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Farewell Old Friend
You know what I am through with? Pretense. Maybe it’s my age. (I did just officially get older last week.) But I don’t feel the need (nor the desire) to appear to be what I am not. If you ask me how I am – I will tell you. I won’t say “fine” when I am not. No, I don’t plan on giving you more than you asked for or disparaging people in my path to being “real”. But I don’t care to be pretend any longer. And I don’t want you to be that way either. You don’t have to share your deepest secrets with me when I ask…
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a little change goes a long way
You know I love to rearrange furniture. But sometimes I don’t have that much time. Or that many options. (There are only so many ways one can rearrange three pieces of furniture in a narrow room when one’s husband insists that all three pieces of furniture face a certain wall featuring a certain screen.) So I change what I can. I alter all of the containers, jars and stuff sitting on the kitchen counters. I give my favorite glass oatmeal container a touch of new life with a cute label and a bit of ribbon taken from my birthday flowers from Leanne. I switch the locations of all of my…
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today
What day of the week was today? I don’t remember. Do you ever have days like that? I awoke to chaos in my room. It came to meet me in my bed, actually. In the form of a two and half foot screeching two-year-old who had experienced a bad dream about lions and monkeys and tigers. And here it is – some 14 hours later. I don’t think I heard anyone call me by my given name. What did I even do today? Uh. I watched Otto conquer two steps. And then I watched two steps conquer Otto. Twice. Little bruiser. For 14 hours today 14 hours in a row…
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grocery list
It was that time again. Cabinets looking a bit bare. Fridge filled with containers holding leftovers mostly unrecognizable as former food. I needed to go to the grocery store. I always make a list before I head to the store. But today, Piper made the list for me. This is what she said we needed. I wrote it down. As she spoke it. Because that’s how you make lists – right? No editing allowed. I promise. Piper’s List Pizzas 7 bunny rabbits Some peas 6 suckers We need 7 marshmallows Some cantaloupe Some watermelon Cheese Some bedtimes Blankets Pillows Kids Some rings Spoons to mix 7 sugars I’ll see what…
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Mosely Elliot Claiborne Keigley: The Interview
I assume you realize by now that our home here is nearly overrun by small children with small feet and small hands. And I take full responsibility for that fact. (Well, at least partial responsibility.) It seems these small humans are always changing, evolving, growing, becoming. It is my duty and my privilege to make note of this process. Therefore, I have interviewed the third daughter in line here so that you too may see how she is doing, what she is thinking and try to capture a glimpse of what makes this brown eyed beauty so unique. Let the questioning proceed. For the record, will you please state…
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Seven is Sweet
Oh Seven. You are fun. When you turn 7 here we set out the treasured Special Special Day Plate. And you get to eat your meal upon that plate. And you get to choose the meal. No matter what you want. We will all eat it. Even if you pick macaroni & meat with a side of mashed potatoes and an additional side of peas. You also get to watch Dad decorate your cake. And you get away with being a bit rowdy and having icing squirted inside your mouth. And maybe you even get a little help cleaning that icing from your face. You also get to decide what…
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Hey Jordin – I Can Tell You Why
There’s this song that always seems to be playing – in the car, from Riley’s bedroom, at our computer, from the kitchen iDock. Always on. Why does love always feel like a battlefield? Oh, Jordin Sparks. Why does it? I’ll tell you why. I will tell you why love always feel likes a battlefield. (Actually, for the record – whatever that means – I don’t really like the song at all. At all. I don’t even know why. Maybe overexposure or something. I’m not sure. Probably overexposure. But I feel as if I need to clarify that. But really, why do I think I need to clarify my personal taste…
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what do you think?
Do you think when e.e. cummings penned the word mudluscious he was thinking about something a little like this? Could there be a day more puddle-wonderful Mr. Cummings?
Keep Reading . . .
parenting, continued
sunday matters.
A Reason for Handwriting: A Timberdoodle Review
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in the name of love
Things I Have Done In The Name Of Love . . . Walked through Goodwill as it was closing (and the employees were announcing approaching closing time over and over) while searching for the new orca whale owned and then lost by one young Bergen Hawkeye Norton. (Yes, that orca whale. He’s had a hard life. And – I looked up the phrase “orca whale”. Saying both is pretty superfluous. They both mean the same thing. Orca means whale. But Berg calls it his orca whale. And I like Berg. So I just plan to call it what he calls it. Because I can.) Searched the kid’s clothing aisle where…
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I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends
I have long chronicled this relationship. Emma and I joke that we want these kids to get married (in the far far far far far distant future) just so we can have the world’s best photo montage/slide show/blue-ray extravaganza at their wedding. It could be like a feature length film. They’ve been friends. They’ve been enemies. They’ve been in between. Shoot, they have even shared underwear! So it was with bated breath (Not really – I don’t even know what that phrase actually means. Someone else care to look that up for me? Thanks.) that we met together this July Fourth to see how the two two-year-olds would manage a…
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The Best
Piper likes to say, “You’re the best, Mom.” And then she adds, “You’re the best mom in the whole world!” Then I say, “No” and she says, “Yes, you are!” It’s an adorable game. Except she’s wrong, of course. I am not the best mom. Not in the whole world. Not in the United Sates. Not in South Carolina. Not in my neighborhood. (I don’t exactly live in a neighborhood.) Not even the best mom in my own house some days. I am not. In truth, I am only the best mom in my little Willow’s eyes because I am the only mom she has ever known. That’s it.…
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good day. bad day. control. letting go.
Today was a good day. But it was lining up to have every reason to not be. Fox has been fighting some kind of sickness for the past several days but his little conditions worsened by this morning. Crusty, weepy eyes. Runny, red nose. Add in a cough and eye rubbing and general discomfort and I knew we should probably make the journey in to see a doctor. We had a Pisgah Forest trip planned but we ditched that and I called the doctor. “Can you be here in half an hour?” the nurse asked. I looked around my kitchen. Four mostly disappointed kids (they love Pisgah – and today…
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happiness. wisdom.
At the end of this school year it seems that London’s reading skills have finally taken off. She reads everything. All the time. Beckett wore a shirt that had an arrow and said “He did it”. London cracked up and whispered to me, “Mom, I think Beck’s shirt is perfect because it says he did it. And he probably did.” There was a sign hanging in Sally’s laundry nook. “Hey Mommy,” London announced. “I think this sign might be wrong. It says ‘farm’ then ‘dairy’ but it probably should read ‘dairy farm’.” And forget spelling any secrets out loud any longer. “What? It’s bed time?” Or “Hey everybody –…
