This is my first post on Daily Disasters, where I share why I started blogging. Life has thrown me some tough challenges—loss, accidents, and everyday chaos—but I’ve learned to cope through storytelling and humor. From pressure cooker mishaps to parenting fails, this blog is about finding laughter in life’s messy moments and reminding each other that none of us have it all figured out.

Just when I thought laundry day was going smooth, my dryer decided it was done working for the week. Guess who’s hanging clothes like it’s the 80s again?

Sometimes the weather just has other plans — like reminding me that thunder and showers don’t mix! One loud boom, one power flicker, and I was out of that shower faster than an Olympic sprinter. Lesson learned: when the sky grumbles, the shampoo waits till morning.

When I was 3 or 4, I started a full-blown hotdog meltdown over something no one could understand—“No Chewy!” My poor brother-in-law was lost until my sister translated: no chili. Once the crisis was solved, I rocked my pink curlers, ate my cheese puffs, and proudly declared victory. No Chewy, no problem. 🌭😂

One of the eeriest tales my uncle ever told me was about a flood so heavy it swallowed the roads. He said as the rain poured and the water rose, he stood watching the current rage across the wooden bridge near his home. Then he saw them—coffins. Real coffins, drifting through the flood like a grim procession. Some sealed, some cracked open, bumping against each other as the water carried them into the night. He never said what he saw inside—only that the sight haunted him forever.

Growing up, my uncle told the wildest stories—some believable, some not. One that stuck was about the mysterious Wampus Cat. He’d say it lurked at night, screaming like a woman. As a kid, I’d wait outside hoping to hear it but never did. Years later, my younger sister actually heard the scream while standing on the porch with another uncle—I missed it by a minute. Fast-forward to me at 36, and I finally heard that eerie sound myself. Now I wish my uncle was here to tell him.

When I was about 9 or 10, I had just joined soccer and finally found my perfect spot as a midfielder. During practice, I got my cleat stuck in the net, flipped backward, and landed right on my left arm — the same one I had already broken before. Sure enough, it was broken again in the exact same three places. My mom couldn’t believe it, and I wasn’t even scared of the cast saw this time. I still wanted to play, so I showed up at games with my arm wrapped in bubble wrap and a trash bag. Lesson learned? Nope — cleats, nets, and my poor arm just don’t mix!

I thought making coleslaw would be easy—until I turned it into cabbage soup with a blender. 🥬😂 Luckily, my husband swooped in to save dinner. Turns out, I’m banned from coleslaw duty forever…

When I was 6, I tried to copy the older kids on the playground by jumping off a swing. Later at home, I gave it a go on my own swing set — but my shirt and leg got caught, and I landed on my arm, breaking it in three places. Getting a cast felt like a medal of honor because everyone signed it, but nothing prepared me for the day they removed it. I walked into the room expecting a simple cut-off, only to see a giant saw hanging over me. Terrified they’d cut my arm off, I panicked until the nurses calmed me down. In the end, it was painless — but little me was absolutely sure I’d leave with fewer limbs than I arrived with!

When I was 14, I developed a secret crush I thought I could keep hidden forever. I nicknamed him “Mr. Coolman” (and secretly “Mr. Sexy”), convinced no one would ever find out. But my younger sister had other plans—she waited for the perfect moment to blurt it out in front of our parents. My face turned red, my secret was exposed, and I ran outside not knowing if I should laugh or cry. Lesson learned: never trust your little sister with your biggest secret crush.