It’s Thankful Tuesday, that lovely day when we all stop to remind ourselves that there are some wonderful things in our lives, even if our kid pooped in his underwear again. (Hypothetically, of course.) I’m been thinking about community a lot lately, about the sweetness of the life we have here in San Francisco and how the relationships we have swell my heart. So, instead of talking about poop, I will focus on all about the community heart-swelling stuff: How... Read more
Yesterday, I found myself teaching my son something I never expected: How to point his penis out and pee into a bush. I’ve told you we’ve been a looooong process of potty training (since January) and August has been very determined about what he’s not going to do. His list includes: peeing standing up (“That’s for when I’m big like Daddy. I’m just a little boy!”), peeing anywhere but at home, and pooping anywhere but in his underwear or pull-up.... Read more
Because my husband usually gets only an hour with our boys in the evenings before bedtime hits, we’ve never quite followed the sleep experts’ advice about calming pre-bedtime activities. For a while we tried the bedtime bath but I could never get my act together enough to have dinner ready, children fed, and bath completed before the 7:30 chime of pajama time. Honestly, can people really do that? My kids are much dirtier and much less calm than the average.... Read more
Let’s start with this: There are some seasons in a marriage where you feel more like a team than you ever have, where you know what to say to each other in the sweetest and most painful moments, where you laugh big, hearty, hysterical laughs at each other. I’m thankful that Chris and I are in that season. And I’m thankful that Sunday night during my Bible study, Chris yelled over and over for me from our bedroom. I left... Read more
This is what my husband brought to my bed yesterday morning. He knows that I would usually prefer an experience over a thing (though I’ll admit I like things) and my ultimate experience usually involves food. So, when it’s my birthday or Mother’s Day or some other type of needy Micha day, I get breakfast in bed and I milk it for all it’s worth. There was no way I was getting out of bed before 9:30 yesterday. I stayed... Read more
Sunday is Mother’s Day. Chris’ step-mom just sent me a Mother’s Day letter her grandfather had written to his mother from a foxhole in World War I. It was so gentle hearted and earnest. He even told his “Mother dear” that come morning he would “steal out from my little dugout and take some fresh flowers with dew and I’ll wear them all day long and each time these little bells tinkle over my heart they will be chiming my... Read more
I know I posted a Cathy Song poem a couple of weeks ago, but when I was searching for the perfect poem about a mother, I couldn’t get away from this one. Sure, it’s not a grown up’s reflection on his perfect and beautiful mother, but there is a blue and white tablecloth and a little boy who “brings birds under his chair” at breakfast. What more could we want in a Mother’s Day poem? Enjoy! Waterwings By Cathy Song... Read more
If you haven’t heard, Rachel Held Evans has officially declared this week the Rally to Restore Unity in the blogiverse. What does this mean? It means we’re making awesome pictures of ourselves holding signs that are adorable and clever. And it means we’re actually communicating with each other about our differences within Christianity. Look at the Facebook page. And read Rachel’s blog posts about it. It’s Thankful Tuesday. And in honor of the Rally to Restore Unity, I’m thankful for... Read more
Friends, this is not a regular type of Mama:Monk post and I try to keep posts here reflective rather than instructive. But I feel like what I’m sharing is in line with Mama:Monk’s values, and I’m hoping you’ll feel the same way. This is Parzheen. She’s an Iraqi girl waiting for life saving heart surgery. How sweet is that face? Underneath there’s a picture of Mohammed, who is also waiting. Today’s post is bit different than usual: Instead of talking... Read more
Yesterday morning I woke to a quiet (and sort of creepy) almost three-year-old standing beside my bed at 6:15, silently staring at me. Good morning, Wednesday. After I got August settled and watching a Thomas show, I moved toward my coffee pot, only to have Brooks begin crying and crying. I bounced him in the kitchen for 15 minutes staring longingly at the empty pot that remained without coffee due to my only having two hands. Finally, Brooks was asleep!... Read more
Micha Boyett
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