it's time for the weekly 'what's up'!

IT IS FRIDAY, YOU GUYS, AND I AM... well, flummoxed.  How is it Friday already?  And how does this question get raised every single week?  I think I just need to develop a more accurate understanding of how time works.  I need to wake up on Monday mornings and tell myself, "Paige.  Time passes.  It moves on.  You will not expect it to, but it will.  Do not be surprised when it does.  Friday is coming."

That might work... except that I suspect that if I did that, I would wake up every Monday morning asking myself, "How is it Monday morning again already?  How is it pep talk time again?"  I think I will be a perpetual failure at this kind of realism.

Well, whatever.  Realist or not, Friday has come to get me yet again.

It has actually been a somewhat eventful week!  After taking last week really slowly, including slacking on our school week, we really geared up this week and tackled a few things that have needed tackling.  Topping the list was my heroic follow-through in painting our bedroom!  I painted the ceiling two months ago, and then I threw a couple of paint swatches on the wall, and then I just... abandoned ship.  (That's kind of my painting M.O.  I hate painting so much that when I have to do it, I usually do it in stages, give myself time to regroup in between, and then go back to it only when I can't stand looking at it in its dismal, half-finished state anymore.)

Before, with just the ceiling freshly painted (and obviously still wet), and everything minimally drop-cloth'd.

But this weekend, a fire lit in me to get it done, so I knew I needed to get a move on: usually these whims don't last long, so I have to take advantage of them when they come, and move fast to get it finished before my motivation crashes.  But finish I did, and it looks awesome.  Unfortunately, you'll have to just take my word on it, because I didn't get any photos.

Because here's the other thing about decorating: every step forward only serves to highlight the next four steps you haven't tackled yet.  When I painted, I took down the curtain rods, patched the holes, and rehung them higher and wider than they were (hoo! ray!)… however, the flimsy, ramshackle rods the previous owners had left were neither strong enough nor long enough to span the new width.  So now I need new curtain rods before I can rehang the curtains.  But my modest decorating budget was bottomed out when I did Callista's room a few months ago (which I still need to show you - it looks so good), so I need to wait while I save up for new rods, and in the meantime our room is curtain-less, a state of sadness that even new paint can't cure.

Oh well.  On the bright side of things, almost every single room on our main level has now been painted since our move-in, including all the ceilings, with the single exception of the girls' bedroom.  This house has come a long way from the first days of living here, when it looked like I was walking around inside a hollowed-out booger.  And that, friends, is progress.

In other major news, our next door neighbor's house was the target of a shooting.  At 2:30 Saturday morning, someone drove up along the side of the road, and put seven bullets into the side of the house, a few of them actually penetrating all the way through both exterior and interior walls.  Our neighbor was home at the time, though unhurt, thank goodness.  I assume it was drug related, and if so, I'm fairly confident I've previously seen the people who did it.

What does it mean for us?  Well, other than the fact that the kids got a front row seat to an all-day police show, not a whole lot.  Our neighborhood is usually really, really quiet and safe, and I really don't think anyone's in further danger around here, especially knowing the neighbor has since moved out or gone into hiding.  The kids are not super shaken up by all the unusual activity, and life is basically back to normal.  It's just a weird story to have in my back pocket, like, "'Member that time someone shot the house next door?!!"  Who gets to say that?  Well, now I do!  I'm going to tuck that little nugget away for the next time we play "Two Truths and a Lie," to use right alongside the story about the time I got hit by lightning.  (Have I told you that story yet?  I feel like I would remember having told you.)

Anyway, those were clearly the most exciting things happening this week, and both the police canvassing and the new paint job were over by Saturday afternoon, so I think you can guess the rest of the week had no choice but to be comparatively dull.

We got school done.  We're scheduled for chiropractor appointments today.  I served literally every single meal this week on paper plates because I am clearly losing the battle of life.  I just do not have it in me to use real plates.

Other than that, Finneas wins Star Brother this week for being the absolute cutest.

Reading a book to Rocco.

Letting Lissy play in the fort he built.

And lastly, in Nerd News, I got waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more excited than is adequately justifiable to anyone not using Ambleside Online as their homeschool curriculum.  (And, if you're not, you probably should be, if only so you can understand my excitement!)  I had gone to the Classics sale at the library, and left mildly disappointed after only finding a couple books of interest.  However, a week later, we were back at the library picking up a few items on hold, and there were some stragglers left over from the sale, marked 50% off.  Among the stacks, I found not one, but two copies of Halliburton's Complete Book of Marvels and I may or may not have responded with shouts that were entirely inappropriate in a library.

You guys.  This book is out of print.  It is difficult to find at all, and when it is found, it is often $50 or higher.  I have been praying to find a reasonably priced copy for the day we need it in our own school stacks (it is for a higher grade than we're currently in), and guess how much these were priced at.  Just guess.

$6.50 each.  I felt like the Queen of England, though I don't really know that the Queen of England really gets much of a rush from finding a good deal on other people's old, smelly books.  But like any good Queen, I bought them both.  Just. Because.  I. Could.  I mean, they were $6.50 each!  (Look at me, throwing cash around like royalty.)

Only a homeschooler can understand the thrill.

In all, it was a really good week!  For everyone but our neighbor, that is...

how to avoid getting negative comments about your kids when you're out in public.

Well, it seems that earlier this week, I may have touched on a subject a lot of people can relate to - being told by older women to 'just enjoy these days' with small children.  A lot of the discussion that ensued reminded me of another common experience we have all probably dealt with at one time or another: random comments or questions in public about our kids/our families/our fertility choices - some of them nice, some of them, well, not-so-nice.

Next week, I'll give you a few examples of how I field the most frequent comments I receive ("You have your hands full!"  "You must be busy!"  "Are they all yours?"  "You know how that happens, right?" etc. etc. and on and on and on).  But I think more helpful than learning how to react to comments when they come is learning how to sidestep them in the first place.

Want to know how to get people to stop saying stuff like this to you?  I know you do!

In short, you can't get people to stop saying stuff like this to you entirely (anti-climactic, sorry), so my first piece of advice is...

1. Be realistic.

Whether you have two kids or ten, you will get comments.  Honestly, I think it's mostly because kids are a talking point, and sometimes strangers just want to say something.  If you stop getting defensive every single time someone, in their own awkward way, points out the obvious fact that you have children in order to start a small conversation with you, you'll get along swimmingly.  Expect comments, just learn to steer them in a positive direction!


2a.  Be on the lookout, and...

Keep your eyes up.  You will be able to see a Conversationalist coming.  You will watch them count your kids with their eyes, and then glance up at you with that telltale look of Impending Words, and then...

Look like this...

2b. SMILE AT THEM!

Seriously.  This is my secret weapon.  Smile your biggest, friendliest smile.  Don't look like you think they just crawled out of a dumpster.  Don't look like you're girding your loins.  Look friendly and relaxed and open to conversation.  (You probably aren't friendly and relaxed and open to conversation if you're trucking your kids around the grocery store, but that doesn't matter to the Conversationalist, so just fake it until you make it - for your own sake.)

This works because when you smile, it steals the wind from the sails of the people who are about to try to commiserate with you over how horrible kids are.  It makes them like you more, and perhaps like their own negativity less, which makes them less likely to say something prickly if they still insist on saying something.  In other words, it immediately sorts the benign sheep from the (bull-headed? jackassy? other negative farm descriptor?) goats.  Of course, you're going to get a goat that sneaks through from time to time, because that's the nature of goats (they're wiley), but most of them will be shepherded in the other direction - eyes rolling, of course, but like I said, that's the nature of goats.

Then, when the sheep-half of the spectrum attempts a conversation, you're starting off with a smile.  You're giving them the benefit of the doubt.  So when they ask you, 'Are they all yours?' and you say, 'They are!  Aren't I lucky?' they will likely respond with, 'They're just beautiful!' and you will both smile and move on with your day, glad to have crossed paths.  (If you think this is nonsense, I will tell you this exact conversation happened to me at Aldi on Monday.  It is not uncommon.  It's the Secret of the Smile, I swear to you.)

...not like this.

A few PROACTIVE SUB-POINTS!

These handy tips will work.  I stand by them.  But there are a few extra things you can do to keep your success rate sky-high.

Proactive Sub-Point A:  Discipline your kids.  

Not at the store, that's not what I'm saying.  If you're waiting until you get out in public before you start expecting them to listen to you, you have already allowed that ship to sail.  But if you discipline them well at home, and hold them to standards of civility on a day-to-day basis, you will likely not have many issues at the store.  They will be pleasant and generally well-mannered (even though, yes, they will still be little sinners.  Being in public sometimes exacerbates this, I know.  But do what you can).  Warmly but firmly expect them to respect and obey your authority at home, and they will not act like heathen in public, because they respect you, and like you, and know you mean business.

  

Proactive Sub-Point B: Prepare your kids.  

Before you go ANYWHERE in public, walk them through your expectations: "When we get inside, do we wander from the cart? No.  Do we talk loudly, or try to talk to mom while she's concentrating?  No.  Do we ask to buy anything that we see?  No. Do we fight with one another?  No.  When mom tells us to do something, how quickly should we obey?  That's right - right away, without complaining, excuse or delay.  Our goal is to be PLEASANT and HELPFUL."  And then (and don't forget this part), "What will be the consequence if you do not follow the rules?" Your children should already know.

I realize this is not a Pollyanna world, and this doesn't squelch their depravity perfectly.  My kids still get in tiffs or wander from the cart occasionally, but it really does help to set them up for success to prepare them beforehand.

Proactive Sub-Point C: Treat your kids like you're hoping to win a blue ribbon at the fair.  

Look proud of them.  Allow them to feel appropriately proud of themselves.  When you leave the house, give them a once-over: is their hair brushed?  Are their clothes clean and without stains or rips?  Before you get out of the car, wipe their faces if they're covered in snot or food.  You will draw much more positive attention - and divert a lot of negative attention - when your clan (and, while I'm bossing you around, that includes you yourself) looks relatively clean.  Not fancy.  Not like a magazine family.  But, you know, clean.  Kempt.

Proactive Sub-Point D: STAY CALM.

Whatever you do, try your hardest to keep your cool in public.  I know you're stressed.  I know your pit sweat is downright tidal and is encroaching on your waistband under that cardigan.  I know you're eyeballing the margarita mix.  I know.

But if you keep your cool, your kids will keep their cool, and the strangers around you will keep their cool.  I had a manager of the Dollar Tree come up and ask how I keep my kids so calm.  (As I'm like, ARE YOU SEEING THIS CIRCUS?!  It's all relative; you just have to stay more calm than the average family of miscreants.)  Just yesterday, a gal at the library asked me if 'all of them were mine,' and when I nodded, she said, "But you're so calm!"  People associate kids with chaos.  They expect you to look like your kids have hit you over the head with a shovel and are now attempting to scoop you into a trashcan full of salt with said shovel.  (Home Alone, anyone?)  If you're calm, your kids will be calm, and nothing disarms the general public like calm families.  So stay chill, my man.


So, you see, you have a lot of power in your hands to dictate the general vibe of the conversations in which you find yourself, at least in public.  (Conversations with family are a whole other beast, I'll grant you.)  Are these tips 100% foolproof?  No.  Like I told you, some people in the world are just hell-bent on being turds and sucking you into their vortex of misery.  But if you're proactive and positive, you can create a kind of vortex-forcefield around yourself. (I think it's obvious I have little interest in sci-fi, and am rather nonchalant about the possibility of using the terminology incorrectly.  Shrug.)  Do your best to deter the negativity, and be willing to engage any positivity, and going out in public might actually start being kind of fun.

No, I won't go that far.  I can't promise you that much.

'sup, little riders?

(Name that movie!)

Well, I think you can gather from the sheer number of posts about our trip to the Black Hills that we all had a blast, but one day in particular stood out for the kids, especially Penelope: the day they got to ride Joe the Horse!

Waiting for Papa Tony to get Joe all ready for their ride...

Scrappy little cowhand.

Penelope, like many eight-year-old girls, is in love with horses.  She was so comfortable and natural riding Joe, and even got a chance to ride him solo without Papa needing to hold the lead rope!

Not to be outshone, Rocco casually tried his hand at cowpoking, even though Joe was about a million times his own size.  NBD.

Laurelai was not convinced she wanted a ride - at least, a ride of this particular variety.  So she stuck to her trusty bike.

Again, not to be outshone, Rocco hopped on his own bike.  One that had a button to play its own music.  One whose music made Rocco channel his inner Hell's Angel.  He seriously made this face about 100% of the time he was sitting on the bike.

Then, everyone started getting jiggy with it.  Here, the kids are having a floss-off.

And here, Finneas is doing his best dab.

When I see these photos, my first instinct is to be proud we're not raising weirdo homeschoolers who don't know what the floss is, or how to dab.  But my second instinct is to suspect that perhaps at this cultural moment, only weird homeschoolers are continuing on with the floss and the dab.  I'm sure Jello Fingers or The Fwip are out there somewhere, gaining traction among the more culturally relevant.  But leave us in blissful ignorance, okay?

And, unrelated to anything else I've posted here today, but too adorable not to share, Finneas found a turkey feather, and Laurelai got to live out some pretty hardcore Pocahontas pretend play.  (I'm sure I'm being culturally insensitive somehow in posting these, but half the time I suspect I'm being inadvertently culturally insensitive to someone anyway, so I might as well just enjoy my five-year-old in all her P.C.-ignorance without getting too worked up about it.)

 

ADORABLE, no?

on being told by older women to 'just enjoy these days.'

Earlier this summer, I must've had some kind of stroke and decided to take all the kids with me for a quick trip into Natural Grocers.  They were actually doing pretty well, given the fact that it was lunch time, they were hungry and we were in a grocery store.  But all things considered, it was going pretty smoothly.

An older gal came up behind us in the fridge section, and asked if the kids were all mine.  (This is never not an awkward question, by the way, so if you're ever tempted to ask it of anyone, curb your instincts.)  I nodded that they were, and kind of half-apologized for taking up the entire aisle with all my monkeys.  She then laughed and said she had six of her own, and the youngest was now a senior in high school.  (Note to anyone who has ever been prematurely offended at an off-hand remark from a stranger: you have no idea what their intentions are.  She clearly wasn't judging my life choices when she asked if they were all mine; things could have gone much differently if I had gotten defensive or rude in response to her initial question.)

It turns out, she was a believer, and had even homeschooled all of her kids all the way through high school, so it was fun chatting with a like-minded mom.  Before we parted ways, she said, "If I had it to do all over again, I would slow down and enjoy it more.  Just enjoy your time with them; it goes so fast."

Now, I realize that when you're a young mom, it's easy to eye-roll at comments like these.  It seems like that's all you hear from older women (at least from the ones who aren't literally 'tsk'-ing at you for some insignificant parenting choice, like piercing your baby's ears, for example), and it's easy to feel discouraged by comments like these.  "Don't they remember what it's actually like?  Like it's that easy.  Like I have time or the will to 'just enjoy them.' I can't believe they would say something like that."

But here's my thought: If every. single. older. woman. out there is saying the same thing, maybe they know what they're talking about.  Maybe we are the clueless ones.  Maybe we don't have this motherhood thing figured out after doing this for like two years or eight years or twelve years.  Maybe it really takes decades to learn the deepest truths of motherhood.  Maybe we could use a few pointers.  And maybe, if we would take our youthful, immature, prideful heads out of our butts for like .02, we could learn a little something from the battle-tested women who have gone before us.  Maybe.

I walked out of that Natural Grocers determined to try to enjoy my kids a little more that day.  Not because the kids were inherently more enjoyable, but because I realized that my attitude is my choice.  And the choices I make today will impact how I live tomorrow.  It will impact how I relate to my kids.  It will impact whether I regret how I lived these days.  It will impact my ability to submit more readily to the collective wisdom of the older mothers around me instead of walking around like I have everything figured out.

So here's a little hard-hitting realism for you today: WHO CARES if you don't like the advice older women give you?  WHO CARES if it's unsolicited, or they don't know your whole story, or they seem out of touch, or you don't think their advice applies to you for whatever reason?  Consider the possibility, the likelihood even, that it's worth taking anyway.  Because, sorry, but who made you the expert on motherhood?  Who made your peers the experts?  The circumstance of being a mother is achieved by being given a child; the state of mothering well seems to be achieved through a lot of time and a lot of humility.  Submit yourself to the wisdom of others.  Most people are really just trying to help you succeed.

How's that for a strong start to the new week?

what's up weekly.

It's Friday again already.  HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?!

Our week was mostly uneventful and spent still playing catch-up, though I do think we're getting back into the groove finally.  I still have mountains of laundry to put away, but school seems to be back on track, which is my primary yardstick for how on top of my life I feel.  The kids got all their morning work done this week, and if the weather cooperates this morning, we're planning on heading to the pool to celebrate!

I will mention that we had an especially out-of-the-ordinary privilege last weekend: our friend Ashley, who was one of our closest friends from our church plant in Cedar Falls, has lived overseas for nearly two years, and is back in the States for a little refresher before heading back into the field.  We got twenty-four glorious hours with her, and it was so great to catch up!  (It was simultaneously sobering and hilarious to think about the fact that the last time she was at our house, she was getting ready to leave for the first time, and I spilled the beans about our pregnancy with Callista - she was the first to know!  The fact that Callista is now a toddler feels mind-blowing.)

In other out-of-the-ordinary news, I babysat two (count 'em, two) little babies at the same time on Tuesday.  In a weird coincidence, both of their moms had dentist appointments at the exact same time (at different dentists, obviously).  So I got the privilege of experiencing what it would be like to wrangle two infants at once, and let me tell you, it is not a cake walk.  You moms of multiples out there, I applaud you.

A friend made us dinner on Tuesday, and there were enough leftovers from that to feed everyone on Wednesday, and Todd and I went out on a date last night (Red Lobster, because we're fancy), and tonight is our take out night, so I haven't had to cook dinner since MONDAY, y'all.  I worry I'm getting too used to this.  It's entirely possible that I will refuse to ever cook again.  As it currently stands, I basically only serve food on paper plates anymore, so I'm already treading on dangerous ground.  Pray for my family.

Doesn't this little angel deserve more than chicken nuggets and tater tots served on a paper plate?  This is why you need to pray.

crazy horse and mount rushmore.

Some things in the Black Hills, like visiting Mount Rushmore, make it onto the itinerary most years and have become well-loved traditions.  Other things make it on the schedule only once every few years, like Crazy Horse.  This year, I was really itching to revisit the amazing museum housed there, so we all decided to take the trip.

We got there just in time to see a Lakota dancer, and at the end of her performance, she invited audience members up to join her in a circle dance.  Finneas and Penelope were brave enough to go up with me, and we all had a blast.

Since it's right up the road from Mount Rushmore, we decided to just kill two birds with one trip out of the house, so that was our next stop.

One of the nice things about visiting in early September was that families with kids were all settled back into the school year, so the crowds weren't very thick anywhere we went.

Rocco was not convinced he wanted to see the Presidents.  Zooming in on the evidence...

Churlish.

Papa and Grandma treated everyone to ice cream afterwards!  It was delicious.

George Washington seems a little sad to see us go, don't you think?  I could almost hear him saying, "See you next year!"  If you stare hard enough at this picture, eventually a granite arm pops up and starts waving, I'm not even kidding you.

And that is how come our kids came back from South Dakota noticeably more cultured and educated.  All in a day's work.

below the surface.

Over the last couple of years, my cleaning routine has become a lot more lax in certain ways.  I don't really keep lists anymore, I don't have specific days of the week or months of the year in which specific jobs take place.  As far as my own personal cleaning responsibilities go, I have just defaulted to doing things when they have to be done or when I feel like doing them.

So the dishwasher gets run twice a day because if it doesn't, chaos and maggots ensue.  Laundry usually gets caught up once the first peasant in these parts voices dissent about having no clean underwear, and then it's a mad dash to get everything washed at once.  The walls get wiped down when I notice they're really grimy, which is about once a week.  And I have a finely tuned daily worker bee system in which the rug gets vacuumed, and the bathroom gets cleaned, and the dishwasher gets loaded.

But the bigger-picture stuff hasn't been happening lately.  My closets are a wreck, my laundry room looks like Chernobyl, and my garage floor is inexplicably covered in a half-inch layer of birdseed and sadness.  The van smells like old milk, the layer of dirt-grease-Legos under my stove is probably an issue the health department should never find out about, and multiple walls in my house are covered in months- or even years-old paint swatches.  And I've been sitting around, waiting for the inspiration to hit to deal with some of this stuff, but I'm starting to get worried.  It's just not happening.  The mess is getting to me like crazy, but it's just not stirring any oomph in me, and I can't figure out why.

So I need your prayers.  I would say you should pray that I gather the chutzpah to tell the grime who's boss... but instead, I would like for you to pray that the grime would gather the chutzpah to just deal with itself so I can keep my spot on the couch warm.  I've got a stack of books here that aren't going to just read themselves.

'what's up' weekly.

I'M WRITING THE WORLD'S FASTEST BLOG POST!  Hold onto your britches.

Lucky for me, I have literally zero photos from the last couple of weeks to edit and post, with the exception of a few photos of post-bath Callista that I'm saving for blackmail purposes someday, so the lack of photos should keep things short and sweet (though much less visual).

For the sake of time, I'm going to use a bulleted list of highlights from the past two weeks!  BECAUSE I'M EFFICIENT AND VERY FAST!

• In a series of truly unfortunate events, a pane of glass fell out of a frame hanging in the girls' room.  As I wasn't ready to fix it right away, I set the glass against my bed to await action.  Rocco decided later in the morning that he was going to jump on my bed, but not gracefully, so he rocketed himself off the edge, and hit the glass on the way down.  Or, so I had to conclude from the incoherent screaming and horrific, slimy blood trail leading from my room into the bathroom.  I soaked his sliced up foot, which promptly sent him into shock, so he started shaking and his eyes started rolling around in his head.  Once I got everything bandaged, he promptly passed out on the couch.  Fun way to spend the morning.
  
  
• Subsequently, I took Rocco in for his first semi-emergency visit.  We haven't dealt with too many serious wounds so far in my parenting journey (KNOCK ON WOOD), so I wasn't sure if this was doctor-worthy or not.  The doctor ended up washing it out with soap and water, and putting some steri-strips on it.  The steri-strips lasted approximately twelve hours, and then we were back to where we started, so the whole endeavor was kind of a bust, but oh, well.  He still won't let me touch his toe, so I have no idea how it's healing under the bandaid.  The fact that the toe hasn't fallen off or turned a weird color is at least a comfort.
  
  
• Atticus took his bi-monthly trip to Kansas City with Todd this week so that he could get his orthotropic appliance expanded.  He's really doing great with it, and I'm really loving this process of straightening his teeth by encouraging better jaw development.
  
  
• Todd taught at Salt last night and was told he's 'looking hip' in his new glasses.  That's high praise for a near-forty-year-old in a room full of college students.  He didn't feel the need to point out the fact that his new glasses are trifocals.
  
  
• The weather has finally taken a turn for the tolerable, so the kids have spent a lot of time outside this week.  Praise the Lord for the ability to be outside comfortably for the first time since May!  (Sidenote, my garden is very neglected, and the community garden program I'm part of sent representatives to see how it's doing, and they spent the whole time documenting my various weeds for a new publication they're working on.  I think the topic is 'how not to garden.')
  
  

Look at me, the fastest blogger in the worrrrrrrrrld! That only took me... er, twenty minutes.  Is that fast?  I have so little real-life context for these things anymore.  Well, it's fast for me, as I usually log about an hour per post, so I'm counting those forty minutes I just saved as a WIN and applying them toward watching a future episode of 7th Heaven.  That's what I call an investment in my future.

Just call me the Time Savin' Maven.  (Or something less dumb.)

walk this way. (into the woods, that is.)

You know what, guys?  Just call me Super Nature Mom (or something similar, but cooler), because I've had a lot of opportunities lately to brag about how I'm taking my kids out on nature walks, and letting them go all Wild + Free, and cultivating a really earthy experience for their childhoods and all.  What can I say?  I'm basically an expert now, and my children are osmoting wilderness skills directly through the soles of their Chacos.

See?  Look at us, Nature-ing!

When I Nature, I like to do it sitting down.  But not directly in the grass because that's a surefire way to end up wicking moisture into my pants and getting made fun of by whatever resident hooligan decides it's his job to point it out.  So I Nature from the elevated stands.

Penelope also likes to Nature as a spectator.  It gives her plenty of time for girl chats, and keeps stuff from getting into her shoes, which are open-toed and not at all appropriate for the terrain.  I will neither confirm nor deny whether I was the parent who thought shorts and sandals would be 'totally fine' for hiking.

See?  For all the naysayers who would assert that I'd be better off walking around and exploring, I have physical evidence that the best things about being outside can be enjoyed from the comfort of a seat on a jagged boulder.

I think it's clear we returned home as rugged conquerors and fearless outdoorsmen.

I should probably just graduate them from homeschool now, since I've met all the Instagram requirements for a well-rounded childhood.  Onward and upward, little survivalists!  You are now equipped for a college education and a fulfilling adulthood!