You know that age-old question people always ask home schoolers?
Yes you do. Everyone knows it, even if you think you don't.
"Wow! Do you get to go to school in your pajamas?"
Today, in our house the answer is "yes."
I decided to start a new family tradition today. On days when the high temperature will not reach 20 degrees F, we will not get dressed until noon.
It's nice actually. Nice and warm.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Seven Swords, Spells of Beauty, and the White Witch
My husband says I ripped apart Prince Caspian a bit too thoroughly. That being said, I liked Dawn Treader better than he did. Maybe it's like my sis-in-law says: when you expect less, you aren't as disappointed. After Caspian, I was definitely expecting less.
In my opinion, the movie actually stayed closer to the original story. Not like the first one, of course, but better than the second. Most of the major elements of the book were there, although in a rather unexpected order with odd combinations here and there. I wasn't too excited about the Lone Islands. Governor Gumpas was non-existent, and the weird "everybody go into hiding so you won't be sold into slavery or sent at a sacrifice to the un-explainable green fog out there" town was sort of...well...wierd. (What is with the green fog?)
The dragon was well done, although not well explained, so if you haven't read the book, you'd better do so before watching or you'll never get the dragon part. The end of the world was awesome! Very little was changed about it (except there's no lamb), and I love that Aslan still says he goes by another name in our world. That part kind of made up for some of the other humanistic Disney-ish philosophy Aslan spouts earlier in the movie. (You must conquer the evil that is in yourself, blah, blah, blah).
Speaking of dragons, Eustace was great! I don't think they could have made his character any better for the movie. The ship was good, very Narnian, and I loved the way they had the children go through the picture frame, even though it wasn't quite the same as in the book. Aslan's table and the sleeping lords was very good, but I so wanted to see the birds bring Ramandu the fireberry, and there wasn't even any Ramandu. But Ramandu's daughter is there and she is a blue star that they follow to Ramandu's island, so how does she wind up marrying Caspian?
The Dufflepuds were well done for the most part, but I was not happy with their very short appearance, and there is no humor attached to them like in the book. They could have almost been left out of the movie and you wouldn't miss them. The golden pool was good, and for once there is actually a reason for Edmund's and Caspian's constant antagonism towards each other (albeit through that un-explainable green fog again). (I think it would have been more convincing if they'd been good friends the rest of the time and only went after each other at the golden pool. But in the end, they make their peace, and call each other brother, so I guess all's well that ends well.)
There were a few minor annoyances, like Reep is too small and they didn't quite get his character right (a carry-over from Caspian, I'm sure since I seem to remember absolutely detesting the mice in Caspian). Drinian is overly negative, almost a trouble-maker, and I was quite disappointed with his character (or lack thereof). Caspian again mentions that he's in love with Susan. (Where have we heard that before?) And they have to drag Peter and Susan into the story some way, even though they don't go to Narnia. I guess they have to set the scene somehow, but why can't WWII just be over at some point in time? It's still dragging on here in the third story. Oh, and they have to have some snow, (right?) because it's a Christmas release, so they create some even though there isn't any in the original. And the water people are perfectly pointless, and really kind of confusing.
So much for minor annoyances (I'm sure that wasn't all, but it's a good overview). Now for the big stuff:
1. Caspian sets out to find the seven lords. So far so good. But it's as if for the sake of a post-modern audience who can't understand that kind of loyalty or commitment, they have to give you some better reason than just searching for Caspian's father's long-lost friends. So they create this weird green fog that is never really explained except that it's somehow connected with Dark Island, that surfaces near the Lone Islands to take the boatloads of sacrifices sent out to it and somehow mysteriously transport them to Dark Island where they are apparently held in limbo indefinitely. In order to dispel the evil magic, those on board the Dawn Treader must find the seven swords of the Narnian lords and lay them at Aslan's table on Ramandu's Island. So since Narnia doesn't possess enough magic of it's own, we must invent some more for it to keep our audience happy.
2. And we mustn't forget the other purpose of the green fog. When it's not eating whole boatloads of people, it keeps busy by tempting others. Lucy is tempted to say the beauty spell, Edmund is tempted to take the White Witch's power, and Caspian is tempted not to believe in himself all by means of the green fog. Lucy's spell of beauty is really disappointing. I don't even know what to say about it and all the nonsense Aslan says about it. The scene was really strange and confusing, as if Lucy ceases to exist when she says the spell, and then Aslan just says a bunch of eastern mystic-sounding things. But there is nothing about the other spell Lucy says where she eavesdrops on her friends at school.
3. Oh, yes, and the green fog is the main medium through which the White (or should we say Green) Witch contacts Edmund. When Edmund points out that she's supposed to be dead, she responds, "You can't kill me." Which begs the point that Edmund wasn't the one to kill her. Aslan was. So is she saying that Aslan can't kill her? I mean, really?
Then there are some things they left out that I was disappointed about. I really wanted to see the nightmares at Dark Island, but they are replaced by the sea serpent instead. And I was totally unprepared for them to just suddenly be at the end of the world with none of the lead-up about the sweet water and the wonderful sunlight. When Reep says the water's sweet, it's like he just randomly comments on it, with none of the euphoria that is present at that point in the book. I already mentioned missing the birds, fireberries, and Ramandu.
As far as the battle with the sea serpent goes, I'll have to leave others to make up their own minds about that, because I can't decide whether I like it or not. I really liked the BBC version of that battle, and this was quite different, but passably good, maybe.
And with that, I am done with my critique of the Dawn Treader. And I might actually not mind owning this one.
In my opinion, the movie actually stayed closer to the original story. Not like the first one, of course, but better than the second. Most of the major elements of the book were there, although in a rather unexpected order with odd combinations here and there. I wasn't too excited about the Lone Islands. Governor Gumpas was non-existent, and the weird "everybody go into hiding so you won't be sold into slavery or sent at a sacrifice to the un-explainable green fog out there" town was sort of...well...wierd. (What is with the green fog?)
The dragon was well done, although not well explained, so if you haven't read the book, you'd better do so before watching or you'll never get the dragon part. The end of the world was awesome! Very little was changed about it (except there's no lamb), and I love that Aslan still says he goes by another name in our world. That part kind of made up for some of the other humanistic Disney-ish philosophy Aslan spouts earlier in the movie. (You must conquer the evil that is in yourself, blah, blah, blah).
Speaking of dragons, Eustace was great! I don't think they could have made his character any better for the movie. The ship was good, very Narnian, and I loved the way they had the children go through the picture frame, even though it wasn't quite the same as in the book. Aslan's table and the sleeping lords was very good, but I so wanted to see the birds bring Ramandu the fireberry, and there wasn't even any Ramandu. But Ramandu's daughter is there and she is a blue star that they follow to Ramandu's island, so how does she wind up marrying Caspian?
The Dufflepuds were well done for the most part, but I was not happy with their very short appearance, and there is no humor attached to them like in the book. They could have almost been left out of the movie and you wouldn't miss them. The golden pool was good, and for once there is actually a reason for Edmund's and Caspian's constant antagonism towards each other (albeit through that un-explainable green fog again). (I think it would have been more convincing if they'd been good friends the rest of the time and only went after each other at the golden pool. But in the end, they make their peace, and call each other brother, so I guess all's well that ends well.)
There were a few minor annoyances, like Reep is too small and they didn't quite get his character right (a carry-over from Caspian, I'm sure since I seem to remember absolutely detesting the mice in Caspian). Drinian is overly negative, almost a trouble-maker, and I was quite disappointed with his character (or lack thereof). Caspian again mentions that he's in love with Susan. (Where have we heard that before?) And they have to drag Peter and Susan into the story some way, even though they don't go to Narnia. I guess they have to set the scene somehow, but why can't WWII just be over at some point in time? It's still dragging on here in the third story. Oh, and they have to have some snow, (right?) because it's a Christmas release, so they create some even though there isn't any in the original. And the water people are perfectly pointless, and really kind of confusing.
So much for minor annoyances (I'm sure that wasn't all, but it's a good overview). Now for the big stuff:
1. Caspian sets out to find the seven lords. So far so good. But it's as if for the sake of a post-modern audience who can't understand that kind of loyalty or commitment, they have to give you some better reason than just searching for Caspian's father's long-lost friends. So they create this weird green fog that is never really explained except that it's somehow connected with Dark Island, that surfaces near the Lone Islands to take the boatloads of sacrifices sent out to it and somehow mysteriously transport them to Dark Island where they are apparently held in limbo indefinitely. In order to dispel the evil magic, those on board the Dawn Treader must find the seven swords of the Narnian lords and lay them at Aslan's table on Ramandu's Island. So since Narnia doesn't possess enough magic of it's own, we must invent some more for it to keep our audience happy.
2. And we mustn't forget the other purpose of the green fog. When it's not eating whole boatloads of people, it keeps busy by tempting others. Lucy is tempted to say the beauty spell, Edmund is tempted to take the White Witch's power, and Caspian is tempted not to believe in himself all by means of the green fog. Lucy's spell of beauty is really disappointing. I don't even know what to say about it and all the nonsense Aslan says about it. The scene was really strange and confusing, as if Lucy ceases to exist when she says the spell, and then Aslan just says a bunch of eastern mystic-sounding things. But there is nothing about the other spell Lucy says where she eavesdrops on her friends at school.
3. Oh, yes, and the green fog is the main medium through which the White (or should we say Green) Witch contacts Edmund. When Edmund points out that she's supposed to be dead, she responds, "You can't kill me." Which begs the point that Edmund wasn't the one to kill her. Aslan was. So is she saying that Aslan can't kill her? I mean, really?
Then there are some things they left out that I was disappointed about. I really wanted to see the nightmares at Dark Island, but they are replaced by the sea serpent instead. And I was totally unprepared for them to just suddenly be at the end of the world with none of the lead-up about the sweet water and the wonderful sunlight. When Reep says the water's sweet, it's like he just randomly comments on it, with none of the euphoria that is present at that point in the book. I already mentioned missing the birds, fireberries, and Ramandu.
As far as the battle with the sea serpent goes, I'll have to leave others to make up their own minds about that, because I can't decide whether I like it or not. I really liked the BBC version of that battle, and this was quite different, but passably good, maybe.
And with that, I am done with my critique of the Dawn Treader. And I might actually not mind owning this one.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Thoughts
I love flying. I love the thrill of take-off, the view of the ground from above, trying to pick out landmarks, the sight of clouds underneath, trying to guess the exact moment when the wheels will touch down. And seat mates are always an adventure.
She was already there when I boarded, sitting in the aisle seat. I had the window. Younger than me, she wasn't exactly beautiful, but certainly a far cry from ugly. She was military, stationed at the local base, flying home to Virginia for a month of holiday. She owned a Kindle, Ipod, and Iphone. And she flies on board awac planes for a living. She could care less about the flight or me.
He was an older man, probably in his sixties. We shared a three-seat row. Nice. Space for stuff. He took the aisle. I took the window. His voice was quiet, so when he tried to joke, I didn't get it because I couldn't hear him over the noise of the plane. Once we reached New England though, he really got animated. We discussed what we could see out the window. He grew up in Boston, coming home to visit his brother. He's lived in California and Arizona, but he's tired of the desert. Maybe he'll move to Montana. Boston gets too much snow. (And I'm wondering if Montana gets less.) He loves U.S. history. So do I. We talk. Should have talked before. The flight would have gone faster.
They got on after me; an older couple with their dog in a carrier. I had the window again. She made him sit in the middle because she thought she'd have to get up during the flight. I tried to help her with her spilled coffee, dog, carry-on, etc. They were heading for Ft. Lauderdale to spend the winter. Summer home in Boston. I'm feeling a little bit out of my league. They're very polite, but not really interested. As they get off, we kindly wish each other good trips to our respective destinations.
He was quiet, no talking at all in the beginning. But pretty soon it came out that he's a soldier. Coming home from the Middle East. He didn't say where. No uniform. He says he's "incognito." The other soldiers on the plane got special treatment because they had theirs on. (One of them even gets moved to 1st class.) He calls his wife after we board to tell her we'll be on time. Calls his sister after we touch down to tell her he's home. It's raining as we come in over the city, but he's as excited to see all the landmarks as I am. Maybe more. Says he hasn't seen rain in a long time. For the first time the whole trip, I feel guilty for having the window seat.
People are so interesting to watch, to study. On the street, in the sidewalk cafe, on the subways and buses of Boston, Harvard, downtown, the North End. Tourists, college students, residents. They're all different. All have their own stories to tell if we will pay attention and listen.
She was already there when I boarded, sitting in the aisle seat. I had the window. Younger than me, she wasn't exactly beautiful, but certainly a far cry from ugly. She was military, stationed at the local base, flying home to Virginia for a month of holiday. She owned a Kindle, Ipod, and Iphone. And she flies on board awac planes for a living. She could care less about the flight or me.
He was an older man, probably in his sixties. We shared a three-seat row. Nice. Space for stuff. He took the aisle. I took the window. His voice was quiet, so when he tried to joke, I didn't get it because I couldn't hear him over the noise of the plane. Once we reached New England though, he really got animated. We discussed what we could see out the window. He grew up in Boston, coming home to visit his brother. He's lived in California and Arizona, but he's tired of the desert. Maybe he'll move to Montana. Boston gets too much snow. (And I'm wondering if Montana gets less.) He loves U.S. history. So do I. We talk. Should have talked before. The flight would have gone faster.
They got on after me; an older couple with their dog in a carrier. I had the window again. She made him sit in the middle because she thought she'd have to get up during the flight. I tried to help her with her spilled coffee, dog, carry-on, etc. They were heading for Ft. Lauderdale to spend the winter. Summer home in Boston. I'm feeling a little bit out of my league. They're very polite, but not really interested. As they get off, we kindly wish each other good trips to our respective destinations.
He was quiet, no talking at all in the beginning. But pretty soon it came out that he's a soldier. Coming home from the Middle East. He didn't say where. No uniform. He says he's "incognito." The other soldiers on the plane got special treatment because they had theirs on. (One of them even gets moved to 1st class.) He calls his wife after we board to tell her we'll be on time. Calls his sister after we touch down to tell her he's home. It's raining as we come in over the city, but he's as excited to see all the landmarks as I am. Maybe more. Says he hasn't seen rain in a long time. For the first time the whole trip, I feel guilty for having the window seat.
People are so interesting to watch, to study. On the street, in the sidewalk cafe, on the subways and buses of Boston, Harvard, downtown, the North End. Tourists, college students, residents. They're all different. All have their own stories to tell if we will pay attention and listen.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Boston
Boston was fun. It was beautiful, fall weather the first day, the leaves were gorgeous (if just a bit past their prime). I walked more than I've walked in a very long time: all over Harvard, and almsot the entire Freedom Trail (the only thing I missed was Bunker Hill). And that's not to mention walking to the cafe half a mile away every morning for breakfast, at least a mile every night for supper, and almost a mile to get to the nearest T stop. I toured the Longfellow House, the Massachusetts State House (capitol building) and the Old North Church. Saw the USS Constitution, Paul Revere's House, and the Make Way for Ducklings statue. Walked through Boston Commons and imagined it full of Washington's troops, took a picture of the tombstone of the lady who inspired Hawthorne's Hester Prynn, heard a new Longfellow poem I'd never read before ("All houses wherein men have lived and died are haunted houses"), ate swordfish and cod at South Market, and saw Fanuil Hall at least once every day.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Imperfect
She's the perfect home school mom. One of several support group leaders, a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, actively involved, a veteran of homeschooling. Her four or five children (still haven't figured out exactly which ones belong to her) are all bright, well-accomplished students. The oldest boy plays the violin...beautifully. At a birthday party we both attended, she clipped coupons while visiting. She breastfeeds her 18-month-old. She's not just the perfect home school mom. She's the perfect Proverbs 31 woman. The epitome of what a wife and mother is supposed to look like.
Me? I'm a home school grad, an ex public school teacher, who doesn't understand my husband's mother tongue, trying (and often failing) to raise twins and their brother the best I know how.
She doesn't have twins. She has no idea.
I try and mess up and try again something different. I don't have this whole parenting thing down pat yet. I'm not sure I ever will.
She's had about ten years longer than me to get it figured out.
I don't always know what to do with my kids. When they don't want to play the game all the other kids are playing, I think "that's ok, right?" They have suddenly and inexplicably been thrown into a group of 25-30 kids that they haven't ever met before. Most of whom are older. All the younger ones have older siblings participating in the games. To me, it's understandable that they are hesitant, especially when the leader says we'll number off to make sure each team has an even number of players. And the girls realize they'll be split up that way.
They both want me to come with them. How can I pick one over the other? I say I can't. A2 doesn't want to play, so I say I'll just watch with him. Then they don't want to play either. Their little chins quiver when I say I want them to. Maybe I should make them, but I don't. It wouldn't do any good. They'd just cry the whole time, they wouldn't play, and we'd all come home miserable. And it would be awkward for the other kids. I tell them they can just watch. I'll watch with them. Maybe they'll see how much fun it is and want to do it next time.
But I'm not sure they will. The problem isn't that they don't think the game is fun. The problem is that they don't know any of those other kids, and they all seem to know each other. They're not being rebellious. They're just five years old and they're scared.
I tell them I'm going to help the other moms mark the finish line. They can sit and watch while I'm gone. I'm hoping that will help them want to play, if I'm not right there with them. It doesn't work. They all start crying about the time I get to the finish line. And then She points them over to me. I motion for them to join me. They all stand behind me like they're trying to hide.
She comes clear across the playing area straight to me. I'm thinking maybe she'll try to talk to them, try to get them to play.
Instead she looks at me.
"I see you have an attachment...." Her voice trails off. But I can see the last word on her face. She was going to say "problem."
I don't know what to say, so I find myself smiling, listening attentively, and then agreeing with her. And I hear myself explaining how they're not really used to being around this many kids they don't know because our church is small and they know all the other kids.
She smiles and moves on.
And I come home and wonder how to solve my "attachment problem." Because I'm not perfect like her.
Me? I'm a home school grad, an ex public school teacher, who doesn't understand my husband's mother tongue, trying (and often failing) to raise twins and their brother the best I know how.
She doesn't have twins. She has no idea.
I try and mess up and try again something different. I don't have this whole parenting thing down pat yet. I'm not sure I ever will.
She's had about ten years longer than me to get it figured out.
I don't always know what to do with my kids. When they don't want to play the game all the other kids are playing, I think "that's ok, right?" They have suddenly and inexplicably been thrown into a group of 25-30 kids that they haven't ever met before. Most of whom are older. All the younger ones have older siblings participating in the games. To me, it's understandable that they are hesitant, especially when the leader says we'll number off to make sure each team has an even number of players. And the girls realize they'll be split up that way.
They both want me to come with them. How can I pick one over the other? I say I can't. A2 doesn't want to play, so I say I'll just watch with him. Then they don't want to play either. Their little chins quiver when I say I want them to. Maybe I should make them, but I don't. It wouldn't do any good. They'd just cry the whole time, they wouldn't play, and we'd all come home miserable. And it would be awkward for the other kids. I tell them they can just watch. I'll watch with them. Maybe they'll see how much fun it is and want to do it next time.
But I'm not sure they will. The problem isn't that they don't think the game is fun. The problem is that they don't know any of those other kids, and they all seem to know each other. They're not being rebellious. They're just five years old and they're scared.
I tell them I'm going to help the other moms mark the finish line. They can sit and watch while I'm gone. I'm hoping that will help them want to play, if I'm not right there with them. It doesn't work. They all start crying about the time I get to the finish line. And then She points them over to me. I motion for them to join me. They all stand behind me like they're trying to hide.
She comes clear across the playing area straight to me. I'm thinking maybe she'll try to talk to them, try to get them to play.
Instead she looks at me.
"I see you have an attachment...." Her voice trails off. But I can see the last word on her face. She was going to say "problem."
I don't know what to say, so I find myself smiling, listening attentively, and then agreeing with her. And I hear myself explaining how they're not really used to being around this many kids they don't know because our church is small and they know all the other kids.
She smiles and moves on.
And I come home and wonder how to solve my "attachment problem." Because I'm not perfect like her.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Tonight's Devotions
After spending a couple of nights reading/talking about Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, tonight's assignment for the kids was to pretend they had travelled to Israel with the Queen and were returning to their home with the job of telling everyone there who hadn't gone (Mommy & Papi) what Solomon was like.
In preparation, Joe asked what they would do first when they got home from such a long journey. The answer? "Take off our shoes and play!"
A1 really got into the re-telling:
(Kids run in from hallway, all jumping up and down excitedly like the monopods on the island in the "Voyage of the Dawn Treader," which they continue through the entire story.) WE'RE HOME!!!!
Mommy: Welcome home! How was your trip?
Kids: Great!
Mommy: Did you see Solomon? What was he like?
A1: Yes! He was wearing a crown. It was made out of gold and silver.
Mommy: Wow! So he must be very rich!
Papi: He must have lots of money!
A1: Yes! And he was giving it out to everybody!
Mommy: Well, that's not very smart. Why would he give all his money away?
A1: Yes, he is smart! He is keeping some of it for himself, but he's giving the rest away.
Mommy: So you thought Solomon was pretty smart, huh?
A1: Yes.
Mommy: What did he do that made you think that?
A1: Well, when we got there, he was sleeping.
Mommy: Oh, so did he have a dream?
A1: No we crept into his bedroom and pitched our tents.
Mommy: You pitched your tents in his bedroom?
A1: NO! We pitched our tents OUTSIDE first!
(At this point, A2 demonstrates the tents by dropping suddenly to the floor and covering himself with his blanket.)
Papi: So did you ask Solomon any questions to see how smart he is?
J: Yes! We asked him LOTS of questions.
Papi: And did he answer them?
Girls: YES!
A1: I was smarter than him, so I helped him answer the questions.
Papi: How many questions did he answer?
A1: (stopping jumping and suddenly looking very serious) 25.
J: He answered them all!
A1: We stayed there for 20,000 nights, and he took us all over the whole country and it's PERFECT!
Papi: Is it flowing with chocolate and Coca Cola?
A1. No. They have Dr. Pepper and Coca Cola. Here, we brought you some. (handing out pretend drinks)
Moral of the Story: Don't feed a 5-year-old half a package of gummy bears before family devotions. Also, if A1 is telling you a story, that's probably just about all it is: a story. But no one can claim she has poor self-esteem.
In preparation, Joe asked what they would do first when they got home from such a long journey. The answer? "Take off our shoes and play!"
A1 really got into the re-telling:
(Kids run in from hallway, all jumping up and down excitedly like the monopods on the island in the "Voyage of the Dawn Treader," which they continue through the entire story.) WE'RE HOME!!!!
Mommy: Welcome home! How was your trip?
Kids: Great!
Mommy: Did you see Solomon? What was he like?
A1: Yes! He was wearing a crown. It was made out of gold and silver.
Mommy: Wow! So he must be very rich!
Papi: He must have lots of money!
A1: Yes! And he was giving it out to everybody!
Mommy: Well, that's not very smart. Why would he give all his money away?
A1: Yes, he is smart! He is keeping some of it for himself, but he's giving the rest away.
Mommy: So you thought Solomon was pretty smart, huh?
A1: Yes.
Mommy: What did he do that made you think that?
A1: Well, when we got there, he was sleeping.
Mommy: Oh, so did he have a dream?
A1: No we crept into his bedroom and pitched our tents.
Mommy: You pitched your tents in his bedroom?
A1: NO! We pitched our tents OUTSIDE first!
(At this point, A2 demonstrates the tents by dropping suddenly to the floor and covering himself with his blanket.)
Papi: So did you ask Solomon any questions to see how smart he is?
J: Yes! We asked him LOTS of questions.
Papi: And did he answer them?
Girls: YES!
A1: I was smarter than him, so I helped him answer the questions.
Papi: How many questions did he answer?
A1: (stopping jumping and suddenly looking very serious) 25.
J: He answered them all!
A1: We stayed there for 20,000 nights, and he took us all over the whole country and it's PERFECT!
Papi: Is it flowing with chocolate and Coca Cola?
A1. No. They have Dr. Pepper and Coca Cola. Here, we brought you some. (handing out pretend drinks)
Moral of the Story: Don't feed a 5-year-old half a package of gummy bears before family devotions. Also, if A1 is telling you a story, that's probably just about all it is: a story. But no one can claim she has poor self-esteem.
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