-
my holiday cry for help.
Quick. My oldest daughter thinks we do not celebrate Thanksgiving in a very traditional fashion. (She’s partially correct.) Although this hasn’t always been true – our current Thanksgivings do not stir up entirely festive picture-worthy moments. They’ve been good – pleasant, even. Just not family-drenched moments of memory. Something about not having mothers to herald and corral and cajole shifts the tides of holidays. But I’m the mother now – and sometimes I need to be reminded that it’s my job to be Official Holiday Memory Maker. The torches have been passed. I keep trying to remind her of all the Thanksgivings of the past. Ones spent at my family’s…
-
hullabaloo
The definition of hullabaloo is “a commotion, a fuss”. I guess that’s about accurate. Last night was the sweetest hullabaloo of which I’ve ever been a part. Our co-op decided it would be great to celebrate finishing a term of class together. We wanted to give the kids a gentle opportunity to share their hard work out loud and a bit of a time for the dads to see what the kids have been up to for the past twelve weeks. The night was precious. Verses delivered with gusto by little ones. (Otto said, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean BACK on your own understanding.”) Cathryn, at…
-
happy friday.
I ran this morning! (Thanks Heather!) And since it was at 6 A.M. (!) and it was 29 degrees I think that’s a giant leap toward discipline points – right? Now I have time to type this, tidy up the laundry room and prep a little school for the day. (Or time to go back to bed. Whichever.) Also. Yesterday I called a trash collection place – pretty sure they have a different title than that – and signed us up for the delivery of our very own giant green trash can. Just like all the regular people have. Next week we’ll get to see if hauling it down our…
-
What it is.
Two weekends ago I attended a wedding shower for a friend. Last weekend I attended another wedding shower for a different friend. Sunday we were sitting in a field with an incredibly lovely mountain top view watching two sweet friends holding hands and exchanging promises. Love. It’s just all over the place this month. Love. I like weddings. I like romance. I like the idealism associated with newlyweds and young love. It’s the beginning and it’s sticky sweet and it’s hopeful and it’s full of glowing words and bold proclamations. It’s nice. But when I saw this instagram picture on my phone last week, I was reminded of the kind…
-
and knowing is half the battle
We’re having a trash problem over here lately. Trash services are available where we live. It’s just that standard trash procedure generally requires one to pull trash cans to the end of their driveway. And our driveway seems like a pretty far walk to drag a full (or empty) trash can or two weekly. So we figured if we were already loading up trash to the driveway’s end, we might as well take it somewhere for free. So we just haven’t contacted the service and made the leap yet. And we’ve been living at our house for almost a year now. In Virginia there were dumpsters on every road. For…
-
sometimes I say yes
My children ask a lot of questions. And sometimes I get to answer “yes”. “Will you cuddle longer this morning Momma?” “Can I eat this entire pomegranate by myself?” “Will you read another chapter of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with me?” “May I help you make breakfast?” “The next wedding we go to – can I wear this vest with my favorite shirt?”
-
the situation here.
Our green second car died last week. Really died. It was a 1995 passed-down-through-the-framily Buick something or other. I never really drove it anywhere. It was funny looking – with dents in the side, glued on mirrors that couldn’t move and bullet hole stickers on the door. Riley tried to “cool-it-up” by affixing a half dozen trendy stickers for products she likes – shoes, gear, schools. You know – teenage signs of importance. I don’t actually miss the car – although Riley seems to. But goodness I missed what it provided. The obvious – transportation. Because Riley needs to attend school and Kevin needs to attend work, any priority I…
Keep Reading . . .
that magic moment
parenting at the end of a school year. bless us all.
The Right Word.
-
O.T.T.O.
I love how he runs. On the beach. Shirtless. Belly first. Fingers spread wide apart. Hair so blonde it seems colorless. Shiny. Reflective. Full of big boy ideas. And shouts. And clever plans. I could count his ribs but he’s too feisty to catch. His mood changes as rapidly as his feet shuffle across the sand. And I guess it’s because I know he’s my last that I wish he would just slow down.
-
Keigley CAMPaign: Huntington Beach
Lately it feels as if all forces conspire against me in completing a blog post in a regular or timely fashion. And I’m missing my writing consistency. But it’s early (ish) morning and I’m pounding the keys for a few quiet moments. Huntington Beach. I think it’s the state park farthest away from our home. Are you kidding me? That’s all I kept repeating. Otto was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. (And eventually only his underwear.) I was thinking about sunscreen and Kevin and Mosely were flying a kite. (A really cool box kite that we found completely intact in the sand dunes.) It’s November. No.vem.ber. I think we just…
-
driving home (the beauty of an iPhone and modern technology)
Today we are leaving this. And to leave the ocean is always bittersweet. But to have even touched the waves in November is pure gift. It was our November camping trip. The one we almost didn’t take. Because it’s cold. Because our second car died last week. Because it’s a busy busy month. But we did go. All the way to the ocean. I think we’re all glad we took the risk. And tomorrow I’ll tell you all about it.
-
Tricks of the Trade. 4.
Like my family closet idea, this idea is not really mine. I probably grabbed it from someone else’s blog or brain in some form or fashion. And now you can have it too. It’s simple and it’s easy and that’s what makes it a good idea. Serve your kids lunch in a muffin tin. There you have it. Anti-climatic. Not at all dramatic. Lunch in a muffin tin. I drove right on over to Ye Olde Dollar Tree and placed down $5 for 5 brand new muffin tins. (In the spirit of full disclosure – I might have purchased six. I can’t really remember.) The small cups are perfect for…
-
have you ever had that kind of day?
You know what I’m talking about? That kind of day. The kind of day where you have expectations, like every day. Not unreasonable expectations. Not bake six-dozen-beautifully-frosted-like-a-magazine cookies. Not sew new curtains for the living room from an idea you saw on Pinterest. Not finish the entire year’s worth of math curriculum in one afternoon. Not those kind of expectations. Just reasonable, normal, run of the mill type expectations. Eat breakfast together as a family. Complete a regular amount of school work. Have lunch. Spend a good afternoon finishing up assignments and taking down the tent out of the yard since it had been set up for a full two…
-
my son will not appreciate this one day.
For a while Otto has been able to write his own name. It’s a pretty simple one – what with all those circles and sticks. It’s always been pretty adorable to me to see him concentrate so seriously and push his pencil forcefully across the paper. (Or the wall. Goodness. Six children. First one to ever put pen to wall is the last one.) And he can also spell it out loud for you. But he’s been slipping a little lately when he signs his name on the page. And – I’ll tell you what – he does not care for being corrected or for being informed of the word…
Keep Reading . . .
pendulum swinger
45.
Five Finds Friday (Saylor’s reading and Ryder got a haircut)
