Story
One can bear anything if one can put it in a story. - Isak Dinesen
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Why Do I Write This Blog?
One word. Perspective. That’s the one word reason. (And if I had self-control I would end this blog post right here.) But I don’t. Have self-control, that is. I write this blog because I find that when I am keeping it up to date, I like my entire life better. I know that seems like a ridiculous amount of importance to place on a silly computer-generated journal-esque type thingy. But it’s true. When Piper pulls off her diaper and poops on the living room floor I get less angry and instead wonder how I can spin that occurrence to make you guys laugh. When spit up spews out of Fox’s…
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So This Is Half Way?
My birthday falls right on the heels of London’s birthday. And when you reach a certain age, like my age, you start thinking about the numbers in a different light. I don’t feel old. Really. (Well, some days, but not every day.) But the truth is, statistically speaking (why do we even say that?), I am middle aged. I could easily be at the half way point of my life. Okay, I guess theoretically at any given moment any of us could be at the half way point of our lives. But you know what I mean! And when I survey my life in the most basic of manners, it…
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Framily
Framily. It’s not a misspelling. It’s a word I like to think Kevin and I coined. Framily. By this word we mean – the people who are not actually related to us by blood or marriage, but we wish they were anyway. The people who we choose to surround ourselves with, spend time with, celebrate and weep with. The people who we call when we need encouragement. The people who we trust our children with. The people who don’t offend us when they tell us the truth because we know the love behind the words. That’s framily. You probably have some of those people in your life…
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Everything
Sometimes I think it is ironic how often the stuff of my daily life reminds me of Biblical truth in some random way. And then I remember. Everything is spiritual. A couple of years ago Kevin and I heard a speaker named Rob Bell teach at a funky little club in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. His speaking tour was entitled “Everything is Spiritual”. And I really believe it is. Remembering that truth actually brings much more meaning (and importance and accountability) to my daily existence. If everything truly is spiritual, then I guess it does matter how I respond to my children when I am exhausted. Or which words come…
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Friday Morning
Yesterday morning I broke an unwritten Keigley household rule. I turned on the television first thing in the morning. Let me ‘splain. Because Wilder had eaten breakfast off his normal routine, Kevin had already left for work before I was able to take a shower. I really wanted a shower. “Hey guys? Who wants to watch Curious George?” You might call it poor parenting – I call it buying a half hour of my life. My aspirations actually reached beyond the cleansing shower. I had just purchased some eyeliner (don’t tell Riley!) and I wanted to experiment. While in Virginia Emma had given me brief instructions on applying eye liner.…
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Something About Love
Piper has a little friend. His name is Beckett. Piper is not always very kind to Beckett. Beckett will be standing still. Minding his own business. Being happy and content – a model citizen. Piper approaches out of the shadowy background. She walks behind her young companion. And then, without provocation, Piper two-hand shoves Beckett. It’s awful. I am so embarrassed by her behavior. Ashamed. What in the world? Why would she do that? I scoop her up and take her off to the other room for some baby discipline. But I don’t stop loving her. When we are done with the discipline, I don’t turn away from her affection.…
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What You Want
One morning recently London approached me and out of the blue stated, “Mom, God just doesn’t do what you want.” What? “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well, last night I prayed for God to shut the door and I waited and He just never did it.” I didn’t laugh. Because I didn’t think it was funny. I thought she was right. Sometimes God just doesn’t do what we want. Period. I didn’t try to convince London that God does do just what we ask. Because I don’t think that’s true. And she is young, not dumb. I didn’t try to explain that her demand was illogical. Because to her,…
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The Day For Fathers
First. My Father. When I was a kid I thought my dad had the same super powers that every kid thinks their dad possesses. You know, eyes forever roaming the world that can quickly pinpoint ME hitting my brother across the back with my Cabbage Patch Kid. The Long Arm that could reach all the way into the backseat of the station wagon while driving the death-defying curves of the back roads up the Blue Ridge Parkway. The Disappointed Look when my report card comments revealed the classroom sins I thought I had kept hidden. The Ability to Magically Produce Money out of the air when I really wanted…
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Four Weeks
My Littlest Son, When I discovered that I was pregnant with you, I was . . . . surprised. Not entirely excited. Worried. In shock. I didn’t tell anyone for a long while. Your daddy and I really thought that your big sister Piper was the last little Keigley we would bring forth into this messy world. We were clearly wrong. And then I was so sick. The doctor and Daddy and I thought you wouldn’t survive. Oh, but small one, you are a survivor. And more than that, you decided to thrive. (God decided.) Let me be honest, my little Wilde Fox. Times at our house were not exactly…
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Tears, Glorious Tears
At this house, it seems as if someone is always crying. Little Mister Wilder cries when he is hungry. And he cries when he can’t manage to flip his thumb in the correct direction and maintain its position in his own minuscule mouth. He cries at four a.m. and he cries around seven thirty as well. If his diaper change is taking too long, tears ensue. When the food that should stay in his stomach flows out of his mouth and around his head, he cries about that as well. For Piper the tears are born of genuine frustration with her current lot in life. She wants to go outside…
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This Bowl
Growing up, every spring for longer than I can possibly remember, my mother made strawberry jam. It was delicious. We never had Smuckers at our house, we only had homemade strawberry jam. I am not entirely domestic, but the strawberry jam tradition has been one I really wanted to continue. Now, every spring I find myself picking strawberries and making oodles of batches of what my husband refers to as “red gold”. I don’t buy Smuckers for this house either – I prefer the fresh strawberry goodness. Here’s the funny thing. Many years ago my mother gave me the particular bowl in which she always prepared her strawberry jam. (Which…
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Little Red Wagons
I like word pictures. I like analogies. (Kevin likes metaphors.) I think it’s all the same way of saying – we like words. Anyway. I just heard a good word picture on the radio this week that I am going to shamelessly steal and use as my own. (It was said by some former basketball star of the olden days. Whatever.) The idea was this . . . Everyone has baggage that follows them around, baggage that they are carrying from the past – hurts, wounds, preconceptions, ideals, opinions – the stuff that makes us say what we say and do what we do. Our explanations, if you will. The…
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What Should I Have Done?
So this is a weird thing. Riley and Kevin had a race to run together tonight. The kids and I joined them for moral support and good times. While waiting for them to finish the race we enjoyed the bouncy inflatables set up in the nearby field. As the kids hopped and jumped, I noticed a lady wearing running gear, with her number pinned on, anxiously surveying the scene as her son flitted through the bouncies. She made eye contact with me several times and I just had this odd feeling….. I just expected her to ask me to watch her child. My mind began swirling. Should I watch this…
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