Confessions of a Pollyanna

One week ago today, I saw sat on my couch and cried. And cried and cried.

I sobbed big hot tears and choked out strings of despairing words to my poor husband.

With the start of another school year close at hand, my inner Pollyanna was not feeling so glad. In fact, it had been building up inside me for weeks. And Pollyanna was mad.

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There we sat, just three days away from the first day of new books, new schedules, a new kindergartener, three older kids, and three little ones too. I was feeling extremely apprehensive about the week ahead. Maybe scared, crazy, worried, and grumpy are more appropriate to describe my outlook that day.

Pollyanna was nowhere to be found. I was not glad at all. Not one bit.

What was I getting myself into? If Pollyanna was gone, then where was my other inner BFF, that Ann Voskamp-y side of me, who is thankful and sees the precious in so many of our life moments? She was gone too.

In fact, when I was crying ugly tears that day, I went as far as telling my husband that I just didn't like homeschooling.

Would Ann ever say that? Somebody please tell me she's at least thought it. Never mind, it doesn't matter; because I'm not Ann. Though I do deeply admire the woman and love how her humility walks into a room before she does. Not that I've ever been in the same room as her.

There, I'd said it. I just didn't like homeschooling. But did I really mean it? In that moment I thought I did. But what I realized not too long after, is that it's not the homeschooling I don't like. It's the chaos that reigns in the midst of homeschooling if I allow it.

If I'm not proactive and attentive with my little ones, it can all run amuck really quickly. If I'm too busy staring at my laptop screen at inopportune times, I get behind and wonder why this can't be more fun. And include me working on my laptop.

But that's like me wondering why being in hard labor can't involve something more fun like shopping for earrings. Crazy, I know. I realized that sometimes you've just got to buckle down and do the work.

Then you can play.

Sometimes we've got to buckle down and do the work.

Those dishes you despise? Do the work.
The training and re-training of a strong-willed toddler? Do the work.
That marriage that is hard? So stinkin' hard? Do the work.

We had a great week. Oh my, we had a great week.

I stuck to my guns and the schedule. I did the work. I stuck to my rule about putting the laptop away during school.

The baby and preschoolers went with the flow. I even had a fun little schedule for them. And they thrived in it, keeping happily busy and untangled from mama's legs. They were a handful at times (which is to be expected) and there were several frustrating moments.

Like the time I was shout-reading a book about Bible translation for the unreached people groups, while Emmy screamed on the floor behind me and the toddlers had their noses stuck to the wall in timeout. Classy, right?

But the difference was this:

Though there were moments of frustration, I didn't let it shake me. I just kept on being me. Moving along, taking care of business. Loving, hugging, encouraging. Doing the work. Even if that meant stopping what I'm doing to talk eye-to-eye with a little one who needs accountability. Even if that means explaining the English assignment again and again to the one who doesn't understand.

After the week I was dreading is now 4/5ths of the way through, I can honestly say that I love homeschooling. I love it.

Pollyanna is back. So is that Ann Voskamp-y way of thinking. I can't promise you I will always be glad.  And I can't promise you things will always seem precious and beautiful to me.

But I can promise that if you do the work, you'll have time to play.

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