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This Tuesday started like a dream: all the kids slept in. What a rare and peaceful treat! I sipped my coffee, read a bit, and even took a shower before the first tiny footsteps echoed down the hall.

Breakfast was light and refreshing—chia pudding, watermelon, and slices of sourdough toast slathered with almond butter. Our 3-year-old asked to knead the next loaf, so I guided her through the “turn, fold, and push” rhythm. She loved getting her hands covered in flour and topped it all off with a fun design using kitchen scissors. It’s these quiet, messy moments that I treasure the most.

With the summer heat on its way, we opened the windows and turned on the furnace fan to circulate air through the house. The kids and I talked about how moving the air helps cool the house naturally, reducing our need for air conditioning. I offered to revisit how air conditioning works, but they kindly declined—we’ve covered that one before!

Our 8-year-old was feeling off—tired, maybe sick, maybe just worn out—so we skipped our weekly park playdate in favor of a restful day at home. After two back-to-back days of water play and a birthday party, the downtime was a welcome reset.

We snuggled up on the couch and read a few great books. When I picked up Creepy Carrots, our 6-year-old jumped up and said, “Just a minute! Please resume after I have grabbed a carrot from the fridge!” Suddenly, everyone had a carrot in hand, and we read that book four times in a row, laughing and crunching together.

As the sourdough baked, we ventured outside. Our toddler helped water the garden, while the baby and I picked greens and weeds for the chickens. We all munched on fresh snap peas. The older kids collected two warm eggs and checked in on our hens with pride.

In the backyard, we launched our first trial of Fourth of July science experiments. We talked about catalysts and reactions before testing a foamy reaction with our current ingredient combo. The kids can’t wait to try alternate variations tomorrow to maximize the “wow” factor.

The house smelled incredible when we came back in. It was hard to wait for the bread to cool—we ate half a loaf with vegan butter. While the little ones pretended to make pancakes with spatulas and board books, our oldest made scrambled eggs for what might’ve been his second or third breakfast. The whole scene reminded me of the Hobbits in Lord of the Rings—always eating, always joyfully together.

The kids reminisced about their favorite trip—our simple, budget-friendly adventure to the Painted Hills, Oregon. They rock-hounded, visited the paleontology center, and proudly earned Junior Ranger badges. Their happy memories reminded me: it doesn’t have to be grand to be meaningful.

Then came the thumb wars—giggles and all—even the baby got involved. The fun turned to more science when our 3-year-old requested an experiment. I filled a cake pan with soap, vinegar, baking soda, and some red drink powder. She used a dropper to test different combinations and described what she heard, saw, and smelled.

Meanwhile, the baby explored kinetic sand (and made quite the mess). After cleanup and bath time, we folded laundry together before settling into some quiet table work.

Our 6-year-old felt overwhelmed by a new writing book. We talked about how reading Harry Potter seemed daunting at first too, but we took it one chapter at a time. He smiled and made a plan—just get started, one step at a time. Our 8-year-old dove into math while our 3-year-old traced words and letters nearby.

After some screen time (Creature Cases followed by Bad Dinosaurs, a silent show they negotiated peacefully to avoid waking their napping sister), I whipped up a quick stir fry of bok choy, shiitakes, and zucchini.

Then we all rolled chocolate chip oat energy balls together. We tasted the latest batch of kombucha and checked on our homemade root beer (made using our ginger bug) to see if it was ready for the fridge. These shared kitchen moments spark so much connection.

The day closed with our “book club” reading—science, snakes, and sweet fairy tales—followed by the kids’ chosen dinner of snack plates: pistachios, pineapple, apples with almond butter, energy balls, and rice. After dinner, we cleaned up, bathed, and started winding down.

Our 3-year-old got frustrated with her pajamas, and I gently said, “Yeah, it can be frustrating when your skin is still wet.” She paused, smiled, and sang a little song about flipping her frustration coin to find her peaceful and happy side—something she picked up from Diane Alber’s wonderful Little Spot books. What a beautiful moment of emotional growth.

We ended with Sherlock Holmes as the evening read. Our 8-year-old asked to watch the second Percy Jackson movie once he finishes the book. I agreed. He plans to read a chapter a night. When he read the first book, he even gave us a full summary from memory—pretty amazing considering he only recently became an independent reader. Our 6-year-old asked him to read aloud, and he hesitated. “I’ll try,” he said, “but it’s harder to read out loud than in my head. Now I’m much more thankful for you reading to us, Mom.” My heart melted.

Why Share a Day Like This?

Because maybe you’re in the thick of it. Maybe you wonder if the slow days at home are “enough.” Maybe you’re juggling messes, moods, and meals with exhaustion in your bones and doubt whispering in your ear.

This is your reminder that this—the books and the baking, the giggles and the grumbles, the experiments and the emotional growth—is the stuff of a rich education and a beautiful life. Homeschooling isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence. It’s about nurturing connection, curiosity, and character in everyday rhythms.

If today felt chaotic or quiet or simply normal, know that those days matter too. Sometimes the most powerful learning doesn’t look academic—it looks like sharing sourdough, asking kind questions, or singing your way through frustration.

You are planting seeds of wonder, empathy, resilience, and joy. Keep going, You’re doing sacred work. 🌱