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my son will not appreciate this one day.
For a while Otto has been able to write his own name. It’s a pretty simple one – what with all those circles and sticks. It’s always been pretty adorable to me to see him concentrate so seriously and push his pencil forcefully across the paper. (Or the wall. Goodness. Six children. First one to ever put pen to wall…
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A Day in the Life: Part Two
I warned you last time. This will probably be anti-climatic. Cliffhangers are not my strong suit. So. Here I go anyway. The day was glorious. The sky was beautiful. Snacks were tasty. School work was being done and complaining was at an all-time low. I was considering crafting a make-shift tent from our picnic blankets and sowing our apple seeds…
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A Day in the Life: Part One
The forecast for the entire week was glorious. Warm afternoons. Cool mornings. The type of day designed by the creator of days to be spent out of doors. No climate controlled, temperature regulated kind of day. (Not that those days even exist when you live in a one hundred and eleven year old farm house.) I looked at the week’s…
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long enough .
And I would sit here by this gravel path all morning with my Hawkeye. I would watch the sun grow high and the sun fall low with my boy, And it would still not be long enough.
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How To Enjoy A Corn Maze
1. Bring along a lot of your pals. And the children of those pals. 2. Approach the barn area so indecisively and scattered looking that an employee intercepts your gang and asks why you look so out of place. 3. Underestimate the vastness of the many acre corn maze before you and allow children free range to run as they…
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Man Trip 2012
It happens once a year. Or something like that. Man Trip. The last one involved Great Wolf Lodge and a giant tub of cheese balls. Kevin and our friend Tyler and Bergen and Tyler’s son Baylor get together for a little dude time. This year’s man trip didn’t have such a grand destination. In fact, the front yard was about…
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Where have you been all week and why are you posting on a Saturday?
Why, thank you for asking. The answers are . . . Goodness – I don’t know exactly. At a couple of birthday parties. Visiting a pumpkin patch/corn maze on a field trip. Recovering from a funk some medicine had me under. Trips to the grocery store and the library and small group. Craft night. At home teaching kids about ovoviviparous…
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Would You Rather?
We drove to a wedding in the mountains this weekend. On the drive across the curvy roads through the gorgeous trees of blazing color, we all played a little car game to pass the time. It’s called “Would you rather?” and it’s simple. One person asks the rest of the players which of two bizarre or both awful options they…
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morning reminders.
I was lying in bed this morning. Avoiding crawling out of its three-blanketed warmth. (I think three blankets is too many. Too heavy. Kevin thinks otherwise. London commented on the thickness of our bed covers and I told her how Daddy likes lots of covers. She grinned and replied, “But I bet his bed mate doesn’t.” She was right.) Instead…
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the days.
These are good days. They are. But they are just such busy days that I collapse into bed and find it difficult to find the balance of time management. Cooler weather is blowing around our house. (And through our house. You know.) The thermostat is reading in the low 60’s already and that seems all too early for that low…
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left without . . .
On any given day I have ten or more ideas for a blog post. I keep a steady stream of maybe posts already written in my drafts section. But usually I just plain run out of time to work my way through all those ideas and false starts and half-completed sentences. Life just wears me down and fills me up…
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the baking machine.
Goodness – I was a cooking machine today. I mean, every day I’m sort of a food-producing/preparing/cleaning/serving kind of machine anyway. It’s the price you pay for living with seven other humans – six of whom call you “momma” and assume a portion of your life is fashioned to be the Food Prep Guru. But today – today I felt…
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broken.
The sound of breaking glass is not unfamiliar in this house. It no longer alarms me. Earlier this week my little Willow carried broken green remnants in to me in the kitchen. She was holding what used to be a hand made mug crafted by my aunt in Hawaii thirty-seven years ago. It was a pair. Now its partner will…
