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the forty-secondth one.
Last week (maybe the week before – who is keeping track of the days anyway?) was my birthday. I decided if there was ever a year for me to take matters into my own hands for my birthday celebrating, this was the year. When the kids asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday my answer was immediate. “I…
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this is what it sometimes looks like ….
During pre-bedtime prayers the puppy loudly learns that he has the ability to completely leap on to the kitchen table and help himself to a plate of leftovers. Someone says, “Oh, Mom. Yeah. We ran out of cat food. I meant to tell you last week.” I discover a completely empty, recently purchased, bottle of body wash in the bath…
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soon, but not right now.
There’s a lot on my brain right now. And kind of nothing there at all. Do you know what I mean? I have so many posts jotted on backs of pages and wadded up in one of the three bags I routinely use. (My three bags range in size – small, medium, large. That’s all the options I need.) I…
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about hope and band aids that only cover but don’t heal and the beauty that remains
A couple years ago there was this article circulating amongst the social media fodder about the dangerous use of Instagram and Facebook to make one’s life look unreasonably beautiful and perfect. And (way back then) I wrote a post about how I think it’s perfectly fine and completely fitting to share your favorite pretty moments and your kids dressed in plaid…
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a picture book of the days.
The days have just been flying by. We have taken great pleasure in hanging out with our friends this week and have tried to stuff the days with fun memories, relaxing moments, rope swings, baking and sharing our town with our out-of-town buddies. And – I find that I am just too tired or too something to write at the…
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the way it is tonight.
Hi friends. I just spent twenty minutes writing a cute post about today. It wasn’t genius. It wasn’t hilarious. But it was pretty pleasant. And, more importantly, it was finished. I don’t know what happened next. I blinked. The dog yawned. I stretched my legs. I looked at the screen and some words appeared that said something like “are…
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he speaks. we laugh.
Out of the mouth of O-T-T-O. (Which is how he says his name some days. All spelled out.) “I love everybody in this house – but not strangers.”
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the birthday day.
What a wonderfully sweet twelfth birthday London Eli enjoyed. And I am so tired, somehow. Maybe because of the early rising to bake monkey bread and sausage per the birthday girl’s request. And to bake that extra cake that just didn’t get baked earlier. And to whip up the frosting. It was both quietly satisfying to bake a cake before…
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happy birthday my twelve year old lovely.
It was the eve of my thirtieth birthday. I was scared. Terrified – actually. Afraid of giving birth. But you can’t stop what nature has started and late that evening, an incredibly beautiful and tiny London Elizabeth Scout was born into this crooked world to hopelessly flawed parents. She was magnificent. She was itty bitty and brand spankin’ new and gloriously…
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thriving in captivity: the story of an exile
Today this phrase – this piece of a sentence – was spoken to me. Thrive in captivity. And I can’t stop thinking about it. What does that mean? How does one do that? What does that look like? It’s a garden in prison. You know? A flower box inside a jail cell. It’s being a slave but not…
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cute strikes again.
I know I have an addiction to Cute. It’s made me say yes to goats because – they are so adorable. (No, Dad. They don’t produce any tangible product for our family. They produce happiness. And cuteness is their commodity. I find it sufficient.) I do have the ability to say no, of course. And we have let our rabbit move on to…
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when plans change
It was Friday afternoon. The clock was ticking away and the kids were watching it move until the 1:30 magic number was reached. Swimsuits were on. Sunscreen applied. Goggles positioned as headgear. Towels draped over shoulders. Their brains filled with thoughts of splashing and swimming strokes and rafts and diving for rings at the pool’s deepest bottom. That was the…
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tuck in time.
I love the simple honesty of six. Tucking Otto in at bedtime is always sweet. He’s cuddly and huggy and all adorable with his back rubs and his face touches and his little cooing noises. But it’s been a little hard lately come the bedtime hour because it seems as though we returned from Virginia but perhaps Baby Timmy has…
