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Why I Am Not Writing Tonight
I write my blog posts at night. Kids are asleep. (Mostly.) House is quiet. I can snack on what I want without sharing. Messes are easier to ignore in the dimly lit house. Mornings are not good writing times for me. I like sleep. Some kid hears me and wakes up extra early. Dirty counters look more obvious in the morning light. But tonight? Tonight I am struggling to write anything. It’s not writer’s block. (My little brown moleskin is bursting with ideas.) It’s not the kitchen table that needs to be wiped down from the cookie crumbs after tonight’s family Needletip making event. (I have a high tolerance for…
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Mosely: Defender of Truth, Lover of Justice
I attended a writer’s conference this weekend. I’m still mulling over my take-away thoughts scrawled in blue ink in my brown moleskin. One of the topics was about discovering your passion as a writer. The key speaker, Marybeth Whalen, advised us to think about what brought us joy as children. “What were you passionate about at six?” she challenged us to consider. And she shared a simple story about a friend of hers who is about to begin a business/ministry targeted to women, using fashion as the hook. And how this woman has a photo of her first grade class where she is a mini fashionista amid the casually dressed…
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I’m No Videographer or Further Evidence I Need an iPhone or Further Evidence I Need a Nanny
You know, by the mere fact that I post words and seldom post videos, that I am no film maker. You know, by the copious number of times that I have mentioned my desire for an iPhone, that my current cell phone camera is essentially lame, and that, therefore, my videos will not be stellar quality. You know, by all of my previous set-up statements, that I am about to share a sub-par video. My piles of laundry are revealed. My voice sounds quaky. My parenting skills might be questioned. But the funny factor outweighs all of that. The stage is set like thus . . . Bath time for…
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Yesterday
Yesterday London wore a shirt that was a size 8 for the first time. I bought $24 worth of groceries for $8 at Harris Teeter’s super doubles sale. A large rectangular glass cutting board was sitting on the stove top. Kevin turned on the wrong burner. The glass cutting board slowly heated up. Until it exploded in a million miniature shards all over the kitchen. Piper said, “I cannot let anyone else use my swing outside. It is fragile.” To which Mosely replied, “Actually, Piper, ‘fragile’ means easily broken, which your swing is not.” I drove forty minutes to Asheville to visit a huge consignment pre-sale. Upon entering the…
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behind the scenes
I’ve always been background. Behind the scenes. In college I earned a degree in theatre. (According to my pocket-sized, laminated diploma. Seriously – does anyone else have one of those?) But mostly I fulfilled my theatre requirements through costumes, lighting, sound. Off stage. Behind the curtains. Pre-production. Post-production. And that’s okay. Mostly, I chose that role. Liked that aspect. But sometimes being in the background is so hidden. In the dark. Background. (Exactly.) Unnoticed if you do your job well. A scape goat if you make a mistake. I will admit that every now and then I get a little hungry, a bit greedy, for the spotlight. Center stage. Last curtain…
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is there a funnier age than three?
Not one day goes by that Piper Finnian Willow does not make us laugh. We think she is hilarious. Example One. After a trip to the Goodwill store I required the children to use some hand sanitizer. I poured the goo in Finn’s hands and watched her face change as she began to remember the future flavor of her thumb, post-hand sanitizing. She quickly determined her best course of action and controlled the situation. Finn shoved her thumb in her mouth to “keep it clean” while she scrubbed the rest of the sanitizer on her free fingers smashed up in front of her wee face. Example Two. In the car…
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free. from the what ifs.
I don’t know if you have bad dreams any longer. Nightmares. But I still do. And a rotten one woke me up recently. And the remnants of it clung to my skin all morning. In the asleep version of my life I had left our children at some childcare facility. It was new to me. I was new to town. And when the time came to pick up the kids, I couldn’t find the building. I couldn’t find our children. It was just a dream but I woke up bogged down in the fear of it all. As a parent, are you ever overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the…
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love. in all its many forms.
It’s not all glamorous. Oh, actually, it’s hardly ever glamorous. Guarantee it would not make the cover of any glossy magazine. But here’s to the many ways love is shown at our house. Quietly refilling Mommy’s empty glass with ice and water because you know she loves drinking cold water all day long. Keeping the towels clean and folded so Kevin does not have to touch them straight from the dryer. Riley unloading the dishwasher every morning before she leaves for school. Kevin leaving the best tweezers at home when he attends business trips. Handwritten notes in crayon slid under the door of Daddy’s office. Wrapping up your favorite stuffed…
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about last night
2:00 a.m. All was quiet. (As it should be.) And then a cry. A sound of concern coming from a child’s bedroom. “What was that?” I whispered to Kevin. “I think Piper is calling your name,” he said. “No, I think she said your name,” I responded. It’s a game we like to play. The specific name a child chooses to call in the middle of the night is rather significant. It is the difference between staying in your warm bed or being forced to accept your parental responsibility at inconvenient times. We settled back under the covers and tried to ignore the next three mumbled cries. Then a distinct,…
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a list. a distraction.
Six children. Two adults. Our house is full of people. With different opinions and changing moods. I thought I’d make a little list today to gage where the Keigley family members currently stand on a few non-essential topics. (Because I like lists.) Favorite Kid Television Show: Wild Kratts. (There might be some addiction to this show at our house. And Berg has begun calling all of his siblings “bro”, even the girls.) Most Frequently Requested Meal: Mac & Meat. (A throwback to my family growing up. Imagine homemade hamburger help and you’d be pretty close. Not exactly an inspiring dish.) Average Wake Up Time For the Kids: 8:00 a.m. (Excluding…
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Blessed Be Your Name
Four years. It has been four years since my sweet mother passed away. And I still miss her. That has never really changed. I know I have written about her before. And I am sure I will write about her again. She was my mom. Her life (and her passing) shape so much of who I am. I am sure that is normal. Right? This week my memory was struck again by a song we sang at church. “Blessed Be Your Name” We sang this song at my mother’s memorial service. And I can still clearly recall watching my dad while we sang. “Blessed be Your name On the road…
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… and counting
It has been thirteen days already. And this Fox is still rocking his amazing hat. It is possible we have forgotten what he looks like without it, so attached to this little accessory he has become.
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once upon a Sunday morning
The Sunday mornings of our present look nothing like the Sunday mornings of our past. It’s just a church. I know that. Broken people. Imperfect leaders. You know all the phrases. So do I. But every time I am there I cry. I connect. I get a glimpse of what I think church can look like. And she is beautiful. My past experiences with other churches have not been great. Little within the walls of those buildings to motivate me to haul multiple children out of a lazy morning. More dead than alive. And me too. But this place is not the same. And neither am I. Example One of…
