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If you have read my blog before or know me personally, you know that after my father died I went to see Lisa Williams (a medium) and he came through in a big way. I will write about the whole experience one day but today I am only going to write about what she advised he sends us. She told us that my father sends us dimes to let us know that he still is very much a part of my life. It wasn’t until I started finding dimes in all kinds of odd places at the exact time I was A. thinking of my father, B. looking at a picture of my father or C. talking to my father (yes, I still talk to him in my mind, that I remembered her telling us. I was surprised to see many stories on the internet of loved ones claiming to receive dimes after someone near and dear passed away. I started journaling about the dimes I have found and how I came to find them and tonight I want to share one of my favorite dime stories.

Friday night was supposed to be date night for my husband and I. But instead of sitting across a dimly lit table, engaging in deep conversation and sipping on red wine, we were shoulder to shoulder in an emergency room waiting for him to be taken back(Alert-He is okay). After an hour or so, I became thirsty and cursed myself for not bringing along any cash. The only thing I thought was needed was my Mac card. A vending machine does not take a Mac card (at least not yet). My husband opened his wallet to find a lonely dollar. He handed it to me and off I went, hoping that a soda wouldn’t cost more than a buck. I scanned the machine and could not see anywhere the cost for a drink. Because I am such a genius, I decided to feed the machine my dollar and then wait to see how much it advised I would owe. The green neon light flashed .35 cents. Surely, I could come up with that teeny amount. I checked my pockets, nothing, pulled out every card of my wallet in hopes of loose change, nothing. I tried to get the dollar back but realized it wasn’t going to give it back to me. I was in a dilemma. I motioned for my sick husband to come my way and stand by the machine while I raced to the car to retrieve .35 cents. On my way out the door I said “Come on Dad; send me some of those dimes.” I scanned the parking lot, expecting to see a dime or two but was disappointed when none showed up. I rummaged through my car and only found one sticky nickel stuck to the cup holder. I was about to give up when a silver shimmer caught my eye. A dime was wedged into the driver’s seat. “Ah, there is a dime, but I still need two more.” I ripped my car apart and felt pathetic that I couldn’t even find a cent. I shut the door and turned around to see a friendly looking man walking toward me. We exchanged hellos and immediately I felt comfortable enough to explain the situation and ask if he could spare a dime (I am no beggar, but that diet coke was calling my name and I needed it). I was disheartened when he explained that he just got discharged from the hospital and had nothing with him. At that point, I think I was more disappointed that I didn’t find the dimes (I always feel like my dad could hear me when I talk) then I was in losing the soda. I turned to head back and I heard footprints behind me, “Excuse me maam,” the man I spoke to was standing behind me with his hand held out (Mind you, I asked him for one dime, not realizing at the time I was short two). “When I opened my car door, there were two dimes on my floor.” He looked as surprised as I was. I took the dimes, thanked him and ran back in, threw the thirty five cents into the machine and was greeted with a flashing green light that read, please deposit $1.00. I took too long and my dollar was eaten up by the machine. I wasn’t about to ask for ten more dimes, I knew that would be pushing my luck.

Have you all seen the commercials for the new ABC comedy, In the Motherhood? We finally have a show about the funny and not so funny moments in motherhood. I have been watching In the Motherhood webisodes since last year, long before it was announced that it would become a primetime show. Back when the series was broadcasted on the web, I submitted a story to one of their monthly contests. They announced the winners and I wasn’t one of them. I have come to expect rejection. I hope for acceptance but understand that it is rejection that compels me to keep reaching for the unattainable.
About two months or so I was baffled to see an e-mail from ABC and thought maybe it was some type of spam that made its way into my inbox. What I wasn’t expecting, was an offer to buy the rights to what I thought was a losing story.
The payment was small but the thrill was magnificent. Every time I see the commercials, I get excited to think a teeny part of me may be included into something. I know there are many mothers out there that received the same e-mail and payment and I am proud to say I am in their company. Not because I am a writer, but because I am a mother. And every mother has a funny story to tell. What drives us crazy today will make us laugh tomorrow.

I always enjoyed reading Erma Bombeck and could remember thinking, what a fantastic job. I daydreamed of being a columnist and being able to touch people’s lives on a daily basis. With the usage of words, a writer could help people see things more clearly. They can assist in getting them to open their eyes to what is important and convey to them what they already knew but didn’t know how to explain.
One of my favorite columns by Erma was titled The Journey. She wrote how we are always trying to hurry on to the next thing. When we are younger we want to grow up, when we grow up we want to have kids, when we have kids we long for their next milestone, etc. But in the end it’s not the achievements that mattered it was the journey. I read that in my early twenties and I know it will stay with me for a lifetime. I stopped and smelled the roses. I decided to pay more attention to the journey and less focus on the destination.
The Climb lyrics

I can almost see it
That dream Im dreamin, but
Theres a voice inside my head sayin
Youll never reach it
Every step Im taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking

But I, I gotta keep tryin
Gotta keep my head held high

Theres always gonna be another mountain
Im always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
That sometimes Im gonna have to lose
Aint about how fast I get there
Aint about whats waitin on the other side
Its the climb

The struggles Im facin
The chances Im takin
Sometimes might knock me down, but
No, Im not breaking
I may not know it
But these are the moments that
Im gonna remember most yeah
Just gotta keep going

And I, I got to be strong
Just keep pushing on, cause

Theres always gonna be another mountain
Im always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
That sometimes Im gonna have to lose
Aint about how fast I get there
Aint about what’s waitin on the other side
Its the climb

Theres always gonna be another mountain
Im always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
That sometimes Im gonna have to lose
Aint about how fast I get there
Aint about what’s waitin on the other side
Its the climb
Yeah yeah

Keep on movin
Keep climbin
Keep the faith, baby
Its all about, its all about the climb
Keep the faith
Keep your faith
Whoa, whoa

these lyrics are submitted by
Miley Cyrus’s new song The Climb reminds me a lot of Erma Bombeck’s column the Journey. For being such a young girl, Miley seems to get it and I hope she never loses it.
This week’s Friday’s Song is The Climb by Miley Cyrus.

When my daughter was in first grade she struggled with going to school. She was assigned a very outspoken teacher and was intimidated by her. We would encourage her each day and assure her that she would be fine and that Mommy would be there to pick her up right after school. We thought of some creative ideas to help her get through the day. The one that she liked the most was receiving tiny letters inside her lunch box. She told me that it made her happy to see a letter from me. So of course, I would scribble something simple with each lunch. As time went by she decided that she didn’t want one everyday because she liked the surprise of receiving one. So, per her request I cut down on the letters and would send maybe one or two a week and eventually I forgot all about them. Not that I forgot about her but she seemed to outgrow the need for them. Plus, my son entered kindergarten, my second daughter entered pre-school and I gave birth to my fourth child. Mornings were now much more hectic and honestly all I could think about was getting them to school on time. Which unfortunately meant less time to write a letter. Eventually the letters became a thing of the past and I think we both forgot about them. And when we did remember it was on a weekend and then forgotten again by the start of the week.
This past week, I woke up unusually early one morning and got a head start on my a.m. responsibilities. A test of my son’s was laid out on the bar for me to sign. When I opened the junk drawer to get a pen, I saw my scribble pad and I remembered the notes. I jotted a quick note to my daughter and tucked it into her lunch bag.
I forgot about the note and she never mentioned it until later that evening. So far, we have a great relationship and she is the type of little girl that tells me all about her day. She came in to kiss me goodnight and said, “Mom, today I got into a fight with my best friend.” The sadness in her eyes tugged at my heart and I remembered how that felt to fight with your best friend. She explained the story in full detail and I ached for her when she told me she felt so sad (her words exactly) because another little girl was not talking to her either. It all happened before lunch. “Mom, I was so sad until I opened my lunch box and saw your note and then I felt happy again.”
Something made me write the letter that day, I couldn’t have predicted that it would be received at the perfect time but it was. She needed a friend that day and my letter let her know that she would forever have one in me.

Spring is quickly approaching and beautiful smells of all kinds will be filling the air. So, why is it that tonight I am thinking about stinky smells?
After burning a bag of microwave popcorn, the inspiration for this week’s Thursday Thirteen came to mind and I thought why not. There are a lot of smells that can stink up a room and make you pinch your nose. I haven’t done a TT in some time and thought this would be a fun way to comeback to Thursday Thirteen. If there is a stinky smell that I don’t mention, feel free to leave it in the comments.

Happy Thursday

1…Burnt popcorn

2…Dirty Diaper


4…Body Odor

5…Rotten Eggs


7…A wet dog


9…Spoiled milk



12…Dirty dishtowel

13…Smelly Feet

If you are a mother, chances are you have visited Chuck E. Cheese play palace. Perhaps you even had your child’s birthday party there. I have visited the giant play plaza too many times to count in the past few months, enough times to know that Chuck E. as cute as he is and as much as my children love him is no friend to me.
The majority of my visits to Chuck E. Cheese have been to celebrate a birthday. I am very familiar with the long tables filled of children and the two booths behind them that are meant to accommodate ten or more adults, which as you can guess is absolutely impossible.
More often than not I have found myself standing at the head of the children’s table hoping that I look like I belong there. As luck always has it, my children are on the opposite end of the table screaming for me. Off I go, weaving my way between a sea of parents, attempting to reach my child only to be told never mind the second I do.
Despite the fact my teeth are clenched I force a smile and make my way back to the spot I gave up and quickly notice another parent standing there. Inching back toward the adults my body becomes wedged between a side booth and a chair. A train of people standing behind the giant Chuck E. rush toward me encouraging me to hop on the human train. By some luck I manage to break away and find myself standing way too close to a parent I don’t know but can tell by the look in their eyes that they are just as uncomfortable with the sudden closeness.
The cake part of the day ends and the real fun begins. There is nothing like chasing after your child through an arcade, especially if you have more than one child and they are racing in opposite directions. My favorite part is watching helplessly as my three-year old screams for me to come rescue her out of a jungle-gym much too small and intricate for my shape. I do like the picture booth where for a token you can get a sketch of you and your child, but unfortunately when I sat down to take ours I was greeted with an Out of Paper notice.
Chuck E.’s best gift is received a few days after you get home. Long after the tokens have been spent, the cake eaten and the candles blown out something arrives in an unsightly package that you can share with others… the flu.

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