Last week, after my friend Ann wrote a hilarious school supplies list on Ann’s Rants, I left a comment on facebook for her, mentioning that I didn’t even have the school supplies list yet. This got me thinking something like, I should probably figure out how to get a school supply list for both Miles and Asher. Yeah, I’m quick like that. School starts August 26th here, and we have a couple of busy weeks ahead of us, so after Ann’s post reminded me to print out the lists, I headed to Target solo as soon as the opportunity presented itself. I love Target shopping alone and on this day I had a plan. I can do this quickly, I told myself. A kindergarten and second grade list can’t be that complicated…I know! I’ll pretend like I’m in a race! Super Target Sweep! (Just so you know, before I started in on the […]
Give me air conditioning and a cold drink and the goose bumps start. Miles asked me what they’re for, these goosey bumps, and I can’t think of the answer, even though I know I’ve learned this somewhere along the way. Little tiny bumps all over our skin, raising the little hairs. How strange. My kids so often remind me what’s strange. Life, our bodies, our sayings. Goose bumps. I don’t know, honey. That’s a good question. I can’t remember, I’ll have to look it up. I say this while feeling all drained out. Just tired, but being here with them is where I am and there are many questions like this one and things to do. I want to be nowhere else, but I’m all drained out. It can be over 100 degrees outside and I still get them, by the way. The goose bumps. So I bring a sweatshirt to coffee shops […]
Never has this little old corner of the worldwide interweb been so busy. After a post I wrote about my boys LOVING Minecraft, I received more feedback than pretty much ever before, that I can recall. It’s like suddenly the human masses were walking the streets of New York and I was the corner Starbucks. Everyone came in! Skinny hazelnut latte! Extra foam! Extra hot! No whip! There was so much yelling! And everyone wanted my view of Minecraft to be just like theirs, and many didn’t seem to notice that I was joking around. Strangely, after all of the shouting faded away, I learned to appreciate how much my boys love Minecraft. I mean, I have to admit, I still don’t want to play it and I will probably never fully understand it, but I’m certainly more educated and I dig its educational value. The gamers and even the teenagers and the […]
I’ve never fully explained to you the depths my insanity can reach while traveling with children. You see, I get….well, I get worked up. (Understatement.) It’s not that I freak out on my kids or even (that much) on my husband. It’s more like I’m boiling some sort of anxiety soup within my very soul and therefore I grasp the door handle or OH SH*T handle and turn my knuckles white and hardly breathe. Or something like that. That is, unless I keep myself in check. (Read: Am reminded by my dear husband that it.is.going.to.be.okay.) You see, all three of our kids were horrible….I mean, extremely horrible travelers as newborns and infants. I think I have PTTD (Post Traumatic Travel Disorder). I sincerely thought we might never ever go anywhere beyond 100 miles in our lives ever again ever. Then I learned (thanks to how hard it was) to chill out. A little. […]
At O’Hare I got confused about where to find a cab. Then I found one with a driver that smiled big and took my bag and we had a very long talk about faith and life. He is openly Muslim and I am openly Christian. We both have our reasons for hiding from our labels. Javid, his name, and he laughed when I told him mine. Heather is apparently (with a little different spelling) a male name where he comes from, almost thirty years ago, Pakistan. He said it means brave and strong and then teased that I don’t look all that physically strong. He explained why it’s good to be near a friend or family member’s grave so every time you drive by, you can pray for them. He said it’s best for the parents to pray because God is more sure to listen. You can’t get away with doing whatever you […]
I was cutting the grass in rows, pushing the mower fast, sweating. I try to stay on task but I always end up going from the side of the house, leaving it unfinished and then to the front, leaving it unfinished, then to the other side….back and forth, making lines and cutting through and going straight and then turning and going another direction. The grass here in Texas is so different from the grass in Minnesota. You don’t want to lie down in it because it’s not soft, it’s more like crunchy and there are vines in it. The blades grow from these vines that press down to the dirt in lines, criss-crossing, like I do when I mow. Sometimes I’ll even go in a circle around a tree and then just keep going in circles for a few turns. Then I look around for straighter rows and go match up with them. […]
The I’M BOREDS have reached epic levels that call for drastic measures. Bored Level Orange, nearing Red. We were handling said boredom claims with the usual “I don’t want to hear that!” and then moved into “For every “I’m bored” you will do one chore!” Then, because it seems that no consequences other than Severe Consequences can stave off stated claims, we moved to “Oh really! I heard an I’m bored…apparently you aren’t all that into All Your Things….go put one of your things in the Goodwill box.” This worked for a time. But it seems there is no sure-fire way to stop “MOOOOMY, what can I dooooo?” Therefore, I have decided to entirely ignore any and all references to not having anything to do. I will act as if no one is talking, and maybe I’ll even pretend that I am completely alone, on a beach in Costa Rica, only a book […]
He picked out a hip blue hat for his birthday. He asks every half day or so if it’s Tuesday yet because that’s The Day. He’s Six on that day and so excited. Asher is joy walking around and he still loves to hold my hand so much. All day today, we walked from place to place and he would run to catch up and slip that hand in mind, rubbing his thumb back and forth around my palm. I suppose the reason new parents, all parents really, act like we’re the first ones to have ever been a parent ever, and say all the same things as each other, is because these kids really are that great. They are that exhausting and that difficult to raise and they are the only ones. Like Asher, there’s just no other boy that could ever be him and so I’m the only mother. We’re all […]
Moving was such a big thing, you know? From Minnesota to Texas, a flurry of boxes and cleaning all the things and saying goodbye and hello. In some ways, moving from state to state feels like you’re being transported through time. Everything is that new. But the date is the same and the people in our home are the same so we’re okay. I mean, if the calendar date had inexplicably changed, I might not have made it. Time is tricky enough going along at its usual slow/too fast speed, 24 hours a day. The kids are amazing. It’s as if nothing happened. Maybe it’s simply because they’re young enough to really only concern themselves with whether or not their parents and siblings and Things are together. Sometimes they ask questions that reveal their confusion, and that they miss certain things and people. We talk openly about all of it and then I […]
Sometimes it seems like bad news is spreading across the Internet like wildfire at every single moment and it seems like it’s the only thing. So I LOVE it when inspiration, joy and hope show up on Facebook and Twitter and All The Other Places. My friend Ann posts inspiring things a lot and today she posted a link to an article: The Best Moments In People’s Lives in which people tweeted meaningful and powerful moments of their lives to someone because he asked. It’s so cool that he asked. Anyway, this inspired an idea in me: I want to ask the same of you, friends. I love it that you’re here. I love to display the extraordinary of life (obviously) and sometimes those things are very….you guessed it….(seemingly) ordinary. Will you send me your favorite candid photo that speaks of motherhood? Like, what kind, Heather? Good question: Any photo that speaks to you […]
They come in with a stroller. A small coffee shop and a tiny baby and Dad is behind the stroller and looking so big. Another couple comes in less than five minutes later. They grin at scrunched up newborn faces that sleep ignore them. They grin at each other. He’ll be a week tomorrow. Yeah, we remember those days, the other mom says back, and her baby is all of about four months old. I smile inside because that’s what it’s like, going to so slow like Eeyore especially the minutes at night and then so fast when you see a teeny tiny piglet in a stroller like yours. They are immediately swapping stories of way back then and this very day. What the doctor said about this and that. What was normal for them. They are doing some kind of dance we all do at first. The new parent dance. Swaddling is […]
Pretend with me a moment: I’m standing here with my friend Emily, at a microphone and I’m introducing her to you. You may know her, or maybe this is your first chance to say hello. If so, I must tell you that Emily being on this stage is SO important, especially for those of us with daughters. We also need to hear from Emily and her co-author because we struggle to like ourselves in our own skin, especially if doughy under the surface. I keep trying to tell myself that my body has done miraculous things, but I see other women and compare me to them and wonder how they look “better” in so many ways. I admit that, even though I know it’s not making me sound all that confident. How do we “get there”? To the place where we learn to love all our parts, doughy or not? I give you, […]
It’s not that long of a trip, just a little over a half an hour. All three of them are so tired and the complaints and needs start right away. I’m thirsty, I have to go to the bathroom, Asher interrupted me! I’m turned a little sideways in the front passenger seat and talking over Elsie to the boys in the back. They want to know why their older cousin pinches his nose closed when he sneezes. They keep acting it out for me, to be sure I know what they mean. We start to laugh a lot and I glance at Elsie to see her head bobbing and her eye lids dropping. She tries hard to stay a part of the short road trip levity, but sleep wins and her head is bowed too far forward. I take a change of clothes from the diaper bag and try to squeeze them between […]
*raises right hand* I, Heather King, do solemnly swear to, Never say any version of the following to you, ever: “OH you think it’s hard now? Just you wait!” (terribly invalidating and unproductive) “You just need a break!” (HOW? HOW DO YOU GET A BREAK? And then HOW, HOW IS IT EVER GOING TO BE LONG ENOUGH?) “Oh I remember those days!” (No. No I won’t. No matter how clear I think it is, it is not clear.) “Well, you’re going to miss this! Mark my words.” (Sure, fine. But that’s not NOW, so…) “It goes so fast!” (Yes, in some ways, it does. But no, NOT today.) “Those were the best years!” (Yes, they were. And also, NO they were not.) I will not say these things at the grocery store, the big box store, the gas station, a parking lot or the medical clinic. I will not say them at […]
We let them stay up late. The neighbor boys were out and it was finally so warm and there was so little wind to blast through and take our fun. The boys all had light sabers and Elsie Jane had bubbles and a truck. That was after she climbed in the minivan (no keys in there, thank God) and blasted the horn by pressing her chest against it. OH HELLO. She got really mad when I took her out, kicking and screaming and walking away like I’d just told her to go to bed. But that tantrum was for later. Now she’s in her bed, calling out over and over Mama, Mama, Mama and there are nights when she only says it a few times. Tonight she’s not giving up because that’s what being over-tired does. The opposite effect. She asks for water and then the next time she has thrown All The […]
When Elsie Jane’s head is on my shoulder and her back has a little curve to it, when her legs are dangling and her hand is patting my back, that’s my favorite. She got sick a few days ago and I held her a lot, her head on my shoulder like that. She’s starting to say a few more words together and lately sometimes she stops to hug me and then she looks me dead in the eyes and says, Mommy. Home. She loves it when I’m home, which is most of the time and still she occasionally just stops what she’s doing to point out that this is how she likes it. Me too. On Saturday, for most of the day, I wasn’t home because we had rehearsal for Listen To Your Mother. Thursday is our show, at the Riverview Theater in Minneapolis, and how did the time fly like that? Like […]
To know a “spirited” child is to know extreme highs and lows in another person. To parent a “strong-willed” child is to continuously stand at the receiving end of these changing emotions, mostly dumbfounded. Sometimes we walk away, hands thrown up in the air, no guesses. I can’t help you, I wish I could. She gets over it, comes over and kisses a knee or your hand, says something akin to sorry, pats you softly with a dimpled little hand. In this photo she is thrilled for two reasons. 1.She is carrying a little purse, 2. and she just got to feel the water coming out of the gutter… I have known her for a thousand years and every day I get to meet her again for the first time. Happy weekend, friends.
We entertained them in the car with stories from our lives before they came. They asked questions about the most exciting parts. Daddy, do you think the eyes in the dark by your tent were a bear or a cougar? Mommy, when you got lost in Canada, where were you supposed to be? Why did you move to Michigan and then move back one week later? We laughed and laughed, dramatizing parts of our true stories for effect, their eyes wide. Back home, we shushed them and rushed them to bed. Miles came to the kitchen for “one more” drink of water and looked at me with big blue eyes over the top of his small glass. He took a big breath after a big gulp and sighed out, Mommy? Yes, Stall-y Stallerton? Has anything bad ever happened to you? He says this softly and I feel my heart in my throat… Yes, I […]
(glasses store with brother. you wanted to try some on for funsies.) Dear Future Elsie Jane (or, if you’re reading this now it’s the future and so HI), When I was pregnant with you, I wrote a post called PLEASE: notes to my children. Many people that read it mentioned that they wanted to know what I’d say to a girl. What they didn’t know was that I did have you in mind, you and your brothers, when I wrote that post. Since then I’ve thought about what I want to say to just you, but I didn’t know. Most of what I want to say is in that PLEASE post. I could say so many other things about the (potential) parts of your life as a female that scare me most: the partying, drinking, drugs, sex, etc., but maybe it won’t even really matter because no offense, the teenage brain has some pretty […]
I won’t ever have complete control over the minds and hearts and souls of my children, but I can assure you, I will do everything in my power to teach my boys what it means to respect and even honor girls, ladies, women. Not because they are weaker or less or second, but because they deserve it, every single last one. When my boys are sixteen-year-old boys, will they get drunk and lose themselves? Will they forget how I drilled it in since they could first speak and walk, open the door for her. let her go first. do not speak to her that way. ask your sister before you kiss or hug her. Don’t surprise her with your smothers. I know you love her and it’s so nice, but just ask her first. If she fusses, move away right away, it’s her body and her space. Listen to her. Same goes for […]
more blankets of snow another blanket back on the bed for the coldest St Patrick’s Day in twenty years. Today, a blizzard closes schools and we’ll wait on plows to clear the way. There’s so much to do and the blankets of snow and the harsh winds are back. This feels cruel, like a mean joke. Like I can’t take it anymore. I’ll clear the driveway, not my mind. We’ll trudge through thick drifts to check on the chickens. Is the water frozen, yes, of course, again. No little warming box under the water is going to save it now. No blankets are keeping us warm. This is bone chilling and exhausting. Someone is coming for a second showing of our house. Please buy it. I have two pairs of socks on and I have writing to do. Due. Am I whining? Probably. Elsie is walking around the house saying Bapa and […]
My friend Yael Saar (who I had the honor of meeting last year at BlogHer) is a mama on a mission to remove guilt and shame from parenting in order to make room for joy and love. She is the Founder and Keeper of the Mama’s Comfort Camp, a Facebook community that functions as a safe haven and refueling station for hundreds of moms from around the world. This community is free and open to moms of kids of any age, and we share our laughter, tears, and triumphs, all the while normalizing motherhood struggles and bridging the gap between expectations and reality in a uniquely nurturing environment. I’m honored to be one of the Campers, and I would love for you to join us. The Mama’s Comfort Campers will be having our first Twitter Party to celebrate the group’s first anniversary on Sunday March 10 at 8:30pm. You can join us using the hashtag #mamascomfort I’m sharing some […]
She had been up and down all night, sick and burning up. We spent the day tied together with a sling that she still fits tucked in. Either that, or rocking in a chair, her head on my shoulder, mouth open with heavy sleep. When we’d walk around the house, her on my hip in the sling and her head still on my chest, her arms dangled limp like they were lifeless. She needed me a lot. I cleaned up her sickness, from the floor or her crib or her clothes, over and over. I held a towel in front of her to catch her sick over and over and softly repeated, it’s going to be okay, it’ll be okay. And then my heart would follow that whisper with its own prayer for it to be okay. Her fever was 103 and she wasn’t keeping anything down, and it was going on four days. […]
We were talking numbers with a realtor. The discussion back and forth between Ryan and this 26 years veteran of real estate left me dazed, staring off toward our piano, wondering if we’ll take it along when we move. They worked out the numbers. The only thing my brain would do in regard to numbers was try to plan how many plastic storage bins I want to buy this week because they’re on sale. I was imagining putting all the things in them that we don’t use every day, to pare down and clean off and give the house the appearance of tidy and minimal and open and big. After our realtor left with promises of putting the house on the market on March 1, I took the bins we already have and headed downstairs to go through our storage space. I organized the kids’ clothing and re-organized the boxes and bins already […]
The truth is, I was scared of her, and I will be again and again, but not right now. Today I’m remembering that we’re simply here to learn alongside each other. She’s my not even two-year-old daughter, and I have feared her. Maybe it’s not her, exactly, but rather, her fierce femaleness. Even the very best things, like femininity, can be terrifying and misunderstood–a girl, a lady, a woman–beautiful and complicated and strong, gentle, sweet and soft and then mean. I only know so far that my Elsie Jane will never stop surprising me, and that’s maybe what brings on the fear–the unknown. She goes from slightly shy to an uproar of out-going. She goes from falling asleep quickly and quietly for many nights to fighting it again night after night, like she forgot she was trying to win at something and now she’s going to take it to a whole new level. […]
A whisper, Asher! Get back up there! I tip-toe over to their doorway and look up at the top bunk. Asher opens one eye and quickly closes it again. Caught. Asher, don’t peek over the edge. Leave your brother alone so you don’t get in trouble. I half whisper half hiss this and then take a deep breath, trying not to get angry over bedtime stalling. There are much bigger things to need big breaths over, if I can only remember that. I sit down again and listen to the dog snore for a minute, waiting for any more stalling or messing around from the boys’ room. Elsie starts to call out. Mama, Mama, Mama… I hear one pacifier hit the wood floor and I wait to hear the other. Nothing. Quiet. Except for the snores from the dog, who has plopped herself down in the middle of the living room on Ryan’s […]
Most of us don’t want to be viewed as fragile, but here we are. Show me the human spirit that hasn’t been broken in some way. How do parts of us break if not fragile? Be fragile. It’s fine. We were all born fragile. You know, that floppy head attached to a weak little neck, a wide open space in our skulls, vulnerable to poking toddler sibling fingers. There are people who don’t break down easily. The ones we commend for appearing to be made of steel; so strong, so positive, just carrying on. Part of me used to strive for that because I guess it seemed like it went along with wisdom and strength, valor and heroism or something. No more. I’m fragile and I know it. Without this fragility, I’m not as empathetic as I’d like to be and no matter how much it hurts to hurt so often, I’d rather […]
{just write will be up tomorrow morning, Tuesday} {this post was written yesterday} Our dog is the color of copper, maybe a bit lighter, almost orange. Tia Maria. She has a stripe of white like a cowl around her neck, and more white like sweat socks on her legs. About half of her tail is white, too. It changes from copper to white at the point in which her tail was once broken by an over-zealous preschooler who yanked a wild hello. After that, her tail has always had a bump and a strange bend to it, but it wags just fine. Quite violently, actually. Her happiness is vicious. Thwap slap thwap slap. She is sleeping on the floor beside me, Tia Maria, with that tail laying over one of her back legs. She is softly snoring. I love her more lately. Many mothers admit that their love for their pets dwindles with […]
(image credit) Asher is enthralled with song lyrics. Trouble is, he quite often hears the singer belting out something other than what they’re actually saying. He’s only five, so of course this makes sense. And who among us has never mis-heard song lyrics? You know the song Voices Carry? From the 80’s? When I was a kid, I thought Til Tuesday was singing a soft, ominous, This is scaaary. Yesterday Asher questioned some of the lyrics only he heard. WHY is he saying that? He’s not, Sweetie. Yes. He says, (whatever he thought Adam Levine was singing but wasn’t, I can’t remember) !!! No, honey. He’s not saying that. It just kind of sounds like that. Yes, he is. Well of course he thinks so. That’s how he heard it, from his five-year-old perspective, the way it would make the most sense to him. This made me think of how we all […]
I shared some words about the struggle, over at Literary Mama today. Maybe you can relate. “One of them is talking about life and she said, You struggle and you struggle and you struggle and you make some mistakes and then you’re okay. I have to tell myself that. It might not be true, but I have to tell myself that…” It would be really cool of you to go on over there and read my guest post, if you’d like. Literary Mama is a place soaked with words for the mothering heart. Especially for those that have a mad passionate love affair with reading and/or writing. Happy Monday! (I’ll be back with Just Write this week! I’m so glad!)
