Growing up, I could sit in my room for hours reading anything and everything I could get my hands on. I loved reading about times past, exciting characters and storylines, and would often mourn when I finished a book.

As I got older, I began to fall more and more in love with classic literature, and I dreamed that one day my future children would love it as much as I did.

Much to my dismay, once I reached motherhood, my three boys were far more interested in Legos, video games, and scootering outside than sitting down with a good book.

You know how it goes……

You begin the day with great aspirations of what will be. Of all the lessons learned and memories made.

Then, before you know it, it’s full blown chaos.

The dog is chasing the cat around the house. There’s a child dancing on the table, another is coloring on the wall. Someone is digging through the pantry looking for 3rd breakfast……

You say the word “homeschool” in a conversation, and suddenly you’re berated with a slew of questions. Some reasonable and filled with genuine curiosity. Others seem to come out of left field. So what is true, and what is pure fiction?

We had worked so hard for so many years to make it to this point. The finish line. And now that it was here, I was sad.

Never once did we think we would be a homeschooling family. But there we were, stumbling through it all.