My husband was working in the yard last weekend when he saw me through a window and asked me to come outside. I went out of the front door to find him waving me over to a flower bed. When I joined him, he pointed at the ground and said, “What is that?”

Photo courtesy of The Hiker's Notebook

We both crouched down to get a closer look at the patch of things growing from the mulch. Then we got a whiff of it.

The green, sticky substance on the end smelled like dog poop. My husband pulled one from the ground and tried to put it near my face, you know, for a closer smell. As I ran away, he chased me.

Herein lies the question: Did the house next door take so long to sell because our flower beds smell like poop, because my husband acts like a 12 year old or because it looks like we’re growing male body parts?

Any way you slice it, our new neighbors are going to love it here.

When my husband and I got married, we were just starting out career-wise. It had only been two years since he graduated from college (and three years since I dropped out).

We needed…everything. Within one year of our wedding, we bought a washer, dryer, car, dog…oh, and a house that needed to be completely renovated and furnished. And, just shy of our one year anniversary, I got pregnant. Hindsight, people. At the very least, get a home that’s move-in ready.

When I say that our house needed to be renovated, I’m not exaggerating when I say we had to gut it. With the exception of the some wood floors and some of the walls, everything has been replaced. Wiring, plumbing, windows and the roof (twice), just to name a few things. The fence, patio, new kitchen and three new bathrooms seem so minor.

To say the least, we didn’t plan well. Life went and threw a wrench into things when our daughter was born more than 10 weeks early. I quit my well-paying job and became the mom and caregiver of a fragile, 2 lb. 9 oz. baby on a heart monitor. But, hey! At least my cabinets were pretty!

Guess what? Preemie stuff is expensive, yo’. And, three years later, we had another one! With congenital heart disease! For roughly 13 years, I have been able to open my wallet and see dust settling where the dollar bills should be.

This means that nothing gets replaced. Ever. This means that I have been driving the same car for 14 years and sleeping on the same mattress that my sister used when she had my first nephew. He is getting ready to turn 26. I know, gross, right? What’s a girl to do?

Well, a girl can have really awesome friends, that’s what.

See, my friend Casey found out that I have been taking an Ambien and putting myself to bed on our couch for quite some time now. Thirty year old beds don’t have a lot of support and, apparently, my back wants that. My back is so needy.

When Casey heard about my predicament, she sent me a message and said, “I am going to make it my mission to get you a bed.”

Then she did.

She entered a photo contest and won me a new, Serta bed. I love her.

Not just any bed, either. It’s beautiful, and soft, and supportive and it has an adjustable base so that I can sleep sitting up and my husband can lie down, because that’s what old people do! As soon as it gets here, you will all have to suffer through pictures of me showing you this. I apologize in advance.

Recently, we had to break down and get a new washer. My children are also needy. They’re always wanting clean underwear, and stuff.

My husband and a friend lugged the old machine to the curb and within minutes a man had pulled up in a truck and asked for help loading it. Minutes! I had no time to prepare. I had to watch as my washer bounced down the street in the back of a pick-up as I thought of all of the poop, pee, vomit, Thanksgiving turkey drippings, baby food and every other thing that machine had helped me clean.

I have to admit, I shed a tear.

But, when the mattress goes away for good. I’m totally going to throw a slumber party.

1.  If your house has been neglected for five months because of your work schedule, spring break will be a great chance to catch up on everything from home repair to laundry.

2.  Your 12 year old daughter won’t see it that way.

3.  Though, she might surprise you halfway through break and suggest that you tear out some carpeting.

4.  Which will lead to new surprises.

5.  When you tell the cashier at the home improvement store that you don’t need help loading your car with your newly purchased sheet of plywood, be sure to take into account how windy it is.

6.  Because when the winds are 30 mph, a sheet of plywood acts like a kite and will suddenly fly you across the parking lot all while you’re trying to hold on to said enormous sheet of plywood.

7.  And you might look like a fool.

8.  But, not as much as when you drive home barely able to see above the dashboard because there is a piece of plywood directly above your head.

9.  Yet all of the carpet-cutting, hauling, loading, sawing, reinforcing and sore muscles will be totally worth it.

10.  Because your kids will see that mommies can be strong too.

While a lot of our friends are off enjoying Florida sunshine for Spring Break, my family is planted firmly in Ohio…well, as firmly as one can plant thyself when it’s raining two inches a day.

We have been using this time to catch up on doctor’s appointments and accomplish some much needed tasks around the house.  You have beaches and sand?  We have waiting rooms and window cleaning.  So there!

Yesterday, my 12 year old daughter stumbled out of bed and declared, “We should tear out the living room carpet today.”

And because all 12 year old, sleep-deprived kids make rational declarations, I agreed.

We have been wanting to tear up the wall-to-wall carpet for years.  We had it installed in 1998, before we bought our first puppy and before we had our first child.  At that time it was a very light, off-white color.  Because, apparently, new homeowners in their late 20′s are pretty rational too.

By the time our son was born in 2002, the carpet was looking pretty bad despite bi-annual cleaning.  When our boy, the one known as Mr. Reflux, started crawling, small spots would appear everywhere from his constant battles with stomach contents.  It wasn’t pretty, people.

So, yesterday, I took the advice of the 12 year old, grabbed a crowbar, pliers (oh my, the staples!), work gloves and a box cutter and went to work on our 13′ x 23′ living room carpet.

I knew there would be spots of paint on the hardwood, because when we renovated the house we painted the ceilings last and by that time we were pretty sloppy and just wanted to be done.  But, despite the paint, I was pretty happy with the condition of the floor.

We started in one corner and by the time we reached the opposite corner of the room nearly six hours later, we were exhausted.  My arm was so tired from slicing the carpet into strips for the trash men to take that I could barely grip anything, but we saw the light at the end of the tunnel and fought through the pain in our hands, knees and backs.

Until we tore up the last piece of carpet to find this.

And, suddenly, we weren’t seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but rather the light from the basement laundry room.

I think this looks like a good place for a plant…don’t you?