the path that wiggles

First time I typed the title of this post, I wrote "The path that wiffles" I rather like that title more, but it implies a horrible smell, which could confuse. There are no suspect aromas in connection with this post.....only cinnamon scented play dough, handmade by me because I am THAT good.

Actually, apart from meal times, this is the first time I have sat down today. It has been a mad, crazy let's-do-everything-right-now kind of day.

We've made paper, printed out and made the snowman decoration from The Toymaker site, made two types of play dough, the aforementioned smelly one, and a cornflour super white and glittery one. (Recipe here at Nurturestore.)

There was much loving of ponies. We've borrowed a neighbours for the Winter to keep Rebel company. Happily, they get on well. Unhappily they get on a bit too well and have taken to bellowing at each other when one is taken out of the field, and Spike even squeezed past Od at the gate in order to follow his new best friend.

Back in the house there was soup making, Eb was on day three of cake baking - a new found passion for him. We made Christmas decorations, sock animals, snowmen, read books, played computer games, ate the cakes, drank tea and hot chocolate, watched some Cbeebies and drew some pictures.

There was a passionate argument over who ate the last cake....turned out to be the cat.

Lb also had a fit of bad temper when every one else wanted to play with his new play dough. As far as he was concerned it only belonged to him, and if any one else touched it he threw himself down on the floor in a strop. We got round this by ignoring him.

So, you can see where my time has gone. Add to this the mundane activities that keep us in clean(ish) clothes and warm and fed.....you have a full day.

In between the magic and mayhem, I found twenty minutes to talk to another home educating mum on the phone, where I picked her brains about what to do with Od, now that she is turning eleven in a few short weeks.

I recently got asked by a relative who I hadn't seen for a year whether Od was going to secondary school. Evidently this piece of information was more important to her than whether we were all well, as it was the first and only thing we spoke about. I was taken aback, and gave a rather vague answer, something I am quite sure will go against me. What sort of mother doesn't even know where her child will be educated next year?

That would be me.

Truth is, it's up to Od. If she wants to try big school, then she can. Currently she is of the opinion that home is better for her, but it might change and if it does then we'll do what we need to do to make that happen.

When I asked my my wise, and more experienced friend what I should be doing with Od now she is approaching eleven she asked me a question instead of giving me an answer.

"What does she want to do?"

The simple answer is be outside, read books, play board games, make things, see her friends, write poems and watch Singing in the Rain.

That can't be enough though can it?

When I said this, my friend said that they all seemed like great things to do.

The time will come when Od will have a clearer idea of what she wants to do with her life, and when that time comes we will look at what qualifications she'll need to get there and we will facilitate her in any way we can to get them.

In the meantime, we'll continue on our wiggly, sometimes wiffly path.