the kids

Something about age eight

Last evening after supper, I was alone in the house putting away clean dishes, thinking. Grandma was outside on the patio watching Jeff and the boys toss the football around the backyard. I was drying things and putting them in their places, then loading the dirty supper dishes in the dishwasher, starting to fill it

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It is getting late and this must be quick. I am trying to be better about what I eat and drink, to pause and ask myself, whenever I begin thinking of something to ingest, “Is that really what I want?” and if I find the answer is “No,” or even “I’m not sure,” then I

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Morning conversation

Me: “Another fun breakfast at home.” Jeff: “For you?” Me: “No, for the boys. I like eating at home.” Jeff: “Oh yes, another breakfast, with three nutritious servings of Yelling and Screaming. And Fit-Throwing.” Me: “And Bitching and Complaining.” Sigh. It was so much easier when the boys were eating most breakfasts at school. But

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