Many mornings I arrive in the kitchen to find my oldest two hunkered over the computer screen reading and remembering some of their adventures or some of their parent's missteps.
An entire new vocabulary has been introduced into our "family-speak" regarding The Wright Place blog. Often, when I think I've secretly snapped a picture of a child doing something odd or remarkable, one of the kids can be heard announcing, "Consider yourself blogged," or "YOU have just been blogged."
There have been moments when I couldn't get to the computer fast enough to record a memory. Conversely, there have been days when I was unable to find a single thing to record. My "picture folder" on the computer still bulges with un-blogged pictures and ideas that have never quite made it to the surface of my mother-logged brain. Yet, that first evening one year ago, when I sat at the computer to "blog" the words just appeared on the page. These words...
In a family of six, bedtime is either pure calm or complete chaos. Molly is 9 months old today. Kate is a bouncing four years. Meg is nine, a new nine, toes on the edge of all that makes one a young lady. Cole, ever the old soul is ten. I'm not certain how it is that we've been parents for a decade, but it seems that we have.
I sat in Molly's nursery tonight at bedtime and watched what looked much like ants in an anthill as the "big kids" scurried to and fro while Darrin attempted to put them into bed. It seemed that each time he put one into bed another would "pop up" and appear out into the hallway and then disappear into another room only to be shooed back to their own room eventually. I watched all of this from the rocking chair holding a freshly awakened Molly who was wise enough not to miss this show.
Finally, everyone was kissed, tucked in and prayed with and Darrin and I walked gently down the stairs fully expecting to be followed by at least an ant or two.
A quick year seems to have passed from late that May to late this May. Much is the same, the ants will, from time to time, still follow us down the stairs after having been tucked in and Molly still enjoys a bit of rocking before bed every now and then, but not nearly often enough. Meg, now a new ten, is more confident in what makes one a young lady. Cole, still an old soul in many ways, is showing some signs of the teen-who-is-to-come. Kate is a sassy five-year-old and is this year, just as she was last year, looking forward to another (to use her own words,) "FLIP-FLOP summer!"
All of us would like to say a GREAT BIG THANK YOU to all who read of our adventures. We cherish the comments you post, the kind words you share with us in person, and the knowledge that there are people "out there" who are, in a manner, journeying with us. We appreciate the time you spend reading about this crazy family of six and are often amazed that you keep clicking in our direction. So, thanks. Thanks and onward into Year #2!
by Sara Houghteling is a novel about the search for art stolen by the Nazis at the end of the Second World War. It was a so-so read, but one that once started I felt compelled to finish.
by Joel Beeke
also by Joel Beeke
by Emilie Barnes
