I watched Juno recently.  Because I was curious as to what all the talk was about.  And I love Jennifer Garner.  We are practically BFF’s, because I was once a double agent for the CIA too.

Not really.

I just played one on TV.

And my wig was blue, not pink. 

I liked Juno.  K did not.  Big surprise.  He said it was a chick flick.  Well, of course it was.  Did he think a movie called Juno about a pregnant girl was going to be like another Die Hard installment?

Juno was sweet and funny and actually kind of inspiring.  Oh, and I cried.  And not just the polite movie theatre cry, where the tears run down your cheeks but you keep the sobs quiet so as not to embarrass yourself. 

Oh no.  I was at home on my couch sobbing.  It was loud and my nose was dripping and it was ugly.  It was the framed note written on the Jiffy Lube receipt.  It got me.  There was no holding back once I saw that note Juno wrote to Vanessa.

And K was all like,  ”YOU’RE CRYING?!???!” like I was some crazy woman or something.

And I was like, “YOU’RE NOT?!???!”  like he was some cold hearted piece of stone.

But whatever.  How could I expect emotion from a man who owns the SAW trilogy?  And actually watches them.

I love movies.  I like to laugh and think and and watch bombs go off and see people get rescued by moving helicopters off of a burning building. 

And I like to cry.

And Juno made me cry.  

So I got to thinking, what other movies have me weep?  Bawl?  Blubber?  Sob?

There are quite a few.

1.  Steel Magnolias.  One of my favorites.  I always swore I’d name my daughter Shelby and my son Jackson.  And live in the South.  I love the sarcasm, the gossip and the one liners in this movie.  And the sassiness.  This movie is just plain sassy.  And so darn sad.

2. Terms of Endearment.  So Debra Winger is terminally ill in this movie.  And she dies at the end.  And leaves her kids and her mom.  And I cry and cry whenever I see this movie.  I wish my mom and I were more like Emma and Aurora.  And I’ve always loved the name Aurora.

3. The Bodyguard.  Because he took a bullet for her.  There is nothing more romantic than that.  I still have the VHS tape of this movie.  I don’t have anything to play it on, but I cannot throw it away.  It would be like throwing away part of 1992.

4.  We Are Marshall.   From the Ashes We Rose.  Now that has to be top five in All Time Best Tag Lines.  If there is a top five.  Those poor boys.  I just wanted to hug Nate Ruffin.  And tell him everything would be alright.  This movie was more than just a sports movie.  I confess, I may have been chanting along during the student body chant of  ”WE ARE.  MARSHALL.”  Right there in my family room.  Oh yes I was.

5.  Beaches.   Well of course Beaches.  It goes with my whole dying and leaving a child behind thing that I seem to enjoy in a tear jerk-er.  And I love that this story is about friends.  I don’t have a friend like CC and Hillary were to each other.  That makes me kind of sad.  I love the part where Hillary is about to die and they are sitting on the beach and she is wrapped in a blanket and CC just looks at her.  Waterworks.

6.  Stepmom.   Ditto 1, 2, and 5.  I mean really, I think I’ve covered it.  The mom is sick.  The mom dies.  The end.

7.  Philadelphia.  I really think it was the opera music that made this movie extra emotional.  I hope I don’t die with opera music playing.  That is too depressing.  Opera makes everything seem more serious.  But this movie…brings out my ugly cry.

8.  Mask.  Two words.  Puffy Eyes.  I have this on my Tivo right now.  And I can’t bear to watch it again.  But I can’t delete it, because I can’t do that to poor Rocky Dennis.  And what if I want to watch it again?  I love Rocky Dennis and I can watch this movie over and over again.  Rocky is noble and strong and fun and full of life and love.  And he makes me feel ashamed for thinking about my zits and my big nose and my sagging eyelids.  Rocky=perspective.  Lesson learned.

9.  My Life.   Oh Michael Keaton you may be Batman but I will always think of you as Bob Jones.  So I start crying at the beginning of this one and I don’t stop until the credits roll.  Sometimes I will see this movie on and I’ll stop to watch and I have to ask myself, “Why are you doing this to yourself?”  And still I watch.  Knowing full well my eyes will be swollen shut the next day.  This movie is so sad, it is just cruel.  “Dying is a really hard way to learn about living.”  Enough said.

10.  Ordinary People  The Jarrett Family.  I have driven by “their” house and I actually feel like they really lived there.  Even though I know they didn’t.  But I really care about this family, so I feel like it is okay to pretend.  When I was younger, I loved Conrad and hated the mom, Beth.  Now I’m a mom, and I don’t hate Beth so much anymore.  I don’t necessarily agree with her, but I understand.  Being the mom is hard.

So that’s my top 10.  There are others, of course.  Brian’s Song and Platoon and The Cure and Remember the Titans.  But those 10 are the ones that make me cry till it hurts. 

So tell me, what movies make you cry?   Which ones have I missed?  I’d love to watch them.

And you know what else?  This is my 200th post. 

Now that is nothing to cry about.

So let’s have ourselves a little contest.

Leave me a comment with your favorite sad movie, one that is going to make me sob and need to apply the Preperation H to the bags under my eyes from all the crying,  and I will choose a random winner to send my three favorites to from my sad movie list. 

(Unless you don’t want 8,9 and 10.)

((Although I don’t know why you wouldn’t.))

(((But if you don’t, I guess you could tell me which you do want.)))

((((But 8,9 and 10 are really good, just so you know.))))

And then we can have swollen eyes together.

I never had any pets when I was a kid, with the exception of two goldfish named Bo and Luke. 

Duke.

Yes, I was a fan.

It was a good show.  And they were never meanin’ no harm.

Plus, being in trouble with the law since the day they were born was kind of a catchy lyric.

Anyway.  I grew up in a house without pets.  I wanted a dog.  And a horse.

I never got either.

I always knew when I grew up, I would have a dog of my own.  Because my mom told me when I was the mom, I would be able to make the rules. 

So now I am the mom.  The making the rules part, I’m not so sure about.

K always had a dog when he was growing up.  There was Shannon the Irish Setter.  Rocky the Cocker Spaniel who loved to steal your food right off the table, and Casey the Chocolate Lab.

Well, the owners of Rocky and Bo and Luke Duke are all grown up now, with a house full of pets of their own.

In fact, there are now more pets in the house than people.

I always wanted a dog, but this is getting ridiculous.

There’s Nala, the matriarch.  She’s six.

A better dog there never was.   And she smiles for the camera too.

She is quiet and well behaved.  She loved to swim and play fetch with a tennis ball.  She sleeps next to K’s side of the bed every night and she rests under a table during the day.  She loves to go for walks, she never wears a collar or a leash, and she will never wander away from home.  She lets the kids play with her and play on her, and for the most part she is a good sport about it.  She is everything a loyal canine companion should be.

She’s a keeper.

This, on the other hand, is Koko.  And this is a picture of one of her best qualities.

She is naughty, makes a mess (see photo), and then gives me THE LOOK.  The Look that says she feels bad about what she’s done.  Can you see it?  It’s pathetic.  And then I am the one that ends up feeling BAD for being MAD at HER.

I am being played by a puppy, people.

I have been taken in by the cuteness.  Big mistake.  Her beautiful fur and big, soft ears do not make up for the rumblin’, bumblin’ stumblin’, locomotion that is Koko.

She makes a mess wherever she goes, every single day.

She drips drool from her mouth.  Constantly.

She eats more than I do.

She whimpers like a baby.

She steps in the water bowl.

She walks in to people and things.

She is always ready to play.

She knocks things over with her tail.  And they break.  Or spill.

She cannot keep her wet face off of my sliding door.

She is lucky she is cute.  And sweet.  Because she tries my patience.

And then there are my sons fish. Four of them.

They are modern miracles.

We have had them for fourteen months and they are still alive and kickin’.

I have never had fish that had such staying power.

They obviously are not distant relatives of Bo and Luke Duke, who had to be replaced every two weeks.

This is our newest addition. She (or He) moved in on Valentines Day ‘08.

How romantic.

I would formally introduce you, but all the kids are at school and I am not sure what its name is today. It seems to change every day, depending on which of my children you ask.

I believe it was originally called Shelly. Original. And then Turty. Even more original. And then, you’ll never believe this one, Rocky. Uh-huh.

The tradition lives on.

If only Bo and Luke were still around.

So, a couple of weeks ago I was on the phone with my friend, B.  She called while I was upstairs working on a project in my sons room.  My daughter was up there with me, playing in her room and I had just let Koko, the yellow lab locomotion, outside.

We chatted and laughed for a few minutes, it was a quick “Hey, what are you doing?” conversation.

Read:  I was not distracted for hours.

After I hung up, I made my way downstairs to put the phone back on its cradle to charge.

And I saw this standing at the back door.

I didn’t really think much of it. Until I got a little closer.

And I noticed these.

And this.

I was understandably thrilled.

The weather is getting nicer outside every day.  So I have lost my excuse that it is too cold to get out there and exercise.  It is no longer freezing or icy which means I have nothing stopping me from getting out for a walk every day.

Except for one thing.

I’m a little bit out of shape.  Or a lot.  Does it really matter the degree to which one is out of shape?

I once read that dog owners are healthier than non dog owners because they take their dogs on daily walks.  I guess the writer of that article never had a backyard.

So a few weeks ago, I decided to go for a walk.  With my dog. 

The day was bright and sunny, warm and breezy.  It was a perfect day to be out and be one with nature.  Except all the nature gives me itchy eyes, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me from achieving physical fitness.

So I strapped a collar and a leash on my Nala, put a cute little exercising outfit on myself and tied up my Nikes.  We were ready to go.  I was even wearing my digital running watch.  Because when you look good, you feel good, people.

There is a black asphalt path that circles around a number of the subdivisions in my town.  I mentally mapped out a little route for myself, which I estimated to be about five miles based on the number of markers I thought I’d be passing. 

We started off walking briskly past a pond and a park, a few houses and down to a path which would take us on a big loop around a large wetland area and the library.  We were briskly walking.  And humming.  And counting the path markers.  And enjoying all the outside-ness of our walk.  The sun was shining, the breeze kept us cool and only one of us was panting.

About halfway through our walk around the loop, we got tired.  Our pace slowed down a bit.  The humming stopped and the sweating began.

The joggers and the bikers were leaving us in their dust.  The mama pushing the double stroller and pulling the kid on the tricycle lapped us.

It wasn’t pretty.

Thankfully, we came to an empty bench.  Near a drinking fountain.

So we sat.  And sat.  And then did just a little more sitting, under the ruse of enjoying all the nature.

The joggers smiled.  The cyclists’ nodded.  The mama’s with the strollers said Hello, and the other walkers let their dogs stop for a sniff.

And still we sat.

Because Nala?  She needed a break.  Poor thing didn’t have a sassy watch and cute Nikes to keep her motivated.

Eventually, we summoned up the strength to keep on going.  We set off for home, renewed and a little bit refreshed.  Eventually, we made it.  With five miles under our belts, we were home.  Tired, but our hearts were pumping, our blood was flowing and our skin was glowing.

Nala went right to her bed and I went right to the couch.  I didn’t really get the benefit of those exercise induced, feel good hormones that are supposed to start popping around in your brain.  I was tired all day.  After all, I had walked five miles. 

K asked me that night why I was so sleepy.

And I told him I had gone on a long, five mile walk around the loop that day, but that I was feeling really good about it.

And then he asked me if I meant that I had walked on the two and half mile jogging path.

TWO AND A HALF MILES?

He told me had clocked it with his car so he would know how many times to go around.

Great, I thought.  How efficient of him.

Not only am I out of shape, but I can’t count either.

When I was growing up, my grandma always told me I could be anything I wanted to be.  And I believed her.

As a young kid, I was going to follow any number of different career paths. 

There was the typical I want to be a teacher phase.  And then I was going to be a nurse; a nurse in the newborn nursery.  Then I thought I would like to be the daughter of a president, because I wanted a big fancy wedding at the White House.  For a while, I wanted to be a marine biologist.  I think it was after a trip to the beach.  What exactly is a marine biologist, anyway? 

I think I thought it might be cool to be an astronaut, but I’m afraid to fly.  I did go through a patriotic phase though, and I desperatley wanted to attend space camp in Alabama. 

As I got older I began to get a little more realistic about a career path.  My sophomore year in high school I started studying colleges and their basketball programs.  Because I was pretty sure I wanted to marry a future NBA star. 

I wish I were kidding.  But Georgetown and Seton Hall were serious contenders for a while there in the ol’ college hunt.

My freshman year in college, whenever anyone asked what my major was, I would say public relations.  I didn’t really know what that all entailed, but it was a really popular major at the time.  And I was nothing if not a follower.

And lastly, when it was time to get serious, I really thought I would be an architect.  I could draw some pretty awesome house plans.  And then I went to college and realized that while the vision for the floor plan of the house is a necessary thing, the structure of said house is even more necessary.  And getting the whole structure thing right, not to mention the 20,947 details that have to be JUST PERFECT for a building to stand on its own, you know, without collapsing,  required a bit of more knowledge than I had in a tricky little subject call Mathematics. 

So between my ineptitude in all things mathematical and my lack of attention to details, it ended up being not quite the right career path for me.

Luckily, I only wasted 3 years of my life trying.

Phew.  Glad I was so quick to get that figured out.

After countless, mind numbing jobs as anything from a bank teller to a french fry cook at Disney World’s famous Pinocchio’s Village Haus Restaurant: Fantasy Land location, I finally figured out was I was meant to be.

Besides me, of course. 

A mom.  I think I was meant to be a mom. 

Because I meet all the qualifications for the job description. 

I know how to french braid and brush out tangled hair with minimal pain.  I am really good at playing catch and hockey with my son.  I am pretty good at making sure everyone has clean and matching clothes every day.  I cook dinner for my family four or five nights a week.  I usually always have a pantry and fridge filled with good snacks and I never mind when the kids want to share with their friends. 

I drive, so that’s a major plus right there.

I know how to pack a lunch, I can kiss a boo boo and I can make a cake out of play doh.  I like to go to the park.  I always have a supply of pickle jars ready for catching lightening bugs, and I think the dirtier my kids get, the better.  To me, dirty kids are kids that have been outside playing hard.  And those are my kind of kids.

I like to ride a bike, and I like to go for walks with my kids.  I usually have money for the ice cream man, and I will always get in the water and swim with my kids.  I like to have fun.  I like to ride wave runners and ATV’s.  I like to go out for ice cream, and I have even declared ice cream dinner a time or two.  I like to grill hot dogs and hamburgers, I don’t mind eating at McDonald’s if the happy meal toy is a good one and I let my kids play with bubbles outside, even though they and the driveway always turn into a sticky mess.

I always have had a sand box in the back yard for my kids, even though half of the sand always comes into the house with them.

I’m practically a saint.

I also yell and sometimes scream, I discipline and I admit I have swatted.  I expect report cards to come home with A’s and I drag my daughter to a tutor every week to make sure that happens. 

There are times when I ignore, and times when I am at my wits end.  There are always situations I don’t want to deal with and questions I don’t want to answer.

There are times when I say “sure, invite your friends over” and other times when I just don’t feel like entertaining.

Some days I throw open the windows and welcome in the day, other days I want to sit in the darkness and listen to the quiet.

I run out of milk at least once a week.

I can laugh at Cory and Hannah and Zach and Cody, I cringe at Sponge Bob and the Rugrats. 

I never seem to have a bandaid when somebody needs one and I have sent my kids to school without gloves more times than I can remember.

I know what friend has lizards and which friends want to shave their arms. 

I have the patience to bake cookies with two three year olds on a rainy afternoon, and I have been impatient while listening to the story telling of an 8 year old.  I may even sometimes say, “Spit it out already.”

I have taken my first baby to the emergency room no less than five times during her first year of life.  And I have not taken my fourth child to the doctor for any illness or problem in almost two years.

I sometimes laugh when I shouldn’t and tease when I know it’s not right.

I also love.  Deeply, strongly, and without condition, every single day.

After years of searching, I think I have finally found the perfect career for me.

And I should get a raise.

Spring sports season is in full swing around here.  I am wore out.  And the seasons are only half over.

Since the end of March, I have been rained on, hailed on, frozen, windburned, sunburned, sweaty, and snowed upon.  I have faced the elements out here on the prairie, interpeeps. 

And still, week after week, I go.  Out to the soccer field to root for the Girls u10 Watermelon soccer team.  Go Melons!  And then I make my way to Sunset Park to cheer for the peewee baseball Angels.  Go Angels!  And lets not forget my 4 day a week presence at my local ice rink.  Go Leafs!

I know.  It sounds crazy.  I always swore I wouldn’t be that mom that over scheduled her kids.  The mom who shuttled them from activity to activity in the name of enrichment.

And I’m not.  I think.

I have made sure that each of my kids is only in one activity.  Well, the girls are only in one activity.  My son is in two.  He’s in baseball and hockey.  Don’t ask.  I don’t make the rules around here.

And the one (or two) activity per child?  Has us running around five days a week.  Thursdays are the busiest.  On Thursdays we have soccer practice and a baseball game.  And I always miss some of one or the other.  And on Saturdays too, when there are two games.  I only make it to one for part of the time because I have to be at the other.

But I try.  I guess I could wait in the car, but it wouldn’t be the same.  Instead, I am out there, week after week, in the unpredictable spring elements running back and forth between the soccer field and the baseball field, cheering on the Angels and the Melons. 

And even though two weeks ago my nose got a sunburn, and last weekend I was a walking, wet, shivering mess, I will still go again.  I will continue to cheer on the girl’s soccer team and then race over to watch the end of my son’s baseball game. 

And when they ask, “Did you see that, Mom?”

I may be cold, wet and windblown, but I will always be able to say yes.

Things I do before I go to sleep:

Straighten up the pillow and blanket on the couch I was just sitting on.

Let the dogs out.

Start the dishwasher.

Turn the light on over the kitchen sink.

Charge my cell phone.

Make sure everyones backpack and coat is in their cubby, ready to go in the morning.

Put food and water in the dog bowls.

Let the dogs in.

Check on all the kids and make sure everyone is covered.

Make sure that everyone has clean clothes laid out for the morning.

Turn a nightlight on in the hallway.

Crack open a window in my bedroom.

Turn down the bed.

Wash my face.

Apply multiple anti aging creams to my face and eyes.

Brush my teeth.

Set the alarm.

Crawl in bed.

Things my husband does before he goes to sleep:

Turns off the TV.

Crawls in bed.

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel happy?  I mean, really happy? 

The kind of day where you thank the Lord that you are alive and here on this Earth?

I had one of those days yesterday.  And for no reason at all, other than I woke up in the morning.  And after that, the day just kept getting better.

Look! Spring has finally sprung here on the prairie. It was a gorgeous day.

My Purple Plum bushes are flowering all over my yard.

The buds on my Dogwood bushes have opened and new leaves have grown practically overnight.

And the sky, the glorious sky. It was the most beautiful, brilliant shade of blue. And my hair color? Back to normal. I really wasn’t kidding about it being a good day.

Yesterday was the kind of day where a girl could wear shorts.

Or her new Reefs. (Remember the Reefs from all the fashion?)

Or even a flower in her hair, if she so desired. And she was feeling sassy enough.  

(She did.  And she was.)

It was the kind of warm day where the air smelled like cows. And their um, waste. And it was the first time that smell had been in the air in six months. So it smelled kind of…good? Yes. Good.

The warm stinky air smelled good yesterday. 

(It won’t in August, when I am hot and crabby and tired of smelling cow dung.)

It was the kind of day that made you want to take the long way home. So you could be in the country. With the blue sky and the stinky air.

Because the winter? It has been long.

And it is over.

Is it Spring where you live?  And what is making you happy today?

What is it about wide open fields?

Fields that make you want to run and twirl and sing.  It’s like a scene right out of the Sound of Music.  Only we are a little more casual around here.  And of course minus the nanny.  And the live in help.  But otherwise, the hills are alive.

It doesn’t matter if you are old.

Or young.

Human or canine.

Being in a wide open field makes your heart feel a little silly, your voice want to sing loudly and your feet want to run. 

It’s a lot of fun spending a little time in a field, doing nothing except running around.

Especially when I get to be the one they are running to.

I mentioned in my last post that I would be participating in Mary’s Design Carnival.  So here I am, posting on the weekend.  Which stresses me out, I might say.  Posting on weekends, that is.  Because I have a hard enough time coming up with things to say five days a week, let alone on two extra days.  Only for Mary though, because she is just about the sweetest thing ever. 

So here we go.  Let’s talk design.

Or let’s just look at some pictures I took.  I don’t know a whole lot about design, but I do know what I like and what I can copy out of my favorite catalogs.

I love to get ideas for window treatments from Smith and Noble.  It is my favorite place to “shop” for window coverings.  I have used some of their shades in my house and I love them, but when I was looking for window treatments for my family room, I could not find the right color of woven shade that I was looking for in their catalog.

This is the look I was trying to copy.  (Sorry it’s so small.  Technical difficulties.)

And this is what I ended up with on the 5 windows in my family room.  I also used the same curtain in the adjoining kitchen to cover the sliding glass door with.  Because it flows.  And apparently, flow is good in design. 

(And please excuse the un-accessorized end table.  The ever growing Koko, the locomotion, has a tail that knocks over anything it comes in contact with.  So the tables must remain empty, or things start breaking.)

((Like a beautiful marble turtle symbolizing life and longevity that was purchased in the Caymans.  Broken.  Gone.  Whacked to its death by the whip like tail of a yellow lab.  Ironic.))

(((Not that I’m upset about that or anything.  No.  Not at all.)))

I found these woven shades at JCPenney and the curtains are all from Penney’s too.  Did you know they custom make draperies at Penney’s?  They do.  They have thousands of gorgeous fabrics to pick from and they will just measure and make them right up for you. 

Be careful though.  The lady that came out to measure was really pushing this on me.

I managed to resist. 

But it was close. 

I also have jumped on the animal print bandwagon this past year.  In small doses.  Because sooner or later, like teddy bears and blue country curtains, animal prints will go out.  And I don’t want to be stuck with a zebra print sofa.

So an animal print pillow gives me the animal print look I want, without sticking me with Tarzan’s sofa forever.

And lastly, while we’re speaking about pillows, they don’t always have to be in the corner of the sofa.  They can live happily in the middle of the sofa.

Just a little tip the Pottery Barn taught me.

(Pottery Barn, I heart you.)

I coveted this from the PB for years.  And I had absolutely no place to put it.  I also had no place to put our coats, shoes and bags, so they ended up all over the kitchen chairs.  It was not good for my OCD.  And clutter issues. 

I knew if I could somehow find a place for a set up like this, my clutter issues with the outerwear and all of the kids stuff would be more manageable.

So an idea was born.

We added on a mudroom.  And it has been a lifesaver.  Sometimes it’s messy, sometimes the floor is wet and dirty and full of muddy shoes, but that is what it is for.  None of the stuff ever makes it into my kitchen anymore.  And that makes me happy. 

And the inspiration for the mudroom?  Well of course it was the picture above.  I took that idea and ran with it.

This is the entrance from the garage, or the door we use 99% of the time.

(And no, the walls are not really taxi cab/French’s Mustard yellow.  It’s the flash.  Please believe me.)

So you come in the door from the garage and you are inside.  Where are you going to put your stuff?

In your cubby, of course.

I love our cubbies.  The red baskets hold baseball and soccer uniforms, gymnastics leotards and K’s baseball hats.  There’s even outlets behind the bins so we can charge our cell phones.  It is really nice to have a spot for keys and all the stuff you need to leave the house with, and yet none of it has to come into my kitchen, thereby eliminating all the counter clutter.

There’s always a place for your coat and backpack.

There’s a bench to sit down on and plenty of extra bins for shoes.

(And look! There’s my cute polka dot purse I bought in South Carolina. And a pair of my eccos! Can you tell the corner cubbie is mine?)

((You know me so much better now that you’ve seen where I put my shoes and throw my purse, right?)

So basically, the mudroom has saved my sanity.  Even if you don’t have the space for a dedicated mudroom,  a couple of hooks and some baskets could serve the same purpose.

I have a couple more things in the mudroom to show you, but for now, I’ll have to end the tour here of my inspiration room.  Because apparently, Flickr is like Cinderella and turns into a pumpkin at midnight.  Sorry to be so abrupt, I’ll try to add the rest of the pics as soon as Flickr decides it can resize for the blog again.  Maybe I’ll call my Fairy Godmother and see if she can get right on it.

Or maybe I’ll just go to bed.

The flickr appears to be working again, so let’s finish touring the finer points of the old mudroom, okay?  Okay.

In the mudroom we also added a good old broom closet.

It holds my vacuums, broom, mop, cleaning supplies, and things like our out of season outerwear, sleeping bags, dog food, and just a ton of other miscellaneous stuff that we need, but that was taking up space in other closets. The best thing about this closet is that it has outlets in it, for things like the rechargeable vacuum, the kids R/C batteries that need to be charged, and my paper shredder.

(Yes I shred paper. I’m identity theft consious. And it is kind of fun.)

Speaking of paper, I bought this bin for papers for my kids from Ballard Designs. It is one of my favorite catalogs. Each of my kids has their own bin for school and sports papers, projects or handouts that we need for the future, class lists, or any type of fundraising activity they are doing. More than anything else, having a place for each child to put their own papers that need to be saved, has really helped with the paper clutter in our kitchen.

When the mudroom was designed, I made sure to include a space for the dog bowls. I was tired of the water drips on the kitchen floor, and moving them to the mudroom has worked really well.

The mudroom is one of my favorite rooms in the house. It is functional, and it helps to lower my stress level because everybody has their own space for everything.

Thanks for visiting!

And remember, the walls aren’t the color of French’s mustard. They are the color of wheat. Never paint your walls the color of mustard. Or a taxi cab.

Thank you.