Mosely Ella Claiborne
A cup brimful of sweetness cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, no matter how suddenly jarred. - Amy Carmichael
-
swim lessons.
Isn’t it weird how one moment can change your life forever? And how your life is actually kind of made up of loads of life changing one-moments? I mean, you don’t really know it at the time, or you do, but you can’t really wrap your brain around it. And as parents we are watching those moments happen practically every day. When I think about this for too long, I begin to feel as if I’m swimming in water way too deep for me. And it’s funny that I use a swimming metaphor because it’s last week’s swim lessons that got me started thinking like this in the first place.…
-
lo-mo
A sister is a little part of childhood that can never be lost. -Marion Gerratty
-
Mosely said . . .
“Something smells like it’s burning. Quick, everybody – check your bums.”
Keep Reading . . .
friday afternoon thoughts.
soundtrack of my mind
you can’t call it a mid-life crisis.
-
she was impressed.
Looking over my shoulder as I typed on the blog recently, Mosely took in a giant breath of air. “Whoa, Mom,” she exhaled, “you’ve got your own dot.com?”
-
mosely. miracles. in the middle.
Can I just talk about this one for a little while? She is sweet and sharp and sensitive. Mosely is clever and brave and the only person in our home willing to kill spiders for the rest of us weaklings when Daddy’s at work. She is eight years old, a second grader and a struggling reader. The teaching of reading, the concept of words on paper, has been a struggle for Mosely since kindergarten. We both watched London catch the reading fever in full swing around first grade. And then we both watched Bergen conquer words like nobody’s business the first day of kindergarten. And there she was. Mosely. Middle.…
-
the soccer experiment
Soccer season is playing out quite differently this year. Last year three kids were on the same team and Kevin and Riley coached them. Talk about a family event. And we normally just play soccer in the spring. But this fall, all that changes. It’s a bit of an experiment, actually. (But isn’t all parenting, at some level?) This season it’s a Mosely-only soccer show. Mosely only has practice every Tuesday. Mosely only has a game every Thursday. Mosely only. And all the little fans sit on the sidelines and cheer for Mosely only. And of course by cheer I mean – Hawkeye throws his stuffed rabbit into the air…
-
the week’s middle
Was yesterday only Wednesday? First regular week of school at house. Monday night, while chatting outside together, we all notice that Mosely had just conquered riding her bike sans training wheels. She was rocket fast and slightly reckless with some hardcore swerving happening. Then Tuesday. All morning Mosely asks, “Can we go outside? Can we ride bikes?” Not yet, I keep answering. Spelling. History. Copywork. Bible. Reading. Done. Done. Done. “Alright guys. You can play outside while I fix lunch.” Before I blink, the table is empty. Three minutes maybe. Otto needs a diaper change. I enter the tent he and Piper have constructed in the living room. I change…
-
a good deal.
The other night Mosely and I were reading a magazine on the bed together. Which slowly turned into a pseudo-wrestling match on the bed together. Because, for some reason, I think that kid’s love language is wrestling or rough-housing. Was that one of the options? It was – right? Whatever. Somewhere along in the wrestling game I decided I was tired so I closed my eyes and laid my head across Mosely’s legs so she couldn’t move. She thought it was part of the game, I thought it was basically restful. Then the game changed to wake-up-Mommy-any-way-I-can. To which I responded with the game don’t-let-Mosely-wake-me-up-no-matter-what-she-does-or-says. She tried tickling me. No…
-
Times Four.
In the middle of all our annual July Fourth who-ha, our family had the absolute honor to be present for the wedding of our beloved friends – “Nake” and Laura. It was a ceremony as simple and precious and redemptive and hopeful as I have ever attended. And as I sat in the blazing July sun, grateful that I chose to wear black making my sweat less obvious, it was impossible to be seated at the wedding ceremony, impossible to listen to the words being said, impossible to watch a father walk down an aisle and hand his daughter to a young man, without looking at my own wedding companions. Without peering…
-
dunce cap.
I was tidying up the kitchen table after being inspired to do so by reading this blog post by my friend. Listening to The Cure. (Seriously – the iPod was on shuffle and before I knew what was happening I was singing along to “Pictures of You”.) Seriously. That’s true. This whole post is true. (all of my posts are true.) This is what my life looks like. I heard some cries from the girls’ bunk bed where they had been playing happily for over an hour. It had been a beautiful thing that I knew could not last. (The youngest boy was asleep in his crib. The biggest boy…
-
sound bites.
I overheard London and Mosely talking this week. They didn’t know I was listening. “We’ll be best friends forever – right?” “Right.” “You can call us BFF’s.” “What?” “B.F.F. The B is for Best. The F is for Friends. The F is for Forever.” “Oh, right, best friends.” “I almost said Best Friends Virginia!” (Crazy amounts of giggles.) “Virginia starts with a V.” “So does vomit. Vomit starts with a V too.” (Dangerous amounts of giggles and then falling over noises.) Man, I love those girls.
-
that figures.
I was lighting a candle on the mantle. Beside the candle I noticed an unauthorized item. A plastic bag filled with various shaped macaroni noodles. I quickly played back the day’s events and conversations for an explantion. Oh yes, I remembered. I discovered Mosely’s plastic bag of noodle stash earlier the day and said, “Put these somewhere else please. Somewhere safe where you will remember them and I will not throw them away.” And so she did. So she did.
-
Maybe I don’t clean enough after all.
I was reviewing some phonics with Mosely. We were matching the drawing to the correct sound of the first letter of the item drawn. Mosely finished three or four in a row by herself but was really stumped at one drawing. She wouldn’t even make an attempt at a sound to match the drawing. The drawing was a picture of a word that started with a “V”. “Mosely, do you know what this drawing shows?”, I asked her. “No,” she responded. “What is this drawing Mosely?” I persisted. “I don’t know Mommy,” she continued. “Seriously?” “No, I don’t. What is it?” Mosely asked, quite in earnest. Uh. Do you know…
