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Days Like These
Days. We all have ’em – right? Here’s the ups and downs of yesterday at this house. (I think I’ll put a Pollyanna spin on my day. Just for kicks, you know. Remember Pollyanna? That kid in an old movie who changes a whole town with her upbeat, optimistic attitude? She takes horrible aspects of her life and spins them with sticky-sweet cheerfulness.) I woke up super sleepy (I blame this on late night Survivor watching) and I decided that sleeping an extra half hour was a better use of my time than a shower. So my hair looked rowdy today. It sort of surprised me every time I…
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Story
I have read so much about story lately. And I like it all. Mostly. I remember reading a quote by Eudora Welty and she said, “Most really good stories are about the interiors of our lives.” (I think she’s right – which is how that woman who seldom left her own state and who rarely even left her hometown could still write Pulitzer Prize winning novels.) With all this talk about story, and being a person suffering from tunnel vision, I naturally turned my thoughts on myself. I thought about story in general and my story specifically. And I thought . . . What if you are in the middle…
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On My Plate
I like to eat words. Particularly my own. You think I would learn by now. But I have not. I just keep saying things. Making crazy stands on both important and non-important issues. I don’t want any children. I would never want to teach high school English. No more dogs for the Keigley family. I don’t want to live any farther south than Virginia. Taking young children to Disney is ridiculous. Like so many other times I have found myself dining on my own litany of “never” and “I won’t” and “That’s crazy”. And now I have to dish up another plate. At one point I thought they were over…
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Breakfast Is Served
In our house, things like this are not really all that unusual. Wilder loves muffins. I bake them in bulk and then freeze them in batches of three to take out regularly. I thought my stash was all gone but when I looked in the freezer one evening recently I was pleasantly surprised to discover a bag with one wee little muffin left. “There’s breakfast,” I thought and placed the frozen muffin inside its bag on the counter to thaw through the night. Next morning, I grabbed the bag and prepared to dump the muffin out. Quickly, I realized that I was not actually holding a thawed banana bran muffin…
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confessions of a bad soccer mom
I am a bad soccer mom. I purposely park the stroller at the end of the field where no one else is. I usually don’t stroll right up to the line of canvas foldable chairs and picnic blankets placed down the sidelines. I’m not that mom that the whole team knows and who hugs and high-fives all the little players as they exit the field. That’s not me. I don’t know why exactly. I don’t dislike those people. Shoot, I don’t even know those people. I think maybe I feel inadequate. I am usually late. Soccer uniform-clad kids rushing down the hill before Kevin and I wheel the double stroller down…
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Surprise! It’s My Birthday
You know we love guests at this house. And we love this one guy who likes to pop over on occasion – our friend Bob. We met Bob back at old Campbell University when Kevin and I were but newlyweds. Bob let us know he would be in the neighborhood and asked if he could stop by. Who would say no to Bob? He treats our family like his family. He carries kids on his shoulders. He reads stories and draws pictures with them, and of them. (He’s a gifted artist.) He makes desserts with them and often treats us to his delicious homemade baklava. Bob makes edible finger paint…
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My First
This weekend I ran my first-ever race. It wasn’t a marathon or anything – it was a 5k. In my “training” (laugh. laugh. cough.) I had never run more than two miles at a time. Friday night was balmy, but pleasant. The race started at 6:30 p.m. I placed myself toward the back of the crowd of over 3000 runners. (Call me realistic.) For fun, and because I want to and I can, I am going to walk/run you through my thought process. Here we go. This is cool. I’m really excited. I’m pretty nervous. This skirt is pretty cute. At least I can wear a cute running skirt. That’s…
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why I love this photo
Because my friend Jane took it with her flashy new Nikon. Because Hawkeye is wearing one of my favorite t-shirts. (You can’t really appreciate it since its view is obstructed, but I know it’s there. It features the band The Who. I picked it up at Target for $2.00. But I like it because Hawkeye calls it his “behind blue eyes” shirt.) Because it is so Real Life At Our House. I mean, seriously. Just look at Hawke’s knees.
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worship.
I went running today. (You know, my once a week if Riley is cool with hanging out with the wee ones in the afternoon“habit”.) Before I hit the trail, still in my closet putting on my shoes, I decided again (for the bazillionth time) that I did not like my body after all. It wasn’t really beautiful. No matter what I said or what I typed or what I tried to think about true beauty and all that internal beauty stuff. My shorts seemed silly. My legs were winter-pale. (And I am not foolish enough to believe that summer will actually change that. That’s just not the way my skin…
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And This Is Why I Really Homeschool . . . . And How I Mess Up . . . . And How I Try To Do Better
This photo is bad. Just too much sun, bad timing. All that. But even its awfulness, I think it’s pretty cute. Because it still reveals a certain aspect of my kids. And isn’t life like that? Real. Funny in its irony. Joy in the failures. It’s what my life really looks like some days every day. And it’s what our school – the school at our house – looks like too. I have written about this before. Homeschool. The highs. The lows. And all that in between. Today I have the opportunity to write about it a little more over on this blog. Thanks for checking it out.
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believes.
My day is filled (and I mean filled) with requests to “look at this”. Bergen loves to call my attention to important matters. Such as “Mom, I found Sparks (a much-loved, frequently-misplaced-because-he-is-rather-small stuffed puppy that was once Riley’s).” “Hey, Mom – check this out. One scab on my knee is gone and just pink but the other is still big and puffy.” “Look at this truck – can you believe how high it jumps? Look at it again. It does it every time.” (All twenty-seven times. Yes. It certainly does, son.) “Mommy – watch Flapjack’s eyes in this cartoon. London, can you rewind that? Mommy has to see his eyes.…
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Fingers
You may be thinking, “Uh. This photo is kind of . . . not that great.” Well. This might look like a blurry, poorly executed attempt at the classic “tiny hands” photograph. But it is not. It is actually a photograph of a game. (Probably not truly invented by Keigley kids, but don’t tell them that please.) It’s a game alright. A game called Fingers. It travels anywhere. And it costs nothing. And I would say it might even be worthy of making one of Tyler Stanton’s boredom-busting games posts. (Are you reading this Tyler? Remember how you said you would write a guest post for me one day? What…
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An Update
Remember that one post where I talked about how tired I was of poor customer service at Wal-Mart? And how I vowed not to shop there for the entire month of March? Well. I haven’t forgotten about that promise. Or about the fact that I had more comments on that post than on any other. (Still not sure how that makes me feel exactly, but what can you do?) Anyway. It’s been two months now. Because that’s how I roll. Late. And I am pleased to announce – avoiding Wal-Mart has not actually been that difficult. At all. But I won’t lie. I will make my confession here. Declare my…
