Chaos
Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure. - Rumi
-
Hello Reality
5 days away from home. No meals to cook. No school to teach. I won’t lie – that was pretty great. But we knew it was a fairy tale. Not real. As we boarded our last flight to home, Kevin and I joked about crossing over from fantasy to reality. I knew it was coming. I just didn’t expect it to be such a crash landing. Approximately one hour (or the length of time it took to wash and dry one load of laundry) after arriving at our cozy home my husband and partner-in-parenting-this-mess-of-children-we-have-accumulated repacked his bag and headed north-ish with his co-workers for their annual staff retreat. That was okay.…
-
you won’t find it here. (a point, that is.)
I guess this picture is just about perfect for this post. Piper Finn looks a little creepy. Otto Fox looks mostly miserable. (But they are both still sort of cute despite the weirdness and the displeasure.) I’d say that’s a good summation of my day. I should just stop right there and step away from the keyboard. But I can’t. Because that’s not how I roll. Today was a school day. But it was also a day that required a few quick morning errands. A few quick morning errands. Oh, how I laugh at the idea even now. Before the bulk of our real shopping was to begin, Bergen reminded…
-
Oh. And This Happened Too.
If you don’t care for reading about poop or vomit or throw up, you should probably read another blog. A tidier, cleaner, more appropriate blog perhaps. I can’t exactly help this. I have six kids – remember? This is what I do right now. Here goes . . . They needed a bath. It was a tub mostly full of pudgy kid legs and dirty toes and stubby fingers and plastic tug boats. Beckett, Otto Fox and Piper Finn were all getting a cleansing soak. Things seemed pretty fine. Rinse hair. Wash face. Reach for baby shampoo. Turn back to tub. What in the world? Who dumped a small bucket…
-
More Kids Than Adults: Lessons Learned
I haven’t been home for a full week. Seven days. Seven nights. It’s July. And in our framily July means one thing. The annual July Fourth party. A tradition at least twenty years in the making. And – oh boy – will I have a lot of things to say about this past week. Here’s the first . . . Lots of us slept at the farm house. The grand total was something like this – 5 adults. 9 kids. (And some days held more children drifting in and out.) The point is – the adults were outnumbered. The kids could have thrown a coup and forced us to feed…
-
Perhaps it’s true.
It is possible that these kitchen tongs may have scooped a plastic orca whale out of our toilet recently.
-
Because you asked
The watermelon-cut-with-a-sword really was an event not to be missed around these here parts. And my husband, the funny guy who owns a sword that he keeps stashed under our bed, has done a play by play of the sword swiping event. It actually was pretty impressive. (And a better method of cutting watermelon than my weak little kitchen knife ever provides.) Seriously – he sliced the whole watermelon. First in half. Then in slices. And then, because he doesn’t play around, he came at the sliced watermelon from an angle and cut the whole thing in half lengthwise again. If you really want to see the pictures for proof…
-
we do
Who buys a watermelon bigger than her one year old son? I do. Who sees that huge watermelon sitting on our butcher block and tells his children that he would like to cut that green guy open with a giant sword? Kevin does. Who takes their father’s word as truth and waits in anxious anticipation for Daddy to arrive at home? The Keiglets do. Who actually follows through and gets the sword? Kevin does. Wait – who actually owns a sword? Kevin does.
-
Can Someone Please Define Normal?
Yesterday was a normal day. I have a lot of those. I’ll just go ahead and highlight three examples of events or conversations that contributed to the normalness of the day. Just three, mind you. Three examples of normal. (Except maybe I am not entirely sure what normal means anymore. That’s possible. Indeed – probable.) Example One: Disclaimer: Some of my children may be rapidly approaching the age when I can no longer share these stories unless I use an alias for them. So we had better all enjoy this while it lasts.) Piper Finn and Otto Fox were napping. Riley was reading a book. (Wait – that can’t be…
-
I-95: I Am Your Pupil
Last Friday five of my children and I spent basically an entire day inside the confines of our Suburban. (Berg was the missing Keiglet. He’s spending another Boys Only visit with Aunt Emma & Co.) It was a very long day. (Can you say that sentence slowly and with emphasis and while heaving a heavy sigh?) But the trip was not in vain. (Well, of course it was not in vain. We needed to get from Tallahassee to South Carolina and our choice was to live in Florida forever or to drive home.) This is what Florida to South Carolina on I-95 taught me. 1. Sean Kingston and Justin Bieber’s ridiculous…
-
it sure is a good thing
This is what London said to me once . . . “Mom. It sure is a good thing you have so many kids. They can help you do all these chores.” What I thought but did not say in response – Yeah. That’s right, London. And the reason I have all these chores is because I have all these kids. I did not say that. I did not say that because six-year-old children do not generally interpret sarcasm well. But maybe, just maybe, that little London gal is on to something after all. Here’s two ways I think I can secretly (well, not now, of course) get away with using…
-
what a long, strange trip it’s been. emphasis on the “long”.
It seems we like adventure lately. Or something like that. And I guess it wasn’t enough to drive three hours into the mountains of Georgia last week with five young children. Nope. Not enough. I am a glutton for punishment I suppose. I threw in one more kid (totaling six, in case you’re counting) and tossed in about triple the drive time and we all headed to Florida. Let me break the trip down for you into easily digestible categories and lists. The Miracle On a nine-plus hour trip no one had to stop for an unscheduled bathroom break. No one. Not one of the seven passengers requested the bathroom. …
-
a fairytale
Once upon a time (about four days ago) we embarked upon an epic journey. (We drove to Georgia.) Where we stayed with two princesses (Lindsey and Rachael) in their castle (an apartment with the red door that matched the other twenty-five red doors). Our chariot (a scruffed up maroon Suburban) lead us to a raging river (a pleasant, wide stream) where we discovered the fountain of youth (a refreshing place to splash and play). After we partook of the fountain and gained our eternal youth (splashed until we were soaking wet from head to toe and all felt like kids), we traversed through many perils and obstacles (sink holes, deeper water…
-
This Weekend
When you turn sixteen at our house the day might begin normally with a gift or two. But the day picks up momentum quickly. Add a dozen or more friends. An unfortunate parking job. (NOT to the right guys. Not to the right!) Throw in a summer staffer or two (or six or so), who are there specifically for the purpose of livening things up a bit, and things might get a little messy. This was one game (thanks Ben, Chris and Lauren) where the girls made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. With their bare feet. And then the boys? They ate them. Other games may or may not have…
