This week I will

This week I will…

Be at the gym by 8:00 every morning to walk on the treadmill and lift weights. And also two-three evenings a week for Zumba!

Finish up some wedding projects I’ve been working on. And start some more.

Purchase A Call to Die and begin reading it. Some other ladies I know will be reading it too and we’ll plan on getting together to discuss it when we can.

Start 4th grade with Jackson. I’m really looking forward to this school year. I think it’s going to be good.

Attempt to start doing school stuff with Mikey 2-3 mornings a week. I’m thinking about including Katie and Jack in our “circle time.” Brittany will be at school.

Give the dog a bath. Or at least pay somebody else to do it.

Try to have a good attitude.

Drink lots of coffee.

Reading The Help

Since everyone has been making such a fuss about the movie The Help, I decided to read the book. It’s hard to find the time to read, so it’s going to take me a while to get through. Tonight I’m up late, drinking coffee, batch editing, and reading…and now blogging about it, I guess. I’m not even half way through it yet, so this isn’t any kind of review or whatever.

It’s just that I’m so glad that the way of life portrayed in this book is so foreign and crazy to me. Not that I haven’t witnessed or even been a part of treating someone unfairly because of the color of their skin, because I have. But nothing like my parents and their parents before them.

When I have talked to Jackson about segregation and Martin Luther King, Jr., and Rosa Parks he is just dumfounded and can’t begin to believe people were treated that way. One day he asked me why it was that way. And I just told him that there was a time when white people thought they were better than black people. And that even today many people still feel that way.

And I’ll never forget. He looked at me and made a disgusted face and said, “Well, that’s just stupid.”

Yes, it is.

Even today things are much more segregated than they should be for reasons I don’t understand. I hope as my kids and eventually my grandkids grow up, that time in our history will seem even more foreign and crazy to them.

I better get back to my reading and editing.


Sometimes we play store. We don’t do it often enough. The kids love it and it really keeps them pretty occupied for a while, relatively speaking. These photos are from a month or two ago. I can’t keep up. We put “price tags” on the stuff and I help them pay for their groceries with their money. Mikey takes the role of cashier very seriously. He doesn’t want to be called Mikey. He wants to be called Grocery Man or Grocery Worker Man or some other strange variation on that. Brittany just kind of does what we tell her to do. I decided that Brittany’s checkout lady alias should be Flow.

There was a little girl

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

Okay, the curl is not in the middle of her forehead. Looks more like a mullet, actually. But when she is good, she is very very good and when she is bad, she is horrid. But really Katie, as we’re trying to call her, has been in a much better mood lately. She’s finally starting to understand that crying for no reason just lands her in the crib for a time out.

Micah starts Pre-K

Today Mikey started Pre-K. I put shorts on him that were too big. They fell off of him all day. He was so excited to go and get to wear his new shoes and shirt and too big shorts and wear his new empty backpack. He let me take some pictures of him before we left and after we got to the school.

I went to the wrong part of the school to drop him off. I didn’t know this school has three different places to drop off/pick up. So while I was waiting at the wrong place I got Mikey out briefly to take a few pictures and ask where we should be. At one point I left the van running with the girls inside and closed the door. The van locked.

After a few minutes of Brittany crying and freaking out she managed to unlock her door. But in that window Mikey gladly went with a perfect stranger to his class. He had no need for me to walk him in. That’s just how he is most of the time.

After school I got in the kinder/pre-k line to pick him up. I saw his class and others walk out and sit in a line on the curb, inches from where the cars drive to pick up the kids. In the line I saw Mikey sitting cross legged. I saw the cars pulling up inches from him. I saw that even though there were 6-8 adults out there, none had their eyes directly on my child ready to grab him.

My chest got tight and I my stomach felt weird. My heart started to race. I started to panic a little. I had to look away. I felt like I needed to immediately get out and go get him before he jumped up and ran in front of a car faster than a teacher could stop him. But I didn’t and he didn’t. But as I pulled up extra slow to where he was sitting he jumped up, just like I knew he would, and started to dart in front of my van. Two teachers grabbed the back of his shirt.

His unpredictability to me is so predictable. I hope his teacher realizes quickly he has to be watched very carefully around cars. I think I’ll mention it tomorrow at drop off.

What he had to say about his first day is that they had hamburgers for lunch with chicken on them, that his shorts kept falling off, that he was the best kid in the class, that his teacher loves him, and that he wants to go every day. Oh and that they were going to have a drink and a snack in the classroom, but the teacher forgot. I told him that she had a lot to try to remember on the first day.

I really believe he’s going to have a great year. I’m so unbelievably proud of how far he’s come. He is such an awesome kid.

Color them

If I color them annoying, others might view them as annoying.
If I color them infuriating, others might view them as infuriating.
If I color them as nuisances others might view them as nuisances.

Or what will most likely happen is that others will view me as an annoying, infuriating nuisance.

Because other people can see what I can’t always see. They can see that uncolored, left to present themselves without my help, the truth. The unjaded truth.

The truth that they are good.
The truth that they are loveable.
The truth they they want to be loved unconditionally.
The truth that they are experts.
The truth that they are caring.
The truth that they are pure.
The truth that they are empathetic.
The truth that they are brave.
The truth that they are passionate.

There are many many more truths about my kids. And yours.

I have spent too much time coloring my kids in a way that doesn’t represent the positive truths about them.

And I’m sorry. And I’m trying to change.

I’m trying to change before I color them so much that I can’t even see who they were before I started. I don’t want my kids to be like me. And I don’t want my kids to be like I often color them to be.

Are they all yours?

“Are they all yours?” I got asked that this week for the first time. I didn’t even have Jackson with me. I just had the three littles. Due to poor meal planning, I had to take them to the store twice this week. Anyway, at the store a young man asked me, “Are they all yours?” I was caught a little off guard. I said, “Yes…sort of…it’s complicated.” I should have just said yes and left it at that. But when someone asks “Are they all yours?” what they mean is “Did you give birth to ALL those kids?!”

Did I give birth to them? No, thank goodness. Are they all mine? Yes, they are, thank you very much.