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I-95: I Am Your Pupil
Last Friday five of my children and I spent basically an entire day inside the confines of our Suburban. (Berg was the missing Keiglet. He’s spending another Boys Only visit with Aunt Emma & Co.) It was a very long day. (Can you say that sentence slowly and with emphasis and while heaving a heavy sigh?) But the trip was not in vain. (Well, of course it was not in vain. We needed to get from Tallahassee to South Carolina and our choice was to live in Florida forever or to drive home.) This is what Florida to South Carolina on I-95 taught me. 1. Sean Kingston and Justin Bieber’s ridiculous…
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what a long, strange trip it’s been. emphasis on the “long”.
It seems we like adventure lately. Or something like that. And I guess it wasn’t enough to drive three hours into the mountains of Georgia last week with five young children. Nope. Not enough. I am a glutton for punishment I suppose. I threw in one more kid (totaling six, in case you’re counting) and tossed in about triple the drive time and we all headed to Florida. Let me break the trip down for you into easily digestible categories and lists. The Miracle On a nine-plus hour trip no one had to stop for an unscheduled bathroom break. No one. Not one of the seven passengers requested the bathroom. …
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a fairytale
Once upon a time (about four days ago) we embarked upon an epic journey. (We drove to Georgia.) Where we stayed with two princesses (Lindsey and Rachael) in their castle (an apartment with the red door that matched the other twenty-five red doors). Our chariot (a scruffed up maroon Suburban) lead us to a raging river (a pleasant, wide stream) where we discovered the fountain of youth (a refreshing place to splash and play). After we partook of the fountain and gained our eternal youth (splashed until we were soaking wet from head to toe and all felt like kids), we traversed through many perils and obstacles (sink holes, deeper water…
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Here We Go
Alert: This post is being typed from a computer with a dying battery. In a hotel room with no access to photographs. The Band of Keigley are on the road. (And you would know all the minutia of our family’s Christmas journey south if you followed Riley’s Facebook updates. But please do not. We do not wish to support her addiction. I’m actually not joking.) The start was a bit shaky . . . an hour and a half later than intended, snow and ice the first forty-five minutes, an accidental opening of the completely, tightly packed Suburban’s back door two minutes before the official Buckling In Of Passengers was…
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This Circus
Tell me the truth, am I the only one who feels like life with small children is more often a circus than anything else? Do these things happen only at our house? At your house do reusable silicone muffin wrappers fall out of your washing machine when you open the door? Do you walk into the kitchen to discover your toddler surrounded by piles of cornmeal, of which she is shoving into her mouth? And when you ask her what she is eating does she reply, “powder”? Do children sing Michael Jackson’s “Will You Be There?” with your husband while dancing around the kitchen using antique wooden rolling pins as…
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Brought To You By . . .
As I said in the last post, it’s no small task for both Kevin and I to leave the state of South Carolina sans children. But leave it we did, if only for an overnight journey to Atlanta for that U2 concert I was raving about recently. And our adventure was brought to us by some wonderful people we like to call Emma and Sally. Or Aunt E and Oma. Or “Aunt Eeeee-muh” if you are two. How do you get to claim the title of sainthood anyway? Do you have to be Catholic? Or dead? Well, if those are the two primary requirements then I guess Emma and Sally…
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(I love this picture of the four of us. It makes us look as if we are just extras in Jody’s life. And that’s funny to me.) I guess I owe a big fat thank you to my older brother Danny. Thanks, man. Back in the day (the “day” being the years he spent driving Douglas and I back and forth to school in the silver hatchback Tercel covered in skateboarding stickers), Danny introduced me to what is arguably one of the greatest rock bands ever formed. A little Irish group named U2. This was early on. As in, I still own several U2 cassette tapes. (Remember those?) Fast forward…
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Through Little Mister’s Eyes
Everything is an adventure to Bergen Hawkeye. Every piece of furniture provides a leaping off point. Every line painted on the pavement is a jumping challenge. Anything higher than his knee is an opportunity to test his swinging strength. Hopping out of the car is a contact sport. He doesn’t just look over the edge of a counter – he scales the counter first to see what experience lies on the other side. For Bergen, all movement must be forward. Every obstacle can, and should, be climbed. Time is on his side. Deadlines matter not at all to him. You need to be on time for an appointment? What does…
