Our kids spent five weeks of the summer in all-day camps that required me to pack lunches. At least during the school year, our kids order hot lunch once or twice a week to give me a break!
The solution? Outsource the task!
I decided our kids, at seven and nine years old, were surely old enough to pack their own lunches. Just before school started, I printed out a list of guidelines and stuck it to the side of the fridge.

I broke it down into “snacks” and “entrees,” and wrote how many items of a particular category the kids were allowed to pack. Our daughter spotted the list right away and was thrilled. Apparently her older friends already pack their own lunches (“without a list, even!”) and she’s always up for an opportunity to feel more grown-up.
I don’t know which of us was more joyful on the evening before the very first day of school. (Well, me, for sure — but she was very happy to be packing her own lunch.)
The list makes it easy for them. If they’re ordering lunch at school, they only need to pack items from the “snacks” category. Treats are listed under the heading “Choose 1,” baked goods say “Choose 1-2” and fruits and veggies are a mandatory “Choose 2-3.”

The “entrees” menu includes a build-your-own lunch option where they choose two from the protein category (rolled-up ham, turkey slices, cheese, hard-boiled egg) and one from the grain category (crackers, bagel, tortilla).
If they want something hot in their thermos instead, the list suggests they “politely ask Mom or Dad” and leave their empty thermos on the stove as a reminder for us to heat something up in the morning. (We often do pasta, dinner leftovers or pancakes/waffles in their thermoses.)
So far, the kids are still liking the independence of packing their own lunches. They remind me when I forget — it’s a perfect bedtime-stalling chore — and seem to enjoy considering their choices in each category.
(I watched our daughter seriously deliberate between gummies and a pudding cup and eventually decide on the pudding because she wanted to use her pretty new spork.)
What’s interesting is that the lunches our kids pack now are much healthier than the ones my husband used to pack for them. The kids follow my list, dutifully packing 2-3 items from the fruits and veggies section, whereas he’d throw in gummies and a pudding cup — and heck, maybe a cookie — just because it’s easy.
Let’s hope they don’t realize that, or I might have a lunch-making revolt on my hands. 😉
Two years ago, right here on this page, I wrote about how I “can’t pretend to believe everything I’m supposed to believe.” I wondered out loud if I was a bad Catholic for “walking through those doors with a heaviness that shouldn’t be there,” or if I was a good Catholic for making sure my children attend Catechism classes and make their sacraments.
They asked me, and I heard myself agreeing. It didn’t feel real. I would be the one teaching a room full of nine-year-olds about God. I would be responsible for their religious education for an entire school year.
(No one believed me when I texted them the news, complete with angel emojis.)

I only had a few days to prepare for my first class. They gave me a heavy binder loaded with lesson plans and talking points and suggested readings, but assured me that I could pick and choose what I wanted to cover in my classes.
The binder was pretty overwhelming. It suggested I start by ceremoniously handing each child their workbook by saying a prayer over them. Um, no. The first lesson was supposed to be about Saint Teresa of Ávila, who was born in 1515 and went into a convent at 16. Um, skip.
After flipping through the first three lessons, I decided to boil them down into four main takeaways: God made the world, God wants us to take care of the world, God made us and God wants us to be nice to each other. Bingo-bango!


If it feels like at least one person in this house has been sick since school started, that’s because I think it’s true.
It started when I was plagued by a cold SLASH seasonal allergies. I use the slash because I couldn’t figure out which it was, or if it was both. All I know is that (A) fall allergies are the WORST allergies of the year for me, and (B) it felt very cold-like, too.
I think I decided it was a cold when our daughter, C, caught it. She was really sick for about week, except it was like she had a cold and the flu because she was a snotty mess but also a feverish one. As in, like, fever that wouldn’t go away for like five days. We used the thermometer on her hourly.

Our son, D, caught whatever she had *just* as she was getting better, as is The Way Our Family Does Sicknesses. He also had the fever that wouldn’t leave. He was pale and sickly-looking, but didn’t have the running nose/sneezing/cold-like symptoms that C’d had.
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Our son (age nine) and our daughter (age seven) had been obsessed with the idea of getting these shoes called Heelys — named for the little rubber wheels tucked under the person’s heels.
The child in me admired how cool they looked. Heelys were the kind of gizmo I would have wanted as a kid. Much cooler than my Pogo Ball or my little sister’s Moon Shoes.
The parent in me, however, was nervous about my kids essentially wearing roller skates without a helmet. They’d be safer with a helmet, but it wouldn’t be very practical to tote one around considering sometimes you just wear Heelys as sneakers. (The wheels can pop out.)

During our summer vacation to Ontario, the kids’ grandparents generously gifted them each with a pair of Heelys for a belated birthday surprise.
They were so excited that they started lacing them up right in the store, snapping the wheels into the little caverns in each shoe.


I felt pretty confident since they’re both very coordinated children — unlike their mother.
And then … they couldn’t wheel (or “heel”) an inch.
It was painful watching the kids shuffle their way around the toystore, stumbling every time the wheels connected with the smooth floor.
I showed them a YouTube video on my phone and tried, unsuccessfully, to describe how they should try to do it. I was no help. They either walked on their tippy-toes or skidded awkwardly, half-tripping and coming close to knocking over several displays.
The sales clerk had said specifically that the Heelys were not returnable once the wheels had been clicked into place. I started to worry that we may have just made a very expensive mistake.
After weakly thanking him for his help, we piled back into the car and continued on our errands. Luckily, the next stop was a large discount store to buy fabric (woohoo!) and the kids had plenty of aisle space to practice their, um, stumbling.
Gripping the handles of the shopping cart, they took turns trying to get their balance on the little rubber wheels. Slowly, slowly, they started to get the hang of it. They each fell back on their bums a few times, but popped up quickly as if they hoped no one had noticed.
Over the next few days, the kids worked hard on their Heely-ing and began to wheel for longer distances at a time — one foot flexed up, with the other nearly flat.
Our son actually got so good at it that he wore his Heelys for two long days at Canada’s Wonderland, and delighted with “wheeling” by the suckers who had to walk. Since we’ve been back home, he’s worn them every day, everywhere.

He even wore them to day camp one day, but he was politely asked not to wear them again.
Now that’s school is back in session, he’s been wearing them daily as his “outdoors.” I keep warning him they could be banned from school at any point, so he should enjoy it while it lasts.
The Heelys were definitely a great gift and the kids adore them. Yes, they make all adults nervous, as the kids tear around on those little rubber wheels, but the shoes have a surprisingly awesome benefit. Are you ready for it?
Boring errands are suddenly lots of fun because stores always have smooth, crack-free floors.
The very same children who used to complain about coming along to the drugstore, the grocery store, the hardware store or the fabric store are suddenly inspired to come along, cheerfully, because they know they can glide down the empty aisles on their wheeled sneakers.
I used to start trips into stores by reminding them “Good manners, stick together, and remember that we’re only buying what I say we’re buying.” Now I have to add an additional disclaimer: “Don’t run anyone over or I’m confiscating your wheels.”
My grandmother was a very talented oil painter in Scotland, and I like to think I inherited a bit of her talent for brushwork. But since I have so many creative interests — sewing clothes, woodworking, quilting, needlework, interior decorating, scrapbooking, pyrography — I don’t spend nearly enough time working on becoming a better painter.
I took two sessions of oil painting classes last year and really want to find the time to go back. (Let me know when the days start being 30 or so hours long.)
A technique I’ve always wanted to learn is called impasto. Vincent Van Gogh was amazing at this. It’s where the paint is applied in thick layers, sometimes with a knife, and can even be mixed right on the canvas. Then the paint dries, impasto gives it this amazing texture — swirls and ridges that pop right off the canvas.
While I haven’t yet done much impasto painting, I discovered a hack that gives you a similar appearance with a totally different, unexpected, and CHEAP medium that’s available anywhere home improvement supplies are sold …
