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sometimes I say yes
My children ask a lot of questions. And sometimes I get to answer “yes”. “Will you cuddle longer this morning Momma?” “Can I eat this entire pomegranate by myself?” “Will you read another chapter of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with me?” “May I help you make breakfast?” “The next wedding we go to – can I wear this vest with my favorite shirt?”
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wednesday afternoon.
I’ve had this idea rolling around in my head for a few months now. An idea about home school and community and the type of children Kevin and I want to raise and about help and asking for that help from my many talented friends. I’m not going to really explain the idea right now. I’ll save that for another post. But it’s an idea that I have pitched, but have not completely followed through with. Not surprising, really. Is it? Last week brought about the idea’s second glimmer. (That first bright spot is a story for another day. Wait for it.) Ryan Gillispie. Call him the forerunner. A herald.…
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if . . .
If you take your six children to a free outdoor theatrical performance of Shakespeare’s MerryWives of Windsor and you realize that although the kids are behaving splendidly, the story line is just not moving along on their level. And it is really hot. And you realize that you actually wish you were sitting somewhere else so you imagine they probably do as well. Then it might be a good idea to take them to another end of the park. Where ducks are your best friends and you get to test your newly acquired skills of holding your breath and shoving your face under water. A place where you can’t help…
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I Can & I Can’t. I Will & I Won’t.
Dear My Children, I can’t or I won’t pay the full cost of your first car. Your father and I probably won’t be footing the bill for your entire college education. The latest fashions at Abercrombie (or fill-in-blank-overpriced-popular-store-at-your-appropriate-age) won’t be paid for out of my debit card. I might not be able to afford one hundred percent locally grown, organic foods from the Whole Foods market for every meal. I can’t promise to answer “yes” to every question of “Can I?” that you will inevitably present to me. You will have opportunities that you will have to miss. Parties you will not be allowed to attend. You will hear the…
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Revisiting the River
And while I’m talking about the river. (DuPont State Forest – in the mountains of North Carolina. Worth the drive.) Here’s what we like about rivers, streams, creeks and flowing water in general. Wilder’s first ever experience walking in a stream. He liked it. He showed no fear. And he showed no concept of slick rocks and quick moving water, either. (That’s my boy! Here we go, son. Round Two for the Keigleys I guess.) Sticking the Nalgene bottle in the stream to keep it cool. Country refrigeration. (And this bottle glows in the dark. Which makes it even cooler. Bergen believes that having the bottle sit in…
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Location, Location, Location
They are right. Those cliche writers are right. Those real estate gurus know what they are talking about. It’s all about location, location, location. Today I served my kids a hodge podge, mostly boring though basically nutritious, type of lunch. But here’s the thing. They loved it. They devoured it. They thanked me for my offerings, meager though they were. They said everything was delicious. They asked for more. Literally, among six children, there was not even one complaint. And listen . . . . here’s what was on the menu. Peanut butter crackers. Raisins. Bananas. Applesauce. Grape juice. That is it. No fancy cups. We didn’t even have plates.…
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What I’m Hoping For
This year’s summer staff includes a set of siblings. And I was watching the brother and sister pair recently. They were chatting. Laughing. And before they parted, the brother gave his sister a hug and a hair tousle. Something motherly (or whatever) went off inside of my heart. Watching Andrew and Erin made me think of Berg and Piper. Or any other combination of siblings at our house that you want to toss about there. I just want them to like one another. To know one another. To be involved in the lives of each other. So I love it when I see Bergen and London cuddling on the sofa…
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Can Someone Please Define Normal?
Yesterday was a normal day. I have a lot of those. I’ll just go ahead and highlight three examples of events or conversations that contributed to the normalness of the day. Just three, mind you. Three examples of normal. (Except maybe I am not entirely sure what normal means anymore. That’s possible. Indeed – probable.) Example One: Disclaimer: Some of my children may be rapidly approaching the age when I can no longer share these stories unless I use an alias for them. So we had better all enjoy this while it lasts.) Piper Finn and Otto Fox were napping. Riley was reading a book. (Wait – that can’t be…
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grateful.
Grateful. I am. When you leave a home that includes six children, five of whom are still under six years of age, for several days, it’s kind of big deal. Shoot, when you do anything at a home that includes six children, five of whom are still under six years of age, everything is kind of a big deal. (Or at least it feels that way most days.) So when the idea for an adventure with Beth was just in the beginning stages, I immediately started planning what to do with kids 1 through 6. Kevin wouldn’t be away from home, exactly, but his job at a camp makes him…
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Surprise!
My dad used to be a dairy farmer. (That’s how I mostly remember my father. I used to describe him as Grizzly Adams. I think it’s a pretty fair comparison.) After selling the farm Dad sold tractors and such for a while. (Yellow and green tractors. Naturally.) And then he moved to Wyoming. (Uh – for some reason I cannot even remember what he did as gainful employment out there, although I do recall that he once starred in a role in a local theatre’s production of Annie. But I am pretty sure he was never financially compensated for that.) At any rate. Now he lives in Florida. And he…
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This Is A True Story
Sometimes I am convinced that my children are actually better people than me. Kinder than I am. More compassionate. Speedier in love and more perceptive. For example . . . It had been a long day. Long. And I was home trying to get the younger kids corralled after soccer practice. Riley was hanging out with friends. Kevin was working. I was trying to feed Wilder his last bottle before bed. Finn was dumping rubber stamps on the floor and spilling blue ink. Bergen was sitting on the red chest trying to remove his cleats. Mosely had already removed her cleats and wanted to put them away in the red…
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Soccer – Let the Games Begin!
The season has started. In all its glory. (Okay, there really is not much glory – but the kids sure look cute in their uniforms, Riley is a great assistant coach and Piper is a pretty effective cheerleader.) We’re just at the beginning of the season but it’s funny already. There’s the I-expected-this-but-not-from-you – Hawkeye. He pretty much just wants to drink the water from his cool new officially-sanctioned-by-his-soccer-team water bottle. “Berg, don’t you want to play?” I ask. He answers, “Mommy, I think you should write my whole name, B-E-R-G-E-N, on my water bottle instead of just the B you already wrote.” While everyone is running after the ball…
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Capable
There’s just something about a tiny baby’s hands – isn’t there? They just look adorable. Sometimes they’re kind of wrinkly and even a little peely. (I just coined that word. For the record.) Honestly, as cute as they are though, and as much as I love to kiss them and admire them, they really can’t accomplish much early on. They only grasp what you place in them and they don’t even work really well in unison with one another just yet. But, man. You just blink a couple hundred times or so and those mini hands morph into something else entirely. I’ve been noticing the hands of my “bigger” kids…
