London Eli Scout
What is now proved was once only imagined. - William Blake
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Sidekick
London and I were sitting side by side on the sofa. “Momma. With Riley married now I’m the oldest. I like being the oldest,” she announced to me. “You are. And I love that for you. But I don’t want you to think you have to be a grown up yet. I want you to still be the eleven year old girl you are.” She smiled. (That kid is so pretty in her smile.) “I know, Mom. I want to be a little girl still.” She reached for my hand. “But I just like being your sidekick.” Be still my heart. I will take that title any day.
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“regular”
I feel like I might have forgotten how to write about regular life. I certainly have forgotten how to live regular life. But the funny thing about life is … normal wants to take over. You know what I mean? And while there is no normal that I prefer right now, I know my children deeply need a type of normal and I guess maybe I do too. So we’ve done some of our normal activities. Because we have to. And tonight I am going to try to write about that. Because I need to. We visit the library frequently. I mean – I have to in order to try…
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The Interview: London Eli Scout
London – I used to do these interviews when you were tiny. They were hilarious. I still think you’re a pretty funny kid. Do you think you are funny? A little bit. What kinds of things make you laugh now? Friend jokes. Jokes that friends make – or our family. Just jokes. How do you like to spend your free time? Drawing. And playing Calico Critters and Legos. You haven’t had a hair cut in more than a year I think. What’s your plan there? To grow it very very very very long. Why is that? Because I really like long hair. I’d like to look like an elf. Is…
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this girl o’ mine.
Braids down her back. Soft smile and her favorite oversized green sweatshirt. She’s beautiful. And right now we both enjoy this simple pure camaraderie. I want to hold it in my hands forever. To push pause. I dread a future look of scorn or a heavy sigh directed at my back. My heart already hurts at the eventual pulling away the struggle and the fight for independence. The journey to adulthood and the leftover feeling that will one day be my daily bread. The blonde mini me who isn’t me at all. This being who came from me and has helped make me. I find myself grateful and thrilled and…
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Prairie Adventure: running on the prairie
Would it be okay if I just share a handful of sweet pictures of my girls running on the prairie? Okay. Great. Thank you.
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The Tale of Two Siblings
These two Keiglets have a special little bond. Many is the morning that I find them reclining on the sofa together, London reading books out loud to her little brother. London keeps a list of daily activities and ideas on a dry erase board she has in her bedroom. (She’s a natural-born planner, apparently those genes are strong.) One day I noticed her list went something like this: Play Legos. Water my garden. Bake scones. Bathe Otto. When I asked her why she felt the need to add a cleansing routine for her young brother to her list, she responded, “When we were cuddling last night – I noticed he smells bad.”…
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Book Club: Homesick – My Own Journey
Monday night was Book Club night. This month we read Homesick: My Own Story by Jean Fritz. In this autobiographical work Jean Fritz tells about her experiences as an American growing up in China with parents who worked to bring the YMCA to China in the 1920’s. We happened to wait a little too late to snag the book from the library this month and I was forced to do what I rarely do – download the audio at a cost on iTunes. As it turned out, the audio book was a real treat because Jean Fritz herself was the narrator. Although I’m certain she wouldn’t qualify as a professional…
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about cooking and serving.
London received a stand alone dry erase easel/chalkboard do-dad from her grandparents for Christmas this year. She loves that thing. Frequent to-do lists appear there. Stuffed animals’ names get put on long lists and directions for games the kids are playing show up frequently. Every night there are messages on the board for me or for Kevin. They usually involve questions about the food being served the next day at our home or requests for screen time or money making opportunities. One day last week the request was, “Can I prepare all the meals one day next week?” That wasn’t a request I really wanted to deny. Can you blame…
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My Girls – Differences Defined.
So much about the differences between two of our daughters is explained in this simple conversation: London – Remember when I was younger and I had dreads? I didn’t like them. Do you remember why? Me – I do. You didn’t care for the dreads because you didn’t care for all of the attention and the comments from strangers. London – I just don’t care for so much attention. I don’t care for a lot of people admiring me at once. Piper – I do!
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Prairie Primer: Laura’s Lunch
I cannot believe how quickly it seems we are flying through these lovely Little House novels. I’m pretty much in love with that part of every school day. The illustrations by Garth Williams are classic and perfectly simple. They fit my image of Laura Ingalls somehow. I love the sky blue books themselves, the very same copies my momma and daddy read at night to us at our house in Gloucester, sitting on that wooden This End Up style furniture with its hard edges and scrunchy but practical striped sofa cushions. My heart about bursts as the kids draw in their breaths wondering if Pa will make it home through…
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more than lunch.
Last week, or something like that, I was approached by London and asked my favorite question of my every day – “What’s for lunch?” I didn’t answer with my standard full of love and kindness response. (Which, by the way, is a monosyllabic delivery of the word “food”.) Nope. I said something else. I said, “Why don’t you decide what’s for lunch. Would you and Mosely like to fix lunch?” I said it to be funny. I was laughing to myself. But London replied, “Yes! Please don’t come in the kitchen.” So I did my part. Which was nothing. And I did it like a champ too, I’ll have you know. When…
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daughters. sisters.
One morning this week the girls and I put on pretty dresses. We drove to a friend’s house and attended a tea party to celebrate our sweet young friend turning five. It was a lovely morning. Tables set up outside in the cool morning breeze. Tablecloths. Real deal china plates and tea cups. French bread smothered in home made cream and fresh strawberries. Scones. Piper was thrilled to put on a dress. She chose from her plethora of options and happily dressed her dolls to accompany us. Mosely was happy to oblige the dress code suggestion and even submitted to a barrette placed in her hair but requested no braids.…
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how can I not share this stuff?
When I ask London Scout to write about a field trip we just took, she’ll give me a sentence or two. A drawing. Doodles around the corner of the page. After handing her the black notebook we use for our writing schoolwork and assigning her a written narration of a story we just read, she sighs a little and sometimes offers a compromise to try to avoid the task of rewriting a story from memory. But last night, when I was tucking her into bed, I saw a little notebook I had given her a while ago. It contained a plethora of short stories and cute drawings. I loved them…
