dirt don't hurt

Today is my birthday. Husband woke up early and bought me a fancy coffee and donut just like he said, and even though those make me smile, I certainly am not winking at it. In true ironic form, this morning my left eye is nearly swollen shut a little on the gooey side and all because even at the age of 32, I'm still a major dork. I had good intentions. Last night before bed I thought to myself, "I don't want to wake up on my birthday with make-up gunked on my eyes or running down my face" so I used extra soap to get it all off. Using soap on my eyes isn't something I normally do, as I soon found out that gunky eyes is really the better way to go. Somehow, the soap went directly INTO my eye and pretty much dissovled every bit of natural eye-juice and I'm almost positive burned a large hole in the ol' eyeball as well. Not a great way to say goodnight, and after attempting to flush out my eye and putting in allergy drops (because I didn't know what else t...

Tommorrow is my big day of the year, when my husband gets up early to get me fancy coffee and donuts. I am showered with love from everywhere, even though I don't really ask for it. Birthdays are the perfect day for feeling special, and for letting someone know just how special they are. So this week, my small successes are not my own, but instead they belong to some special people that I know. 1. J.S. traveled cross country in a minivan. With two small children. 2. J.H. is supporting breast cancer and walking in the 3-day walk in Cleveland, even though she isn't really ready for it. 3. E.M. learned to play one of her mom's favorite songs on the piano. and why not, 4. K.M. got another year older.

August 8th is officially "sneak some zucchini on your neighbor's porch day" but I'm celebrating a little early this year. A friend recently bestowed upon me some lovely zucchini before leaving on vacation, and I thought that there would be no better way to use this gift than to dig out my grandma's recipe. The paper, a photocopy that is held together by yellowed scotch tape has her very distinctive handwriting. I'm pretty sure that handwriting lessons were pretty strict back in the 30's, because it seems that most older women have the same handwriting. My grandma's, however, has lovely capital B's and lower case s's. We closed the vault on grandma's ashes just last week, so I think it's fitting to bake her recipe this week. And if anyone drops some zucchini on your front porch in the upcoming weeks, I offer this recipe for you to try. I'm planning on eating a slice or two and playing some Solitaire, in honor of the woman we all love...

There are few things as humbling as a major appliance going on the fritz. In fact, I think the only thing that would set a family further into mass commotion would be two appliances going out at the same time, which is what just happened to us. The washing machine had been on its way out for quite a while. Apparently the way I do laundry, affectionately known as the “stuff it in because why else would it come with a setting for extra large loads” method really does a number on the spinning mechanism after 10 years of use. With even the smallest amount stuffed in there, the washer would start its routine ca-chunka-chunka dance across the laundry room floor with each load. I’d walk in to rebalance it for the third time only to find my five-year-old son doing his very best to hold a full washer from moving with all of his 38 pounds. Even after a few repairs, I was told that it was a goner. It took only a few loads of my husband witnessing this ordeal until he declared that we were ge...

This morning as I sit and type There's a banana sitting, over-ripe, Next to the coffee pot and such. I just can never have too much. The kids are all finished eating Oatmeal covers the baby's seating. It's on her clothes it's in her hair. I love that it is everywhere. The dryer hums, the grass in long, Spongebob sings his favorite song. I wonder about the news today... I wouldn't have it another way. My birthday is creeping up so slow, Gray hairs always remind me so. The kids, the man, the bills, the mess. It's the color of a mother's stress. Today when this post is through We'll venture out with errands to do. Shopping with three kids is tough, But I just can't seem to get enough. Overworked, underpaid, I admit the beds are never made. Someday I'll look back on this rhyme, And miss every minute of this time. ~~~Originally published at www.momwriterslitmagblog.com .~~~

I was a bumbling nerd of a highschool senior, walking into my very first scholarship interview at The College of Wooster. I sat down in the chair, wondering if the professor would notice that my right armpit sweats a little more than my left and that my face and neck made “cherry tomato” seem like a dull, blah color. She quickly welcomed me and then leaned back in her chair and said, “tell me what you know about bats.” My mind raced because this was an English professor and I didn’t think she was really asking me about anything scientific. I wanted to say that I spent countless hours as a child, sleeping on our pontoon boat, nestled deep inside my sleeping bag while the bats dive bombed all around us. I wanted to tell the stories of being at Girl Scout camp and choosing my canvas tent by the number of spiders versus the number of bats. I wanted to say that I always loved how bats pretty much have thumbs, and that if I ever met one who was ready to converse and not give me any disea...

It's not too often that the calendar comes together in a sort of perfect way. There's always something getting in the way, and as a mom I am usually the one staying back. But not today. Today was a completely selfish day, which is something completely selfish and wonderful. I know these things are about as few and far between as Haley's comet or waking up to a houseful of children cleaned, dressed and fed, so I took the liberty to record the day in photographs... Up early and out the door, driving in the husband's jeep and leaving my mom-mobile, with all of its trash, carseats, diapers, and kid music behind. Off for my adventure at the NRA's program called Women on Target, a day of shooting instruction that introduces women to guns. Sleepy eyes were quickly remedied by... ...my ritual stop at McDonald's for a McGriddle. If you've never had one, you are missing out. It's like someone too every single tasty flavor at the teeny tiny top of the food pyrami...