Chapter 1: Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

"Hey John, you awake? Geez, I'm so excited I can't sleep!"

I heard grunting noises from the other side of the bed as my husband rolled over. I sighed and realized I should just let him sleep. I knew he had to get up early to go out and slay computer demons.

Poor guy. I’m the lucky one. Tomorrow will be our first day of officially homeschooling! I lay there imagining the wonderful experiences I would share with my children as we explored the world together.

I felt the same excitement I feel when I am about to go over the top of the first hill on a roller coaster. I ignored the fact I hate roller coasters and scream through the entire ride while clawing at my riding companion until I finally get on solid ground again. I don’t know when I finally fell asleep. The last time I looked at the clock it was 4:30 a.m.

I awoke to the sounds of my two children, Melissa, 8, and Keith, 6, arguing and wrestling on my husband's side of the bed. John was already gone and I realized it must have been him that kissed me goodbye earlier instead of Antonio Banderas.

"We should wake her up."

"No, don't, she'll be in a bad mood all day if we do."

"She'll be in a bad mood if we don't."

I tried not to move. I felt someone's breath on my face. Then one of my eyelids fluttered.

"Hey Mom! What're we gonna do today, huh?" yelled Keith.

I winced and pulled my pillow over my head.

"Yeah Mom, shouldn't school be starting or something?" inquired Melissa.

"Our first official homeschooling project is breakfast," I said, dragging myself out of bed.

I was enjoying the sugar-laden, vitamin fortified, crunchy goodness, anxiously awaiting the insulin surge, when I noticed Keith waving his hand in the air.

"Keith, what are you doing? You don't need to raise your hand to talk to me."

"Well, I need to go to the bathroom," he said, frantically slapping his feet together.

"You can get a drink and go to the bathroom any time. You don't have to raise your hand, OK?"

"Cool!" he said and ran off. I yelled at him to change into his clothes after he finished.

"Well Mom," said Melissa, as she grabbed the cereal box and began eating all of the marshmallows. "What're we gonna do today?"

"I thought we'd go to the library."

She suddenly stopped chomping. "Do I have to get only second grade books?" she sputtered, looking worried.

"Heck, no, you can read anything that looks interesting," I said, feeling smug about our new adventure. The sugar was kicking in.

"Double cool!" and she ran off to get ready.

The excitement was back. As I changed for our library trip, I relived the dreams of how our family would have so much fun learning and discovering the world together, in harmony. I soon realized dreaming is best-done while sleeping.

Keith came hopping down the stairs holding a glass of water. "Where's Melissa?" I asked.

He took a big drink and said, "She's on her bed reading a book."

"Well, go tell her we're leaving." He hopped back up the stairs, splashing water on the floor and yelling for Stupidhead.

Several minutes later Melissa came down, reading a t-shirt label she just tore off. "Ok, now where's Keith?" I asked.

"I think he's in the bathroom."

"What's he doing?"

"I really don't want to know Mom, thank you very much." So much for my goal of holding on to their natural sense of curiosity.

I yelled up the stairs, "Keith, come on let's go!" No answer.

I grunted in frustration. "Melissa, please go up there and get him while I find the car keys."

Several more minutes passed and Keith came bouncing down singing, "It's so cool, ain't it cool, not like school, not like school, I can use the bathroom anytime I want toom."

"Okay, now where's Melissa?"

"What?" I must have interrupted his lyric writing. "Uh, she's laying on her stomach in the hallway reading a magazine...and I didn't mean to step on her back Mom, really."

"Keith, just go get in the car." I climbed the stairs again and pulled the magazine out of Melissa's hand.

"Hey, I was reading that," she growled.

"Melissa. Let's go."

Before I locked the front door, I looked outside to make sure they were both in the car. Keith was walking on the car hood finishing off a glass of water. Melissa was sitting on the grass reading the mail.

When we arrived at the library, Keith took off to the bathroom. He was mad because Melissa had been trying to make him laugh so he would wet his pants.

Then Melissa got mad at me when I told her she could not spend the night at the library and would just have to pick a few books to take home.

I hauled a stack of books and two pouting kids to the counter. The librarian checking us out asked, "Why aren't you guys in school?"

"Oh, well, um, we're homeschooling," I said, a bit timidly, not sure of her reaction. She raised her eyebrows but made no remark.

She turned her attention to my kids, the ones with the sour faces. "So what's your favorite thing about homeschooling so far?"

"Nothing. I hate it," said Melissa, arms folded. "Mom says I can't spend the night here. I don't see why since I won't have to get up to catch the bus."

"Oh," the librarian said with a sparkle in her eyes, "you must really like books. Me too. Sometimes I wish I could spend the night here."

"You do?" Melissa brightened. "Well, really I guess it's going to be fun because I can read any book I want!"

"Oh, my that's wonderful isn't it? I hope we see you here often. We have tons of -."

Keith interrupted her. "Well, the best thing for me is I can get a drink and go to the bathroom anytime I want! And without raising my hand! Your bathroom here is awesome, every one of your flushers works! But that one faucet don't work so good, so, um, sorry about the wet floor."

While the librarian absorbed this information, I quickly collected the books and we returned home for a late lunch. The phone rang and as I got up to answer it, Melissa and Keith started fighting over the ketchup bottle. I grabbed the bottle out of Melissa's hand and slammed it on the table. The lid popped off, bounced off the dining room light and hit my little toe. The ketchup sprayed out of the bottle and splattered on the ceiling.

My kids watched a real act as I glared at them, teeth clenched, hopping and rubbing my toe, while my voice remained cheery as I told my new homeschooling acquaintance, "Why, yes, our first day is going great."