dirt don't hurt

Of all of the misused and overused words in the world, one of the biggest culprits is the word that is on everyone’s mind this time of the year.  Love. Think of how many times a day we use it, and what we use it for.  I know how many times I day I tell my children or my husband that I love them, but I also say things like, “I love Chinese food!” and “I love it when I do a few loads of laundry and don’t have any mismatched socks!”  I talk to my mom nearly every day on the phone and end it with “love you.”  I end every email with my husband “love, Karrie.”  I sometimes tell my children that I love them so much, I could squeeze them until their heads pop off. We love songs and television shows.  We love movie stars and seasons of the year, restaurants, cars, and fashion.   Toby Keith sang about how much he loves a bar, and Ray Charles sang that he can’t stop loving you, and the Beatles are well known for preaching that, above all else, all you nee...

Sprinting up late to my son’s baseball game, I caught a glimpse of my daughter with-- I’m not going to sugar coat this-- snot dripping down her face.  “I need a tissue,” she said. “No kidding,” I replied, but I didn’t have one.  I quickly searched my pockets for a scrap of tissue or paper or anything remotely resembling an appropriate tool for cleaning her nose, but found nothing.  So I did what came naturally to me.  I wiped it with my finger, and then wiped my finger on my pants.  A nearby dad said, “And that’s the sign of a true mother,” which I completely shrugged off because wiping a nose is nothing special to me.  I have also licked my thumb and cleaned peanut butter off of their faces even though I swore to heaven and back that I would never repeat that horrific act that my mother did so many times.  I guess it is just part of being a mom. I would have never guessed it, but wiping is actually a huge part of moth...

Somehow I am subscribed to a parenting magazine’s email list, and a few weeks ago I got an email with the subject of “The World’s Best Parenting Advice.”  Having been a mother for a decent chunk of my adult life, I clicked on the email and found that every single tip was a way for a mother to get out of her job, as a mother.   There were ways to avoid having to rocking a child to sleep.  How to trick them into eating healthy.  The best videos and apps to keep kids occupied.  Other such things that are very valuable I’m sure, but all seemed to be some sort of alternative for putting in the time and effort that it truly takes to be a decent parent. So that’s why I’m scrapping everything the email said and giving you my own advice.  The best parenting tip I have is to learn how to whistle with your fingers. I couldn’t always do it, no matter how hard I tried.  It wasn’t until a few months ago that I realized that it was something I needed to learn...

By the time this column runs, my nose will have completely healed and I will no longer need to apply extra natural beige makeup to the spot where my sunglasses so painful rested.  But I would be remiss if I did not at least get this story down in writing so that in years to come I can pull out a yellowed piece of newspaper and point at and say something like, “remember the stick?  And my nose?  How can you possibly think that I don’t love you?!??!” Because it’s true:  I love my children very much.  I love them as much as my mother loved me when I said to her that I was going to slide down that muddy hill and she quickly scooped me up so I could ride down on her lap, thereby hitting every root and rock on the way down and bruising her legs so much that she wore long pants for a month. I have yet to live it down, because every so often I am reminded of the pain and humiliation she endured all because of some strange thing I did and how she saved me, blah blah ...

Four generations, one delicious cake Helping my parents move, my daughter was assigned to clean out the pantry.  Like most parents of that generation, I find, my mom has an ongoing love affair with out-of-dated food.  We have been visiting and discovered food that was outdated when we were first married, almost 14 years ago.   “Pickles don’t go bad,” said my dad. “But it’s cloudy.  And they’re white.” It’s not always that bad, but it seems that there are plenty of packaged foods hanging around longer than the date on the side says it should. My daughter thinks this is hilarious.  Every time we visit my parents, she plays this little game where she finds the most out of date item because she gets such a kick out it.  So when my mom told her to go through the entire pantry, she was giddy.  Laughing and tossing things out, there was barely enough to fill a box that was still technically edible. But then she pulled out a box of pudding. “...

Admission:  In the past I have posted recipes on this blog just to keep them in a place where I won't be able to lose them, because I lose a lot of things.  (My mind, included.) At a recent Girl Scout campout, we made this cobbler and I just kept thinking in my head that s'mores and pie irons had better move over-- this is my new favorite campfire dessert! And to make the recipe available to myself wherever I am, I'm posting it here.  As a bonus, You guys can have it, too. Campfire Crisp -- this makes about 4-6 crisps Heavy duty foil in 12x12 or so pieces Pie filling of choice Cooking spray Topping Topping ingredients: 1 cup quick cook oats 1/3 cup flour 4 tablespoons butter 1/4 cup brown sugar Combine topping ingredients in a bowl and cut in butter to form the crumble.  Set aside. Spray foil with cooking spray, because no one likes to chisel their food.  Spoon desired amount of pie filling in the center of each foil piece.  Top with cr...

We subscribe to a running magazine.  That does not make up prolific readers or runners, but at times we do our best to pretend we are both.  I usually prefer to read my running magazine while wearing sweat pants and eating pepperoni, thinking that I’ll definitely start tomorrow and leave it at that, but in one such issue I found something quite remarkable. Running and life.  They are more alike than I thought. The article referenced a Buddhist philosophy that inside all of our minds live a bunch of monkeys.  The way to succeed in any run is to tame the monkeys of the mind by meditation.  And as I sat there reading the article, suddenly I realized that I was running low on pepperoni and that if was going to make pizza for my family later in the week I had better get some at the store.   And eggs.  We are almost out of eggs.  And then I wondered where my phone was last put because I have a handy app that I use to write my shopping list so I ...