Amazon and Ace.

Had someone told me 5 years ago I would one day attempt upon making my home chemical-free, I would’ve laughed in their face. I was the queen of Lysol wipes and Clorox bleach.

(For the record, I don’t believe there is ANYTHING wrong with either product. I’ve learned what I’m diving into takes time and people don’t have a whole lot of extra time. This is not a shame post, by no means. It’s strictly about by new adventure.)

Yet, today I put on a Refined T, threw my hair in a messy bun, put mascara on, and tried a new Lipsense color to drive to Norman for one thing—liquid castile soap. 

Why? 

I woke up this morning ready to fully dive into the pool of DIY cleaning products. All soap recipes that are hidden in blogs like this call for such a product. I had initially planned on grating my own, BUT I couldn't find that pin again on my Pinterest. I found another telling me to NOT dare put that soap into my precious Vitamix (Baby would be tasting soap with his homemade food for basically ever) or waste my time grating it along with my finger skin. It sounded scary enough for me to want to find it in already liquid form. When I Googled "liquid castile soap" this morning, Target showed up with the little blue banner that said, “In Store.” 

NOT.

I searched every aisle for liquid castile soap with no luck. Thankfully, I got quality time with my sister, Chick-fil-a, and Starbucks. The trip wasn’t totally a waste. What more could a SAHM ask for, right? Also—upon further investigation, I found Google had put my location in to north OKC and I was not going to drive that far for soap. Instead, I ordered a gallon off Amazon. WHO BUYS SOAP FROM AMAZON? This girl. I seriously am not sure who I’ve become. (My sister did some math and I’m glad I didn’t find it in Target. I’m saving money per ounce, for sure!)

Four weeks ago, I ordered a big jug of Thieves household cleaner (FOR FREE—ask me how; I dare you!) to start this process and also posted the cute picture of my oils that I finally pulled out from a drawer. The next day I spent an hour making sprays and rollers for things I use or needed to begin using every day—bug spray, healthy hair spray, tummy tamer roller, baby bug spray, a linen refresher spray, thieves hand spray, air freshener spray, aches roller, blemish roller, sleepy time roller, immune boost roller, etc. You could say I was a bit excited! (There are entirely too many recipes right here to link, so HERE is a link to my Pinterest board if you want to search for a certain one or are curious to what else I plan to try and repin!)

(Side story: I use that thieves hand spray on everything! Baby dropped his toy in the floor? I spray it. Grocery carts at Walmart? I spray it a million times. Restaurant tables? Duh! Well, I got my first “look” at a restaurant that will remain unnamed for being this weird mom, but I was NOT going to let my teething baby mouth on a table that had been wiped with a dirty rag for weeks. EW!!! For once in my life, the look didn’t bother me. One could say I’m a proud oil user now.)

I waited on the Thieves cleaner for what felt like forever until it finally arrived last weekend! Then I made my favorite product thus far—household thieves spray. I cleaned my entire house with is this week and LOVE it—not sure how I’ve cleaned without it. To replace my beloved Lysol wipes, I made Thieves wipes from paper towels and the cleaner. I ran out and tried to get the cardboard thing out of the middle of the next roll and failed. I fixed that problem today after spending ten minutes in the paper towel aisle at Walmart looking for paper towel rolls without the roll. I bought cheap washcloths instead—less waste! Woo!

I didn’t let the lack of liquid castile soap steal any of my thunder either. I marched myself into Ace and bought a 5 gallon bucket with a lid to be ready to make my laundry detergent the moment it comes in. The man who helped me find the bucket thought I was crazy. I may be. Just kidding. I know I am.

I came home and made fabric softener, scent boosters (some people like their laundry to NOT smell. I found some people who like natural products, essential oils, AND scented laundry), dishwasher tabs, rinse aid, dryer sheets (with washcloths), and more thieves wipes (the reusable washcloth kind).

Naturally, I had to blog about such a day. I wouldn’t recognize myself 5 years ago and 5 years from now when this comes up in Timehop I may have abandoned the cause. Nevertheless, tonight I feel like Super Woman—Amazon soap and Ace bucket buying included.

The DAP Monster.

There are not many topics I get fired up about. I am not an argumentative person. I avoid confrontation at all costs. Yet, here I am, stirring a pot in education. The fact is, some pots NEED to be stirred. Otherwise, things can get burned. 

Let's call this pot the "Developmentally Appropriate Practices Pot." For those of you who do not know what DAP means, stop and read basically everything on THIS website.

Sounds excellent, doesn't it? It's what you picture when your child is away at school. Let me tell you something terrifying--right now in early childhood education, what you picture couldn't be further away from the truth. 

As a society, we have believed the lie that "sooner is better," which results in a "shove it down their throats" teaching philosophy. (Think that's harsh? Stop by a local kindergarten classroom where most of the time children are all but told to sit down at a desk, shut up for hours on end, and complete worksheet after worksheet well above their development [often times academic, also] level. Oh! And if they don't finish in the allotted time. You'll see them still sitting at their desk while their classmates go out to recess. It's a shameful time.) This creates a big problem. If your child does not meet these ridiculous requirements at extremely early ages, you are told something is wrong with them--they need: 
(1) to be put on an intervention plan, 
(2) more kill and drill style teaching while their peers move forward, and 
(3) more homework to practice the skills they're "behind" on. 

I beg to differ. They need more developmentally appropriate instruction.

Let's take a look into my personal experience as a student and then as an educator. After all, it is what I know best.

Well before Common Core or Oklahoma's lovely Reading Sufficiency Act, I went to school. I didn't attend pre-kindergarten. Why? They didn't exist. (I LOVE pre-k! When early childhood education is done correctly, it's a BEAUTIFUL thing. I'm not knocking pre-k, not if it's a developmentally appropriate environment). The first time I stepped into a public school was for a half-day kindergarten program. (How old school!!! No, how APPROPRIATE!) I did not receive any formal reading (or any other kind) instruction in Kindergarten. I played with my friends and sang lots and lots of songs on a rug. 

At home I had two incredible parents who read to me often. My mom says I loved books. I initiated the interest and what do you know? I began to read in kindergarten. (Plot twist?! Nope. Just reinforcing that learning happens best when DAP lead). My parents were not teachers. They actually did not attend college. They just followed my lead with learning. I continued my love for reading throughout school. I scored a 34 on my ACT in Reading. Can you even believe I did not complete a reading worksheet until first grade? What a genius! (Actually, by today's standards I learned on time--then I was early!) No, it's called developmentally appropriate learning. 

More formal reading instruction was introduced in first grade, although I would point out it honestly is what we see the first semester of kindergarten now. First grade is where my sister learned to read. She would be considered a late bloomer, like Leo, today. My parents and her teacher did not panic. They let her learn on her pace. Guess where she is now! Kicking rocks? I mean, she did learn to read "late." What a failure! NO! She's kicking tail in a doctorate program. 

Fast forward to college where I was instructed by the queen of DAP and student taught under an expert. It took me a while to get the hang of it, because it is not natural. Natural is taking the easy route. Natural is asking for a teacher guide to a curriculum and living in the copy machine room. The easy route is glorified babysitting, where you attempt to look like you are teaching through DAP--your students are playing with last month's centers and you are sitting on your rump.

A teacher in a DAP classroom is never still. He/she is busy finding HANDS-ON activities that meet standards, resetting the dramatic play center with new props, and making new sensory items for the sensory table. When students are at these learning centers, she is up walking around to not only manage the classroom, but to question and encourage children. He will lead them through questioning to think deeper. She will point out problems and offer solutions. Students' creativity, problem solving skills, and confidence will soar. Instruction is individualized for each child's needs, therefore the teacher must not just create engaging activities for the majority of the class, but turn the same activities into enrichment for some yet be able to simplify it for those struggling with the concept (The key to DAP in the classroom is the teacher meeting children where they are--some setting the curve, some well-above the curve, and some not even hitting the chart.) The teacher will observe and informally assess students day in and day out. This is difficult. It takes a lot of hard work. The outcome is worth it. The teacher will know more about each child--their social, emotional, and academic levels--than ANY test score would ever share. 

I was SHOCKED to find these practices are not prevalent in the average early childhood classroom. I had lived in the perfect DAP bubble and thought it was unanimously accepted. POP. Teachers who believe wholeheartedly in DAP are thought of as crazy, behind the times, hindering their student's growth with trivial play time. That thinking could not be more wrong. As Fred Rogers said, "Play is often talked about as if it were a relief from serious learning. But for children play is serious learning. Play is really the work of childhood."

I can already hear the doubters. "What do you know? You only taught for 3 years." 

Research proves this over and over (I've linked some of my favorite articles throughout. They should show up as bright green words). Although, I don't need science to convince myself of what is right. I saw the effects of inappropriate instruction every single day of my short-lived time in the classroom. Students cried because they did not want to come to school. They lacked imaginations and had no problem solving skills. The littles' and their parents' stress levels were over the top. They did not enjoy learning and what they did learn was not lasting--that is the saddest part of all. 

My first year I threw out the lesson plan when a student spotted a spider in the doorway on our way to recess. We studied spiders the rest of that day. I followed their lead often after that--incorporating their new interests into lesson plans and using their excitement to meet various standards. On the last day of school, most of them could read/write simple sentences, really KNEW most of their sight words, and recognized the numbers 1-20 (all perfectly acceptable for kindergarteners) despite my frequent breaks from the cultural norm. (They came to me on very different levels and left all further along than where we began.) That wasn't my favorite part, though. My favorite part was their excitement when they saw a spider and started rambling off facts about orb webs months later. Learning, true learning through DAP, is fun, yes, but most importantly--lasting. 

Some may say Oklahoma has the 3rd grade reading test and RSA laws because of ideas like mine or our country, as a whole, is behind countries like Finland because of these silly ideologies. I dare to say our problems began when we deviated from Developmentally Appropriate Practices. It is well passed time to return. 

Who's with me?! 

"Every child has a right to his fifth year of life, his fourth year, his third year. He has a right to live each year with joy and self-fulfillment. No one should ever claim the power to make a child mortgage his today for the sake of tomorrow."

Gillham Girls.

To my baby sister, on the day before her wedding:

I don't remember the day you were born. I do know I was 2 years, 2 months, and 9 days old. I have been told I was very sick, but was quite curious of this thing people called my "sister." So, probably despite Mom's better judgement, I met you in the hospital room. Shortly thereafter, Mom says I asked for you to return to her womb because you really threw a kink in life as I had known it. Don't worry--clearly Mom told me no. She also said no when I asked if we could leave you with Grandma when we took our first Norman shopping trip after you came along. She told me you were ours. We had to keep you and take you with us. This sister thing was hard for a 2 year old. 

Something changed drastically along the way. At age 2 (I was 4), you were quite the biter with a mouthful of chompers. You would dig into my arms and leave bruises that would make a grown person wince. Mom tried to break you of this terrible habit in a variety of ways. You're Mack--stubborn as all get out. You didn't give it up easy. The last time you bit me, she didn't spank you. She didn't put you in time out. Nope. Just like any amazing mom would do, she pulled your arm over to MY mouth and told me to bite you back. 

I couldn't. 

You'd left marks and bruises on me for months on end. I'd never retaliated. Mom was asking me to this time to show you how bad it hurt. I wouldn't. I couldn't imagine causing you pain. (Mom did it for me--thankfully. It worked--you never bit me again!)

That was the theme of our growing up. You'd pick a fight with me, for instance--the one time you grabbed my ponytail for no apparent reason while I was minding my own business and cleaning out the dishwasher. I quickly gained the upper hand, but wouldn't hurt you back. I hustled out to the salon to inform mom that you started it and I chose not to finish it. 

Do you know how many times I took spankings because I fought Mom and Dad to NOT give you well-deserved ones?! That'd be about HALF of all the ones I ever received. I'll also point out you never took ONE for me. That was okay. It was my calling as the older sister--unconditionally love and protect baby sister at all costs, even if she's wrong, no matter who I'm up against. 

I think I've done a fantastic job, minus the one time I made YOU ride on the back of the elephant in Africa. You were braver than me. I knew Mary the Elephant wouldn't hurt you--you're an animal whisperer. 

Tomorrow, (now I'm crying) I will pass my job on to the only guy I'd willingly give it to. I liked Zane from the very beginning, before you knew he existed and all throughout the lie of, "we're just friends," you fed everyone. When he declared his undying love for you at what seemed a poor time, I was thrilled. He valiantly pursued your heart and I quickly knew you would be his wife. 

Just as I would like to think I've done for you the last 23 years, he makes you more Mack. And Mack is the best thing you could be. He makes you laugh the same way I have--even when I would make fun of it. (Scream, laugh, snort, AND repeat). He gives you a better run for your money in your stubborn state than I EVER did. (He'll definitely need to keep that up). He forgives you immediately. He cheers you up. He calms your fears. He protects you. He prays for you. He points you to Jesus. And he will become your husband tomorrow evening. 

I'll probably bawl my eyes out as I stand beside you. They won't be sad tears. They'll be happy tears. I'll be reminiscing on every moment up to this point and thanking the Lord I've had a front row seat and a role to play in preparing you for the moment as your MOH, your sister, your roommate, and your best friend. I'll be praying that Zane realizes the weight of such a calling to protect and love you. I know he'll do the best job. 

No matter the change in our last names, we'll always be "The Gillham Girls!"

I love you, Mackenzie Leigh Deviney. 

Oh. I almost forgot something. You are SUCH a COUGAR! ;)