Yesterday, I ran into a younger mom while I was walking my dog. I hadn’t seen her in a while, so somehow in the blink of an eye she has birthed four babies, the oldest of whom is eight. She’s a wise and athletic young mom who defies all the frumpy and eccentric stereotypes of homeschooling. They were outside in a big, grassy culdesac in our neighborhood, a picture of sunny joy; one threw a football with her, and the others huddled together around a book. I was struck by this scene—a mom with her little brood, contented and enjoying the best that life offers on a patch of grass.
That used to be me.
Of course, it inspired some personal reflection too—in particular, on my own years as a homeschooling mom. Although I once rued those memories, and although I’d do a few things differently in the haunting wisdom of hindsight, I absolutely don’t regret those years. Even though homeschooling included a lonely, two-year battle with OCD and depression, and even though I sometimes felt conspicuous in a community of more fashionable school moms, I don’t regret it.
In fact, my kids and I still laugh at some of the foibles and crash-outs of our homeschool era, but there are nonetheless a lot of things—even hard things—that I don’t regret....