Traci's Testimonials

Six months ago today, it was just a runny nose....   I have never been a super-well person. I pick up most viruses and infections if exposed. Stomach bugs have always been my specialty though. If whatever was going around involved vomiting, my body sought it out like a brand new Air B&B owner looking for their first guest; inviting it to take up residence for however long it needed to make me feel like death.   Colds and sinus infections are tied for second place. I have been severely congested so often that I actually had to retrain myself to breathe through my nose. I literally forgot I could do that. Christmas 1996, the first year I had my own apartment, my mom brought out a huge gift bag for me. My excitement was short lived. I removed the tissue paper and saw a bulk package of Kleenex boxes. Twenty-five years later, she hasn’t missed a Christmas.   I am no stranger to sickness; neither are my children. They inherited an impressive number of my genes. From the commo

I am about to drop a bomb. It's something that no one would expect to hear from me...then again, maybe one would...or hope to. I am really not sure. Because the one thing I always thought was clear about people I know is that they are either Supporters or Opponents. But the funny thing is, I've learned that's not true. There are Supporters and Opponents but there are also Questioners and Indifferents. Also, sometimes Supporters and Opponents switch roles depending on circumstances. Questioners can be a type to themselves (just enjoying watching people fumble to answer pointed inquiries while having no vested interest) or they can be a sub-type under Supporter (gaining more info to share in your joy/understand your hurt) or Opponent (thinks you could not have possibly thought of all the things they have because you are so very, very wrong). All four of these types and sub-types of people are important, necessary even! They help shape and define a person. They encoura

Every night my boys ask for a story. Sometimes I read to them and sometimes I prefer to make up my own stories. Most of the time I want my stories to have some sort of moral significance. Last night as I walked into their bedroom, wading through the toys, clothing, and linens to their beds I had a lot of time to think of one. Here it is: Once upon a time there was a mom. She was a great mom. She was loving and kind a patient. She doted on her boys as if it were her only pleasure.  She cooked fabulous meals, cleaned the house from top to bottom, and her laundry looked as though it had come from the dry cleaner. She read stories, made beautiful crafts, and baked as if it were the year 1820.  The boys ever had to worry about cleaning up after themselves or remembering where they had put something or even making their own lunch from time to time. She did it all. She was truly the perfect  mother.  One day, both boys found themselves beautiful and sweet women to marry. They had grown to be

I hesitated to write this post. I was ashamed to admit the truth. But then I thought, maybe I could help someone with the same problem! Maybe I could be an inspiration of some sort! Maybe I could... Wait. Let me begin properly... Hi. My name is Traci...and I am an Unschooler. Well, I was. Some may think that Unschooling can never be cured without 12 step programs and such, that anyone who Unschools is just in a constant state of recovery. But I am happy to say that's not true! Let me explain. It all started two years ago when Hubby got hurt. At first, I could handle the pressure. I mean, I could shower my spouse and teach my kids math at the same time, no problem. However, after he had been off work for several months and the bank account started dwindling the pressure mounted. I took my first step toward the problem. I applied for work. Thankfully, I wasn't hired until early Spring so most of our lessons were already complete. I managed.  In August, Hubby had recover

This past week I found myself having a conversation I've never had before. After I had the conversation I thought it odd that I had never had it before. Then I was thankful I had never had it before because it was exhausting. Then I thought I should write it down so if I had to have it again I wouldn't have to. Make sense? No? Let me explain. Since I discovered my youngest girl has dyslexia (you can read about that here ) I've been fighting a bit of a battle. A battle not only teaching her to read but also a battle with those who haven't been completely convinced that dyslexia is a real thing. I'll admit, my struggle has been light. Most of those who surround me are very supportive and understanding and for that I am thankful. Last year I read a book that allowed me to see inside the mind of a person with dyslexia. The Gift of Dyslexia  gave me a clear picture of what, or rather how my girl thinks. I read it aloud to her and she told me certainly and firmly that

My Darling Child, I love you. I love you more than I could ever express in words...or emoticons. 😘😍❤️ I see so much of me in you as every parent does of their own child. Sometimes I see the good but, if I am to be honest, most often the bad is what glares at me from your temperamental pubescent eyes.  Oh, I am well aware of my short comings, faults, and inconsistencies as a parent. I will have been aware of them a long time before you decide to point them out to me during an act of defiance or anger. Don't forget I am as new at being a parent of a child your age as you are at being a child your age. I am learning, trying, and growing at the same rate you are. But I am far more educated than you at being your age. I was there already. I haven't forgotten what it's like. You see, each year on my birthday, instead of making a wish as I blew out my candles, I made myself a promise instead. I promised myself I would not forget what it was like to be the age I was that ye