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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…
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summer.
The summer season seems to be crashing to an end around here. Oh – the calendar still says August. The days are still sticky and hot. But the summer schedule is winding down. Camp ends this week. The School of Keigley will be back in session shortly. A beach trip is calling to us. (The countdown of days is written on the chalkboard.) I always have liked to cram things in at the last minute. I used to study for major college exams the night before. Too many papers were written hours before turning them in to the professor. Birthday cakes are often baked very late on the birthday eve.…
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is it okay to admit this?
You know how one thing can make you think of another thing? Well. My friend Gretchen wrote on her blog about offering her boys a frozen beverage the other day. And that one thing reminded me of another thing. Remember my first race? Yeah. After that race it was just Kevin and I at the car. And I wanted to celebrate finishing my first race with something – like a food I was dying to eat or something. Except I wasn’t hungry. (I had thought I was going to stop breathing. Food was not on my mind.) But something did sound good. Something cold. Frozen, even. In fact, something that…
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a good way to spend a day
It’s a long walk (especially if your legs are only about two feet tall). And carrying your baby brother only adds to the heavy load. But the hike is always worth the effort when we reach the top and stand in front of one my favorite local spots. Connemara. The home of poet and writer Carl Sandburg. I just love this place. I like the rooms that are teeming with books that Sandburg touched, read and studied. I love the view from this house and smile just thinking about the poet sitting in his chair on the rocks being inspired by the same image. I love remembering that I actually…
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A Ponytail: More Than Meets The Eye
It’s just a hair -do. You know? But then again it isn’t. It’s so much more. So much more. I keep seeing her grow up through silly bands and hair styles and not holding my hand when we walk by summer staffers and giving me hugs when she thinks I just need them and making peace with her siblings or trying to earn money to save for a zhu zhu pet or writing things down or reading directions alone or reading all of Alice in Wonderland all by herself to her siblings at night while they are in bed. She used to have the cutest little girl haircut. But when…
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poor.
Over the course of today I had the following series of conversations with my son Bergen. (He’s five, you know.) At The Breakfast Table. We sang a song we like to sing every morning after we eat breakfast. (It’s a song I was reminded of many months ago by my sweet friend Rachael.) And it’s a song I have been trying to claim as our family’s anthem. Pure & Holy Passion. I don’t know if I can even imagine a sound more lovely than the voices of my young children singing those true and simple lyrics together of an early morn. Berg loves the song. He grins while we sing…
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Do the Math
So Jon said something recently that made me realize a sort of sad fact. A depressing numbers game. I was changing a diaper. (That’s no surprise. No surprise.) And that’s what he said, actually. Jon said, “Hey. You are pretty good at that, eh?” (Well. Maybe Jon didn’t say “eh”. I like to say “eh” though. So I thought maybe me-quoting-Jon-speaking-in-my-blog should say “eh”. Eh?) So Jon said, “Hey. You are pretty good at that, eh? Because you know, you’ve been doing that for, what, seven years?” I laughed at his exaggeration. Seven years? Yeah. Sure. That’s crazy. Seven years. Wait. Seven years. Yes. London is now seven years old.…
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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…
