I’ve mentioned that this year, our family chose to participate in a local, weekly co-op. While it’s been a steep learning curve (this is the first time in our 14-year homeschooling journey where our family has had to consider the expectations of others in terms of assignments), I’d say it’s been an overall positive experience for the four children attending — and my husband, who is definitely the cutest Physics teacher ever.
Thursday morning finds us going through the time-honored motions of Homeschool Family Trying to Get Out the Door in the Morning. Really, I have no idea how you brick and mortar school people do it. It’s a huge effort for us to get five people up, dressed, fed, groomed, and out the door by 8 a.m. Go ahead and laugh, all of you who do it on a daily basis.
Once the co-op attendees are out the door, it’s a completely different feeling in these walls. Stripped of all other “big people” and the (ahem) loudest driving force of littles, the remaining parties sit shocked for a few moments, then kick into gear.
It’s Thursday. It’s special.
Left to our own devices, our little foursome has found a rhythm all our own on these co-op days.
First there’s clean-up. And to be honest, clean-up with what amounts to two preschoolers and an infant is just as easy as I remember it being. Which means, not very. While they can lug dry clothes from the laundry, help fold a few things, put the clean utensils away from the dishwasher, and even wipe down the breakfast table, there’s still a load of other morning chores that fall on just me. Thursday is a lovely reminder of how blessed I am to have willing hands sharing the load the rest of the week.
Once the house is tidied up and dinner prep is done, it’s time for school.
Co-op day is Phineas and Simon preschool-focus day. With John Mark and Birdie gone, we suspend our normal work and zero in on the alphabet, counting, fine motor skills, speech, and sequencing. I work those things in as often as I can throughout the rest of the week, but Thursday allows me to design a whole morning around just inching toward our goals in those areas. I keep things as light as possible, and try to intersperse book work with games and songs. Thursdays are pretty challenging for Phineas, and by lunch, he’s done.
After eating and cleaning up (much easier since it’s only four folks being served!), it’s on to Simon’s favorite part of the day: baking.
Thursday’s family Bible Study needs a dessert. Some days it’s a tried and true, like Granny’s Chocolate Cobbler, that must be prepared just before eating. But often, it’s a make-ahead like Homemade Twix Bars, or Key Lime Pie. After lunch, we start the baking party right there, with the good stuff that we’ll enjoy later.
Then it’s on to Phin’s baking. Like many special-needs families, we’ve seen benefits in adhering to a modified GAPS Diet for Phin. I’m sure we’d see more if we were super strict, but right now, our budget can’t handle it. So we do the best we can. Grace, right?
Each Thursday, we bake a week’s worth of Phin-friendly goods to have on hand. Coconut Flour Biscuits are a must (we double the flour to get the right consistency, fyi), Pumpkin Biscuits are a hit, and we’re working our way through modifying this list to see what works and what flops. Some weeks we add GAPS-friendly breads or other tidbits. It really just depends.
And then … then we play.
With dinner simmering and the countdown until we’re reunited in a loud rush with Daddy and the siblings on, we grab some toys and settle in. Phineas and Simon usually start out nearby, but often run off to find Legos or strap on superhero capes. I love watching how they interact together, without anyone else to pull their play up to the next level. They are right where they are — making guys talk, imagining that they are firefighters, setting up train tracks.
And Jude? Without older siblings to catch his eye at every turn, he will flirt with just me for a full hour. I admit it’s selfish, but I love that little window of being the most awesome, the most fun, the one he wants to mimic. Oh, I love sharing his attentions every other day. It’s a beautiful thing, watching a baby army crawl after his 13-year-old brother. But on co-op day, I relish the little taste of my littlest littles being my onlies, just for a few hours.
At the end of the day, when we’re all reassembled and dinner is served, I always heave a contented sigh at seeing the table full again. I wouldn’t want co-op day every day. It’s a nice change of pace. It’s a sweet little Something Different in the week. But despite all of its beauties, its biggest gift is the way it points me back to the richness of my every day.