Midwest Mimi

  • I Have Lived, and I Still Love My Life

    Some evenings, peace feels like a summer breeze on the porch. My life has not been easy, and I would not choose every hard thing again. But my life is not only the record of what hurt me. It is family, survival, softness, love, and the ordinary wealth of a home I still want to…

  • She Learned to Work Before the World Called It Work

    Rae learned to work before the world called it work. At twelve, she cleaned my brother’s shop office for real money, real expectations, and a little freedom of her own. I am proud of the confidence work gave her. I also grieve that money had to matter so young.

  • When Boredom Starts Looking Like Trouble

    Some minds do not do well with empty space. When there is no risk, no complexity, and no fire to put out, boredom can start looking like trouble. I am learning now that I do not need to kill the part of me that needs complexity. I need to stop feeding it poison. I need…

  • Good and Evil in the Same Skin

    More than a decade later, this is still one of the deepest losses of friendship I have ever experienced. Not romantic. Not simple. More like losing a partner, a brother, and a whole former life at once. This is not a story about one bad man and one good woman. It is a story about…

  • What the Calendar Couldn’t Hold

    June was full of appointments, reschedules, travel, surgery recovery, and work. I needed the calendar, the reminders, and the map. But the best parts of the month happened in the margins: porch conversations, toddler hugs, family dinners, chalk on the sidewalk, and ordinary beauty I almost missed.

  • I Am the Calendar, the Case Manager, and the Backup Plan

    Caregiving is not just loving people. It is logistics, memory, paperwork, appointments, refills, therapies, bills, and backup plans. I am grateful I can carry the map for my family, but I am also tired from doing it inside a body that needs care too.

  • Simple Living Hits Different When You Did Not Choose Less

    Simple living is beautiful when it is chosen with enough security underneath it. But there is a difference between stepping away from excess and never having enough to begin with. I want a simple life, but I want it chosen, safe, and supported.

  • My Life Is Material. My Family Is Not Content.

    I write from real life because that is how I process what I have lived. But not every true thing belongs online. My family may appear in my work, but they are not the product. Their dignity comes first.

  • My Kids Think School Is Out. I Know Better.

    School may be out for the summer, but learning has not stopped. In our house, summer learning looks like audiobooks, gardening, chores, paid work, boredom, conflict resolution, and all the practical life skills that do not fit neatly on a worksheet.

  • Our Container Garden Became a Mystery Garden

    Our container garden started with salvaged pots, scattered seed packets, and a toddler who thought organization was optional. Now it is teaching us patience, food skills, homeschool science, and how to practice for the future before we have the land.

  • Some Work Is Meant to Be Tended, Not Posted

    I almost posted a children’s story inspired by my mother. Then I realized it was not a blog post. It was a seed. A reflection on creativity, legacy work, poverty, patience, and learning when to share the work and when to let it grow.

  • The Same Girl Either Way

    A personal essay about homeschool culture, girlhood, faith, rebellion, and learning that someone else’s narrow idea of a “godly girl” did not get to define who I was.

  • Not Cosmetic

    A personal essay about illness, poverty, motherhood, Medicaid, medical dismissal, and what happens when visible survival gets mistaken for failure.

  • The Hidden Cost of Simple Things

    A fall in the shower took only a few seconds, but the recovery may take days. This is the hidden cost of chronic illness: simple things are not always simple, and a slower pace does not mean a smaller dream.

  • My Daughter Is Not Half of Anything

    Mixed children should not have to prove they are enough of one thing to be treated as whole. As her white mother, I cannot know every layer of my daughter’s racial experience from the inside, but I can tell the truth about what I have witnessed. She is not half of anything. She is herself,…