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The Experience
Some Great Things About the Birthing Experience Uh . . . The dining staff did bring us a cake and a bottle of sparkling cider afterwards. (Of which I did not partake from either. I think the Look Up Lodge summer staffers may have, however. It’s okay, guys. I really didn’t want it anyway.) The remote control to myself ? No. I didn’t even want to watch endless, mindless television. I was pretty sleepy. The doctor’s anatomy lesson directly following the birth of my beautiful son. Gosh, I wish I could really go into details here but I am not entirely sure who reads this blog and I don’t want…
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Little Buff Wearer
OH oTTo! On his arrival day at our house, Little Otto dressed in style – with his own new baby buff! Otto Fox Wilder McDonald Keigley slept like a champ his first night home – he crashed out in his sweet little Moses basket, all swaddled by the swaddling professional (aka as Daddy). First, thanks and thanks and more thanks to Aunt Emma and Cole and Beck who came to the rescue and stayed at the house and played with the Keigley kids. Apologies to Beckett from Piper. I heard she was a little rough. That’s not how girls are supposed to be. We’ll be working on that! Until then,…
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Here it is. . . .
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The Littlest of the Little Keigleys
Soooo, barring any unforeseen early arrival plans, the newest Keigley should be joining our fold on Friday, May 22. I don’t know what that means for this blog, but I’m pretty sure I know what that means for me. To my six followers (I am impressed that there are six of you actually – thanks!) – I will add a photo of the little guy as soon as I am able. (“As soon as I am able” should be left wide open for personal interpretation.) Emma, if you read this and e-mail me one of the pregnancy photos you so graciously forced me to take – I’ll stick that up…
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Through Little Mister’s Eyes
Everything is an adventure to Bergen Hawkeye. Every piece of furniture provides a leaping off point. Every line painted on the pavement is a jumping challenge. Anything higher than his knee is an opportunity to test his swinging strength. Hopping out of the car is a contact sport. He doesn’t just look over the edge of a counter – he scales the counter first to see what experience lies on the other side. For Bergen, all movement must be forward. Every obstacle can, and should, be climbed. Time is on his side. Deadlines matter not at all to him. You need to be on time for an appointment? What does…
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Rule Breaking
Before I had children, I had a lot of good ideas concerning how to raise small people. Now that I have children, I guess I still have some okay ideas about what SHOULD be done, but my theories have not always aligned with my actions. We have broken a lot of our own self-imposed Child Rearing Rules. And it seems like the more kids we have, the more rules we break. At London’s first birthday party she was offered an organic, sugar free tower of stacked, neutral-colored “cakes”, consisting primarily of carrots and wheat germ. At Piper’s first birthday party she had a tower of box-mix cake layered with pink…
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This Bowl
Growing up, every spring for longer than I can possibly remember, my mother made strawberry jam. It was delicious. We never had Smuckers at our house, we only had homemade strawberry jam. I am not entirely domestic, but the strawberry jam tradition has been one I really wanted to continue. Now, every spring I find myself picking strawberries and making oodles of batches of what my husband refers to as “red gold”. I don’t buy Smuckers for this house either – I prefer the fresh strawberry goodness. Here’s the funny thing. Many years ago my mother gave me the particular bowl in which she always prepared her strawberry jam. (Which…
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Cannon ball!
Lately, when Bergen takes a dive onto our big red slacker sack in the living room, he shouts, “COTTON BALL!” (The image of the splash a cottonball would make into a pool of water never fails to amuse me.)
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This One
I just don’t know if you have seen enough of this kid lately. At dinner Mosely is frequently guilty of bringing her prized blanket to the table. Blankets are not allowed at the Keigley meal table. (Yes, that is a real rule at our house.) Kevin told her to store it somewhere special so she would not misplace it. With great pomp, Mosely arose from the table, carried her blanket across the kitchen and opened the china cabinet. She lovingly placed her blanket on the shelf so she could see it through the glass doors during the entire meal.
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Little Red Wagons
I like word pictures. I like analogies. (Kevin likes metaphors.) I think it’s all the same way of saying – we like words. Anyway. I just heard a good word picture on the radio this week that I am going to shamelessly steal and use as my own. (It was said by some former basketball star of the olden days. Whatever.) The idea was this . . . Everyone has baggage that follows them around, baggage that they are carrying from the past – hurts, wounds, preconceptions, ideals, opinions – the stuff that makes us say what we say and do what we do. Our explanations, if you will. The…
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What Should I Have Done?
So this is a weird thing. Riley and Kevin had a race to run together tonight. The kids and I joined them for moral support and good times. While waiting for them to finish the race we enjoyed the bouncy inflatables set up in the nearby field. As the kids hopped and jumped, I noticed a lady wearing running gear, with her number pinned on, anxiously surveying the scene as her son flitted through the bouncies. She made eye contact with me several times and I just had this odd feeling….. I just expected her to ask me to watch her child. My mind began swirling. Should I watch this…
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Whose Idea Was This?
Potty Training. It’s really a funnier topic than we think. Who thought up the idea of that little plastic miniature toilet-thing that is designed to sit in your bathroom to entice your child to defecate into it? At the beginning of our potty training experience we purchased one of those fabricated devices because it seemed as if that was the choice everyone should make. We didn’t think through the purchase thoroughly, I guess. We set it up in the bathroom and London did what we asked – she deposited her poop and pee inside the plastic enclosure. And that’s when it dawned on me. So now what? There is no…
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What It All Comes Down To
Why do we say the things we say to children? No wonder they grow up a bit confused and have to find out so much for themselves in the long run anyway. The breakfast table topic this morning was birthdays – whose was next and what that child wanted to do. In our house, that discussion always leads to a discussion involving Chuck E. Cheese’s. (We’ve only dared enter that establishment twice in our children’s lives, but it has unfortunately clearly made a large impression.) As they bantered about the games, the ball pit and the pizza that you can eat while watching a show, London wisely surmised the experience…
