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Not Allowed
Maybe I have been a little too busy moving furniture around lately. London secretly made this sign all by herself and then displayed it prominently on the fridge. Translation: No Moving Furniture
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Little Bites
Piper Finnian is notorious for a lot of reasons around these parts. Standing anywhere she can gather a crowd and announcing, “Everybody! Dance!” Agreeing with all who may perchance comment about her cuteness. “I cooot!” Wrapping grown men around her finger by announcing how much she loves them. Men such as Kevin Keigley, Nathan Heffington, Walter Howard, Jody Deming, Jamal Quattlebaum and Greg Boone. Singing “How He Loves” at the top of her lungs. Finding the half-eaten bag of M&Ms reserved for potty training and eating the remainder of the entire bag before being caught. Recognizing songs by Michael Jackson and Ben Harper without any prompting. Waiting until naptime every…
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Operation Potty Traing: A Family Affair
I don’t enjoy potty training. It’s one of my least favorite parenting tasks. I don’t enjoy changing diapers either really, but somehow, for me, potty training is worse than a gross, but speedy and predictable diaper change. So Piper is two and has been talking about the potty for some time. Lately, she’s even begun to request a new diaper post-poo. I guess those are the generally accepted signs that she’s more ready than I am to start this messy, time-consuming journey. I decided to adopt my husband’s well known philosophy of not playing around. I immediately began employing a system that involves bribery and back up. I explained the…
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What Is She Wearing?
My friend Mandy and I were on our way to our weekly Bible study. The kids were all buckled into their seats, quietly enjoying our little ride. “Mommy. I think Piper just threw up,” Bergen said. “No, I don’t think so Berg.” “Yeah. I think she did,” he said. “I throw up,” Piper announced. Mandy turned around to verify the facts. “Uh. Yes. She did throw up.” We were almost at church so we kept heading in that direction so we could clean her up there. Not to get too graphic, but it was pretty much a pure strawberry yogurt type of throw up. More than likely brought on by…
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School Days
You know what I love? Borrowing ideas from people far more clever than I. I saw a picture of my friend Kate’s children playing with spaghetti noodles at a table. I took her idea. And did it at my own table. With my own kids. At first, they couldn’t get over the novelty of the fact that Mommy had just dumped noodles all over the table and actually instructed them to play with their food. It was great. London spelled her name and underlined it. Hawkeye spelled a “b” and asked me to help him form the remaining letters. Mosely created a large head with an ultra-squiggly beard that made…
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Just Because
It’s not Father’s Day. And it isn’t Kevin’s birthday. But I feel like writing about him anyway. In our house, the man is a Super Star. He really is. With all the trappings of celebrity . . . . Not much private time (his biggest fans are continually interrupting him in the restroom – even if the door IS shut – try dealing with THAT Harrison Ford) Everyone vying for his attention (Daddy, can you read this? Will you cut an apple for me? Can I cuddle with you? What are you going to watch Dad? Can I walk outside with you? Where are you going? When will you be…
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A Little Stir Crazy
Kevin was in Israel for a lot of days. And some of those days felt much longer than others. And those many days were also followed by many nights. I might have gotten a little stir crazy while he was gone. I might have rearranged the living room furniture in at least twelve various configurations, none of which seemed to please anyone but me. I might have painted the kitchen cabinets with chalkboard paint and drawn on all the doors with colored chalk. I might have cleaned out the kids’ closets on multiple evenings. I might have reorganized Kevin’s plethora of t-shirts into tidy stacks according to style, color and…
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Important Things
Riley was at school. The Little Willow was taking a nap. Wilder was kicking his feet in his crib. (It’s how he likes to pass the time.) And London, Mosely and Bergen were on a mission. A mission to help. They were scurrying around the house, looking for Things To Do. They offered to tidy the living room. I let them. That wasn’t enough though. They wanted more work. I suggested they carry the little red bucket we keep dirty kitchen laundry in and put all of that little red bucket’s contents into the washing machine. They were excited to do it. (I am not making this up.) (Why do…
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Words
You know how some things people say stick with your forever? For better or for worse? Words really are powerful. My 7th grade teacher once called me a “snot”. She probably does not even remember. But I can’t forget it. The truth is, I probably was being a snot. And she probably was having a rotten day with one too many junior high snide comments. But I am thirty-six years old and I can still clearly remember how those words made me feel. Words. What scary power. I know this and yet I am always speaking without thinking. I hear myself say such ridiculous things. But that’s not even the…
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Oh, Mo
I just heard Mosely admonish Bergen. “I don’t understand Whine-ese,” she said. Huh. That’s pretty interesting Mosely. I thought you were pretty fluent in that language yourself.
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It Doesn’t Compare
Oh. Oh. Oh. I think I am just nowbeginning to understandsomethingwith new eyes. About sin.About forgiveness.About comparing.About me. I am alwayscomparingmy sin to his sin.My sin to your sin. Andwhen I compareI begin to thinkthatIamokay. Butwe cannot place our sinson some sin scaleand measure them along those lines. Other people’s sinsarethe wrong reference point. The wrong point entirely. It’s not aboutmy sincompared toyour sin. It never has been. It’s onlyaboutmy sincompared tothe costChristalready paid. (We can onlycompareourselvesto asinless Christwho diedfor asinfulme.)
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Bergen Hawkeye – The Interview
The following is an interview with a little boy. A little boy who lives life so wide open and so exuberantly. A little boy missing two front teeth from two separate traumatic events. A boy with a scar on his right cheek from running into Jane’s truck. And another scar on his chest from a nail on a dock last summer. A little boy who cries far more often from hurt feelings than from hurt limbs. My little boy. It is a rare and exclusive peek into the mind that is Hawkeye. (Rare in that he does not frequently stand still long enough to answer a series of questions. Exclusive…
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Our Little Wilde Fox
Look who is beginning to eat cereal! Can you believe that there was actually a moment in every one of our lives where we could swallow liquid only and then one day, at some precise minute in our past, a spoon was shoved into our tiny mouth and we experienced a great unknown. And then that first-time experience quickly morphed into an action that we so completely take for granted that we probably have never even thought about it again. Crazy – huh?
