Archive for March, 2015


I’ve sat for the past hour with a dying chicken in my arms and have managed to convince myself it’s my own bad Karma for all the ways I’ve messed up today. One of my boys misbehaved in school and I should have handled it better. I hurt a friend’s feelings. I obviously should have gone out to the coop sooner. I should have done this and should not have done that. If life had an erase a day button, this would probably be the day I’d choose to use it. Now I’m griping on Facebook. Seriously, I must be losing it. But Hayden just made me laugh by asking if I wanted him to read Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, because, he says, we all have bad days.


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Chicken Math

Patrick: It looks like there are more chickens out there than there used to be.

Me: Oh right. When they run around and flap their wings it can look like there are a lot of them. It’s one of those weird vision tricks.

Patrick: Uh huh. So how many are there?

Me: I don’t know… Same as always. Nineteen? Twenty?

Patrick: I’m pretty sure I counted over forty.

Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about.Chicken Math

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The thermometer read 102.4. Damp tendrils of normally straight hair curled at his temples. His long lashes lightly fluttered against his flushed cheeks. He’d been sleeping restlessly for hours. He clutched monkey tightly to his chest and a soft moan escaped his parched lips as his breath quickened. I lay beside him, watching him, wondering if I should wake him from the dream that seemed to be anything but sweet, or wait for it to pass. I pressed my lips to his feverish head and his body relaxed and monkey fell to the bed between us. This, the same boy who had spent the afternoon exploring our woods and creek, laughing and running in the sunshine with his brother and friend. I pulled his well loved and slightly tattered truck blankie up around him, tucked monkey back under his arm, and wrapped my own around him, wishing that I could do something, anything, to make it all better….

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