The Children's Book Quote of the Day

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A plan for when you’re losing height September 13, 2013

Filed under: Chapter Books,Young Adult — Kristi @ 10:32 pm
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Most of the quotes I chose for this blog are pretty obvious and make sense without needing context to support them. I’m going to veer away from that today a little bit and I’ll need to set up the context for you in case you haven’t read the book. Last night, my husband was listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling (read by Jim Dale, the audio book is not to be missed) and I walked into the room in time to hear the quote I am using today:

There was a deafening bang and the sidecar broke away from the bike completely: Harry sped forward, propelled by the impetus of the bike’s flight, then the sidecar began to lose height–

In desperation Harry pointed his wand at the sidecar and shouted,Wingardium Leviosa!”

(from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling)

What struck me when I heard this small portion of the final Harry Potter book, is that in a moment of desperation, when losing height and on the brink of death, Harry doesn’t use one of the more sophisticated or advanced things he learned in six years of wizarding education. Instead, he uses one of the very first (maybe the first?) charm he was ever taught.

I think this is why the early lessons we teach our children are important. This is what sinks in. If they learn this now, it could be the thing that makes them soar when they would otherwise fall to the unforgiving ground. What are the first lessons we learn? Treat other people the way you want to be treated. Listen before you talk. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Tell the truth. Be brave. Be kind. Forgive. Love one another. When we start to lose altitude, these are the lessons that can bring us back up. These first lessons are the ones we know so deep that we can call them forth in a moment of desperation without thinking. They can become like instinct, that thing that stops you from saying the horrible thing on the tip of your tongue that can never be taken back. These are the lessons that can save your marriage,  your job, your friendships, your life.

What you learn as a young child you will use until the very end of your story. I hope I can teach these lessons very well.

 

Just have some pudding September 12, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kristi @ 9:19 pm
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No, I think I’ll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up…It always does in the end.”  (from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling)

I’ve been trying the Luna Lovegood approach to life over the harried, frenzied approach lately and it seems to be working out well. Luna’s attitude assumes that peacefully and happily waiting for things to work out, enjoying and relying on friendships, and calmly doing what needs to be done without overly stressing, is preferable to the worried and frantic doing or searching or trying that seems to sap the rest of us of our joy.

Things usually turn out all right. If they don’t, worrying over them wouldn’t have made a difference in the outcome. I love in the most recent film adaptation of Charlotte’s Web when Wilbur says, “Should I be worried?” Charlotte answers, “Of course not. What good would that do?”

Recently a friend and I had plans during lunch. She was supposed to bring some brisket but left it behind in her attempt to remember all of the things and all of the children that women in our stage of life must juggle and shove into the all the right places of our cars every time we go anywhere. We unloaded all of the things and all of the children at my house and then we realized the brisket was not in the car. There was a moment of sagging shoulders and sighing between us. Then we just laughed and I said, “Let’s just see what we have in the fridge!” In a calm 35 minutes we had baked chicken breasts, rice, and broccoli on the table. We slowed down enough to allow our better thoughts to work through the situation and come up with a solution. Another day with the same friend, I was in charge of picking up lunch at a local restaurant but I was having a rough day. I was hot and tired and had too many things on my mind. I received three different phone calls on the way to the restaurant. I turned the wrong way leaving and took several blocks to realize it. I missed my exit going back to my friend’s house. I felt bad for making my friends wait for lunch while I drove all over tarnation, for leaving them with my kids who were probably getting cranky from waiting for lunch and I couldn’t believe how much gas I was wasting. In my sweaty, messy, frantic state of mind I started driving too fast. I got pulled over by a very kind police officer. He reminded me of the speed limit and checked my license before letting me go with a warning. I took a deep breath. I reminded myself that if I could just calm down for a second, I would end up at my friend’s house with the fajitas still plenty  hot and the guacamole still plenty cool and I would be much more pleasant with a smile on my face.

As I reflect on those two lunches, I am resolved to take the calm approach on purpose. It was just so much more pleasant. And, like Luna, I can trust my friends with my weird and wandering mind. They may think I’m loony, but I know they will still love me.

 

Is this ad relevant to you? December 10, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kristi @ 11:04 pm
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Maybe that’s why Brother and Sister Bear got the gimmies. Or maybe it was because there were treats, toys, and fun things to do wherever they looked–at the supermarket, at the mall, on TV, and just about every which-where. (from The Berentain Bears Get The Gimmies by Stan Berenstain and Jan Berenstain)

The kids are napping, the dishwasher is whirring, the washing machine is agitating, and I’m taking a break from the sewing machine so I pull up Hulu.com to catch up on my favorite shows. I could be doing other things. The floor needs vacuuming but the kids are sleeping and I don’t have one of those really quiet and awesome robotic vacuum cleaners. I wish.

“This hulu program is brought to you with limited commercial interruptions by ________,” I hear announcer guy’s voice say.” I click the mouse to adjust the volume. The commercial plays and across the top of the screen a question: Is this ad relevant to you? I click No, because it is a commercial for perfume and besides the fact that I don’t wear perfume, I hate fragrance commercials. I just don’t understand why the pretty people are always running through fields and making out with small glass bottles of fragrance or standing mostly nude in the ocean looking fierce. As the commercial plays out, I pour myself a cold glass of water from the office style water cooler in the kitchen and grab myself a snack.

I laugh at the antics of the Dunder Mifflin employees or the parks department staff and when another commercial comes on, I’m curious to see if Hulu has changed gears now that they know I don’t want to see fragrance ads. Make up. Expensive brand. Silly, I think. I wouldn’t pay that much for make up. That’s ridiculous. What is the matter with us here in this country that we think it’s acceptable to pay that much for cosmetics? But, oh, okay, well it’s on sale. Oh, and it comes with a free gift. Ooooh, tempting. Fat lipstick pencils–what a great idea!–and I do like that color…and that one! I can’t even remember the last time I bought any make up and I do make it last for a really long time, so when you divide it out by the number of months I’ll use it, it’s really not that pricey. And I could use that free gift for a Christmas present for someone. Okay, who should I give that to? “Is this ad relevant to you?” Hulu wants to know. And I stop my crazy thoughts. I really don’t need fat lipstick pencils. I have a drawer full of make up options in the bathroom and I usually end up wearing the same stuff every day anyway. My Christmas gift list is made. I don’t need a free gift for anyone else. This ad is NOT working on me, I want to tell Hulu. But the truth is, it almost did. It was relevant for me.

Amazon knows me well. They suggest things I might like and I agree with them. Deal sites. Need I say more? I mean, I’m not looking for new shoes, but if the deal site has Vibram fivefingers on sale half off, I might as well see if they have my size! When I shop at Target and use my debit card, they track my purchases, learn my preferences, and the cash register prints out coupons for things they already know my family uses. It’s almost creepy, the way the “ad experience” as it’s now known, is tailored to each consumer.

I don’t want to be a consumer before I am a citizen. I want the ads to not be so relevant to me. But they are. The problem is this: I have the gimmies.

I want a robot vacuum cleaner. I want a food processor. I want cookie cutters that can spell out any message I want. I want Christopher Radko Christmas ornaments. I want Vibrams in black. I want a pretty cabinet to hide my TV in. I want books.  Want, want, want. Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie.

It’s exactly what I want my children to be free from. But can I be free myself? When there are treats, toys, and fun things to do everywhere I look, can I instead learn to look within, to face up to my discontent once and for all? I believe there are a couple of ways to handle discontent. One is to feed it with one product after another than promises to make my life easier and happier and better, to chase that dangling carrot one step at at time into a place of exhaustion and even deeper discontent. Another way is to starve it with gratitude, with the blazing truth that I already have everything I need, that every problem I have is a first world problem, and that less sometimes really is more. If I feed discontent, it will surely grow until it is bloated. If I starve it with gratitude, my hope is that is will someday disappear.

So I’m grateful for the clothes we have and the machine that washes them with so little effort on my part. I am thankful for the food we easily afford, the dishes we eat it on, and the machine that cleans those as well. I am thankful for the break in my day that is nap time and a television comedy. I really have more than enough. And isn’t that the very definition of abundance? Wouldn’t it be foolish to live in abundance and choose to remain discontent? I choose contentment. I hope I can teach my children to choose it. I hope that one day I can answer no to Hulu every time they ask me, “Is this ad relevant to you?” No, I am content. No, I have enough. No, I know the difference between a want and a need and advertising professionals cannot make me confuse them. No.

 

What’s the point? November 9, 2012

Filed under: Chapter Books — Kristi @ 1:05 am
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I don’t think she has very much fun, and what’s the point in being that clean if it means you never get to have any fun? (from Ellray Jakes is NOT a chicken! by Sally Warner)

I have always said the best way to get my house clean is to invite people over. If I know someone is coming, historically, I clean in a frenzy and make it perfect because I want people to believe I am some sort of superior housekeeper and that it always looks like this. And, for a long time, I went around feeling somewhat inadequate in the housekeeping department because every house I went to was spotless and I believed these houses remained in a permanent state of cleanliness that I had been woefully unable to achieve in my own. Not so, reader. Not so.

About a year ago, a friend invited my son and me to her house for a play date and when we got there I was struck by how messy her house was. I don’t mean that to sound rude. When I say it was messy, I mean that there were scattered toys, junk mail was on the table in a careless heap, dishes were in and around the sink, and I could tell the counter top had not been freshly wiped. When I say it was messy, I mean that it was exactly like my  house most of the time. It was normal. It was just their home the way they actually live in it. I couldn’t fathom the kind of confidence she must have had, to be able to invite people over in such a relaxed way, with no fresh smell of Lemon Clorox greeting friends at the door. When I got home I just felt so blessedly normal.

So I don’t clean my house for play dates anymore either. And, as a result, I have people over a lot more. Which means I have more fun. I no longer see the state of my home as a barrier to hospitality. You know what? We have a messy desk. There is pureed pumpkin stuck to the kitchen floor. There are whisker hairs on the bathroom sink and I can see a sock peeking out from under a toy peeking out from under the couch. It is what it is and what it is, is normal. I bet you have a junk mail pile too. So why stuff it in a drawer or cabinet before I come over? So I will think you are the type of magical person who has no paper pile? I am not relaxed around those magical people. I am relaxed around people who make me feel normal.

I worked a charity tour of homes once when I was in high school and the house I was helping give tours in was one of those that you can very briefly describe and everyone in town knows which house it is. (Oh, the big stone house on Bennett that always has a limo out front? I know that house!) It literally had an elevator in it. And one of the bedrooms had leopard print carpet. One of the bathrooms had a mural of the home owner painted on the tile. One of the bedrooms had a ceiling raised several feet to accommodate a piece of furniture. Anyway. It was that kind of house. Just before the tour, the home owner (as gorgeous and strange as her house) showed me around and gave me the spiel. When we entered one of the bathrooms, she said, “Ooops! I forgot to move these!” and hid the toothbrushes in a cabinet. I thought that was so funny–to hide your toothbrushes–to make it look like a house in a magazine spread that no one really lives in. And the truth is, I have tried and tried to imagine someone relaxing there and I can’t. It’s just too perfect.

Do I want to create an environment that people want to tour and photograph or one where people want to live and breathe and have a good time? Well, I might put the gnarly, twisted toothpaste tube in the bathroom cabinet, but our toothbrushes are out for the world to see.

 

 

Out of a book June 28, 2012

This was something you couldn’t learn by heart out of a book–not that she hadn’t tried. (from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling)

First of all, my goodness, thank you so much for such a wonderful response to Tuesday’s post. I don’t think this blog has ever enjoyed so many facebook shares or so many views in a two-day period. Thank you. I so desperately want moms to know that they are doing motherhood right just by doing it at all, by following their instincts and loving their own children. It can flat out break your heart for the world to first tell you that motherhood is the most important job in the world, then suggest that you are doing it wrong. Most likely, you’re not doing it wrong.

You know, I remember the first time I ever dealt with mother-guilt. I was pregnant with my son and I was criticized for drinking a Dr. Pepper. (For those of you who don’t know, when you are suffering from pregnancy fatigue and your job is to listen to first-graders sound out words and it’s late afternoon, Dr. Pepper is like the nectar of the gods and the only thing that could remotely keep a woman awake.) An older woman scolded me for feeding my unborn baby caffeine and successfully made me feel awful. Even though my doctor had said it was okay to have caffeine in reasonable amounts. I have dealt with the guilt that is just constantly heaped on mothers many times since, but that was the first.

Anyway, I did not anticipate so much response to Tuesday’s post, but since it’s there I feel I should explain just a little bit more and maybe temper it a bit. First off, I am not criticizing any parenting methods. I think you should do whatever works for your own family whether it comes from a book, a friend, or your own intuition. But I have a huge problem with the labeling that goes on. I heard a friend say once, “I could never Ferberize my babies!” What she meant is that she wouldn’t use “the Ferber method” of letting her babies “cry it out” to train them to fall asleep on their own. A commenter here mentioned Dr. Sears and that his book made her realize it was okay to nurse her baby to sleep. Okay, so we have two very different methods out there. Which one is right? The answer is that neither one is universally right! One of them or a combination of both of them or neither of them may be what’s right for your own family. I rock my babies to sleep and nurse them to sleep. I did it with Benjamin and I do it with June Elizabeth. I love rocking and nursing them to sleep. But when Benjamin was between seven and eight months old he started waking up in the night and I would have to nurse him back to sleep. As time went on, he woke more and more frequently every night to the point that at twelve months he was waking about every two to three hours! So, just after his first birthday, we let him cry it out one night. Every twenty minutes I would go in and comfort him, then leave again. It took two and a half hours! It was awful. But it worked. The next night it only took 30 minutes. The following night, only 7. So, yeah, we used both methods. Maybe BabyWise works for your family from the getgo or maybe, like me, you want to rock your babies to sleep and nurse on demand.  It’s your baby. It’s your choice. You are a good mom. You are not a “Babywise” mom or a “Ferber mom” or an “Attachment mom.” You are just a good mom. That’s my point.

The other thing I want to say is that, while books are great, parenting isn’t something you can learn by heart out of a book. Every family is different. Every child in a family is different. No one book could possibly address every nuance of raising every child. You can read a post I wrote about my experience with that here. You can get a lot of good tips, but eventually your own intuition and experiences will define your parenting. And what I want you to know, what I need to know, is that that’s not only okay, it’s exactly right. You are doing it right.

 

Can’t it just be parenting? June 26, 2012

You have brains in you head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. (from Oh! The Places You’ll Go by Dr. Seuss)


You want to know what I’m sick to death of? Parenting debates. Parenting books. Parenting “styles.” Every day there is some article or picture or facebook status or recommended book about “attachment” or some other form of parenting, some new fad or other. And every time I want to say, “Why does it have to be a style? Can’t it just be called parenting?” Before I get very high on my soap box, I should lay down my credentials: I do not have a PhD in neuroscience, have never  written a parenting book, and am not a certified parent educator, pediatrician, or any other kind of expert. My credentials are that I am a parent, I have two parents and two parents-in-law, am married to a parent, and know a lot of parents. Those are my only credentials.

I am the coordinator of a local MOPS (Mothers Of Preschoolers) group and we have a diverse bunch of mamas in our number. They are all wonderful. I mean, wonderful. There is one young woman, pretty new to our group, who has a lot of questions about attachment parenting, baby-led weaning, introducing solids, elimination communication, etc. She must be reading parenting books and websites all the time. She doesn’t have to do that. She’s already a good mom. She was practically born that way. That’s my problem with all of these parenting trends and styles. You don’t need a method to follow. You are already a good mom. If you fail at one system, if you never pick up a parenting book in life, you will still be fine. Your children will be fine. That’s what I honestly believe.

I breastfed my son until he was sixteen months old. It was important to me to get to breastfeed and I had a good support system with my mom and my husband so I was successful at getting through the hard part and getting into the really enjoyable part of it. My sister breastfed her son for two months. When she went back to work at six weeks, it was incredibly hard for her to keep it up. She had to pump in a bathroom stall at lunch, her one break during the work day. It was gross and it was hard. Her husband was a genuine abuser who dragged her postpartum emotional state through the mud. She lost way too much weight from stress. She loved her little boy like crazy, eventually left the abuser and became an incredible single mama. How high on the priority ladder do you think breastfeeding was? I would put my son next to hers and dare you to tell me which one was breastfed and which one was formula fed. There’s no way you could tell. Which of us is the better mom? If you answer that question at all I’ll slap you.

One time I saw someone with her baby strapped to her in a wrap. I thought, “That looks handy!” So when someone was getting rid of a similar wrap, I took the hand-me-down and have used it happily. It’s wonderfully convenient even though it’s sometimes really hot. I didn’t know when I accepted the wrap that what I was doing was called “baby wearing” and that it is part of a method called “attachment parenting.” I just thought it was handy. I have since seen articles and interviews with followers of this method that praise the virtues of baby wearing and look right down their noses at moms who instead of wearing their babies, put them in what they call “containers.” Since I’ve been accused of being a baby wearer, rightfully so, I should probably now tell you that if my baby falls asleep in the car seat and I have stuff to do, I have no problem carrying her inside the house in it and setting it down in a cool place until she wakes up. Today I wore her in the wrap for the entire time that I ran errands. But this afternoon she slept in the car seat carrier for an hour. Gosh, I hope she doesn’t grow up unable to trust me and feel safe. We also have a swing and a bouncy seat and a stroller. I’ve actually heard people criticize strollers as “containers” to hold a baby when the mom should be holding the baby. Give me and my back a break.

We have a bassinet in our bedroom for the baby and a crib in the kids’ room down the hall. She’s almost eight weeks old so she’s still sleeping in the bassinet at this stage. I’m not ready to tackle the concept of my three-year-old and my infant sleeping in the same room yet. I know there are a whole slew of sleep methods out there–how you schedule your kids’ sleep, recommended bedtimes, where is ideal for kids to sleep, co-sleeping, etc, etc, etc. Here’s what flies in our house. Our son’s bed time is technically 8:00pm. If he’s in bed by 8:10 we call it a win. If he’s asleep by 8:30 we call it a miracle. He’s almost always asleep by 9:00. I know you’re all shocked and horrified. He goes to bed in his toddler bed, with a lamp on, and after we read stories and pray, my husband has to sweep all the monsters out of the room (my son has a great imagination). The baby usually is asleep enough that I put her in the bassinet around 10:00. Last night she would fall asleep and I would put her down and then ten minutes later she would be awake again over and over and over again. So I finally put her down on her tummy (I know, I know! But we have a movement sensor monitor on the bassinet so get over it) at 11:45pm. She slept until 7:00 this morning. I call that a win. I rolled out of my deep sleep around 6:00am and discovered that my son was sleeping between me and my husband. I don’t know when he came to our bed. I didn’t care. I just rolled over and kept sleeping, too tired to carry him back to his own bed. Sometimes when the baby gets up to eat at 5:00am, I nurse her lying next to me in my bed so I don’t have to wake up too much. Then she stays there until after I get up in the morning because I’m too tired to stand up and take her back to the bassinet. So, it’s kind of like what some people call “co-sleeping.” But I wouldn’t say that we intentionally co-sleep. I would just say that we sleep. Any way we can. Which ever way makes everyone sleep the longest time at a stretch is the way I prefer.

I read an article the other day in which a woman said she would consider putting your kids in front of a television to be child abuse. That kind of made me mad because when I worked in a public school I saw kids who had actually been subjected to child abuse. Television is not child abuse. Call it lazy parenting if you want to, but it’s not abuse. My son is watching Kipper The Dog right now because the baby is asleep and I want him to be quiet. It’s literally 109 degrees in my town today so we’re not going outside to play.We’re staying in and watching a show until she wakes up. He also watches gentle cartoons like that pretty much every morning because I am not a morning person. I throw a bunch of grapes or strawberries on a plate with a slice of bread, shake up a sippy cup of chocolate milk, turn on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and go back to bed for another half hour at least. Then, if he’s still watching, I take a shower and am ready to be a pretty good mom. If you call that child abuse, we can’t be friends.

We used disposable diapers on my son until he was potty trained earlier this year. For my daughter, we are using cloth diapers. We really like the cloth diapers and we feel like we’re saving money by using them. But we still use disposables at night. I don’t feel like a better mom for using cloth diapers. I just feel like I’m saving some money. I couldn’t care less what anyone else puts on their babies’ butts. That’s a really crappy debate.

I pray for my kids. Not because someone gave me the book The Power Of A Praying Mom but because sometimes parenting is terrifying. I pray for them because I want so much more for them than I could ever, ever give them. I pray for them because I’m exhausted and scared sometimes and I just want to hand it all over to a higher power.

I read to my kids because I like books and I want them to like them too. I don’t have a set number of words I read to them in a day. I just read to them.

I take my son outside to play but not when it’s 109 degrees outside. When it’s 109 degrees outside we don’t even go out for snow cones because we would melt in the line. I’m a weeny about the hot days.

My three-year-old is a picky eater so I kind of rely on Flintstone vitamins to supplement his nutrients. I know the experts say that if you only offer them what you’re eating, they will eventually eat it. But the experts are dead wrong. He will flat out starve himself. Thankfully, he likes fruit and vegetables but he eats a lot of chicken nuggets for protein. At least, I hope there’s some protein in there. And he won’t drink milk without Nesquick powder in it. When I worked in an elementary school there was this one mom who always made these beautiful bento lunches for her kid. I kind of wanted to be like her but really I just get the food on the plate and try to get him to eat it. No fancy preparations.

If I were ever to write a parenting book (which I never ever would), I would call my style “winging it.” Because that’s what I think most everybody is doing anyway. And most of us are doing fine. I honestly think that if you are not an abuser, you are a good parent and the best parent for your own kids. So just relax. You don’t have to follow a method or a trend. You can do whatever you want, whatever makes things go smoothly in your house. It doesn’t have to be this kind of parenting or that. It can just be parenting. And, at least you’re doing it.

Wingin’ it

 

Made time June 14, 2012

Filed under: Picture Books — Kristi @ 12:20 pm
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Amos had a lot to do at the zoo, but he always made time to visit his good friends.  (from A Sick Day for Amos McGee by Philip C. Stead)

First of all, this Caldecott Medal winning book is gorgeous. The illustrations by Erin E. Stead are beautiful and the story is sweet, calming, and fun. It feels like a vintage children’s book in the best way but was published in 2011. Absolutely charming.

My friend, Christy, gave this book to our children last week and Benjamin has wanted to read it at least once a day since then, which is fine with me. I am the coordinator of a local chapter of Mother’s Of Preschoolers (MOPS) and every year we are given a theme book to base our MOPS year on. This year’s theme book is called Mom Connection by Tracey Bianchi and I really enjoyed reading it while I was in the hospital recovering from the birth of my daughter last month. One of the challenges in the book that caught my attention was to be intentional about creating the environment you want for your family. She asks the question, “What do you want your family to be famous for?” I thought about it a lot and Jon and I talked about what we would want to be “our thing,” the thing people would know us for. I have a friend whose family I always think of as creative and crafty because every time I talk to her or look at her facebook profile they are making something fun together. Another friend’s family I think of as athletic and outdoorsy, always getting out into nature together and staying fit.

My friend’s timing in giving A Sick Day for Amos McGee to my children is astonishing to me because I had been thinking so much about what we wanted to be known for and decided that we wanted to be the family that always makes time for our friends. We don’t want to be always waiting for a more convenient season to go away for the weekend with good friends or waiting until we know we can get the house clean before we invite someone new over. We don’t want to ignore a phone call from an out of town friend because we’re in the middle of some mess or another. We want to be the ones that say, “Hey, the house is a wreck, but come on over. If you can step over the toys and make your way to the kitchen I’ll make us some tea.” We were in Ft. Worth in the fall for a friend’s wedding and the temptation was to hurry home afterward, pick up our son, unpack our bags and get ready for the week ahead. Instead, we called other friends that live in Ft. Worth and stayed long enough to enjoy a long lunch with them before we made the drive home. It was so much better that way. I haven’t taken our daughter to church yet (too many germs for a newborn there!) so I put her in the Moby wrap last week and went to a movie while my husband and son were at church. Other than my infant daughter, I was the youngest person in the theater and I enjoyed watching elderly ladies and gentlemen come in with their friends and laugh and comment together at the parts they enjoyed. I want to maintain my friendships in such a way that we can enjoy catching a movie together when we’re in our eighties and talk about the ones we saw together in our twenties and thirties. After church, my husband thought he might go home and work in the yard a bit. Instead, he stayed around my parents’ house to watch Duck Dynasty with my dad. Then our good friend came over and we spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and catching up. Before we knew it, we were late for dinner with some other good friends. We were supposed to bring vegetables and had nothing prepared. Instead of wasting more time away from our friends, we just grabbed some zucchini and squash out of the fridge, our favorite infused olive oil, and some cheese and just showed up at their house with unprepared food. They didn’t mind. They are our friends. My husband didn’t get anything done in the yard that day, but the time invested in all of these relationships was so much more valuable.

Sometimes I fall into the trap of thinking other things are more important. We have a small and crowded house with a kitchen table that only seats four. So sometimes I am reluctant to have more than a few people over at a time because I am self-conscious about asking people to eat in their laps! But the times I have gotten over it and just invited people to crowd on in have been some of my favorite memories in this house. I have to remind myself of that and just open the handprint smudged door wide.

Like Amos McGee, we have a lot to do in this zoo we call our lives, but our family has decided to be intentional about making time for our friends.