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The Years I Know I Will Miss
When I hold a newborn baby I remember infant Hawkeye, miniature Scout, Mosely Elliot, wilde little Fox, petite Piper. I remember them all. But my mind doesn’t stop remembering with the lavender-scented downy heads of our newborns. I can still smell the baby spit-up endlessly residing on my shoulder. The cottage cheese-like crud that built up in the chubby…
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And she’s all new for the new year.
Ta-da! These last two weeks it’s been silent here on the blog. Primarily because it was the holidays and I wanted to hang out with my family and not with my screen. And partly because I had a few blog tricks up my sleeve and I wanted them all to be accomplished before I started writing again. And here they…
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the overflow
For her birthday Mosely wanted to have two friends over to spend the night. The next day the girls played all day without arguments or fussing. They graciously included younger siblings in all their games. Together they cycled through playing with the new paper dolls to playing house to pretending to be kings and queens to Legos to playing school…
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Happy Birthday Mosely.
Mosely is officially ten, no matter how often Kevin keeps telling her she’s not allowed to reach the double digits. She used to be one. All smelling like baby formula and looking like a living cartoon with those enormous cheeks and liquidy brown eyes and soft fluffs of hair. Last night she blew out her ten little mismatched candles on…
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In the Rearview Mirror …..
One thing I love about blogging is that it’s as if my memories are all filed away neatly and in chronological order. Even the memories I have forgotten. These days we’re living right now with kids seldom involve poop and spit up and although I can distinctly recall the smell and the horror of both, I mostly spend my current…
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before I sleep …..
The count down to Christmas always comes as a shocking surprise. And the minutes and the weeks fly by and I fall into bed most nights wondering what on earth happened to my day. Magic tricks and snapping fingers and these days are evaporating. I don’t have the mental capacity to string together a tidy post but I do feel…
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Gnome For The Holidays
We live here. Our children’s grandparents live there. It is sometimes difficult to connect in a daily manner from state to state with one another. This weekend we celebrated an early Christmas at our place with Papaw and Grandma. And we gave them a little gift in an attempt to bridge the gap of all those miles between Ohio and…
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it’s a numbers game.
Otto can count to about twenty before he loses all sense of reality. After that his numbers sound hilariously complicated. “I love you more than forty two million two twelve eighteen six ninety pancakes.” (That’s a lot of love, folks.) I’m going to borrow his math skills for the night. Today my name (if you know me as “Momma” or…
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instead of this ……. that –
I don’t think I’ll tell you about how Otto Fox threw up at lunch today. Instead, let’s just ponder how cute he looks in a fall sweater.
Keep Reading . . .
is this summer?
the weekend ramble (1. a mouse 2. a race 3. a whine)
five finds friday
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The Christmas Chain Took Us To Bethlehem
It’s hard to focus on school this month. This Christmas season feels shorter since Thanksgiving landed later in November. The kids and I just want to play and craft and bake and we don’t want to add or memorize or diagram sentences. (And this gloomy cold rain is not helping our (I mean, mine) attitudes either.) But we keep trying…
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Thursday. From My House to Yours.
This morning I woke up and I thought, “I just don’t want to teach school today.” It’s certainly not the first time that I’ve thought that. Or thought similarly on other topics. “I just don’t want to do laundry/cook meals/get out of bed/wash my hair.” And most mornings when I feel that way, I just do what I have to…
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Just one more Virginia post. Just one more.
I know, I know. It’s just a place. It’s just a state. I’ve written this before, but after a trip to Virginia it takes days to shake the mountain scent off of me. And as I acclimate once again, I write. It’s how I process. And so I jotted most of these words earlier this summer in a journal, after…
