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Capable
There’s just something about a tiny baby’s hands – isn’t there? They just look adorable. Sometimes they’re kind of wrinkly and even a little peely. (I just coined that word. For the record.) Honestly, as cute as they are though, and as much as I love to kiss them and admire them, they really can’t accomplish much early on. They only grasp what you place in them and they don’t even work really well in unison with one another just yet. But, man. You just blink a couple hundred times or so and those mini hands morph into something else entirely. I’ve been noticing the hands of my “bigger” kids…
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Things That I Do Not Do Well
1. Remember to change our home’s air filters. 2. Small talk. 3. Go to bed at a reasonable hour. 4. Sweep. 5. Drive at night. 6. Take out trash. 7. Get up when the alarm first sounds. 8. Chit chat on the telephone. 9. Watch commercials. 10. Return phone calls. 11. Clap in rhythm. 12. Potty train my children. 13. Respond to e-mails in a timely fashion. 14. Keep Magnus from making a mess. 15. Check the mail.
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I Wish This Was More Unusual Than It Sounds
As Piper was just heading to her nap, she said, “I poo on little people.” I sort of laughed. Because it sounded funny, okay? And then, because I wanted to move on to my next task, I said something like, “Oh, okay. Sleep well, Little Willow.” And she said, “I poo on little people.” Insistent – eh? Not satisfied with my response? Alright Piper. “Oh. Well, Piper. Don’t poo on little people.” And then she pointed to a basket on her floor. Full of Fisher-Price Little People. Uh-oh. Now things were beginning to make more sense. Unfortunately. The Little People victim was not hard to spot. The brown smear across…
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This Game Needs A New Name
One of the most enjoyable aspects about raising kids has been the opportunity to pass on games and activities and tradtions that I played as a kid. And just this week I remembered a new one. Funeral. I think we made it up one long ago Virginia summer at the Wickstrum’s farm. It’s a simple game, really. Probably born of hot summer days and looking for excuses to not run around outside. One person pretends to be, er, dead. The, uh, dead person lies on the ground alone, arms crossed. After the deceased is lying still and his face is composed, the other players enter the room. The goal of…
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Why You Should Always Read The Label First
Check out the sweet sweater little Willow is wearing in this photo. Isn’t it cute? It’s wool. I bought it at the Gap maybe eight years ago. For myself. But one day I washed it. And dried it. And now a two-year-old is wearing it.
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I’ve Been There
I saw a woman at the children’s museum we visited this week. She had five children with her – just like me. And her kids were a lot like mine . . . kind, funny, rowdy, polite, unruly, curious, speedy. Just like any number of small people that we know. I was sitting on a bench feeding Fox his lunch and I was watching this family. They were preparing to leave the museum, but this mother of five wanted one little group photo before they left. She lined them all up, posed them properly. (Anyone who has photographed children in groups knows what a daunting task that can be.) They…
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I Like To Read: The Red Pony, A Book Review
I like to read. (And I wish I had more time for it. One day, right?) Left to myself I would read primarily fiction – my favorites are Lee Smith and Sharyn McCrumb, Ron Rash and Appalachian authors in general. But as a former English major in college and current English teacher I feel an obligation to keep up my reading of classic literature. Actually, it’s less an obligation and more a simple desire to keep my mind working in some other direction than diapers and Cheerios and the easiest way to clean my filthy oven. So, I…
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The Chronicles of Avoiding Wal-Mart
Day One: I needed a few groceries. I shopped at our local Bi-Lo . . . avoided the yellow smiley face, earned fuel perks points and saved $46 on a $106 grocery trip with their daily double coupons. Kevin even joined my shunning and purchased the just-released Where the Wild Things Are at Target instead. Day Two: Received an e-mail requesting me to complete an opinion survey about my recent site-to-store purchase. You better believe I was excited to spend my ten minutes filling out that puppy. And there was even a space to add my own comments – so I told them about our little shun. (Do you…
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The Edge
(This is not a post about U2. Sorry Jane.) I think I live on some precarious edge. Like – right next to a cliff. (You know, like the little old man in Up who wanted to plop his home right down beside the ravine, the waterfall, the danger?) I live there. Or at least, I have been camping there for far too long. And the view is alright, I guess, but the effort and the stress of living right on that edge is wearing me down. And another thing. Because I live so close to that edge I find it really hard to maintain stability. To find a firm footing.…
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Just a Reminder
Wilder went for his first ride recently in the front of the grocery cart. With a steering wheel even. And it just served to remind me that my Little Wilde Fox will not always be Little.
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Who’s With Me?
I have never been in love with Wal-Mart. I don’t care for their yellow smiley face trademark, their GreatValue branding or the way they nudge out every small business in their vicinity. But I could never be as self-righteous about the superstore as I would have liked. Because I kept shopping there. Despite poor customer service. At. Every. Visit. Despite low quality produce. Despite long waits because only three of the thirty-four check out lines are ever open. I think I have kept telling myself that their costs are lower. That it’s just so convenient to buy everything in one place. That my options were limited. But tonight, as I…
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Berg Is All Boy
I cannot say that I remember much about high school biology. (Sorry Mrs. Hendricks, it’s just true – okay?) And my final thoughts are still on hold about the entire nature vs. nurture argument. But this I do know. My son Bergen Hawkeye is all boy. All boy. I have done very little, if anything, to directly influence boy-like behavior in this four year old wonder. I have not personally ever purchased a toy gun for my son. Nor a bow and arrow. Or a toy hatchet or knife or whatnot. (Of course, Berg does own these items. I have just never thought to purchase them.) But, listen (especially…
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From Her Point of View
We were having tacos for dinner. Piper was sitting near Kevin. Kevin prefers his tacos in the style of a taco salad. Piper looked at Kevin’s plate, piled with crushed taco shells and all the toppings. And she asked, “Daddy, why are you eating compost?”
