A very wise women once told me to enjoy the early elementary years of homeschool because around 3rd grade things would start to get a little more difficult. I couldn’t have possibly understood what she meant but her words proved to be true.
So, when she told me to take a deep breath and enjoy the later elementary years because 6th grade was going to sucker punch me…I listened and took her advice.
For me, it’s a combination of homeschooling four kids at the same time and one of them being in sixth grade but long gone are the days of finger paint, craft projects and theme oriented snack times. Goodbye fun mom, may you rest in peace.
I’ve learned that I’m more likely to do “fun things” if I incorporate them into our school day because lets be honest…when the weekend rolls around there’s a long list of other things I’d rather do.
For the last couple of weeks we’ve replaced our regular science curriculum with random egg science experiments from the internet and reached a unanimous decision- eggs are really cool!
Who knew eggs were strong enough to stand on? And how adorable is Breck’s face in this photo? He couldn’t contain his excitement from this experiment.
We learned that with a few items you probably already have in your house you can completely remove the shell of an egg leaving only the membrane intact. When the shell is removed the egg absorbs the liquid it’s floating in which makes it larger.
The boys made predictions of how many books could be stacked on top of a raw egg before it cracked. We were horribly off on our predictions when our egg held 18 books. If you try this experiment be sure to put plastic under the egg. You’ll thank me later. The creativity came out when each of us had to come up with a way to protect our egg in the “Egg Drop Challenge.”
And of course I jumped at the chance to stick a label on something but you probably already knew that.
And oddly enough, it turns out wrapping a raw egg in Play-Doh is an excellent form of protection.
In an effort to check the “school box” I made journals for the boys to record the information in each day. Do you see what I did there? Cheesy, I know, but I just couldn’t resist. Happy Easter!
When we first moved into this apartment a couple of years ago I noticed I was getting shocked when I touched the stove, microwave or coffee pot.
I’m not referring to an uncomfortable “tingle” like when you were a kid and stuck your tongue to a 9 volt battery. I mean more of an all out “sling raw eggs across the kitchen while trying to cook breakfast” kind of shock.
We eventually found an electrician who told us our apartment wasn’t grounded and that he could fix it. He pulled the stove out from the wall and proceeded to drive a nail into the tile with a piece of wire wrapped around it. He pounded the nail deep into the tile and pushed the stove back in place. Viola! Problem solved.I have no idea what he did or why he did it. But, I do know it worked and my time in the kitchen was a lot less “electrifying” from that point on.
Unfortunately, the problem has returned. And while I’ve yet to sling raw egg across the kitchen, I have dropped a pot or two and screamed like a little girl.
“Call the electrician” is on my to do list but in the meantime I’ve had to get creative.
Whenever I’m cooking anything in my oven or on the stovetop I try to remember to put on shoes with a rubber sole so I won’t get shocked…which sounds a lot easier than it really is.
All too often I’m barefooted and my shoes are upstairs. If I don’t have time to run and get them I have to grab the next closest thing which usually turns out to be Britten’s flip flops. Stylish. I know.If Britten happens to be wearing his flip flops then I just grab whichever shoe I can squeeze my foot into. That often times is a little boy’s size six, which leaves me trying to shimmy my fat toes into enough of the shoe that I don’t get zapped.
But the most attractive ensemble is when I come straight home from the gym and kick my shoes off only to realize I need to take something out of the oven and I’m only wearing socks. Don’t judge, it’s all in the name of safety.
And while I won’t be winning any fashion awards anytime soon, at least I’m not cleaning up splattered egg.