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just because, you know.
I just like looking at him.
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…. after Wildwood
Recently my friend Kristie told me that she thought the inspiration for our homeschool name of Wildwood was from Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame. She shared a quote from the novel that had led her to believe it was a perfect fit. After I read the quote – I saw that it was, indeed, a perfect fit. And so now, although the name Wildwood wasn’t inspired by this particular quote but was instead inspired from the Wildwood Chronicles, this quote will be added to our official school quotes and will inspire us in the future. We chose the name Wildwood because in the novel series Wildwood is this…
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Morning Prayer
A lot of Most of my good ideas come from watching my friends as they parent or homeschool their own children. (Which is why I am continually grateful for godly women in my life. Continually grateful.) Several of my buddies have a little basket or a magnet stuck to their fridge with pictures of people they know and care about. It’s their prayer list. They’ll have the kids help pray for that person throughout the day and a new face is chosen each morning. I’d never tried anything like that before. And in the history of Keigley, we haven’t always had predictable mornings with standard routines. But as our children…
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a parenting reminder to myself.
Hi friends. Lean in a little closer. There, that’s good. I’ve got something so profound to say …….. parenting is hard work. Tremendously difficult work in the manner in which no soul alive can adequately explain. Yes. Right. I know that wasn’t exactly profound. I could list the ways in which it’s so difficult if that would help. Long hours. Selfless giving of time and energy. Changing diapers full of excrement. The worry. The late nights. The what-if’s and the why-did-I’s. The inconvenience to time and schedule and cost. The heartbreak and tears. The fears. The struggle to find consistency. The struggle to find time alone. The struggle to find…
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these two
No words today. Just two of my girls.
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A Snapshot in Words – Can You Picture It?
This is a typical moment in our home. A picture without an image. Kevin and I standing in the bathroom. Yes. The bathroom. Not brushing our teeth or using the facilities – just being in the bathroom, the tiny bathroom, discussing some life matter of importance only to grown ups. Taxes. Insurance. Who needs the car the most tomorrow. We hear hallway commotion and peek out the door. We see: One giant boy riding back and forth in the hall on his little brother’s Batman big wheel. (The Batman big wheel that taught Otto the difference between right and left with its mechanical voice shouting directions. The Batman big…
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I think she’s right.
After a particularly lovely sunset across the silhouette of the bare tree tops, Piper Finn walked inside and smiled big at me. “Momma,” she said, “Sometimes I think the outside is a show.”
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Kids in the Kitchen: A Regular Plan
After London spent a day planning and creating all three meals for our family recently the other kids wanted to take a more active role in food preparation too. So I made a plan. I do love a plan. For now it’s primarily a plan for London, Mosely and Bergen since they can work more independently, but we’ll add in Piper and Otto as time allows. When I’m doing my weekly meal planning, usually Saturday sometime, I have the kids each choose a meal and a menu for one day the following week. To inspire them (and me) I check out cookbooks from the library and also use our own…
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Finn Takes The Stage
All you have to do is ask her. If you see my little Piper Finnian she will enthusiastically deliver her lines for you, British accent and all. “Mum said you might want to play a game with me. We can skip rope if you like.” Pause. Sad face. “But I’m finished with all of my chores. You can have a go first.” Sadder face. Head over shoulder and stepping away from Lucy. She and Kevin have been starring together in a local theatre’s version of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Piper is the youngest on stage with a speaking role. I’m pretty thrilled for her. Kevin plays Professor…
Keep Reading . . .
the winter feels
Stages & Seasons: From Diapers to Dissatisfaction
cliff’s edges.
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Happy Birthday Laura Ingalls
Somehow, despite our entire school year’s focus on Laura Ingalls Wilder, her birthday surprised us this year. Last week, the girls were at a birthday party for their friend when I realized that it wasn’t just our sweet friend Kate’s birthday – but it was Laura’s birthday too! Of course, it was too late that day to celebrate our pioneer girl. A few days after that I gathered my class, also known as my children, into a huddle of sorts at the kitchen table. (Actually – we often form a huddle of sorts when we gather.) I told them the plan. Each child had two tasks to celebrate Laura Ingalls.…
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Is there an echo in this house?
The Family Circus cartoon used to feature an additional character called Not Me. Not Me was a regular guest in their family. He was frequently seen near accidents or broken dishes or toys left unkempt. (Does that date me terribly to reference The Family Circus? It probably does.) Anyway. We are occasionally joined by the little Not Me at our house, but our primary guest goes by a different name, maybe he’s Not Me’s cousin. We know him by the name Me Too. I think forty seven twelve times a day when I say the word “yes” to nearly any question I’m asked I hear a chorus of Me Too’s.…
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the enigma without the solution
Most days Every day of my life I wish for one thing …. more time. Am I the only mother who feels this way? Never mind answering that. I know I am not. What I am saying here is not profound. It is not unusual. But it’s still so painfully true. There is simply never enough time within one day to fit in all the ideas/thoughts/activities/plans that I have. I can assume it is the season in which I currently reside. I assume that when the little birds fly away from the nest, time will appear to move differently to me. That’s the crazy thing though, isn’t it? I won’t…
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Backyard Bird Count
I know I should be counting birds – and I guess I sort of am. My little birds. One pajama-clad at 2:30 in the afternoon. One binocular wearing. Several scattered across the sun-dappled dirty dead grassed yard. One perched on a fence. Pencils, notebooks in five diminutive pairs of hands. Flitting. Fluttering. Flightless. You absolutely are my treasure. My collection. My sweets. My song. This selfish side of me would see you stay tiny forever. Stay small and close and mine. Caged birds. Pretty and contained. Stagnant and stable. The pieces both of what I desire and what I’d never want. Birds – the most beautiful I’ve known. The ones…
