dirt don't hurt

By Karrie McAllister Part of me thinks that the reason Christmas is celebrated in December is so that we can eat all that we want and make resolutions to lose the weight one week later when New Years rolls around. And this year, as we all hang up our new calendars that we got for Christmas, is no different. We spent our holidays indulging in cookies and other goodies. (Note to faithful readers: my husband actually bought the tur-duck-hen and we ate it! Delicious!) Now that the traditional pork and sauerkraut from our New Year’s Day meal is officially digested, it’s time to sit down and think about the upcoming year, the changes we’d like to make and the goals we set for ourselves. I think the object of making New Year’s resolutions is to make them obtainable. It seems every year I make the same promise to myself—to wash, dry, fold and put away the laundry all in one day instead of living out of clothes baskets in the laundry room for weeks on end. And every year I break my resoluti...

By Karrie McAllister Living in our little part of the world, my family is fortunate enough to fully experience the full range of yearly seasons. Our spring months are soggy, stormy and muddy. Our summers are hot, dry and green. Autumns are cool, brisk and colorful. And winters are cold, crisp and snowy. (Well, some of the time…) I am thankful that my children can see the beauty in each season. Generally speaking, the change of seasons changes our time outdoors. Weather seems to decide what our days will be like more than we do, and as much as I love the easy days that don’t require special gear, I cherish the harsh weather days just as much. This is one of the many reasons that my family and I look forward to winter. My own childhood winters were spent outside. Living at the end of a street, snowplows were constantly providing us with winter’s greatest playground equipment, and the lake effect snow off of Lake Erie was constantly providing us with plenty of it! I can remember...

GIRL!

By Karrie McAllister It’s that time of year; I’ve got presents on the brain. And I’m reminded of the importance of choosing the right gift every time my four-year-old son pushes the button on the animated singing snowman he received last year. (Worse yet, I was the one who bought it for him!) Trust me, hearing a fat, wiggling snowman sing “Play that Funky Music White Boy” multiple times a day is a stark, yet funky, reminder that you should think before you give. It’s the same old challenge this year, trying to come up with just the right present for just the right person. And in my book, the perfect gift should have the following characteristics: It should be meaningful. You should be thinking about the person you are giving it to, and find something special just for them. For example, if my son was not into disco dancing, the snowman would not have suited him. But unfortunately, it does. It should be quality. There is nothing worse than opening a gift and having it break coming...

By Karrie McAllister At any given Christmas function, you will find me and my mouth full of sweet teeth lingering with a large cup of coffee right next to the dessert table. Easter has it’s chocolate, Thanksgiving has it’s pies, and that’s all well and good. But those holidays have nothing on Christmas and all of the joyous cookies that come along with it. Yes, from cutouts to those little nutty ones you have to stick your thumb in to make a well for the jelly, I love them all. Even the peanut butter cookies with the chocolate kiss so delicately pushed into the center, which I really don’t like, I’ll eat anyway. Why? Because it’s Christmas and I love sugar and getting fat doesn’t count before January 2nd. However, with cookie in hand, there is one line that will stop me in my tracks and lock up my throat like I’ve eaten a McNugget shaped like a chicken head: “My kids made those cookies!” I’m all for kids in the kitchen. My kids have multiple aprons and cookbooks designed for litt...

By Karrie McAllister At this point in my life, I am most obviously pregnant. With mere days to go, I strictly waddle and tend to groan every time I need to bend down anywhere near the floor. While grocery shopping, I lean on the cart like it is my life support, as if that cart is the only thing letting me stand upright and keep mobile while I toss in the food for the week that I will most likely be too tired to cook at home. My clothes have all become snug in places they should not. Maternity fashion designers must not be realistic human women, or else the stretchy elastic band would start at the waist and continue down past the hips because those things tend to expand just as much as a belly during these glorious months. The cute wide-cut shirts made to fit over bellies don’t fit over so well anymore, so if I’m not yanking down the shirts, I’m pulling up the pants so that somehow, someway, the belly button that has recently become horribly convex won’t show more than it has to. It’...

By Karrie McAllister “Do you know what you’re having?” If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that question, I could afford to pay for a whole gamut of tests to positively confirm the gender of my child. Instead, I give a smart aleck answer. “Hopefully a human baby.” And then I explain that although I had plenty of chances to find out, my husband really wanted to be surprised this time around and wait until the “hopefully human baby” makes its debut as a boy or a girl. Believe me, I wanted to know before hand so that I would only have to unpack and wash half of the baby clothes and so that we could only argue about one name instead of two. I also didn’t want to have to purchase any uni-sex baby clothes, those yellow and green jobs that make strangers nervous to ask anything using pronouns. But I digress. The fact that we do not know the sex of the baby also brings about a fantastic list of old wives tales that people just swear by. Evidently, no matter how kooky the old w...