Traci's Testimonials

  How often do you recall your worst experience? Is it something that creeps up on you at random times without prompting? Is it triggered by a scent, a word, or a picture? Do you dream about it? What is the catalyst that causes you to recall that which you would rather not? For me, it is an article from a local newspaper that keeps floating to the surface of my attention when I thought I had drowned it sufficiently. Paper may easily be destroyed, but the memory of what is written on its pages is not. Even more so when the composition is a patchwork quilt of testimonials, culturally relevant thought terminating cliches, and seemingly victorious outcome knit together with strong thread of bias. “ We take particular care in crime stories to ensure reporting does not perpetuate stereotypes, remove the presumption of innocence or pose harm to the vulnerable.” https://caj.ca/wp-content/uploads/Ethics-Guidelines-v2023.pdf I first stumbled upon this article several months after it ha...

It's been a few days -- 775 to be exact.  It's been a wild 775 days! So many wonderful things have come about: revelations and vacations, acquisitions and transitions, graduations, new relations, and baby creations. My granddaughter, Sweetpea, might as well be a meme. I will have a whole new generation of posts reminiscent of her mother, aunties, and uncle Buddies dedicated solely to her. The kid is two and already has impeccable comedic timing....unlike her predecessors who were unintentionally entertaining.  My grandbuddies entered the world (albeit prematurely) with a big "PSYCH!" Having been told one would likely have an intellectual disability and the other's viability was questionable, we prepared for the worst. The "worst" turned out to be 3 kidneys between the 2 of them. So, we took to calling GrandBuddy #1 Spare Parts.  Hubby and I had THE (with a long E as grammatically incorrect as that is given the next word begins with a consonant) best summ...

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. ...

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. Th...

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, H...

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...

I am about to send my oldest daughter half a world away. Just the thought fills me with equal amounts of excitement and terror. This girl has always been very independent. As soon as she learned to talk she's been adamant about doing things for herself. We affectionately called her "Buggy" from birth which is what she assumed was her name and so, in order to assert her little 2 year-old independence, she would constantly run around shouting, "Buggy do!!" From pouring her own "mornin' soup" (cereal) to putting on her own "baby soup" to go in the "swimmin' cool" she insisted that, "Buggy-do!" So, now, when any of the kids decides to assert their perceived self-sufficiency Hubby and I look at each other, smile and say, "Another case of the Buggy-Do's." While her autonomy was encouraging to her pregnant mother it was also a wee bit scary since she has always been...well, easily distracted. Like the tim...

I didn't want another dog. My husband and I have had dogs ever since we were married, many, many dogs. Our first was a black Lab named Ani. Hubby had equal amounts of love and hate for her. She was clumsy and dumb and annoying and completely lovable. She died the same day as my oldest was born. Mid-contraction we received a phone call informing us that Ani was hit by the school bus. It was devastating. Usually bringing a baby home for the first time makes your house seem fuller, ours did not. As happy as we were, there was something glaringly missing. Mix the loss of a pet with post-pregnancy hormones....let's just say my husband is a kind, kind man. While pregnant with my second born, my uncle asked us to take in his American Staffordshire Terrier (a member of the "pit bull" family). We were apprehensive to take Malibu in because of the stereotype. He turned out to be a 65 pound slobbering, stinky, wimpy, completely lovable pup...with separation anxiety. When we ...

Buddy #2's surgery was finally scheduled. He went in trepidaciously but willing nonetheless. I knew he was nervous because the child never shut up! As we pulled in the parking lot, I muttered a quick prayer for each nurse who would encounter my little chatterbox. We entered the registration area and the nurse asked the routine questons. I had the routine answers prepared but my little guy had answers of his own! "Any allergies?" She asked. He said without hesitation, "Yep! Ranch dressing." "None known," I mouthed from behind him shaking my head. "Father's name?" She continued unruffled. "You should know him! He just had knee surgery TWICE!" He spouted. While we waited for the paperwork to print out she asked for his right arm to attach the bracelet, he offered his left. Then we were sent to the next area to sit and wait. I had just managed to busy him with a book to calm his mind when my cell phone rang. My eldest ...

My whole life I have listen to my mother say, "I never wanted boys! I'm so glad I had girls." She grew up with 5 brothers and has seen first-hand what little boys are capable of. She knew (due to her severe lack of a sense of humour) that she would never be able to handle boys of her own. Honestly, the roughhousing my dad participated in with his girls was even too much for her. I remember one trip to Disney World. We were getting a little restless after the daily 8 hour drives to Florida so after checking into a Days Inn somewhere between Ohio and Tennessee a wrestling match broke out, just for fun. Mom sat on one of the double beds and transitioned rapidly between uttering silent prayers not to get kicked out and yelling, "John! You're going to hurt one of them and then I have to listen to them crying, Knock it off!!!!" The match was terminated when I got wedged between the second double bed and the wall and Dad had to pry me out. There was none of the cry...

When Hubby and I got married we discussed, as most people do, the children we would like to have. At first we decided we would have two boys five years apart. Yes, we were actually dumb enough to believe that we might have some control over the gender of these hypothetical children. Our plans were nullified when our first was born a beautiful, wonderful, everything we didn't know we wanted girl. But after a dreadful pregnancy and terrible labour and delivery we changed our minds about having two and decided one was enough. Yes, we were actually dumb enough to believe we had some control over this without surgical intervention. Five kids in five years later........... We have always stressed to our children the importance of, well, each other. We have taught them they are each other's first best friends. We have encouraged them to be kind, sweet, and gentle. Apologize and forgive. I assure you there's more apologizing and forgiving going on than kindess, sweetness, and gen...

Before I had the Buddies I was slightly intrigued by the stories I would hear about secret languages and shared phenomena but never paid any real attention. After I had the Buddies I was constantly questioned about secret languages and shared phenomena but still never paid any real attention.  Until the first day I decided to take them outside by myself. They were just about 16 months old and the weather was beautiful. I got the idea that they needed fresh air in our unfenced yard. I carried them to the lawn and set them down. They felt the grass on their toes, looked at each other, I swear they grinned, then immediately took off in separate directions. That evening when Hubby got home from work I went to Walmart and officially became the mother of "leash kids". I feel no shame. Now, I can't say it was any sort of "telepathy"...more like "turdepathy". But the one thing I know for sure for sure was that the were inseparable.  They still are. They have l...

One thing I have always been able to do is see the humour in almost every situation. Not necessarily right away but eventually the hilarity dawns on me. Today, I even chuckle at the time Hubby and I found poo on the living room ceiling. I wasn't really laughing then but I do now. Every day there is something to laugh about; small, simple, crazy things to laugh about. It makes me feel better. God said it would.   A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.... Proverbs 17:22a  When I was a child I was the same. I always found something to laugh about. Especially when I was bored. When I was bored my creativity flourished. Like the time I was riding in the backseat of my mother's car on a long drive. We had stopped at a fast food place for milkshakes and Mom was listening to elevator music on the radio as usual. I attached the straws to the arms of my glasses and told Mom I was picking up HBO. If we had gotten into an accident that day it would have totally been my fault. She...