-
five finds friday (otto’s birthday, boots I can’t wear & chili)
Today my youngest son turns ELEVEN. I’m almost entirely out of the “kids eat free” stage of parenting. In fact, I’d say I’m pretty heavily into the “kids eat expensively” stage of parenting. (Maybe that’s EVERY stage of parenting.) Anyway, he’s an easy fella to celebrate and I’m looking forward to celebrating his Harry Potter birthday. (That’s what the kids are calling it, since that fictional fellow’s 11th birthday is when all of his adventures began.) Let’s hope Otto doesn’t attend a secret wizarding school and run into a lot of problems that keep his life almost constantly at risk. funny The other day I walked into the living room.…
-
five finds. on a friday. (eyelashes. chicken pot pie. basketball.)
Monday seems like a very long time ago. Was it? Maybe. funny It’s getting more and more difficult to have a nightly family read aloud time. But mostly I keep persevering because it’s important to me. Yes, the books themselves matter. But the IDEA of it matters more to me. The time that we all sit in the same space for half an hour when maybe we’ve hardly seen one another all day. The time to be quiet together and to listen to good words together and to hear the same story and to have routine and tradition and familiar to end our day. I read books that I think…
-
Five Finds Friday: brown sugar tea and Otto are both sweet
I worked a little extra hard this week to balance the work/life/home routine and said no to a few things so that we could say yes to slower afternoons and being home together during that time since our nights are currently in a season of being busy with soccer and such. I think it paid off, but goodness – balance is a tight rope, is it not? (And even on the weeks like this where I put in the extra effort, by Friday it seems to fall apart again.) Life is a steady tension of push and pull, give and take. This week I found extra time to write…
-
Five Finds Friday (homemade herb dip, an Anne Review, and Otto spends money)
I’m grateful to the weather this week – although it’s been rainy and humid still, it has not been hot. And I, for one, will not complain about swinging into summer at moderate temperatures. What I’m not grateful for this week is the major snafu I had with my Travelers Rest Here website. Apparently the server for that website had a limit on emails you could receive. Although they never made me aware of said limit. And – what they do when you reach that limit is – nothing. They do nothing. They simply stop receiving your emails. And those emails disappear for eternity. And that’s not good for…
-
school words from a wilde fox.
We are working on our math and Otto looks up at me, surprise in his bright blue eyes, “Mom. I actually like school.” I grin at this last scholar of mine and pat his growing little man back. We move on to a new-to-us program called Draw-Write-Now that I am thoroughly enjoying. Otto has learned to take special pride in his writing this year and I have been pleased to see how neat and tidy his first grade work has become. “Son, I love your penmanship,” I tell him as his pencil writes the sentence about the Cherokee tribe. “My penmanship?” he asks, perplexed. “You must mean my pencilmanship.”
-
the prayers of a wilde fox
He prays like this — earnest and sincere ….. God, please help the Forrests as they fly to Bangladesh and maybe they are still on the plane. Maybe not. And. Please God. Help no more of our toads escape under the house.
-
just because, you know.
I just like looking at him.
-
I’m blaming his father for his spunk.
Sometimes I have to ask myself, “What kind of ship am I running over here anyway?” (That’s a phrase I actually use, but now that I’m seeing it in type I think it’s a pretty silly phrase. Running a ship? Is that a thing people do?) We were at a friend’s house a few weeks ago for our co-op and Otto and his buddy came trekking in from their outside play. Another child walked in ahead of the two rascals and said, “There’s a mess in the yard.” Yes. There was. A heap of ripped up white packing peanuts covered the green grass. Otto stood in the kitchen. Packing peanut…
-
pause.
We’re sitting on the kitchen floor. Me. Boy. Puppy. First one crawls into my lap. Then the other. And I know whatever plans I had have just vanished. The boy. White hair grown longer than his collar and every time we’re together my dad reminds me that I should have his hair cut. He’s clinging to his cruddy yellow blanket and patting the puppy. The puppy – he’s brown and shiny and snuggled in for all he’s worth and I can’t stop rubbing his short coat. My legs are itching to stretch and my right foot is asleep. I’ll endure. There’s no way I’m going to be the first one…
-
instead of this ……. that –
I don’t think I’ll tell you about how Otto Fox threw up at lunch today. Instead, let’s just ponder how cute he looks in a fall sweater.
-
The Two Nights Baby Timmy Was Missing.
Two long nights. For two very long nights Baby Timmy was missing in action. Baby Timmy. Otto’s precious sleeping/living/hang out blanket. (If you’ve ever seen Baby Timmy, you know “blanket” is a bit of stretch for that tired, tattered bit of has-been blanket.) But he loves it and we love Otto and so, by default, we all love Baby Timmy too. (It’s funny, of course. We worked to wean sweet little Mo-Town from her long-ago blanket addiction. But young Sir Otto’s blanket affection has never even been called into question. Some might say it’s because with Child Number Six parents are more lenient. Or more exhausted. Or worse at their…
-
when play imitates life
These are the best conversations …… “Want to play with me momma?” “Sure – what should we play?” “Okay. I’ll be the son and you be the mom.” Umm. Alright.
-
Otto Fox Wilder says …..
Otto has always been trailing along, carried along, tagging behind on Nature Walks since he was born. And he listens too. Whenever we leave our home we pass a small field full of wild flowers. Without fail, he spots the lovely delicate favorite of both of ours – Queen Anne’s Lace. And he says, “Look at the Queen Man’s Lace, Mommy!”
