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making summer plans already
London is a lot like me. She likes to know the plan for the day. She loves to read. And she has a fondness for placing human feelings onto stuffed objects. And, like me, she is already thinking about this summer. We had our first taste of watermelon yesterday After which she announced, “Hey, this summer, let’s get a huge watermelon, go to the yard, get naked and let daddy cut our watermelon with a sword.” (For the record – I don’t recall there ever being a moment in family history where we all devoured watermelon clothes-less in our yard. Yes, we have cut a watermelon open with a sword.…
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a couple of seven-year-olds
It’s usually at night when I am most aware of it. Lying between London and Mosely in their single loft bed. Listening to them recount their days. Answering the same series of questions London asks every evening about the next day. “What’s for breakfast? What’s for lunch? What’s for dinner? What are we doing all day? How many hours until morning will be here?” It’s during this nightly ritual that I notice all the details I have been too busy to see all day. The way these two girls really know one another. The way Mosely’s two new front teeth are inching their way fully into her wide little smile.…
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Just so you know, Mom.
Not all of London’s notes are love letters. The other day I walked into the kitchen to find these announcements placed on canisters on our counter. First – on the jar of peanuts. And then the container of oatmeal. (Clearly not her favorite Monday morning meal option.)
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Wanted: Your Ideas
Now that she can write, London loves to express herself through words. And you know I love that. She has started keeping a journal that she writes in while she is in bed at night. It is precious to me. Filled with paragraphs of ideas and thoughts. A page filled to bursting with a retelling of her day and how she thought it would turn out one way when it really turned out a different way. A listing of all the places she would like to visit on her upcoming daddy-daughter date. And lately, she has been leaving little notes for me all over the house. And I love finding…
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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 – it more than spills out – this writing is often my exact method of coping, understanding and wading through the highs and lows of what I call living.) I don’t know if I can blame it on my age, my exhaustion, my current season of life or the too…
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#1,278
And another reason that I love this kid . . . . Making the rounds after 10:00 p.m. last night, I spied a little extra light shining by the reading chair in our bedroom. And in that chair, curled up and cozy, sat my London Eli Scout reading Roald Dahl’s novel Fantastic Mr. Fox. No, I did not tell her that it was too late to be reading. No, I did not tell her to skedaddle on to bed. I just smiled at her. Kissed her head. And asked, “Can I come join you?”
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I’ll buy that.
There something else about that whole Webkinz debacle that I didn’t mention in my last post. (Because who would have kept reading as long as it was anyway?) Little does London know – and never needs to know I guess – that at that moment in that overly-lit store, I would have purchased that kid nearly anything she asked for. Seriously. And here’s why. London, my own ever-changing seven-year-old mini-me, held the orange and black stuffed alley cat of her choice up to me and said, “Look, I have to choose this one – her eyebrows look sad and I think if she comes home with me I can make…
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The Leaf Song
A few days ago we were heading out on some routine errands. London hopped into the car with two pieces of rolled up construction paper in her hand. “Mom, do you ever like to write songs?” she asked me. “Sure,” I told her. “That’s fun to do. Do you make up songs too?” London admitted that she did and added, “I make up new words to tunes I have already heard and they mostly sound like this” and then she hummed a melody. She pushed her orange construction papers to me. “This one I made up to sound like this.” And she sung it for me. London said she wrote…
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what did you learn today?
“Did you learn anything at school today?” someone recently asked my second grader. The second grader who is my student. The second grader that I taught that very day. The second grader that I hope learned something from my teaching. “No,” Scout replied. Inside, I cringed a little. (Or maybe a lot.) This isn’t the first time this has happened. And I am always anxious to step in and justify. Explain. Yes – you did, I want to offer. Remember learning about shadows? And the book you read all by yourself and the two sentences you wrote correctly and the picture you drew to go along with it? Remember history,…
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Sometimes Being A Parent Makes You Say Bizarre Things
Kevin said the silliest thing the other day. He was sitting at his desk (read: an old kitchen table set up in our bedroom) and looking through the doorway at Piper Finn and London. He sighed. And that’s when Crazy exited his mouth. “Man, Lacey. We need to have some more kids.” I am sure I gasped. Dropped something. And suffered a neck injury as my head spun off my shoulders. “Whuh?” Yes. That is the sound most closely resembling the noise I made. “WHY?” I asked incredulously. (Obviously incredulously. I mean – come on. More kids? We have six of them already.) “Just look at them. They’re growing up…
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A Little Like Me
My children say some crazy things. Out of nowhere, Mosely commented, “Wouldn’t it be weird if a witch came here right now and turned Bergen into a dog?” (Where’s that kid learning about witches and how powerful does she think they are?) Or Bergen wondering out loud, “Wouldn’t it be funny if all shoes were made out of sausages?” And I actually like to hear these bizarre-o statements escape their lips. Because I like laughing. But it’s the sweet, unexpectedly kind and thoughtful comments that really shape my heart. Brushing Scout’s much-longer-than-I-realized hair, I began telling her how much her current seven-year-old self resembled my former seven-year-old self. (It’s uncanny,…
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A Ponytail: More Than Meets The Eye
It’s just a hair -do. You know? But then again it isn’t. It’s so much more. So much more. I keep seeing her grow up through silly bands and hair styles and not holding my hand when we walk by summer staffers and giving me hugs when she thinks I just need them and making peace with her siblings or trying to earn money to save for a zhu zhu pet or writing things down or reading directions alone or reading all of Alice in Wonderland all by herself to her siblings at night while they are in bed. She used to have the cutest little girl haircut. But when…
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Seven is Sweet
Oh Seven. You are fun. When you turn 7 here we set out the treasured Special Special Day Plate. And you get to eat your meal upon that plate. And you get to choose the meal. No matter what you want. We will all eat it. Even if you pick macaroni & meat with a side of mashed potatoes and an additional side of peas. You also get to watch Dad decorate your cake. And you get away with being a bit rowdy and having icing squirted inside your mouth. And maybe you even get a little help cleaning that icing from your face. You also get to decide what…
