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I wrote recently about chores, and today guest author Denise Schipani, author of Mean Moms Rule is joining me to share her thoughts on the subject.  She also touches on another important aspect of this blog, which is how to balance your own time, needs and adult dreams while being a parent. Sometimes it's easy to get lost in children's constant clamor for attention, and although kids do need oodles of time, they also need to rely on their own devices, play by themselves and understand you have a separate life.

I started writing a novel last year.  Of course, with two young kids and a day job writing nonfiction, I had no time.  If I was going to get up extra early to write, that precious 'starlighting' time in the morning had to be sacred, so I put my children's sleeping hours on a timer.

I woke up with a dent in my forehead.  It comes from dressing up as the Headless Horseman for Halloween last night.  Turns out it's tricky to make your head disappear, ride a cardboard horse, and balance a 10-lb. pumpkin in one hand while chaperoning children along the dark streets

We have a new chore chart up on the wall.  Until recently, my kids were still struggling with the basic tasks of personal maintenance --- getting dressed, brushing teeth, fetching their own bowls and spoons, pouring milk and tucking their pajamas away each day.

Now I'm going to tell you the story of little Penelope Boothby.  I met her last week when I was traveling about the country with Granny and Grandpa visiting very old and famous English churches. At least, I didn't exactly meet her.  She's been dead for almost 200 years, you see.

My very first rejection letter came in 3rd grade.  I'd been writing endless stories by then, and thought I was pretty good.My teacher loved my stories and encouraged me to apply; my parents loved them. I was sure I would win and be published in the magazine.

Dictation didn't end there.  In first grade I wrote a series of ~16 books, all about Leo the Lion and his friend George, all dictated.  I was dreadfully proud of them.  I told the stories that were burning in my heart, colored pictures above the text and was introduced to the joy of writing.

Last week I was in Ohio visiting my childhood preschool which "gets it right."  Above the office door was a sign entitled "Personal Qualities Not Measured by Tests." It reminded me of the many articulate comments left on my blog last week, including this one: "You don't learn SELF discipline from other people making you do things."

Yesterday I walked through the woods in Ohio where I grew up, holding my 8-year-old's hand.  These are the same paths where my father used to hike with us, always stooping to point out Dutchman's breeches in the spring, cut leaf toothwort or bloodroot.  Ever the teacher, he was always teaching the names of things: paw paw, shagbark hickory, sugar maple.

It's back-to-school time.  Time to write THAT letter again.  The letter to my child's new teacher that explains why our family bans homework. That's right.  I care about my children's learning.  That's why I believe tree forts win over homework.   Quite simply, I believe homework has no place in a young child's life.