My Space, My Place

I love finding hidden commonalities with new friends over the internet. I found one with my fellow blogger, Ashley Hales. We both signed up for the Clumsy Blogger course in hopes to not trip over inconspicuous power cords and such anymore in this world of blogging. I know it helped me and it put me in touch with Ashley and her site, Circling the Story. I say we have a commonality because we both like to share stories of others.  As Ashley said, “All our stories matter. Story begets story.”


Today, she’s allowed me the privilege of sharing my story. My story of finding joy in the mundane tasks of cleaning house and feeding my family. It took me flying 9,000 miles away from home this summer to realize it, but I’m thankful for the lesson none-the-less.

Thanks Ashley for allowing me to share my story!

Here’s a glimpse, and be sure to view the whole story HERE.

I am an only child. I like my space because I grew up with plenty. Sometimes l feel that space in this place called home closing in on me by 3 adorable little youngsters. I think how differently this space would be if I didn’t have kids. My home would feel, be, smell, and look completely different without them.

Toys wouldn’t litter the floor, clothes wouldn’t be left in piles in the hall bathroom (because I always pick up my clothes!), the table wouldn’t be sticky all the time, the floor, well…never-mind.

I wouldn’t smell 12-year-old maturing male must. I wouldn’t smell bunny scat mixed with pine shavings coming from my daughter’s room. I wouldn’t look in the bottom of the washer and find candy wrappers, a nail and a pocket knife emptied from someone’s pockets either.

Be sure to read the rest!

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