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Capable
There’s just something about a tiny baby’s hands – isn’t there? They just look adorable. Sometimes they’re kind of wrinkly and even a little peely. (I just coined that word. For the record.) Honestly, as cute as they are though, and as much as I love to kiss them and admire them, they really can’t accomplish much early on. They…
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Things That I Do Not Do Well
1. Remember to change our home’s air filters. 2. Small talk. 3. Go to bed at a reasonable hour. 4. Sweep. 5. Drive at night. 6. Take out trash. 7. Get up when the alarm first sounds. 8. Chit chat on the telephone. 9. Watch commercials. 10. Return phone calls. 11. Clap in rhythm. 12. Potty train my children. 13.…
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I Wish This Was More Unusual Than It Sounds
As Piper was just heading to her nap, she said, “I poo on little people.” I sort of laughed. Because it sounded funny, okay? And then, because I wanted to move on to my next task, I said something like, “Oh, okay. Sleep well, Little Willow.” And she said, “I poo on little people.” Insistent – eh? Not satisfied with…
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This Game Needs A New Name
One of the most enjoyable aspects about raising kids has been the opportunity to pass on games and activities and tradtions that I played as a kid. And just this week I remembered a new one. Funeral. I think we made it up one long ago Virginia summer at the Wickstrum’s farm. It’s a simple game, really. Probably born of…
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Why You Should Always Read The Label First
Check out the sweet sweater little Willow is wearing in this photo. Isn’t it cute? It’s wool. I bought it at the Gap maybe eight years ago. For myself. But one day I washed it. And dried it. And now a two-year-old is wearing it.
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I’ve Been There
I saw a woman at the children’s museum we visited this week. She had five children with her – just like me. And her kids were a lot like mine . . . kind, funny, rowdy, polite, unruly, curious, speedy. Just like any number of small people that we know. I was sitting on a bench feeding Fox his lunch…
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I Like To Read: The Red Pony, A Book Review
I like to read. (And I wish I had more time for it. One day, right?) Left to myself I would read primarily fiction – my favorites are Lee Smith and Sharyn McCrumb, Ron Rash and Appalachian authors in general. But as a former English major in…
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The Chronicles of Avoiding Wal-Mart
Day One: I needed a few groceries. I shopped at our local Bi-Lo . . . avoided the yellow smiley face, earned fuel perks points and saved $46 on a $106 grocery trip with their daily double coupons. Kevin even joined my shunning and purchased the just-released Where the Wild Things Are at Target instead. Day Two: Received an…
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The Edge
(This is not a post about U2. Sorry Jane.) I think I live on some precarious edge. Like – right next to a cliff. (You know, like the little old man in Up who wanted to plop his home right down beside the ravine, the waterfall, the danger?) I live there. Or at least, I have been camping there for…
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Just a Reminder
Wilder went for his first ride recently in the front of the grocery cart. With a steering wheel even. And it just served to remind me that my Little Wilde Fox will not always be Little.
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Who’s With Me?
I have never been in love with Wal-Mart. I don’t care for their yellow smiley face trademark, their GreatValue branding or the way they nudge out every small business in their vicinity. But I could never be as self-righteous about the superstore as I would have liked. Because I kept shopping there. Despite poor customer service. At. Every. Visit. Despite…
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Berg Is All Boy
I cannot say that I remember much about high school biology. (Sorry Mrs. Hendricks, it’s just true – okay?) And my final thoughts are still on hold about the entire nature vs. nurture argument. But this I do know. My son Bergen Hawkeye is all boy. All boy. I have done very little, if anything, to directly influence boy-like behavior…
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From Her Point of View
We were having tacos for dinner. Piper was sitting near Kevin. Kevin prefers his tacos in the style of a taco salad. Piper looked at Kevin’s plate, piled with crushed taco shells and all the toppings. And she asked, “Daddy, why are you eating compost?”
