“Do you knit?” I asked my friend Stacey, who sat beside me at a table near our sons’ fine arts classes. I pointed at some moms across the room who were furiously working with their needles.
“No. Don’t knit. I can’t even cook,” she said. I’d met Stacey a few weeks earlier, when our young sons had hit it off on the playground. She had never struck me as a typical homeschooling mom.
“And I only have three kids.”
We laughed. I only have two myself, but they’re “spirited,” so they count as six.
Of course, as I’d found out when I began homeschooling last fall, there is no one type of homeschooling mom. That was a fallacy I’d believed for a long time; one that nearly kept me from plunging in myself. I’d always thought that in order to school my two sons, I would have to: buy a long denim jumper and—shudder!—wear it; grow my hair out very long; and make my own soap.
Continued here.
