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Same Old Song & Dance
It was Emma’s idea really. Potty training Piper while I was not at home. I wasn’t prepared. Emma wasn’t daunted. She just popped Finn into Beckett’s boxer shorts and set off. (What? You think you recall hearing somewhere that I have tried this before? Yeah. You’re right. And you’re also a pretty diligent fan of this wee blog if you remember that! Anyway. The last episode? Well, it just had no sticking power. Or I had no consistency. Or the same.) Setbacks? Sure. There was poop that never made it to the toilet. Bergen insists that Piper peed on the barn floor without our knowledge. (It’s probably true. I haven’t…
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The Magic’s In The Music . . .
I’ve been telling you my Little Willow is smart – right? Well. Now she is an accomplished songwriter as well. She wrote this little piece just this evening and repeated it endlessly as she ran circles around our kitchen’s center island. Here goes . . . I love my mommy. I love her more than the most. I love my mommy. She’s great. So far I am loving this melody. Sing it, sister! But then the words took another decidedly different direction altogether . . . And we never say stupid. And we never say hate. Never. Never. Never. Do we say flub-a-dub? Is flub-a-dub a kind word? I think…
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Oh. And This Happened Too.
If you don’t care for reading about poop or vomit or throw up, you should probably read another blog. A tidier, cleaner, more appropriate blog perhaps. I can’t exactly help this. I have six kids – remember? This is what I do right now. Here goes . . . They needed a bath. It was a tub mostly full of pudgy kid legs and dirty toes and stubby fingers and plastic tug boats. Beckett, Otto Fox and Piper Finn were all getting a cleansing soak. Things seemed pretty fine. Rinse hair. Wash face. Reach for baby shampoo. Turn back to tub. What in the world? Who dumped a small bucket…
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More Kids Than Adults: Lessons Learned
I haven’t been home for a full week. Seven days. Seven nights. It’s July. And in our framily July means one thing. The annual July Fourth party. A tradition at least twenty years in the making. And – oh boy – will I have a lot of things to say about this past week. Here’s the first . . . Lots of us slept at the farm house. The grand total was something like this – 5 adults. 9 kids. (And some days held more children drifting in and out.) The point is – the adults were outnumbered. The kids could have thrown a coup and forced us to feed…
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Perhaps it’s true.
It is possible that these kitchen tongs may have scooped a plastic orca whale out of our toilet recently.
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Alone
It was late. I was lonely. I called my brother. And we talked. And that was nice. We talked about things and stuff and all that. But as I was talking and as I was listening another part of me simultaneously was realizing that although I was reaching out trying to connect through distance and space and time (another time zone) and the miracle that all that really is I realized that I was trying to avoid being alone. To stave off loneliness. But I couldn’t. Because really I actually am all alone. We all are. All Alone. Right now. In the end. Here. Then. Always. Alone. When we…
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Book Review: A Year Without “Made In China”
Remember that sweet adventure I was able to take with Beth? I brought a book with me. Because I thought I might actually be able to read it. And – you know what? I did read it. I really did. It literally jumped out at me from the library’s shelf. I was looking for a novel – some escapist literature, if you will, for an escapist trip. But I picked up Sara Bongiorni’s A Year Without “Made in China” instead. In the end, I am really glad I did. Bongiorni is a reporter and a mother and a label checker. She and her husband made jokes for years about the…
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Because you asked
The watermelon-cut-with-a-sword really was an event not to be missed around these here parts. And my husband, the funny guy who owns a sword that he keeps stashed under our bed, has done a play by play of the sword swiping event. It actually was pretty impressive. (And a better method of cutting watermelon than my weak little kitchen knife ever provides.) Seriously – he sliced the whole watermelon. First in half. Then in slices. And then, because he doesn’t play around, he came at the sliced watermelon from an angle and cut the whole thing in half lengthwise again. If you really want to see the pictures for proof…
Keep Reading . . .
spring madness. it has descended upon us.
leaving colorado.
close to midnight/ sisters
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we do
Who buys a watermelon bigger than her one year old son? I do. Who sees that huge watermelon sitting on our butcher block and tells his children that he would like to cut that green guy open with a giant sword? Kevin does. Who takes their father’s word as truth and waits in anxious anticipation for Daddy to arrive at home? The Keiglets do. Who actually follows through and gets the sword? Kevin does. Wait – who actually owns a sword? Kevin does.
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universal.
Our little (as in the children are mostly small, although the number of them is not – alright?) family was eating street side recently at a favorite wood-fired pizza joint. ( Side note: I like eating outside at restaurants. 1. Our noise level seems less obvious out of doors. 2. Our mess level seems less obvious out of doors. 3. The kids seem more entertained out of doors. 4. Fox can stay in his stroller and there is plenty of space to park that big rig out of doors. ) Oh – and I like people watching. Which is what I was doing when I saw a…
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I Can & I Can’t. I Will & I Won’t.
Dear My Children, I can’t or I won’t pay the full cost of your first car. Your father and I probably won’t be footing the bill for your entire college education. The latest fashions at Abercrombie (or fill-in-blank-overpriced-popular-store-at-your-appropriate-age) won’t be paid for out of my debit card. I might not be able to afford one hundred percent locally grown, organic foods from the Whole Foods market for every meal. I can’t promise to answer “yes” to every question of “Can I?” that you will inevitably present to me. You will have opportunities that you will have to miss. Parties you will not be allowed to attend. You will hear the…
Keep Reading . . .
parenting: the slipping away
connections. relationships. education.
how do you do it?
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Revisiting the River
And while I’m talking about the river. (DuPont State Forest – in the mountains of North Carolina. Worth the drive.) Here’s what we like about rivers, streams, creeks and flowing water in general. Wilder’s first ever experience walking in a stream. He liked it. He showed no fear. And he showed no concept of slick rocks and quick moving water, either. (That’s my boy! Here we go, son. Round Two for the Keigleys I guess.) Sticking the Nalgene bottle in the stream to keep it cool. Country refrigeration. (And this bottle glows in the dark. Which makes it even cooler. Bergen believes that having the bottle sit in…
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Location, Location, Location
They are right. Those cliche writers are right. Those real estate gurus know what they are talking about. It’s all about location, location, location. Today I served my kids a hodge podge, mostly boring though basically nutritious, type of lunch. But here’s the thing. They loved it. They devoured it. They thanked me for my offerings, meager though they were. They said everything was delicious. They asked for more. Literally, among six children, there was not even one complaint. And listen . . . . here’s what was on the menu. Peanut butter crackers. Raisins. Bananas. Applesauce. Grape juice. That is it. No fancy cups. We didn’t even have plates.…
