Every couple of months or so, I write a blog entry in my head, but by the time I sit down to write it, I have homework to complete, or am too tired, or need to vacuum up the hamster poop from under Rowan’s bed, where the hamster, Caillou, spent a day trying to evade capture.  It was a harrowing escape from his cage, with 4 foot plummets, dashes across rugged terrain laden with petrified remains of an afternoon snack, and two maniacal predators, that stalked the addled little rodent, but were too lazy to actually hunt him.  Instead they just sat on the piano bench, licking their paws, and emitting a half meow/half growl sort of sound and left the actual capture to me.  They licked between their toes, kicked one leg into the air to lick their back sides, and then licked each other’s ears, all the while keeping their eyes locked on Caillou.  This story has a happy ending, because not only was the hamster successfully returned home, but you’re getting a blog post out of it!

It’s been a remarkable year.  The most significant and life-altering event was the death of my dear, sweet best friend.  She was brave and brilliant and inspiring.  She was enchanting and confident and bright.  She was my grandmother.  I miss her more than I knew it was possible to miss someone.  While the pain isn’t as raw, those lugubrious moments still creep through, and I find myself crying over silly things.  Just yesterday there was a cardinal prowling for food, and preening itself on a branch not far from where she used to sit in her room.  There is no longer a bird feeder there, but every now and then a hungry bird will wander over to make sure the food is still gone.  When these little remnants of her life pop up, that hole she left suddenly feels bigger, and I ache to hear her laugh, listen to her read to me, or cuddle in her bed discussing life.  It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been able to experience any of those things, but less selfishly, it’s been nearly a year that Grandma has been out of pain.  It’s been nearly a year that she’s been able to walk and run and jump with her husband, her parents, her family and friends, and her dogs. 🙂  It’s been nearly a year since she arrived at the gates of heaven.  She’s perfect and whole now, and that’s enough for me to be able to let her go from this crumbling world.

This year Rowan and I both ventured into the world of academia!  Rowan started his home school career this fall, and has flourished.  He eagerly devours any work pages I give him, kicks my booty in any educational game, and gently corrects me when he sees I’ve put the days of the week in the wrong order.  (Okay, he laughed his head off and said, “MOOOOOOM, even I know Tuesday comes before Thursday!”)  He loves any arts and crafts we do, and puzzles are easily solved.  I think his favorite thing is when I don’t give him a cap on the amount of books I’ll read to him.  Wobbly stacks of literature surround us on Rowan’s bed where we learn about bats and insects.  We laugh at Curious George, and marvel at  mighty construction vehicles and powerful locomotives.  I’ve started reading to him from Charlotte’s Web, and he’s learning to sit quietly, use his imagination, and to genuinely love words.  It’s magical.  Homeschooling is proving itself to be the best path for my little family.  It provides us ample time to be together, a flexible schedule, and a peace of mind  I certainly wouldn’t have sending my four year old to public school.   I also get a firsthand seat to the greatest show out there-watching my son grow up.  We have such an amazing homeschooling community here, filled with friends and mentors and other parents to encourage me.  Rowan has friends to play with, learn from, and be a wonderful example to him.  Rowan is swiftly on his way to graduating before I do.

I went back to college this fall to chase the geekiest degree I could find: Library Science.  In other words, I want to be a librarian.  Highest paying job out there?  No.  Most prestigious? Not really.  Great benefits?  Not so much.  A job I’ll love doing, won’t bemoan over having to attend daily, and something I’ll be proud to support?  Without a doubt.  My grandmother instilled an intense love of literature in me at a young age.  She exposed me to so many genres and authors that now I love to read everything from biographies to science fiction to the articles in Country Magazine.  She taught me to write and be read to.  She taught me the difference between books to read for fun and books to change the way I view the world.  I want to inculcate, to infuse that same kind of lust for reading into others.  I would thrive in a job like that.

Grandma’s death brought many of her most beloved friends and family into our(her) home.  People poured onto our front porch, and story after story was acquainted of her life.  Many were from her childhood, some were from her adulthood, a few about her death.  There was one recurring theme that popped up no matter where she was, what she was doing, or who she was with.  She gave.  She gave her time and her talents.  She gave everyone a smile.  She gave advise and encouragement.  She gave me a love of words, and some of the best memories of my life.  Every person at that service knew that it was a celebration of who Jean Emily Wetherbee was.  It ended up being the highlight of my summer, as I was able to reconnect with relatives I haven’t seen for years, and meet some I’ve somehow managed to live my whole life without knowing.  We are not perfect, but let me tell you something about my family: we genuinely love each other.  I know I’m sort of biased, but I think my family is pretty cool, and I wish we all lived closer together.

In between all the big stuff this year has been lots of little stuff.  Rowan completely potty trained himself in one day.  Early in the year he just decided that he was done, and would wear underwear now-even at night.  He never had an accident, and I have happily spent all his diaper money on chocolate.  He turned 4, decided he would start reading, and soaked up any form of words people would give him. He’ll sit for as many books as you’ll read to him, he loves hearing different languages, and he’s more stubborn than….than….I was going to say me, but that’s not possible.  He’s just really stubborn, and unlike some parents, I don’t want to punish it out of him.  I want that strength to do what he believes is right, to follow him for the rest of his days.  I know it’s my job to mold that little boy into a man.  He’s not perfect, as nobody is, but he is a wonderful example of love, energy, a hunger for learning, humor, and a mischievous streak a mile long.

I’ve never in my life been so confident with where I am and where I’m going.  I’m happy.  My son is happy.  It’s just the two of us in our little family, but two is all we need.

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