When we were growing up my sister had an Appaloosa mare named "Irish"--(whose birthday falls on this day.) But the one thing I remember about her, besides the time she decided to roll in the stream while my sister was in the saddle--was the way she behaved every time you began to tack her up for a ride. Her head would droop, her eye lids would get heavy, she'd sigh big heavy sighs.

And this morning, as the girls and I sat at the kitchen table to do a few simple school lessons, I thought of Irish as I watched Emma. She got all droopy, put her head down on the table, flipped her pencil around carelessly. Perhaps, once again, I should have backtracked and made her a piece of peanut butter toast or some fruit and cheese, but I tried to see it through to the end. And the end came quickly.

I know that homeschooling is definitely the right decision for our family, right now. But man oh man, can it get frustrating some times. I waffle between unschooling, homeschooling, classical....I fall somewhere in the middle of all of those philosophies, if that is possible. I was an elementary school teacher before I stayed home with my children, so I feel like I have some experience to draw from, and I see growth and learning happening every day (sometimes more with Mary than with Emma), so I know things are working. But some days, when she gets what I'm now referring to as "Irish-syndrome", I start to question everything. Is it the fact that I should have given her a snack? Did she not get enough sleep last night? Am I boring her? Is it simply the fact that I'm her mother?

But the beauty of schooling her at home is that I can say, "alright, that's enough for now. We'll try again later. Here's a sandwich and some grapes. Call me when you're feeling better." And I remind myself that last week, just last week, she told me how much she loved school and loved what we were doing. And I remind myself that every homeschooling mother has these moments. And I take a breath. And I start again.

**this last picture is for my husband. Mary spelled Case IH for you--all by herself.**