Building Mighty Hearts

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For the last two years, my oldest has been enrolled at our local public school with his brothers close behind.  The environment has been fabulous with many resources and assistance available.  My head proclaims that “this is good,” while my heart has been arguing that something isn’t quite right.

Like many families, our life revolves around the school schedule.  We roll out of bed to pack lunches, hurry one another out the door to school, showers sometimes happen, and the kitchen is quickly cleaned after my 2nd grader walks out the door.  Mornings evaporate and before I have time to breathe, it’s lunch time.  We eat while  frantically finishing that kindergarten homework that we were unable to finish the night before.  I quickly wipe lunch from kindergarten-boy’s face while carpool waits on the driveway, rush the youngest kids down for a nap, wake them up early to hurry back over to school for pick up, squeeze in a hug and kiss, argue about homework, scramble half a dozen eggs for dinner, more homework, read to the kids if it is a good day, sort laundry, and hop back into bed….

My head says this is good, normal, while my heart screams for something more.  Deep within in the monotony of every day life, I feel paper-like.  Plastic.  Disposable.  Too rushed to sprout into the mother and woman I want to be.  My heart screams for freedom to read to my kids without time restraints, to experience the lights that pop in their eyes when they learn something new, and to dedicate my life to their future in a way that our established schedule will not allow.

I crave the busyness of having my kids at home, their smiles, and their energy all day long.  I want to experience the world in their eyes, introduce them to new ideas, and explore friendships.  I want to talk to them and listen to the melody of their heart.

But… I can’t find the energy to do it all.  I can’t maintain the balancing act of school and the heart.  I am too busy spiraling around with the demands of the world to be the mother I want to be.  Like a puppet called to perform an act that isn’t my own, I zoom around carting my children off while secretly wishing I could stop.  At the end of the day, I want to “hit the pillow” with the knowledge that my children are not strangers to me.

I fully acknowledge that homeschooling isn’t right for everyone.  It hasn’t always been the answer for my family and it may not be our long term goal.  But right now, I am more than excited to slow down and plant the seeds of love within the mighty hearts of my children – “angela style.”

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