And, so it begins.

A few days ago, the weather turned colder. This is the time of year when I dread walking outside because the wind bites, the sky is gray and we have two enormous trees that make one, big mess. You have never seen a run on lawn bags, until you’ve see us hit the hardware store.

Things inside the house aren’t much better. That biting wind? That’s the same thing that comes out of my husband’s mouth when he sees I’ve changed the thermostat again.

This morning, amid the sound of my son’s chattering teeth, I saw that my husband had set the heat at 65F. See how I put that “F” there? That’s for mah Canadian peeps. Holla! Oh, sorry. Holla, eh?

Now, if we lived in Canada, maybe 65F would be a heat wave, but here in Ohio I was just getting used to the 90F, August days, with humidity so high you could boil pasta, when September came along with her…fall weather. Shudder.

After I saw the thermostat setting, I did what any good wife would do; I turned up the heat behind my husband’s back and hoped he wouldn’t notice. That lasted…oh, about an hour, and 45 of those 60 minutes we weren’t even home.

Last night, after I protested, I got him to crank that baby to 67F. Then, I donned a short-sleeved shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, socks, pants, a heavy sweatshirt and a blanket.  I was finally comfortable.

That is, until my husband brought me a glass of his homemade wine. I took three sips and I started sweating. Clearly, I have found the solution to lower heating bills.

Drink more wine.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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