The one time I bought Sage a workbook I think he was about nine. He was more suspicious than enthusiastic and thumbed through it listlessly. He gave a half-hearted go at a couple of the exercises, and flipped more pages.

Suddenly he came fully to life.

He had stumbled upon a sequencing exercise titled “Let’s Build a Robot”. The “instructions” were out of order and the activity was simply to rearrange the text into the proper order. I was surprised how excited he was, but felt a little smug in seeming him get so stoked on a workbook. See? This can be fun!

I think you see where this is going.

He read for a minute, flipped forward then back a couple of pages, and then looked at me confused.

“The instructions are incomplete. I think there’s a page missing or something. I don’t get how you’re supposed to be able to build a robot from this.”

When I explained to him that you didn’t really build a robot but just rearranged the incomplete instructions he looked at me with a face that said, in essence:

“That is the lamest thing I have ever heard.”

He never touched the workbook again.

There are many ways to learn. We learn by wondering, reading, creating, questioning, exploring, watching.

And here, in our world, we learn mostly by doing.

Does this mean workbooks are bad? Not at all. Lupine loves to have math worksheets printed out and can lose herself for hours in a workbook filled with puzzles and exercises.

Because learning is not a one-size-fits-all experience.

And I believe – with the right attitude and presence of mind – learning happens all the time.

So when some friends who go to school asked Lupine what she did all day and she replied with a shrug, “Nothing, really.” I have two responses. First, I freak out a teensy bit that maybe I’m not doing enough after all (interwoven with “I really hope they don’t tell their parents she said that”). Second (after I calm myself down) I realize that learning is such a natural part of her life that she doesn’t even notice it happening.

Without workbooks.

Without curriculum.

Without tests.

Without ever “doing school”.

Just through curiously, wakefully engaging in this life.

Sage did end up building a robot not long after that fated workbook experience. It was as satisfying a project as you could expect. He recently found a second-hand robotic vacuum that he is taking apart to see if he can reuse parts from it to build a customized robot as well.

And the learning continues.

In so many ways.

In the past few weeks, as it turns out, we have spent time experimenting with cheesemaking, blacksmithing, knitting, sewing, pattern design, meat-grinding, confectionery, woodworking, electronics, small business launching, and the buying-and-cooking-of-veggies-we-have-never-tasted-before.

And it turns out that “nothing” that we do all day? It’s really something after all.

As some of you will remember, when Sage was nine he creates a small business selling hand-dyed play silks. They were a hit and he quickly sold all he that he could make. He's been on sabbatical (save a stint making tiny terrariums) ever since.

Lupine started a business of her own at the sweet age of six, offering up homemade scented play dough. After two weeks she shut down her Etsy sales to keep from being buried in orders!

Yesterday, after much deliberation, they decided to both jump back in the game and begin to sell their signature products once more. They're joining forces a bit, and decided to offer both products under one new name.

Introducing… Forest Kids!

Sage and Lupine are currently accepting pre-orders for play Sage's play silks and Lupine's play dough (from now until Tuesday, November 24).

Items will be made to order and delivered before the Solstice and Christmas season.

You can find their current product listings in the "Kid Made" section of my Etsy shop, here.

Many thanks for supporting their ambitions homeschooling/small business project!

You can read more here about how running their own small business provides learning opportunities to our kids.

After we returned from our trip to Maine I came up with a new homeschooling rhythm for our family. While we don't follow a curriculum and we do follow our children's interests and needs, I was feeling the need for more structure – less for them and more for me.

So we set aside time for various things  with me and also devoted time with Pete. That means that now, each week while I'm at work, these three set to work as well on the project of their choice.

Project day with Papa! What could be more fun than that?

During the very first day of our new "project plan" I got a text from Pete's phone while I was at work. There was a picture of a wooden frame up in the branches of a box elder tree and the words, "My project today. Guess what it is! – Lupine"

Of course I knew what it was in an instant. Her tree house project had begun!

While she is quick to find "secret" trees and magical nooks around our farm, it was her first more-or-less permanent addition to one of her special places.

While Pete and Sage have been working on an epic tree house for the past year, Lupine had not been interested in building one herself. But last week, after watching a bit more work unfold on Sage's, Lupine decided that she was ready for a space of her very own.

And through this project so much learning will unfold. From basic math to basic construction, a bit of plant taxonomy and physics – and let's not dismiss the confidence building that's going on. All that – and only on the first day!

What a wonderful project to claim for herself. I can't wait to see what else they create.

 

Originally posted in September 2013.

These shall be our "first day of…" photos for the year.

The first day of school is always an interesting day for me as a homeschooler. Especially as an unschooler.

My facebook feed is a parade of back-to-school smiles from kids I know well and kids I don't know well.

From coast to coast and beyond.

Back! To! School!

And it's exciting. And beautiful. And I get butterflies in my own tummy for those little ones off on this grand adventure, many for the first time.

But over here, it's just Tuesday.

There is no school to get back to. No photos to take of us lined up at the bus stop.

Just us. In our jammies. Making tea and doughnuts.

If I'm being honest it's a little bittersweet.

Because I'm actually someone who had a pretty great public school experience growing up.

And so somehow I'm hardwired to the rhythm of September and "back-to-school".

The new notebooks and pencils, the I-hope-I-like-my-teacher jitters, the backpack and the lunchbox, the I-hope-my-best-friend-is-in-my-class longing, the big bus rumbling down my street.

And for my kids that all so foreign.

It's something they've heard about from their friends and read about in books. But it's not their thing.

Their lives have very much remained unchanged since they arrived. It's our life and our life learning, day after day.

So there's no "first day of 6th grade".

There are no grades at all.

(I actually just had to do the math to determine what grades my kids would be in where they going to school. First and Sixth as it turns out.)

And August and September aren't really so different from one another except that the tomatoes are coming in.

And I love that. With my whole heart. I count it on my very short list of blessings each day.

But like any parent, I want to make the best choices for my kids.

And so my shadow self whispers in my ear, "Are you sure? Are you totally sure of this path? Because everyone else is doing something different."

And I'm thankful for that dark little voice.

Because I hear it. I dig in. I ask questions. I roll the idea around in my head.

What would it be like if we made a different choice?

Because personally I don't think school is bad or judge anyone for their choice to send their kids there.

It can be a wonderful experience! Just as homeschooling can.

But it has to be a fit.

And so I hear that little voice, year after year, and then I always remember what brought me to this path.

I look at my kids and I ask myself, "Are they thriving? Are they learning? Are they on fire and loving life most every day?"

Heck yes.

I truly can't imagine how we could be happier.

And so we begin another day. Another season. Another year.

Together.

At home.

 

And as I am each September, I'm so thankful for today.

 

You might also enjoy this, this, and this.

 

When I was on the brink of turning thirteen I'm pretty sure I only knew that "forge" was a verb that had something to do with your parent's signature, and "quench" was how you satisfied your thirst after a long bike ride.

And a blacksmith? That was someone you saw at Old World Wisconsin on the fourth grade field trip. Not a real person in the real world. And certainly not me.

But around here, life (and learning) is a little different than it was when I was a kid. And I mean "different" in a really wonderful way.

Because as positive as my public school experience was growing up in the '70's and '80's, for us this is school: my kid with a red hot piece of iron and a hammer on a June afternoon.

Our homeschooling mission is to dig in and do whatever we're imagining.

Even if on the surface it doesn't seem "academic".

Or "practical". Or "realistic". Or even possible sometimes.

That thing you've been dreaming of? Whatever it may be? Yeah. That. Let's get to work on it. Today.

 

Make a plan and make it happen. That our homeschooling path.

A model train layout based on the history and geography of the Driftless region, a small wooden car that runs on a lawnmower engine, lots of from-scratch candy making, fresh baked bread, a peroxide-powered rocket, a battle bot, a tree house, and a blacksmithed sword are all on Sage's current project list.

Will he finish them all? Probably not. But will he learn a great deal along the way? Absolutely.

So yes, he could spend his time sitting at a desk memorizing facts and taking tests. I'm certain there are things he'd know more about if he did. But are they the things that he is driven to learn about? Are they the things that would feed his insatiable hunger for knowledge?

I am certain they are not.

Instead, his time is spent literally fanning the fires in his blacksmithing forge as he figuratively fans the fires of his passion for knowledge.

The forge may not look academic, but it is feeding his love of learning each and every day.

And instead of constantly seeing how he compares to his classmates in any given subject, he sees his own dreams taking shape by the power of his young hands.

 

We learn by imagining, planning, and doing without limits. 

We learn through our passions and interests; through trying, failing, and trying again.

Sure, we sit down and crank out some spelling words or practice our cursive now and then, but that is the exception, not the rule. Instead we learn – not by constantly looking at where we fall short – but instead by believing in ourselves and knowing we can do whatever we put our minds to.

It's learning with not only our heads, but also our hearts and our hands.

And for us that's learning of the best possible sort.

 

 

I wonder what it's like to grow up here.

Like this.

With a daily rhythm so different from the one I knew as a child.

Here, where there is no alarm clock, no hurrying for the bus, no homework. Where both learning and chores have a different context than I knew growing up. Certainly, much of our learning happens around the kitchen table with books and supplies piled high, or in the woods, the workshop, the library, and out in the world. But an abundance of it also happens here.

On the farm.

Together each morning we bring a warm bottle to the lamb who couldn't figure out nursing. Little Buttercup. We have watched him go from scrawny to strong with each meal we provide.

We haul hay, feed minerals, give herbs, and fill water.

We gather eggs – some to sell, some to eat, and some to hatch.

We tend the eggs in the incubator. First quail and chickens, now turkeys, then ducks.

We pause our work to watch the cranes fly down the valley or the eagles circle back onto their nest.

We listen to the cluck of a happy hen and the hooting of a barred owl in the woods, then laugh at the joyous romps of a hungry lamb.

 

Each morning – long after the school bus goes by – this is how we start our day.

Out here with the chickens, sheep, goats, and ducks.

Here we develop focus and discipline. We do research and experiments and learn through hard work and loss. We practice patience and discover an intimate connection to our food cycle and the earth and the seasons. And yes, so much more.

 

And so each morning this is where you'll find us.

Lingering a bit longer than we need to after our chores are done, soaking up the lessons that this little farm provides.

 

 

We've never done the "number-of-days-until-the-kids-go-back-to-school" countdown.

We aren't buying school clothes, new book bags, or notebooks.

And we won't be filling backpacks, packing lunches, or hustling kids to the bus stop – not today, not tomorrow, perhaps not ever.

But that's A-OK with us.

Because we love homeschooling. For so many reasons.

And while I know many of my readers are happily waving goodbye to kids getting on the school bus this morning, others are home, digging in with their children during a new season of learning together.

We didn't always know we would homeschool.

We thought about it for years, but didn't jump until the day of Sage's kindergarten registration.

As we headed out the door to the Waldorf school just down the block I got cold feet. I looked at Pete and sputtered, "Let's just homeschool!" Thankfully he agreed.

We turned around, went back inside, and changed our lives forever.

Let's just homeschool.

As though that was a more simple decision then sending them to school.

Let's just be single-handedly in charge of their entire education.

Let's just be together, day in day out, month after month, year after year.

Let's just pretend we know everything about everything and are even qualified for this job.

 

Let's just fly to the moon before lunchtime. Shall we?

But as it turns out, it was easy. It is easy. And seriously fun. No, not easy in the "I-have-nothing-but-free-time" way, but easy in a way I wasn't expecting.

Easy in the sense that I don't need to know it all and most of what we do comes naturally to all of us.

Day after day, year after year. We're thriving.

And this life is richer and more authentic than anything I ever imagined when we set off down this road.

What does homeschooling look like?

There are many different ways to homeschool. 

Our family has chosen a path that is secular, interest-lead, and experiential. We also happen to live on a small homestead so a good deal of our learning is farm-based as well.

Other families choose to follow a curriculum and homeschool in a way that more resembles school. Some also include religion as a core piece of their homeschool.

And that, perhaps, is part of the beauty of homeschooling: each family can find a way to do it that fits their children's learning style and their family's goals, beliefs, and priorities.

As for our family, we are "whole life learners" (or unschoolers or eclectic homeschoolers… there isn't really a name for what we do). We don't "do school" at all unless the kids are hungry for formal lessons on a subject of their choosing.

That means you'll almost never find me acting like a teacher or our kids acting much like students. You won't find us gathered around the table with worksheets and textbooks and serious expressions.

Very little is compulsory. And nearly everything is interest-driven.

We live our life and learn as we go. It's a perfect fit for us.

Is homeschooling for you? Maybe yes, and maybe no. It's not for everyone.

But for my reader friends who are on a similar path (or contemplating taking the leap), this post is for you. Here are ten reasons why I'm thankful to be homeschooling again this year.

1. Learning without limits

We learn about what we want, where we want, when we want.

Filing away on a piece of copper, my 11-year old asked us (at bedtime) if we thought "copper has a low currie point", a magnetic principle I had never even heard of. After he explained currie point he began gathering supplies for his experiment.

Even though it was nearing 10 PM we had no reason to stop him.

If he's on fire to learn, why would we reign him in?

So whether learning is taking place in the morning, the afternoon, or long after bedtime; whether it's happening in the garden, the workshop, the kitchen, or the woods, it's happening. In a beautiful, boundless sort of way.

2. The perfect pace

Children learn best when they learn at their own pace.

When my son could not read at seven I wasn't worried.

I knew that the countries with the highest literacy rates didn't even begin to teach reading until seven and the doorway to literacy was just opening – not closing.

Each child has their own right time to learn that you can't put on a schedule.

So we read together every day – as we had since he was a baby – and by 8 1/2 he was reading with ease. By 10 he was devouring thick, advanced chapter books at around 400 pages per day and today as he nears 12 he won't head into the weekend at ease until he knows he has at least two to three thick (think Tolkien) books at the ready.

He never thought he was slow, behind, or late. He never learned to hate reading becasue it was hard. He just knew when he was ready and jumped in without hesitation.

Learning at each child's pace makes all the difference. There are no tears. No anxiety. No stress. Just a love of learning a new skill to take with them into the world.

3. Freedom from pop culture

You really can't beat the dress code around here.

Homeschoolers are a notoriously low-key bunch when it comes to appearances. Everyone does their own thing and no one bats an eye. It's sort of expected.

With everyone marching to their own beat there is no pressure to be "cool" which I value so much in this era of distorted body image and Photoshop.

So no, we might not have "School Spirit" week but yes, we do have Pajama Day. There is also the occasional head-to-toe camouflage day, 1920's movie star day, gnome day, fairy day, arctic explorer day, and so-much-glitter-everywhere day.

Whatever we're feeling that day, that's who we can become.

And so as homeschoolers who our children are or what they wear is authentic and fueled from finding their true essence, not by what the crowd thinks is hip. And they each have the space to develop their preferences from within – not from without.

4. We're raising rule-breakers

Because obedience is over-rated.

I know what you're thinking. Raising rule-breakers is not a goal of most parents. But when I reflect on my own 40-some years, learning to break the rules was good for my health, my happiness, and my life.

Because I didn't obediently follow the status-quo of our culture. I made different choices than my friends and neighbors on just about everything. I broke the go-to-school-get-a-job-buy-a-car-and-a-house rule and started my own business. I made free-thinking choices around work, marriage, birth, parenting, lifestyle, and education.

I followed my heart.

And I want to give my kids that same gift.

Because breaking some rules now and then can give you the life you've always dreamed of.

And to believe that if something isn't working you should dig in and change it? That's a fine way to set off for adulthood.

Does that mean our home is anarchy?

Not at all. It's surprising peaceful. More so than average I suspect.

Because rules in place here are mindfully applied, and everyone agrees on them. And if a rule isn't working we come together to modify it into something that works for everyone.

How's that for a life-skill to take with you into the world?

5. This will not be on the test

Because there are no tests. Ever. On anything.

No pressure, no stress, no anxiety.

No homework either, just endless hours to get lost in reading, creating, exploring, and learning. And that means we don't waste time preparing for something that will not deepen our understanding.

We learn until we are full with something, then move our passion to another subject.

I can't think of a more peaceful, motivating, or rewarding way to learn.

 

6. Life-long love of learning

Our educational goal is not to fill our kids with facts. Our goal is to raise passionate learners.

Seekers. Questioners. Inventors. Problem-solvers. Out-of-the-box thinkers. All of which I think the world could use more of in the coming years. Do I need my son to memorize the capitals of every US state? Absolutely not. Do I need to drill him on history when he's pumped about chemistry? Nope. Because that would miss the point entirely.

And so even though I never planned it this way, my eleven year old can teach you how to make cobb walls, how to forge a sword, and how to wire a circuit board. He's building a motorized wooden car (big enough to ride in) and is putting the finishing touches on a DIY robot. He's passionate about chemistry and eager to design inventions.

Meanwhile my seven year old can teach you how to make an herbal poultice for a bee sting, how hand-milking a cow differs from hand-milking a goat, and what lemon balm is good for (medicinally and culinary). She can identify more wildflower and bird species than her trained naturalist mother, can share the names and stories of the major and minor Greek gods and goddesses, and help you bake a perfect batch of gluten-free cupcake. She's also passionate about all things French.

Our children fall in love with concepts, project, or subjects and devour all they can.

Will there be gaps in their knowledge? Sure, for the moment. But learning how to learn is much better than committing facts to short-term memory for the sake of a test. If they know how to learn, no gap is permanent.

7. Life skills

They're learning practical skills that can keep them alive. (Which seems sort of important.)

My children's homeschooling includes developing skills in how to plant, tend, and harvest a garden. How to safely forage. What plants are good medicine and which plants are poison. Also how to care for farm animals, evaluate health problems, and treat sick animals. How to split firewood and preserve food. How to carve, sew, knit, and forge.

How to do real, old-fashioned things with your hands that can actually keep you alive.

We're also learning modern skills that can keep you alive in a more 2014 way. By paying the bills. Like learning how to create and run a small business. How to earn and save money. How to budget, determine cost-of-goods, how to put together a spreadsheet. How to write code.

And how to be happy doing it.

These are good skills to have, with our without a zombie apocalypse or impending global meltdown.

8. This is the real world

All day, everyday.

Our days are spent doing real work in the real world. No busy work, no killing time, no crowd control.

Just learning and working and living, together. So we have time to visit our inventor neighbor to see his latest cedar shingle splitting tool or his DIY apple grinder and press or take a tour of his restored prairie.

And after that the food we harvest and cook from the garden is real. The small business that my children start are real. The robots they build are real.

All of it. Real. Nothing happens here to merely teach a concept. 

9. We're together

Family time is central to our days.

Because we are together so often I have had the pleasure to get to know my kids better than I ever imagined. I love the time we spend together and so do our kids.

Because being together full-time is truly our joy.

By frequent almost constant togetherness we've gotten to know each other's needs and nuances in a deeper way. When Lupine and Sage went away with my parents for a weekend my mom reported that, "He knows her so well," when he helped her express a sadness she wasn't sharing with her grandparents so they could find a solution.

We get each other.

Childhood is short. I'm happy we get to spend it together.

10. We're happy!

Truly, deeply happy.

This is what so much of it comes down to. We're happy most of the time. To a person.

We love the freedom that our lifestyle provides, we love the family dynamics that have developed, we love learning – together – day after day. We love the relaxed schedule, the love of learning, the everything.

So no, you won't find me counting down until the first day of school. Because everyday is much like the last in that our family is happily together, learning as we grow.

And I'm so, so glad.

 

Happy back to homeschool, friends!

 

 

Craving more inspiration? You can read more about our homeschooling path here.

This post by Ben Hewett about his family's learning journey is wonderful.

We love SImple Homeschool. It's a fabulous resource for families starting out on their homeschooling journey.

 

 

Oh, my. It is all kinds of cold out there.

The sort of cold that chases even the sheep inside to escape the wind.

The sort of cold that has the eggs – just laid this morning – frozen solid before we can hurry them into the house.

Last night the wind shook the whole house, and I gave thanks for the strong branches and deep roots on the trees outside our bedroom.

That kind of cold.

Yes, this is Wisconsin. And yes, it's January. But still. That cold wind means business.

Enough so that schools are cancelled for the fourth? fifth? time this winter. 

 

I briefly contemplated us taking the day off, too. A homeschool snow day! How fun is that?

And then my kids, just in from farm chores, set to work on their learning projects.

No one asked them to. Or told them to. Or even hinted.

It's just what they do. Day after day.

 

Sage is making a model of a nuclear reactor out of straws, bottles, and cardboard.

Lupine is creating her own letter book with each letter representing a country ("What 'I' words come from Japan?…ooh! Island!")

I guess that settles it. Homeschool as usual.

 

Because we don't follow a curriculum.

We don't sit down and "do school".

We learn – all day, everyday.

But that said, I'm not sure there is a name for what we do.

 

When the kids were small I identified myself as a Waldorf-inspired homeschooler.

I think mostly I liked the soft colors and the wooden toys, an understated contrast to the flashing lights and bright plastic found in most playrooms.

I loved the dolls. The blocks. The songs. The magic.

I loved that children are not taught to read until eight or nine years old.

Okay, mostly I loved the gnomes.

Love, love, love.

 

But as the kids got older I discovered that I wasn't really Waldorf.

What I adopted was mostly the aesthetic and the commitment to natural materials.

Waldorf homeschooling schedule for learning? Not so much.

I wasn't ready to dig in and do school at home in a Waldorf way.

But I took so much away from Waldorf that we still enjoy, day after day.

 

So I sat with it a bit and realized that what we were doing was much more like unschooling than Waldorf.

Everything in it's own time.

Self-taught readers.

Math from real life.

Children in charge of their own reality; their own learning.

No pressure.

No schedule.

Freedom.

 

Oh, yes. That felt so right… at first.

 

But lately I'm realizing that we might not be unschoolers either.

Not in the "radical unschooling" definition that has become the norm anyway.

Because unschooling as a philosophy can bring with it a whole package of things we just don't do either.

We limit media.

We actively encourage projects (nudge! nudge! push!) that will help our kids acquire skills.

We make our kids do chores. (Lovingly, yes, but we make them do it just the same.)

And we hang out around the table every day, doing lessons – working on skills that we want to develop, even if they are hard and we sometimes want to quit.

 

I think I was drawn to the freedom of unschooling, but just enough to fit our personalities.

 

Maybe that still makes us unschoolers. But maybe not. I don't really know.

 

So today I'm not sure what we are.

Like other parts of my life, I'm happy to just make it up as I go along without having a name for it.

I think if I had to choose a name for what we do I would call us "interest-led, project-based unschoolers."

 

Because our days are driven by our interests.

And almost everything they learn comes through hands-on, real-life projects, of their own choosing.

Like the business my kids are starting (together).

Like the lessons they take each week in town.

Like the only "schooly" thing we do – math lessons – around our table each morning. They chose that. They wanted to take their skills further. And I'm pushing them along to stick with it.

And the thing is, even when we don't make time for math around the table learning is happening.

Through exploring the world.

Through walks in the woods.

Through projects and baking and crafts and books.

Through this life, lived deeply every day.

 

Because, you know what? We couldn't stop learning – even if we wanted to.

 

 

 

 

These shall be our "first day of…" photos for the year.

The first day of school is always an interesting day for me as a homeschooler. Especially as an unschooler.

My facebook feed is a parade of back-to-school smiles from kids I know well and kids I don't know well.

From coast to coast and beyond.

Back! To! School!

And it's exciting. And beautiful. And I get butterflies in my own tummy for those little ones off on this grand adventure, many for the first time.

But over here, it's just Tuesday.

There is no school to get back to. No photos to take of us lined up at the bus stop.

Just us. In our jammies. Making tea and doughnuts.

If I'm being honest it's a little bittersweet.

Because I'm actually someone who had a pretty great public school experience growing up.

And so somehow I'm hardwired to the rhythm of September and "back-to-school".

The new notebooks and pencils, the I-hope-I-like-my-teacher jitters, the backpack and the lunchbox, the I-hope-my-best-friend-is-in-my-class longing, the big bus rumbling down my street.

And for my kids that all so foreign.

It's something they've heard about from their friends and read about in books. But it's not their thing.

Their lives have very much remained unchanged since they arrived. It's our life and our life learning, day after day.

So there's no "first day of 6th grade".

There are no grades at all.

(I actually just had to do the math to determine what grades my kids would be in where they going to school. First and Sixth as it turns out.)

And August and September aren't really so different from one another except that the tomatoes are coming in.

And I love that. With my whole heart. I count it on my very short list of blessings each day.

But like any parent, I want to make the best choices for my kids.

And so my shadow self whispers in my ear, "Are you sure? Are you totally sure of this path? Because everyone else is doing something different."

And I'm thankful for that dark little voice.

Because I hear it. I dig in. I ask questions. I roll the idea around in my head.

What would it be like if we made a different choice?

Because personally I don't think school is bad or judge anyone for their choice to send their kids there.

It can be a wonderful experience! Just as homeschooling can.

But it has to be a fit.

And so I hear that little voice, year after year, and then I always remember what brought me to this path.

I look at my kids and I ask myself, "Are they thriving? Are they learning? Are they on fire and loving life most every day?"

Heck yes.

I truly can't imagine how we could be happier.

And so we begin another day. Another season. Another year.

Together.

At home.

 

And as I am each September, I'm so thankful for today.

 

You might also enjoy this, this, and this.

 

We started a needed shift in how we view ourselves – and others – in my messy kitchen last week.

Let's keep this conversation going.

I'm over on Simple Homeschool today, embracing imperfection.

My post is here. Won't you join me?

Love,
Rachel