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Jack asked my mom to lay the last bit of tile at ten at night.  I think he did it out of some weird curiosity to see if she’d do it.  Of course she did.  Now we all know where my workaholic nature comes from.

I consider myself a hard worker but this past week after the arrival of Katherine, I have been incredibly spoiled by my mother and mother-in-law who drove over from Nebraska, not only to fulfill my every whim but also my three daughters, my husband and my farm animals.


If it isn’t enough to be entertaining granddaughters all day, changing diapers, giving baths, showering the girls with new some clothes and letting them do whatever they felt like, such as elaborately braiding their hair, the grandmas were also constantly cooking and cleaning.  Then they went outside and gave pony rides, collected chicken eggs, gleaned the fields for fallen corn cobs and played hide and seek before coming in to watch children’s movies and read piles of books.

Then they tiled, grouted, cut wood, varnished trim, painted and carpentered stair rail caps too.
They are some hardworking grandmas.

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True stories of raising children, remodeling, braving the elements and plotting out life, all while living on a humble acreage in central Indiana.

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