California Sabbatical: The Surprising Joy of Homeschooling

Husband: I was thinking we could go to Berkeley for the second half of my sabbatical. We have family and friends there, and I could do research in my old department at UC Berkeley.

Me: Sure, that makes sense.

Husband: And we’d enroll the girls in school in Berkeley for the spring?

Me: Oh no, I’ll just homeschool them while we’re out there.

And so, over burgers at Park Squeeze in Vergennes in the spring of 2014, some very major decisions were made very quickly.

Click here to continue reading about our homeschooling adventure in this week’s “Faith in Vermont” column in The Addison Independent.

California Sabbatical: Journey to Points South

In mid-February our family left the house we’re renting during my husband’s sabbatical in Berkeley, California and drove south for eight hours.

Our destination: Orange County, a sprawling collection of suburbs just south of Los Angeles.

Our purpose: To visit my husband’s brother and his family…and Disneyland.

Click here to continue reading the latest update from California in my “Faith in Vermont” column in The Addison Independent.

California Sabbatical: Sing a Song of Traffic

The other day, my daughters were playing on the brick patio that constitutes the backyard of our rental house in Berkeley, California. As two of them scooted around on toy cars belonging to our landlords’ son, I observed the following exchange:

Bringing their vehicles to a sudden stop at right angles to each other, one daughter said, “You go ahead.”

To which the other daughter responded, “No, no, you go ahead!”

After they’d repeated this several times, I asked, “Girls, what are you doing?”

“Well, that’s what you always say, Mommy!” they explained.

That’s when I realized the degree to which my daughters have absorbed the anxiety and general distrust I feel while driving in California.

Click here to continue reading my latest “Faith in Vermont, California Sabbatical” column in The Addison Independent.

California Sabbatical: This Old House

About nine months ago, my husband and I decided to start looking for a place to live during our sabbatical in Berkeley, California. Sitting at home in Vermont, we assumed it would be no problem to find a furnished rental home for a family with four young children and a dog, within walking distance of UC Berkeley, on an assistant professor’s salary.

The first thing to go was the dog. It quickly became clear that four children were four strikes against us; our dog would be a deal-breaker, and would have to stay in Vermont.

The next thing to go was our budget, which turned out to be unrealistically low for most two-bedroom houses within the Berkeley city limits. Our upper limit edged higher, then higher still.

Several times, we thought we’d found “the one.” But multiple rentals slipped through our fingers, usually with landlords making excuses after we mentioned the children.

By late July, we were losing hope. Then my husband found an online listing for a two-bedroom house, walking distance to campus, at the uppermost limit of our budget. Without much optimism, he sent off an inquiry.

Click here to continue reading the latest installment of “Faith in Vermont, California Sabbatical” in this week’s Addison Independent.

California Sabbatical: The Honeymoon Ends

Our first two days in Northern California were filled with palm trees, rainbows, and loving grandparents. On the morning of the third day – the day we would leave the comfort of the grandparents’ house and move into our rental house in Berkeley – I fell down the stairs.

As Mick Jagger said (or was it Richard Nixon?): “The honeymoon don’t last forever, kid.”

It was a stupid misstep that I’ve replayed in my head a dozen times: I was walking down the stairs of my in-laws’ house early in the morning, carrying our two-year-old daughter. It was dark. Assuming I was on the ground, I missed the final step and came crashing down onto a tile floor. My daughter was fine, but because I’d focused on holding onto her instead of cushioning my fall, I was not.

Click here to continue reading my second California edition of the “Faith in Vermont” column in The Addison Independent.

California Sabbatical, Day 1: Palm Trees!

“Wait, people are just allowed to have palm trees in their yards?” my eldest daughter marveled on our first day in California’s Bay Area.

The palm trees have been the undisputed highlight of California thus far, the first thing on my daughters’ list when we ask what they like most about our five-month sabbatical from Vermont. They’ve observed that palm trees come in different heights, with various-shaped fronds, and with trunks both shaggy and smooth.

When I start home schooling my two oldest daughters this week, our science studies will commence with a unit on palm trees.

Our journey from Vermont to California began with a drive to Burlington, where we spent the night at the airport Doubletree in order to sleep in until 3:15 AM so that we could catch our 5:30 AM flight to Detroit. By “we,” I mean the six members of our family, and our 15 bags; yes, that’s our version of traveling lightly.

Click here to continue reading about the start of our California adventure in a special edition “Faith in Vermont” column for The Addison Independent.

Saying Goodbye: It’s Deja vu All Over Again

Last week, the woman behind me in the Hannaford supermarket check-out line asked if I knew where Salon Déjà vu was located. She wanted to get a gift certificate for somebody, she told me, but the address that she’d been given led her to the wrong place, and nobody answered the phone at the number she’d found online.

I was absolutely certain that I knew where Salon Déjà vu was, and gave the woman directions based on my knowledge. But when I drove past this location several days later, it turned out to be a different salon all together.

So, I have no idea where Salon Déjà vu is. (Note to Salon Déjà vu proprietors, if you’re out there: Update your online information!)

Only later did it strike me that Salon Déjà vu was a perfect name, given these circumstances.

Click here to continue reading my final “Faith in Vermont” column of 2015 — and the final “Faith in Vermont” column that I’ll actually write in Vermont for several months — over at The Addison Independent.

Current Events, Common Sense, and Craft Fairs

It is difficult for the human mind to commit itself to one thing, and to maintain focus upon that thing in order to see it through to completion.

This is particularly true for parents of young children, who may have only two uninterrupted hours each day (in our house, we call this “nap time”) during which it’s possible to focus upon anything other than fetching snacks, locating toys, and mediating sibling disputes.

And it’s even more particularly true during the holidays, which add another layer of complexity to our already full lives.

A partial list of things I should focus on today: packing my family for our 5-month sabbatical in California; cleaning out our current house in order to put it on the market while we’re away; choosing bathroom countertops for the new house that we’ll move into when we return; holiday baking; organizing Christmas gifts for family, friends, and teachers; watering the Christmas tree; reading my monthly book club selection; writing this column; answering that email about the Christmas pageant; being an engaged wife, mother, daughter, and friend.

What I do during nap time today: bake sugar cookies.

It occurs to me that the way I respond to my life is similar to the way in which I – and, I suspect, many of us – respond to the world at large.

A partial list of things we should focus on: Syrian refugees, climate change, human trafficking, domestic terrorism, mass shootings and gun control, the 2016 elections, buying local, ISIS, instability in the Middle East, Starbucks cups, racial inequality, the economy, police brutality.

What we do: critique Donald Trump on Facebook.

Click here to continue reading this week’s “Faith in Vermont” column in The Addison Independent.

Five Misconceptions About Sabbatical

And just like that, Thanksgiving’s over. Before we had a chance to toss out the dried-out autumnal gourd decorations and boil the turkey bones for broth, there were wreaths around town, Christmas carols playing in the stores, and – could it be? – Christmas trees blinking in our neighbors’ windows. With a mere two days between Thanksgiving and the start of Advent, the holiday season seems to be upon us in an even more breathless rush than usual.

But that’s okay: I can keep breathing. It’s not like I’m also preparing to move our family across the country for five months, during which major renovations will be happening on the house we’ll move into after we return, while at the same time our current house goes on the market.

Oh, wait a minute! That’s exactly what’s happening!

Click here to continue reading my latest “Faith in Vermont” column in The Addison Independent.

Hold the Pie (A Thanksgiving Wish)

The other day, our Campbell said: “Mommy, I’m thankful for everything in the whole entire world. Except for pie: I really don’t like pie.”

It’s been a rough month for the world. So here is a Thanksgiving wish from the Pickle Patch: Today, may you find rest in having an entire day set aside for gratitude. No matter how rough the month may be, there is always thanks to give. (Except for pie). I think gratitude is often what keeps us going; I know it’s what keeps me going.

That, and laughter. So may you also laugh today.

Towards that end, here is Fiona’s pre-Thanksgiving prayer, offered up at our dinner table this week:

“Dear Lord, Thank you for the turkeys that are about to sacrifice themselves for us. And I pray for the farmers who are about to slaughter them: that they will have given their turkeys good lives and that they’ll be careful with their knives.”

She knows where her food comes from, that girl.

On second glance, maybe that’s not funny; maybe it’s profound. Maybe the point is that whether you’re the turkey or the farmer, it’s important to be kind, to be considerate of others. Let’s be kind this Thanksgiving.

But you don’t have to eat the pie if you don’t like it.