I have been a stay-at-home mom for twenty-eight years. Next week I start my twenty-fourth year of teaching my children at home. Josiah was born into a homeschool family; he nursed through older siblings' math lessons and overheard first, second, and third grade reading lessons all the same year while playing in his high chair. He was the youngest before Nathaniel and is a senior in high school this fall.

Both Joe and I reap the benefits that he has never known family life apart from homeschool life. For us, there has always been a blurring of what is daily living as a Rankin kid and what is homeschool; Joe has always known his parents, and mother specifically, to carry the duel roles of parent and educator. There were no "before we started homeschooling" habits or relationship patterns to overcome.

I did something Monday that I have only done once since July 30, 2013. I drove alone with Nathaniel in the van. We went to the park and took a walk. We stopped by Barnes and Noble. We were away from the house for almost two hours.

It felt so good to be out together. Alone. Together.

Four years ago this month, I wrote a three part blog series on the cost of homeschooling. It makes sense that I wrote that series in January. January is when I start to think about the next school year.

For almost two decades now, we've deposited that spring (IRS) check in a special savings account earmarked for school costs.  Some years we haven't needed all of it, some years we have. Many years, the doldrums of winter were chased away by browsing curriculum catalogs, comparing programs, making wish lists, and dreaming of next year's fun.  The Cost of Homeschooling, Part 1

While working on my masters in Composition and Rhetoric, I spent a semester writing about my experiences with literacy - the stories, people, and moments that shaped my view of reading and writing. The following are experts from that larger work; each story centers on the role my father had in the formation of my literacy practices.

The weekly walks to and from the public library with mom were full of laughter, skipping, and splashing in puddles. In my memory, Concord’s weather was always post-storm, blue-sky sunny with a few lingering puddles for the children’s sake. I have no memories of the library itself, only the route there and back. Our limit of books was determined by what we could carry. Perhaps backpacks and totes were used on the other side of town; rough brown cardboard boxes from the grocery store were our containers of choice. Once home, a small room off the living room served as our own library. My older brother, Ed, and I would carefully place the books on the long built-in bookshelf under the two large wood windows.  For hours while Ed was off at kindergarten, I would sit alone on the hardwood floor reading. Oddly, I do not remember if I could actually read. 

She couldn't concentrate on the work and smile for the camera at the same time. Sunday night pretzels. An Uncle Rich tradition for 20 years and tonight Ellie was assigned the responsibility of helping to make dinner for everyone attending the family reunion.

I grew up as a year around resident in Lakeside, Ohio. It is one of the few existing Chautauqua in the United States and the unique setting definetly shaped who I am today.  Reflections of experiencing Lakeside, both as a summer and winter resident in my childhood and as a returning vacationer, has filled many journals.

At our house the "Oh-my-goodness-it's-summer" turns into boredom in about 48 hours. Without a schedule and some resemblance of a routine, my children quickly resort to game systems to fill their days.

I'm a collector of words.  My favorite Pinterest board is full of words and sayings. When I go on vacation, I gather brochures, postcards, maps, and words about the places we're visiting.  Usually these go in my suitcase with the best intentions of being transformed into something more creative once I get home.