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A New Answer to an Old Question
Sometimes a schedule lets you down. Especially, in my opinion, a meal schedule. Actually, I guess the schedule has not really let me down. But an empty pantry often has. Our breakfast schedule is really not the problem. But dinner? That guy’s a real pain in the rear sometimes. And it is that pain-in-the-rear-daily-question of “what’s for dinner?” that brings…
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and now a word from this kid . . . .
Because it has simply been too long. Because my posts have not been all that funny for a few days. Because she is standing near me and asking me what she can do. Because I can. Today, I give you, an exclusive look into the mind of Piper Finnian Willow Lacey, age 3. Me: What should I ask you today?…
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always something.
It’s always something. Isn’t it? At least, it seems that way around here. There is always something that keeps my day from running as intended. That stops me from checking off every little line on my to-do list. That makes our homeschool day run less structured than I dreamed while lying in bed the night before. Today it was a…
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distraction #42
I am too sick and too tired to be clever. Our home looks a bit like a war zone and we are its casualties. I am grateful to a couple of good friends who stopped by the house with beverages and soups and so many others who have made kind offers. While we rest and get better, just take a…
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off the grid
It seems that for the past four days or so I have been unofficially “off the grid”. Mostly unintentionally. I think I first jumped off the internet waves Thursday morning because I was just plain old too busy to get online. I was too busy . . . sweeping the filthy crumb-encrusted floors of our house, running to the grocery…
Keep Reading . . .
just recounting a day . . .
morning song: a poem
Scrunch Map: A Timberdoodle Review
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London said . . .
I really loved reading what you guys had to say after yesterday’s post about my flaws and the fears of transparency and how we all are tempted to reveal one face, but live another face. And I won’t deny that I am sitting in a bit of a funk right now. And that always spills out into my writing. (Actually…
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I’ll go first . . .
There’s another way I’d like to be free. Free from fear of others’ opinions. Free from the temptation of trying to appear to be something I am not. I think we blog and facebook and tweet in a world that is far too easy to be fake. To be pretend. We write about the funniest moments. Or the sweetest moments.…
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Letter Number Five (5)
Dear Library, I am afraid it has come to this. We’re over. It’s through. Your fines are extreme and reveal to me clearly my problems with schedule, routine and consistency. I don’t appreciate the way you continually remind me of my flaws. And charge me for them, as well. We can still be friends. I’ll stop by every now and…
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weekend switch.
A family mish-mash. A switch. This weekend kids were all over, in other states and in other homes. Riley had a splendid experience hanging out with Emma and Jon. They shopped, cleaned and organized Emma’s house, watched movies and apparently ate large quantities of Italian cuisine. With a bit of a spur of the moment idea, Mosely was willingly whisked…
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the last one.
I do not want another baby in our house. Trust me when I say, the Keigleys are done giving birth to babies. I’m not even the type of woman who gets all googly-baby-eyes when she holds someone else’s newborn baby. I mean, I like holding your newborn baby. I like caressing their bitty baby cheeks and admiring their new baby…
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another still, small voice.
Does anyone else ever do this? Does anyone else ever battle that still, small voice? No, I don’t mean the still small voice of God. Not that one. (That voice is for embracing, not for battling.) I mean the other voice. The exact opposite, actually. That one that sounds more like, I don’t know, more like myself I guess. Just…
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the little details
When the name “Mommy” is called in this house, the voice often originates from the bathroom. So it was yesterday. So it was. And the voice calmly calling for assistance was five-year-old Bergen. “Yes, son?” I entered the bathroom. “You politely requested my attention to your utmost needs, dear boy?” (I think that’s what I said.) He was standing in…
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forget. remember. after. more words.
I have a friend who told me that the one word that has spoken to her for a long time now has been remember. And I love that choice. It seems as if I can never be reminded enough. I’ll memorize a certain portion of Scripture. Claim it. Call it to mind for weeks (and longer) over a particular situation.…
