Keiglets
The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs.
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You Have To See This
We are so crazy-blessed to have many framily and friends who are talented photographers. And I think maybe their lens does an even better job when they are looking at our kids. (Oh, you know I am just kidding. Other people’s kids are cute too.) But anyway, you should really see how cute Piper Finn and Beckett and Otto look here! Man – Emma . . . you rock!
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Unexpected
Kevin had taken Riley, Bergen, Mosely and Piper with him to the store. Fox was asleep. London and I were suddenly alone in our own home. Just the two of us. Unexpected. It was so quiet. And peaceful. And what I really wanted to do was to steal the time. Steal the time for me. I wanted to finish The Red Pony or write down a few ideas. The bedroom was messy. I could take care of that. Call a friend with no interruptions. (Endless possibilities.) London asked me, “Can we play a game?” I looked at that little blond mini-me (sighed mentally inside my head) and reluctantly said, “yes”.…
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Mosely likes that
We were standing at the checkout counter when Mosely saw it. A sock monkey backpack. She tugged at my sleeve. “Mom – isn’t that so cute?” I agreed that it was. Piper pointed at the backpack with admiration as well. The sock monkey backpack. But it was on someone else’s back. And I tried to help the kids to admire the stranger’s accessory in a less obvious manner. But they are kids, after all. The lady wearing the sock monkey backpack turned around. “Can I give your daughter this backpack?” she asked. I hesitated, surprised. I said no, that wasn’t necessary. But she insisted and eventually I accepted. And now…
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According To Her
I asked, “What did you guys talk about during class today?” London answered: “My friend Isaac said, ‘I have big muscles because I drink a lot of milk.’ Mom can we drink more milk? I showed everyone my muscles and the teacher said, ‘Man, that girl has big muscles’ and I told them it was really because I do pull ups.”
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Raising Bergen Can Be So Sweet
What I like about raising my boy Bergen . . . Seeing him walk out of the grocery store holding a bright bouquet of flowers. That wildy enthusiastic four-year-old approaching me with his fist outstretched. “These are for you, Mommy.” Listening to Kevin explain how the idea of purchasing the flowers was completely Hawkeye’s own. And that his little grubby boy hands carried the cellophane wrapped, brightly dyed flowers throughout the entire grocery trip. And all the random times that this little guy just slides up beside me, reaches for my hand and says, “You look pretty today Mommy.” How at night, after I tuck Berg into bed and am leaving his room,…
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All Over Their Faces
When Bergen’s feelings get hurt, everyone with eyes knows it. His body crumples. He usually slides to the floor. When Finn hears the word “no” when she wants to hear the word “yes” she turns her entire tiny body in the exact opposite direction. She kicks her four-inch feet against the floor and pads right out of your presence. If Mosely isn’t getting her way her arms are instantly crossed. Her lower lip is extended and her eyebrows are knit together, cartoon-style. None of these kids have to speak a word to communicate what they are feeling. (Sadness. Frustration. Anger.) I don’t even have to be a very observant mother…
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Wilder
This fella can eat Cheerios now. Fed to himself. With his own tiny fingers. And he wears sweater vests too.
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Last Night
It was late. As in, kids all tucked in, kitchen cleared, computers powered down, sitting on the sofa kind of late. I was writing a letter to my friend (sorry Sara – I may never get to finish that epistle at this rate) and Kevin was watching (with his eyes closed) some M. Night ShimmyWhoWho movie on television. And that’s when we heard the cry. “Mommyyyyyyyyyyy.” (Hmmm. Now they call my name. Interesting.) We discovered Mosely in the bathroom, over the toilet, taking care of her little sick self. We wondered if Mosely had managed to make it to the bathroom before the sickness began. But evidence to the contrary…
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Saints and Sinners
On a ride in the Suburban recently, the kids and I had a pretty heavy theological discussion. “How do we know who goes to heaven and who goes to hell?” one of my deep thinkers asked. “Well,” I started. Like I usually do. A stalling method I think I have perfected but which I know will have a short shelf life. And Bergen jumps in – “I know that. Good people go to heaven and bad people go to hell.” “Well,” I paused again. “That is not exactly true son. Are you a good person?” He nodded his head yes. “Do you ever do bad things?” I probed. Bergen said,…
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Sounds Logical
I am simply going to record a real conversation that took place earlier today in the confines of our Suburban. London: Who will I marry, Mommy? Me: Oh. I don’t know. I guess you will have to wait and see who God has planned for you. L-: How will I know who that is? Me: Well. In a lot of ways I guess. The young man will be pursuing God. Your daddy and I will like him. Uh . . . L-: So why can’t I just marry Bergen? We’re all Christians. Me: Brothers and sisters just do not get married to one another. Mosely: I plan to marry Otto.…
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In the Heart of the Country
We may not live on a farm any longer, but we sure can play as if we do. Kevin recently crafted a clever and warm winter abode for our three dogs. He made it out of hay and it serves its purpose of dog shelter while being amazingly eco-friendly. (What a guy!) And the kids think it’s real cool too. The play of every day since the dog home’s construction has been hay-related. Stick hay in the empty trash can. Rain hay upon one another’s heads. Roll hay into eleventy billion piles. Load hay into the red wagon and pull it all over the yard. Fill the trash can with…
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Lunch Lesson
This was yesterday’s lunch for my children. I like to call it . . . self-control on a plate. Sometimes I like to place the kids’ dessert on the same plate with their food, a la Look Up Lodge cafeteria dining style. The rule governing desserts in our house, and probably in every house with young children, is basic. Eat your dinner first. It hasn’t changed in a long time. Back in the day, John the Baptist was probably eating his honey after his locust. So I just placed the Oreo on the plate beside the other food options. Oreos are actually a pretty unusual treat at our house but…
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They’re Here
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