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The Stories My Life Hands Me
I don’t even have to try to generate story ideas. Life just keeps handing them to me. May I present to you – A Portrait of a Sunday. Or How We Surprised Uncle Danny and Got a Little Surprise Ourselves. On Sundays in our home we sleep in. We make a big brunch together. We attend our church’s evening services. And that’s about as busy as we like our Sundays to be. But for the sake of love we broke from routine, rose early, loaded the car with picnic supplies and headed to Knoxville, Tennessee to surprise Uncle Danny for his birthday. Aunt Beckey and their son Max were pulling…
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all of the questions. none of the solutions.
Yes, they’re hilarious and often times they are cute and occasionally they bake delicious cookies. But seriously – nothing is flawless, am I right? I mean, why – for the love of all things holy – can we not have ONE SINGLE FLAT SURFACE IN OUR HOME THAT IS NOT COVERED WITH RANDOM AND SUNDRY ITEMS? I’m talking the stuff that comes out of kids’ pockets. The things they “create” and then don’t know what to do with themselves. The kite made out of construction paper The rocks from a hike that have zero interesting things about them but if I dare to throw said plain rocks…
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swimming in the deep end
Five Finds Friday (Lost Valley Ranch Version)
is this summer?
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wonder.
“Mom,” she calls my name. Bedtime closing in. “Would you like to sit outside with me and Otto and look at the stars? We can wrap up in blankets.” (Because the temperature was nearly 60 degrees after all.) I would like to do that. I can think of nothing better to do right now, as a matter of fact. And I tell her so. We turn out the porch lights. Quietly walk to the steps. Take our places in silence and then we look up. We look at the stars. At Orion’s Belt and twinkling planes. I love any piece and part of nature that reminds me that I am small…
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this weekend. in the store. when I embarrassed my own children. almost.
A seismic shift occurred in my parenting world recently. Sometimes you sit in a mode of parenting for so long that you are convinced it will last forever. I still sometimes struggle to believe that my diaper days are over. It was like an entire DECADE you guys, for the love. There are no longer meltdowns if my bag contains zero snacks. Sippy cups with their cartoon faces are not floating around the floorboards of my car. I’ve got moodiness and razors and wrestling battles and room turf wars now. It is, indeed, a different world. This weekend though I received a new little glimpse into exactly…
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Five Finds Friday (eight)
I didn’t do one of these little gems two weeks ago because it was Christmas day – and last Friday found us on another holiday – New Year’s Day. But I think I’ll proceed as planned today. FUNNY My funny seldom comes from the internet. (But I want to laugh more so if you know some internet funny that would crack me up – I’m listening.) But my funny comes a lot from my kids and that’s pretty acceptable to me. Probably my favorite Christmas gift this year was made for me by London. You know how sometimes you just hear some songs wrong and then…
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my answer.
Dear Kids, Will you grow up and look at me one day and ask, Mom. How did you do it? There were so many of us. You were outnumbered by lots. We had so many sticky hands and dirty feet and frogs in our pockets and demands in our voices. What will I say? What can I say? I think I’ll say . . . You are worth it. Every step of the way. You. Are. Worth. It. Because these sticky, exhausting, busy, full years with you guys by my side are my favorite. You are worth it. Always and always. Worth it. That’s what I’ll say because that…
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Cognitive Drawing: A Timberdoodle Review
close to midnight/ sisters
sunday matters.
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The Texas Tally
Sometimes when we get together we end up counting things that happen – and we can barely keep up. $20.26 spent on candy at Mom and Pop’s Candy Store. 4,321 times that 8 children asked, “Can we have another piece of candy?” 13,241 steps Emma took today according to her FitBit. 6 times Emma told the kids, “Just one more picture.” 1 batch of delicious cake-like brownies Mosely made from scratch. 4 nights in a row that Jurassic Park has been on television. 18 times that Miller said, “No – you may not kiss me.” 13 door bell rings from neighbors wanting to play. 9 meatballs consumed by Bergen at…
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And Then There Were Goats.
On New Year’s Day this year our family gathered around the long farm table that takes up our entire dining room. (That somehow seems like a long time ago.) And we made a big old list of goals for 2015. Of course we wrote them on a chalkboard door in our house because that’s what we do. We’re not exactly breezing through the list this year but we have conquered an item or two – such as visit the ocean and build a bigger chicken coop. Last weekend we were able to check off another item on the list. And – it might be my favorite so far. You guys. Last…
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uh-oh
Is that the problem entirely? Every dream we have for our children, every hope we place on their tiny backs, is actually all about us? Our idea for their future? Our idea for their life? Our hopes. Our dreams. What their life says about us? What their decisions reflect upon us? No wonder we raise such self-serving rebels. They are just like us. They are us.
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saying yes. something I perhaps should do more often.
A few mornings ago our family awoke to a rainy downpour. The children were at the side of the bed earlier than usual. “Can we put on all of our rain clothes and go outside?” The request seemed somehow less ludicrous if it meant I could sleep a little longer. But when I thought of saying yes, I thought of all that would mean for me after the rainy fun. Wet clothes. Soaked kids. Water dripped across every square inch of our home. Extra laundry. I looked at their eager little heads. I paused. “Yes,” I told them. “Yes.” “Go play!”
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dear humility: enough already.
Sometimes being a mother is a gig that is just so . . . . humbling. I mean, how many lessons in humility does one person need anyway? And can I tell you what? I think I’ve had enough already. Yeah. Enough already. Yesterday I stood in a waiting area with other moms and other kids to wait to register for that co-op I was worrying about the other day. (And guess what? We’re in! Three years on a waiting list! Hazah!) There were other children besides mine waiting as well. They were waiting patiently, with happy hearts shining through their sweet cherubic faces. And I promise, that has been…
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it sure is a good thing
This is what London said to me once . . . “Mom. It sure is a good thing you have so many kids. They can help you do all these chores.” What I thought but did not say in response – Yeah. That’s right, London. And the reason I have all these chores is because I have all these kids. I did not say that. I did not say that because six-year-old children do not generally interpret sarcasm well. But maybe, just maybe, that little London gal is on to something after all. Here’s two ways I think I can secretly (well, not now, of course) get away with using…
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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…
