Monday Morning Quarterback

Confession time. Although it probably comes as no surprise, I hate professional sports, the big, blown-out-of-proportion, wastes of time and money (and please, don't even get me started on people who drive around at high speeds in circles for a living), but I will admit to watching that thing last night and maybe even yelling at the television a time or two, like during that one play just prior to halftime. I watch for the commercials because my brother is head of a CGI department for a trendy Manhattan agency and often has one running (not this year, though he did tell me to keep an eye out for Coke's insects stealing the bottle ad), and for the halftime show because you never know when there could be a spectacular wardrobe malfunction (fortunately Springsteen's garb remained intact and he put on a great show, and I'm not even a fan.)

This morning I thought it time to review the post-season goings-on and critique my plays. And for your sake, the football metaphor ends here.

Sarabelle's stubborn plan to return to Australia for school has finally withered. I stood back and tried to keep my mouth shut, offering sympathy and empathy for her plight, subtly mentioning once that whatever her college plans may be, she's into her eleventh year of school and it's time to prepare. Putting it off any longer in hopes of getting back to school in Australia wasn't beneficial. With an interest in becoming a doctor, journalist, or treasure salvor, and a refusal to "be a homeschool nerd" (though she loves participating in our support group's P.E. and Park Days) and the community college's dual enrollment classes filled until spring, remaining options involved either the local public high school with AP, Honors, or dual enrollment courses, or the high priced prep school in Fort Lauderdale which would simply look good on a transcript. The public school was able to offer her a decent schedule and eliminated the necessity of living with cantankerous older relatives on the other side of the state. The guidance counselor stated it would be possible to register her as a twelfth grader because she has nearly all the credits required for graduation in Florida, but we all agreed she could use the extra year to fill in gaps and strengthen skills. She still hates being here of course, would much rather be in Oz, but has been placated with the promise of spending her summer holiday overseas and is genuinely enthusiastic about her classes (Music - Jazz band playing upright double bass; English Honors; Marine Science; Journalism; Algebra 2; and American History Honors.)

Grice grumbles about it, even though we are still waiting on her math books to arrive and she has a lighter than normal schedule, but she is generally amenable to the idea of learning at home. She participates in the homeschool P.E. and 4-H with her best Northern hemisphere buddies and is interested in the Y's gymnastics program and cotillion.

Elle is a moth to the electronic flame. For this reason, with the built-in DVD player on our TV out of commission, I'm ready to cancel the cable (basic service that doesn't include the History Channel but does have Nickelodeon and which was never desired or required but was unfortunately bundled with our long distance and DSL) and chuck the thing out. We have Netflix now and I have my laptop, that's all we need. We're attending the South Florida Renaissance Festival as an end to that period of study and will be starting soon with Story of the World Volume 3. She likes the 4-H Cooking Club, mostly because she gets to hang out with the big kids, and is also interested in gymnastics, which would be a terrific vent for her perpetually high energy.

I've been learning to take it easy and give the kids a chance to settle in and find themselves. Then back to the pushing. It's all about moderation. For now it seems to be working.