At dinner each night of November, see if your family can collectively think of 10 more things you’re thankful for. Keep a running list.
2. Turkey day decor.
A vase filled with your list written on slips of paper, or written scrawled on kraft paper doubling as a Thanksgiving tablecloth—complete with Sharpies or crayons prompting guests to add their own.
3. The classic: Thank you notes.
Set a small, doable goal for yourself to send out a certain number of thank-you notes to people who might be a little clueless as to just how much you appreciate them. You might also consider enclosing a small gift card (think Starbucks, Amazon, iTunes) to add an exclamation point to your gratitude.
A couple of weeks ago, my son and I attempted homemade ravioli. I say attempted not because they didn’t taste good. (They tasted great!) I say this because in the midst of chaos–some foreseen, some not-so-much–we didn’t really seal the little ravioli pillows correctly. So ricotta leaked out into the water. Never fear: Every single one of the little guys was still eaten up, and since perfect ravioli wasn’t the goal, I’d consider it a smashing (smashed?) success.
I’ve been pulling kids up on the counter next to me (and sometimes sitting them in the bowl of the sink) for a little over a decade now. Initially, it was a strategy of containment. If I am cooking, I know where you and your fast little feet are, and what those little hands are dumping. But cooking has been a way that my kids and I create rich quality time together.
Near the end of the day, we are creating something nourishing together, learning a life skill, chatting about whatever, laughing, and sealing the memories with taste and sound and sight and smell and touch. Somehow the mundane, to me, seems to take on a little magic.read more
Author’s note: If you missed these previous posts, you might grab them first for other overarching ideas on choosing vulnerability even when it’s hard–and being a safe place for others when they don’t have their act together.
My husband and I were headed out on a date night (can you hear the angel choirs singing? I needed it. As in, bad). It was admittedly last minute, to the point that my curly-turned-cotton-candy hair had been lassoed by a headband and fun-bun. But my kids would have food and it looked positive no one would burn anything down, so the big stuff was covered. Thus I sat in the passenger seat with my makeup bag, aka magic wand. I was just about through patting on concealer when my husband looked over at me.read more
So my kids are home for the summer after their first year in public school. Observations:
a. I’ve been looking forward to quality time with them. That said, if they fight like, one more time? I may be glancing at tickets for four children to, say, Abu Dhabi.
b. I am still working from home. So in contrast to what I wish summer looked like for moms, it’s more to the tune of “more bricks, less straw”.read more
I’ve gleaned a ton of great practical thoughts on this from Jeremy Taylor, a guy born over 400 years ago. This guy (1613-1667) was a chaplain to Charles I and a prolific, vivid author with keen insight into human behavior.
It’s pretty much because creating a sense of respect in my kids still makes me want to tear my hair out. Admittedly, my oldest is now 13, so we’re breaking new ground in this area.read more
He was barely in the front door, cheeks flushed from the bike ride home. He smelled like the cold and that faintest puff of little-boy sweat. “Mom! Guess what! We’re getting a new kid and his name is Toby and the teacher wants me to show him around and tell him all about the school!” He drew a breath, those Chiclet-sized adult teeth still, charmingly, just a bit too big for his eight-year-old mouth.read more