Well, I’m certainly no expert on winter survival with small children in tow (my yellometer often creeps up in these dark, cold months), but I’m determined to learn. Below, my tried-and-true playtime hacks – a few spins on everyday activities that have been keeping our home (relatively) peaceful, fun and busy: Read a book backwards.
You want inspiration. Insight. Advice, wisdom, a lifetime’s worth of perspective, and you want it served in one tidy spot to lap up in five minutes or less, no? You could try meditation. Prayer. Call a mentor, perhaps book an elusive five minutes with your therapist. Or you can sneak into your kid’s bedroom and
A long-favored G.K. Chesterton quote I share in my book: There are two ways to get enough. One is to continue to accumulate more and more. The other is to desire less. — A text message from my girlfriend last weekend: That Chesterton quote, the one about enough. Does it work for shoes? — I
A text message from a girlfriend this weekend: I’m so heavy today. I didn’t sleep. All I could think about were the people being turned away. — I imagine you’re heavy today, too. I imagine you’re doing your best to decipher the news. I imagine you’re doing your best to put on a happy face
I’m at the dentist. The hygienist Deb and I are making small talk, which means she’s talking and I’m nodding, mouth wide open, trying my best to nose breathe. Book’s out, right? she asks. Ehh hehh, I answer. She talks of her new granddaughter, reminds me to floss. Asks me about Scout, how he’s attaching,
I haven’t been writing things down. There are so many things I want to write, so many thoughts I’m trying to catch in the kitchen while the potatoes brown, so many ideas that come while I’m rocking the baby. They come and they leave, and I’m left standing in the kitchen as the skillet begins
con·trac·tion kənˈtrakSH(ə)n noun 1. the process of becoming smaller. a shortening of the muscles occurring at intervals before and during childbirth. Scout, as we know him, had his first contraction in a corner table at Wendy’s. Two Frosties, two singles (one, no onions). Large fry. Extra ketchup. Could you ever adopt? a boyfriend asks
Consider it a preemptive strike. Each December, roughly mid-month, I attempt to rid our home of its thin layer of excess. Ken loves this about me, my Grinch-like tendencies to Subtract during The Great Season of Addition, but I don’t know. Consider it a gift in white space. (Like snow.) We will forever be on