, oh, one night. But, she cried! And, I had to get out of my warm bed! So much work and noise.

She spent the next two years in our bed. Ditto child number two. Ditto child number three. At the age of (almost) four, we have finally got #3 out of our bed, and into his (sister's) room (you don't think we actually have finished his room yet, do you?). And for the past month or so, Fairly Odd Father and I have had our big king bed to ourselves, although we still cling to our own sides as if there are little warm bodies in between us, hogging the coveted middle.


Exhibit B:

Daughter #2 spent the ages of two and three channeling Linda Blair in the Exorcist, especially between the hours of 2am and 4am.

Almost nightly, she'd wake up thrashing and screaming, Screaming, SCREAMING!!!! It was so bad that our oldest slept with ear plugs, and I said goodbye to any hopes that I'd hold onto my hearing past 60.

I meant to take her to a sleep specialist to see what was wrong with her, and I even made the initial call, but I never followed up and she never saw anyone. Thankfully, she outgrew these nightly acts of torture and now only screams during daylight hours, like any normal kid.


Exhibit C:

Oldest daughter turned seven last January and could not read. OK, she could read "cat", "stop" and "the", but longer words or actual books? Nope.

What made this harder to comprehend was that language had come easily to her. At the age of five, her vocabulary was better than anyone on MTV's The Hills.

What made this harder to admit was that I was her teacher. I tried not to panic, but panic I did. I was convinced that it was all my fault and if you saw how many phonics programs I own, you will know that I paid my penance in cold hard cash.

And, you know what? None of it really mattered. This summer, with absolutely no reading help from me, she has started to read on her own. Maybe the absence of my pressure made her willing to learn or maybe she needed something to "click" in her head; I'll never know.


Exhibit D:

Youngest, our son, has taken his own damn time to do everything. He was born a week past due. He didn't walk until well past 14 months. At three, I nervously brought him to a speech therapist for evaluation (but balked at the twice-weekly speech therapy sessions they recommended, so we never went back).

Our last major hurdle in the transition from "toddler" to "little boy" has been the all-mighty diaper.

It isn't easy to have a tall, almost-four year old, in diapers. I met one person who gasped when she heard (as if!). But, you know, we've been busy, I hate pee on my floor and it'll happen someday, won't it?

You know how this ends, don't you? Yes, for the past two days, he has been diaper free and doing (almost) perfectly.


So, is it patience, laziness or just dumb luck that these things have resolved on their own? I'm not certain, but I sure hope I can get through the teenage years like this.