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A Little Like Me
My children say some crazy things. Out of nowhere, Mosely commented, “Wouldn’t it be weird if a witch came here right now and turned Bergen into a dog?” (Where’s that kid learning about witches and how powerful does she think they are?) Or Bergen wondering out loud, “Wouldn’t it be funny if all shoes were made out of sausages?” And I actually like to hear these bizarre-o statements escape their lips. Because I like laughing. But it’s the sweet, unexpectedly kind and thoughtful comments that really shape my heart. Brushing Scout’s much-longer-than-I-realized hair, I began telling her how much her current seven-year-old self resembled my former seven-year-old self. (It’s uncanny,…
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cliff’s edges.
Raising Girls: embracing help through Awaken
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let the school year commence
Today. It’s the first day of the 2010-2011 school year here at our home. And this year the School of Keigley has a record number of students. Three. A second grader. A first grader. And a kindergarten student. (Not to mention that we also manage and maintain a very elite preschool and a rather crème de la crème nursery as well. So sorry – all vacancies are filled.) Ahh – the new school year. The books we cannot gather locally are ordered from our school’s personal suppliers- a.k.a. Barnes & Noble and Amazon. The classroom has been tidied. (Read: the kitchen counters are cleared and the sunroom table is free…
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three (3).
Isn’t it funny how all of a family’s history can meet right in the face of a three-year-old? On our long drive recently Kevin and I looked at Piper’s face in the rearview mirror and verbally dissected her petite features. A Norton nose. My mom’s jawline. It’s all right there. Aunt Vonnie. Uncle Tommy. In my little Willow. That wee face, full of so many faces she will never even know. All of the people whose blood flows through hers. All of the people who have had a hand in making her – both structure and soul. A whole of so many pieces. An end to something started so long…
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I’m Just Like Bergen
Sometime in the less-than-distant past, this event occurred at our home. It was bed time. Some friends were over. Bergen wanted Nate to fly him to bed like a superhero. (Because Nate can do that, you know.) But Nate was busy. So Bergen began to wait. Impatiently. He cried out Nate’s name. Loudly. Repetitively. Nate told Bergen he would be right there in just a minute. But Bergen didn’t care. He just kept crying out in a sobbing voice, “Naaaay-Aaaate”. Over and over. Increasing in volume each time. Nate was not ignoring Bergen. He had every intention of entering the living room, scooping Bergen up Superman-style, and making a grand…
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Second Time ‘Round
Last year was our first ever Tybee visit. And we fell in love. So this summer we steered the Suburban (or “suh-burr-ven” as Piper calls it) southeast to see if, in fact, our family and Tybee were still a great fit. This year’s house was actually not that far from last year’s house. We stopped for ice cream at last summer’s favorite spot, Tradewinds, the first night – before our toes even touched the sea. Well. That was a little disappointing. Riley and Kevin’s favorite flavor – Savannah Mud – was sold out and the teenagers running the counter were bored, uninterested and seemed a bit burdened by our desire…
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tiny royalty
Otto Fox Wilder McDonald. It’s kind of a royal name – right? I mean, royal in the sense that lots of kings and queens and dukes and duchesses and such have a long series of names – right? Right? Well, this week our family decided that its youngest member needed to be crowned king in a few areas. Like . . . King of Throwing Objects Into the Toilet Objects such as a letter magnet. A wooden block. A stuffed animal. Pretty much, if Fox sensed that a toilet lid was left open anywhere in his vicinity he would rush headlong toward that open hole and try to toss in…
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And we have now returned . . .
Last week we were at Tybee Island. This week we are not. (Although the eight pounds of sand piled on the laundry room floor makes me think perhaps we are.) Please allow me to list a few things I learned while on vacation. Last week I learned that limited internet access can be a good thing. It can be a very good thing. I learned that you can eat too much divinity from the Savannah Candy Factory. I was reminded (for the second time) that a protective UV lens filter on your camera can literally save the life of your lens when said camera is accidentally dropped on a tile…
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parenting olympics: the olympics for parents. get it?
Pretty sure the Parenting Olympics would be way more popular than the Winter Olympics were. (Oh, come on Leanne and Jane – you know it’s true.) I think I am practicing all the time. Perhaps two categories (or events or whatever an official sounding name is) would be something a little like this . . . My mad skillz on the hoops, yo! Every time I change a diaper (and that’s still a-plenty, I’ll have you know) I attempt to swish said dirty diaper into the trash. Sometimes I give myself little challenges – off the wall, into the blue pail. Over Fox’s head, then swish. You know how we…
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Actually Said Out Loud
Ridiculous Things People Have Actually Said Out Loud To Me You have your hands full. You are so brave. Two six-year olds? How did you manage that? How old are you? How do you manage it? You look too young to have this many children. How old were you when you started having kids? Are they ALL yours? Don’t you know how this happens? What were you thinking? Girl, you need to stop having babies. What ludicrous comments have people actually said to you?
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remember
You know how sometimes you just want a sign for what you should do? You ask God to make it clear what direction to move or to let you know what He would have you to do or how He would have you act or whatever? You know how we pray like that? (Or, I pray like that.) But then we (or, wait – I) don’t even look for the signs that I just finished asking for? I don’t even listen for the voice. I don’t keep my eyes peeled (as my kids say) for what God is showing me. Do you ever do that? Well. Okay. This isn’t about…
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I Just Love This Story
There are a lot of things I love about where we live. You know. Pisgah’s beautiful forest. My sort-of-because-my-cousin-Sherry-once-explained-it-to-me relative Carl Sandburg’s house. Hendersonville. (What can I say? Its streets likes my feets!) Downtown Greenville. The vast and varied assortment of fellow homeschoolers. Incredible local theatre in every direction. Target is so much closer here than it was from our former home. All of those things are cool. But that’s not why I really love where I live. I love where I live because our family gets to regularly interact with an ever-changing group of God-fearing, God-loving college students known at our home as simply “summer staffers”. I’ve written about…
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goodbye
Goodbye Beth. Drive safely back to Kentucky. I will miss chatting with you this week, flopping on the sofa after the kids were finally in bed and watching DC Cupcakes and some show about Gene Simmons that was surprisingly entertaining, scooting around town seeing cool stuff and swimming (or standing) in the lake with our many many children. (Yeah, my many many children and your two. I know.) Goodbye Raven. London will miss talking late into the night with you, reading books with you, coloring mounds of papers covered in self-portraits and rainbows and dogs and horses, riding in cars together and just generally enjoying one another’s company. Mosely will miss…
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continued . . .
Today. Not everything on our list was accomplished. Tears were shed when someone’s head was sat upon and when someone’s neck was poked too hard by a plastic dragon and when someone felt sad that someone’s sister’s neck was injured by someone’s prized dragon and when bedtime arrived earlier than it seemed it should have. But, mostly, it was a fun-filled day with adventure and chaos, laughing and making memories. (And isn’t mostly just about as good as any of us can hope for? Particularly when you are talking about eight kids and two adults.) This morning we took in a Dino Trax show over at camp. This afternoon we…
