Author: lardcupcakes

This past year, Sprite began a new portion of her classical education with jumping head first into the grammar program, Essentials.

This encompasses all aspects of the english language: sentence patterns, purposes, diagramming, dress-ups (how to add adjectives, adverbs, and other necessary items to “dress up” create more interest in your writing), and more.

Although the first few weeks were grueling, <— vocab word she has done exceedingly well.

I am very proud of all her hard work, though some of it came through tears, she’s learned a ton and grown exponentially in the process.

At the end of our homeschool community school year, Essentials students complete something called a Faces of History research paper.

Sprite picked Harriet Tubman.

She read, completed an outline for each section and fused those together, edited her own work, dressed it up, and beamed with pride at the finished product.

And, I wanted to share her fantastic work with you.

Below is her finished product complete with bibliography.

Harriet Tubman: The Amazing Woman

“There was one of two things I had a right to, liberty, or death; if I could not have one, I would have the other.” Harriet Tubman, who was a very daring woman, no matter what happened, she continued to have hope. She always did the right thing for her people. Her childhood was grueling, exhausting, and painful. The Underground Railroad was a special path to freedom. Since her death, she became famous because people finally understood her actions.

Araminta was Harriet Tubman’s given name, and Minty was her nickname. When minty was a little bit older, about 6 or 7, she caught muskrats and caught the common cold, a fever, and the measles. When she was about 15 years old, she was working with saws that cut wood that were very dangerous and also hauled hay on a plantation. Once she was trying to protect a poor slave that was running away from its horrid master. The master picked up a hunk of lead and threw it at the slave. Minty jumped in front of the slave and was hit in the head with the object. Her mother took care of her until she was better. When she recovered, she picked prickly cotton, which blistered and bruised her skin, and when the mules were tired pulling the boats, guess who did their job? Minty. She was hurt and bruised, but that would not get in the way of hope and progress, because Minty was destined to help slaves be free.

Americans built the underground railroad, which Harriet Tubman used to free slaves. John Tubman, her husband, constantly helped her through all of this hard work. She was very sharp rescuing her people and used the North Star to guide slaves through the winter nights. She encouraged freed slaves to go on the return quest with her and courageously help free more slaves. Although people warned her to stop but that did not stop her from something that she loved the most, progress.

In 1944, the S.S. Harriet Tubman was the first boat named after a U.S. African American woman. On February 1^st, 1978, a 13-cent stamp had the first African American on the front of the stamp. In 1995, a 32-cent stamp was published to honor Harriet Tubman. Americans compassionately continued her work, which honored her legacy. The government put up a statue of Harriet Tubman in New York City, in the Harlem neighborhood to honor her. She also had a military funeral because she worked for a few years as a gracious nurse.

Harriet Tubman’s childhood was grueling, exhausting, and painful. She daringly used the Underground Railroad to free slaves. She freed over 700 slaves, who she encouraged to come back with her and free more slaves. When she died she had a military funeral because she worked for three years as a nurse in the military. She was very kind, daring, bold, courageous, and adventurous. Harriet Tubman was a very amazing woman.

Bibliography

Buckley Jr., James. Show Me History! Harriet Tubman: Fighter for Freedom, Peter Norton, 2020, pp. 1, 8-9, 12-16, 22, 26, 50-51, 72-75, 78-79, 86-89

Pinkney, Andrea Davis. “1, 3, 4, 5, 6.” She Persisted: Harriet Tubman. Philomel Books, 2021, pp. 6, 16-20, 24, 31, 37, 45, 50.  

Y’all, this was written by my fourth grader.

I helped here and there when she was stuck, but that was it.

I can’t express enough my love of this program and how much she’s flourished this year.

It has been a delight (most of the time) to learn alongside her and enrich my own english.

*plop*

Dropped down on the picnic table top in front of myself, and 4 other BSF ladies, is a dead bird.

In the form of a decapitated head (from scavengers).

*wide-eyed*

*Sprite and Tempest giggling*

I am NOT a germaphobe.

but, GROSS!

I immediately begin looking for a napkin, wipe, or anything to remove the carcass without actually touching it.

While I am pilfering around for one, our group leader asks if I need sanititzer.

Um, YES!

Can they drink it?

Can they bathe in it?

How much sanitizer is too much?

*shudders*

Anyway, I find a paper towel from our lunch.

I fold it up and pick up the bird head.

“Mom, what are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to throw it away.”

“No! Can I take it for presentation tomorrow?”

Every week on our homeschool community day, we have a time for presentations. (i.e. public speaking).

Sprite wants to take this bird head as her presentation topic.

So, what do I do?

I open up a ziplock that previously held Doritos and place this dead bird head into it, so that we can take it home and research how to disinfect and study it.

According to Google, we first have to boil it.

That’s cool, but, I’m not going to use any of my pots to boil a bird head, then turn around and make spaghetti for dinner.

So, then I recruited my mother in law to search a Goodwill for a pot we could use and immediately throw away.

Success.

So, here I am writing this portion of the story as a bird head is spinning around in a rolling boil in a pot from the Goodwill.

Because, I can be a cool mom sometimes.

fun fact: it takes a ridiculous amount of time to boil the remnants of bird off its skeleton.

So now, we have a bird head sitting in water/bleach solution in a cleaned out relish container sitting on our kitchen table.

*sigh*

The things I do for these heathens.

So, a few years ago, we had an incident where a snake slithered its way into our home.

Yes, in our home.

In what was then Tempest’s and Sprite’s shared bedroom.

Reminisce with me if you will.

I just finished giving Tempest a bath.

She was 3 years old, walking behind me without a care in the world ready to dry off and put on pajamas.

So, we meander into her bedroom and begin the process.

As she is facing me, I notice a coiled toy snake on the floor about a foot behind her.

My kids are weird – so, I thought it could be a toy snake.

Fun Fact: it was not a toy snake.

I noticed a slight movement, a small shaking of its tail tip.

NOPE

THAT IS NOT A TOY SNAKE

I scooped up Tempest and calmly said we need to change in the other room.

Thankfully, she didn’t put up a fight.

I quickly close the door, walk vigorously down the hallway, and stand at the top of the stairs.

I firmly yell, “Brent, listen very carefully to what I’m about to say. There is an S-N-A-K-E in the pink bedroom. Yes, I spelled S-N-A-K-E!”

Next thing I hear is Brent quickly and with abandon coming up the basement steps.

He walks with purpose down the hallway to their room.

I hear their bedroom door open, then close immediately.

He tears down the hallway.

I ask, “was it in there?”

He doesn’t even look at me and responds, “YEP!”

I’m still helping Tempest get dressed when he returns from the garage with a bucket and a shovel.

*wide eyed*

He flies down the hallway and I hear a thud.

“Out of the way!” He bellows.

He’s carrying the bucket with a new, still living, reptile resident through the living room.

He then takes it outside and it meets its end.

Upon further investigation we found the girls opened their window a couple of inches because they were hot.

Since the weather was shifting, it made our home an inviting place for warmth.

So, that little buggard slithered its way up the house, through the window opening, and proceeded to scare the crap out of everyone.

Brent told me later when he entered the girls’ room, the snake was slithering across the floor.

NOPE

BYE

If i’m honest, to this day, when I put Banshee to bed (her and Torpedo share that room now), and my feet shimmy under her bed, I have a small moment of fear that my toes will meet a new, unwelcome, scaly housemate.

So, we don’t indulge in the tooth fairy.

It’s not for any religious reason, or because I’m a hater for all things magical and make-believe.

We just don’t.

Unfortunately, because of this choice, we sometimes ok, regularly forget to place money under the pillow for the child of the lost tooth.

I did the duty with the first tooth, but after that, I constantly forget.

I’m also pretty sure Sprite didn’t receive money from a tooth she lost a few months ago.

*shrug and awkward smile*

Anyway, Sprite lost an additional tooth just the other day with the help of our dog, Harper.

Our dog tends to get a little hyper and jumpy when you play with her.

And, while Sprite and Harper were playing in the basement, apparently her paw scratched down Sprite’s lips and raked out a loose tooth.

She told me something hurt, checked in the mirror and saw a tooth hanging by a nerve, so she just completely pulled it out.

Poor thing still has a scratch down her lips and chin from the incident.

So, we go through the lost tooth prep.

We place it in a ziplock bag and shimmy it under her pillow.

A second later she hands it to me and says it makes too much noise.

Fast forward to the next day roughly 2:00 in the afternoon.

My husband, Brent, looks at me and whisper asks if I remembered to complete the tooth money swap.

*eyes widen in forgetful horror*

He slinks off to snag a dollar, he passes it to me in the living room like it’s a drug deal.

I scurry off into her room and place a dollar under her pillow, in broad daylight, the day after she lost her tooth.

I proceed to call her in from outside and play it off like she forgot to check under her pillow.

“Hey! Did you check for tooth money this morning?”

A ‘that’s dumb’ look crosses her face.

“Why? I gave you my tooth last night!”

“Just get in here and check!”

She abides and finds a her newly placed cash under her pillow.

We probably just need to adopt a ‘trade in your tooth for a dollar’ routine and avoid the shenanigans all together.

*shrug*

Fun Fact: I wrote this about 3 months ago. Since then Sprite has lost an additional tooth and we are on day 5 of forgetting to swap it with money.

I told her we probably just need to adopt an exchange program.

She loses a tooth and trades it in for cash.

She followed up with, “Ok, do you have a dollar right now?”

Y’all.

I can’t even.

I do some really crazy things.

One of these crazy things is require my children to brush their teeth.

I know.

It’s a horrible habit I’m encouraging them to develop.

Can’t you hear the complaining?

The other day, I asked Tempest to brush her teeth.

Insert compaining.

Some time passed, so I inquired.

“I brushed my teeth.”

“But, you’ve been out here the whole time.” (out here being the living room).

“No, I did.”

*mom look of disbelief*

So, I do the really trusting thing.

I check her toothbrush.

That bad boy is as dry as ever.

So, I confronted her on it.

“Sweetie, your toothbrush is dry. So, you didn’t actually brush your teeth, did you?”

*very animated expressions* “No, I really did. I dried my toothbrush when I was done.”

“So, you brushed your teeth. Then, you dried your toothbrush?”

*continued animation with gestures* “I dried my toothbrush really good with the towel.”

“So, let me review. You brushed your teeth, then you dried it really, really good with the towel, then put it back in the holder?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s try this again. You didn’t actually brush your teeth, did you?

*her dead dropped* “No.”

I then instructed her to brush her teeth.

I followed this by reviewing what would happen to her teeth if she doesn’t take better care of them.

And, yeah, I totally went the scare tactic method with her.

Shots, cavities, the whole deal.

What can I say?

Honesty is the best policy!

Or maybe, the scary, over the top honesty works.

*shrug*

Some days I’m all out of teaching moments.

Have you ever experienced a time when you felt God physically intervene to prevent you from sinning?

A few years ago I experienced such a time, during our church’s VBS no less.

During our VBS I was asked to step in as a coordinator and help facilitate smooth transitions and support our teachers.

And, those who have ever volunteered for an event such as this knows a lot of people step in to serve, which provide numerous opportunities for personalities to interact.

So, while I was volunteering I came across a personality that rubbed me the wrong way.

Let me also say, I have grown a lot, but during this season of my life, I didn’t have a great handle on my frustrations (not that I do now, but, I think you get what I mean).

And, I loathe being bossed around, or told what to do like I’m dumb and have no idea.

*putting down megaphone*

Anyway, this individual was taking stock of the needs and directing people accordingly.

I was already headed to resolve an issue – but, I honestly can’t remember what.

As I was pursuing this issue, I was instructed by said individual about how to properly care for this problem.

Do you remember what I said just a few lines up.

Yeah.

So, I took a sip of my coffee (which is necessary for VBS), and began to remark.

Listen, I 100%, totally choked on my coffee like a complete idiot.

You know, like those moments where you’re choking on your own spit, turn all shades of red, and feel like a dum dum.

That was me.

I had to scurry away and get myself back together.

It was absolutely ridiculous.

I looked back at the interaction and realized she wasn’t in the wrong, I was.

I had the bad attitude.

I misinterpreted.

So, I feel like God “closed” my mouth by making me choke on my coffee.

I just love being humbled.

It’s the best.

When I hear someone say they are crunchy, a lot of things go through my mind.

I have a lot of presumptions, and I would hazard a guess that you do as well.

But, I can just about guarantee the crunchy life to which I am referring has nothing to do with those.

I am talking about the crunchy, finger foods of tiny people.

Cheerios.

Veggie straws.

Cheetos.

Crackers.

Those type of crunchy things.

Not only are they crunchy when your kids are munching away, but also when you step on them.

*crunch*

No matter how much I sweep or run our robot vacuum. <– if you don’t have one, you’re missing out.

This is literally my life every single day.

And, my disdain for them grows with each step made on an unseen cheerio.

*crunch*

I pick up a blanket off the floor and small crunchy foods fly out and I can’t make it to the kitchen to grab a broom before stepping on a multitude of them.

*crunch crunch crunch*

They are literally the bane of my day.

Especially when its a particularly stressful day.

When I’m taking a rage walk through the house (you know what I mean) and I step on one.

Think about the beast from Beauty and the Beast.

That’s me.

Those moments when I’m recounting my day to Brent as he gets home from work and I step on a crunchy item.

*deep breathing*

Literally my life wrapped in one normal movement.

*crunch*

I live a literal crunchy life.

I heard these words from my almost 4 year old just the other day after her failed attempt to perfectly apply lipstick.

Honestly, she has quite the gift of lipstick application at her age.

But, sometimes mistakes happen.

And, in this particular instance, Banshee was applying lipstick and accidentally swiped it up onto her nose.

She then responded with frustrated crying and disappointment.

“Banshee, what’s wrong?”

*crying*

Then I saw her face.

“Sweetie, did you get some lipstick on your nose on accident?

*sobbing*

“Yeah. Now I’m not beautiful.”

“Oh, sweetie, you are beautiful.”

“No, I’m not.”

*increased crying*

Listen y’all, I literally turned off the music, pulled her in close, and gently lifted her chin to look at me.

“Sweetie, you are beautiful. Do you know why you’re beautiful?”

*nodding her head no*

“You’re beautiful because God made you. Not because of make-up.”

*crying subsides a little*

“God said He made you in His image, that’s what makes you beautiful. He knows how much hair you have on your head and knew your name before you were born. See how special you are?”

*Crying died out a little more*

“Sweetie, make-up is just for fun. You’re already beautiful without it.”

Then I cleaned up her face and cuddled her close.

She needed reassurance.

She needed to feel the words.

She needed to be certain what I said was true.

And, it broke my heart.

I know numerous moments like this will come and I want to use every opportunity to squelch culture’s attempt to diminish their value and worth.

Their value and worth is rooted in Jesus.

And, the more the hear it, the more they feel it, and the more they know it’s true.

“God knows how many hairs you have on your head. Do not be afraid. You are worth more than many small birds.”

Luke 12:7

So, I have some news…

Some great news actually.

Brent finally received and accepted a job offer.

This job offer came in just a couple of hours after I published a previous blog post titled, “When God says to wait.”

And, interestingly enough, I actually wrote that post in December, it just wasn’t completely put together enough for publication until January.

Though, when I did finally share it, we were already sitting on an offer.

And, I actually almost didn’t share my waiting post because of that.

But, whether or not we had an offer, it’s what I experienced.

It’s what I felt.

And, I wanted to invite you in on that journey.

What I do find completely amazing is that just a few hours after posting that waiting blog, Brent was faced with a choice of not one, but two offers.

Both really good offers with two reputable companies.

We couldn’t believe it.

We’ve been praying and waiting for over a year.

A YEAR.

I honestly couldn’t even allow myself to feel excited when the first offer came through.

I just went about my day afraid to be excited.

What if it’s taken from us?

What if God tells us no to this one as well?

Then the second one came through.

WHAT ON EARTH IS HAPPENING HERE?

We just sat down for a few minutes.

Tears welling up in my eyes, a multitude of emotions swirling in my brain, and we prayed.

We know these options weren’t from our doing.

We trusted in His timing, even if at particular points it was with a reluctant heart.

After we thanked God for this crazy situation, we moved into decision time.

And, I being an enneagram 8 and Brent a 6, it quickly became a battle of gut vs logic.

We were hashing out all the specifics for each offer.

This gif below is a pretty accurate depiction of what we looked like for a good 36 hours.

Logically the first offer was a better fit, but with its own cons creating some concern.

Gut wise, the second offer was best – offering greater stability, pay, visible integrity, personal growth opportunities, and being friends with the CEO wasn’t a bad gig either.

It finally came down to us being exhausted, stressed, and blessed.

And, neither decision a wrong choice.

In the end, we went with gut.

Brent begins his new job next week.

Ya’ll, we prayed for a job.

And, God delivered.

Not one, but two.

In His time.

The waiting was difficult.

But, worth the fruit we’ve seen from it, of which I will share in a later post.

During the time period my dad was battling cancer, we traveled to North Carolina in stints to spend time with him.

Now, when I say travel, I mean Brent, myself, three girls (Torpedo not yet born) and a dog all crammed into our Toyota van traveling roughly 13-14 hours straight.

Unfortunately, these travels take us through the mountains.

You know, constant winding roads.

It’s the best thing ever when you have a kid who gets carsick.

So, as you can guess that’s what happened here.

I’m driving, we’re just outside Charleston, WV, heading towards Beckley and about enter the mountains.

“Mom, I feel sick.” Sprite announces from the backseat.

“I’m sorry sweetie. Try to look out the window and see if that helps.”

A few minutes later, “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

Brent and I begin looking frantically for anything.

We’re rummaging around the pile of snacks on top of the middle console.

I keep thinking of anything we can use.

A bag.

A cup from a drive through restaurant.

I thought we were out of luck, then hiding underneath a snack bag was my coffee mug (thankfully empty).

*gross*

But, what else were we gonna do?

Should we pass the mug or clean up throw up that will be on absolutely everything?

I pick up the mug, hand it to Brent, and he passes it back to Sprite.

*nasty sounds from the backseat*

*cringing in the front seats*

“I’m done.” She faintly announces.

So, Brent leans back and collects the mug…that’s filled with throw up.

mmmmmmmmmmm.

Now, what do we do?

Do we just hold a mug full of nasty, smelling throw up?

Do I pull over and dump on the side of the road?

Brent says he will take care of it.

So, I keep driving waiting for directions.

Next thing I know, he’s rolling down the window.

With his hand gripping the mug, he sticks it out the window and turns the mug upside down.

And, yep, you guessed it.

Throw up flies out of the mug and onto the side of our van.

Brent starts giggling.

Like this, it’s so gross yet so funny kind of giggle.

Followed by a shrill, “it’s on my hand! It’s on my hand!”

Now, I’m laughing.

And, grabbing my phone to capture this absolutely ridiculous moment.

Yes, I know.

I took a picture while driving.

But, I bet you would do the same with an opportunity like this.

Do you have any crazy traveling stories?