HomeLife
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. - Annie Dillard
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behind the scenes
I’ve always been background. Behind the scenes. In college I earned a degree in theatre. (According to my pocket-sized, laminated diploma. Seriously – does anyone else have one of those?) But mostly I fulfilled my theatre requirements through costumes, lighting, sound. Off stage. Behind the curtains. Pre-production. Post-production. And that’s okay. Mostly, I chose that role. Liked that aspect. But sometimes being in the background is so hidden. In the dark. Background. (Exactly.) Unnoticed if you do your job well. A scape goat if you make a mistake. I will admit that every now and then I get a little hungry, a bit greedy, for the spotlight. Center stage. Last curtain…
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is there a funnier age than three?
Not one day goes by that Piper Finnian Willow does not make us laugh. We think she is hilarious. Example One. After a trip to the Goodwill store I required the children to use some hand sanitizer. I poured the goo in Finn’s hands and watched her face change as she began to remember the future flavor of her thumb, post-hand sanitizing. She quickly determined her best course of action and controlled the situation. Finn shoved her thumb in her mouth to “keep it clean” while she scrubbed the rest of the sanitizer on her free fingers smashed up in front of her wee face. Example Two. In the car…
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free. from the what ifs.
I don’t know if you have bad dreams any longer. Nightmares. But I still do. And a rotten one woke me up recently. And the remnants of it clung to my skin all morning. In the asleep version of my life I had left our children at some childcare facility. It was new to me. I was new to town. And when the time came to pick up the kids, I couldn’t find the building. I couldn’t find our children. It was just a dream but I woke up bogged down in the fear of it all. As a parent, are you ever overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the…
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love. in all its many forms.
It’s not all glamorous. Oh, actually, it’s hardly ever glamorous. Guarantee it would not make the cover of any glossy magazine. But here’s to the many ways love is shown at our house. Quietly refilling Mommy’s empty glass with ice and water because you know she loves drinking cold water all day long. Keeping the towels clean and folded so Kevin does not have to touch them straight from the dryer. Riley unloading the dishwasher every morning before she leaves for school. Kevin leaving the best tweezers at home when he attends business trips. Handwritten notes in crayon slid under the door of Daddy’s office. Wrapping up your favorite stuffed…
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about last night
2:00 a.m. All was quiet. (As it should be.) And then a cry. A sound of concern coming from a child’s bedroom. “What was that?” I whispered to Kevin. “I think Piper is calling your name,” he said. “No, I think she said your name,” I responded. It’s a game we like to play. The specific name a child chooses to call in the middle of the night is rather significant. It is the difference between staying in your warm bed or being forced to accept your parental responsibility at inconvenient times. We settled back under the covers and tried to ignore the next three mumbled cries. Then a distinct,…
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a list. a distraction.
Six children. Two adults. Our house is full of people. With different opinions and changing moods. I thought I’d make a little list today to gage where the Keigley family members currently stand on a few non-essential topics. (Because I like lists.) Favorite Kid Television Show: Wild Kratts. (There might be some addiction to this show at our house. And Berg has begun calling all of his siblings “bro”, even the girls.) Most Frequently Requested Meal: Mac & Meat. (A throwback to my family growing up. Imagine homemade hamburger help and you’d be pretty close. Not exactly an inspiring dish.) Average Wake Up Time For the Kids: 8:00 a.m. (Excluding…
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Blessed Be Your Name
Four years. It has been four years since my sweet mother passed away. And I still miss her. That has never really changed. I know I have written about her before. And I am sure I will write about her again. She was my mom. Her life (and her passing) shape so much of who I am. I am sure that is normal. Right? This week my memory was struck again by a song we sang at church. “Blessed Be Your Name” We sang this song at my mother’s memorial service. And I can still clearly recall watching my dad while we sang. “Blessed be Your name On the road…
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once upon a Sunday morning
The Sunday mornings of our present look nothing like the Sunday mornings of our past. It’s just a church. I know that. Broken people. Imperfect leaders. You know all the phrases. So do I. But every time I am there I cry. I connect. I get a glimpse of what I think church can look like. And she is beautiful. My past experiences with other churches have not been great. Little within the walls of those buildings to motivate me to haul multiple children out of a lazy morning. More dead than alive. And me too. But this place is not the same. And neither am I. Example One of…
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A New Answer to an Old Question
Sometimes a schedule lets you down. Especially, in my opinion, a meal schedule. Actually, I guess the schedule has not really let me down. But an empty pantry often has. Our breakfast schedule is really not the problem. But dinner? That guy’s a real pain in the rear sometimes. And it is that pain-in-the-rear-daily-question of “what’s for dinner?” that brings me to my point. Ever so slowly. I read a post by my friend where she discussed feeding her children cereal for dinner. We do that sometimes. Eat cereal for dinner. As long as the milk is cold, you know. And I remember the Wickstrum family would have nights where…
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always something.
It’s always something. Isn’t it? At least, it seems that way around here. There is always something that keeps my day from running as intended. That stops me from checking off every little line on my to-do list. That makes our homeschool day run less structured than I dreamed while lying in bed the night before. Today it was a trip to the doctor for me and a diagnosis of bronchitis. Yesterday it was four little sick kids. Tomorrow it will be Otto’s doctor’s appointment. And the next day – well, I can only imagine. It really is – always something. But I am slowly trying to embrace the truth…
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London said . . .
I really loved reading what you guys had to say after yesterday’s post about my flaws and the fears of transparency and how we all are tempted to reveal one face, but live another face. And I won’t deny that I am sitting in a bit of a funk right now. And that always spills out into my writing. (Actually – it more than spills out – this writing is often my exact method of coping, understanding and wading through the highs and lows of what I call living.) I don’t know if I can blame it on my age, my exhaustion, my current season of life or the too…
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weekend switch.
A family mish-mash. A switch. This weekend kids were all over, in other states and in other homes. Riley had a splendid experience hanging out with Emma and Jon. They shopped, cleaned and organized Emma’s house, watched movies and apparently ate large quantities of Italian cuisine. With a bit of a spur of the moment idea, Mosely was willingly whisked away to have her own adventure with this sweet family. She returned home with cupcakes, a huge smile and a bazillion stories she has not stopped sharing. (But sadly, no photo to insert here.) Our family did not just disperse children, however. We gained one new guy for the weekend…
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the last one.
I do not want another baby in our house. Trust me when I say, the Keigleys are done giving birth to babies. I’m not even the type of woman who gets all googly-baby-eyes when she holds someone else’s newborn baby. I mean, I like holding your newborn baby. I like caressing their bitty baby cheeks and admiring their new baby ears. But holding your baby in no way makes me hanker to hold one of my own. I’m done with babies. We’ve had our years (and they have been sweet) but they are over. Nonetheless, something strikes me when I watch the babyness grow right out of my last little…
