I am an anomaly, even in the microcosm of the homeschooling world. Day in, day out, I parent across the seasons. I do ortho visits and 6 month check ups. I buy bras and cloth diapers. I play Pat-A-Cake, Uncle Wiggily, Monopoly, and Chess. I count toes, find blankies, praise Lego creations, discuss Predestination, and wipe snotty noses. One foot in the Getting Ready to Launch You Into the Big World camp, one in the Oh, Please Don’t Put That Nasty Thing in Your Mouth group, spread over a whole range of Yes, You Have to Take a Shower and I’ll Read That Book to You One More Time and Then I Really Have to Do Some Dishes.
I Straddle Parent.
I whispered the term to myself a few years ago, googled it, and realized that no, it wasn’t something I had heard somewhere that had planted itself in the recesses of my brain. It was simply my head’s label for what my heart was doing: stretching itself over the framework of my duties as they needed to be portioned out.
Some days, it is exhausting. There are morning when waking up to Simon tugging on my hair after a late night talking over the delicacies of teen relationships feels surreal. There are days when I sit on the floor changing yet another dirty diaper and answering yet another question about Microbiology and think that if I hear another preschooler screaming the Veggie Tales theme song ever, ever again, my head will explode. There are moments when I do the math and total my anticipated total homeschool career (28years, people) and wonder how many times a person has to read Justin Morgan Had a Horse before they are legally insane.