Soap Flops and Snowy Days

What do mustard, barbecue sauce, Hershey's chocolate syrup, coffee, permanent marker, blood, tar, rust, grease, and mud all have in common? They create stains—that’s what. And since I was creating a new product, my soap kitchen resembled a muddled laboratory. Small squares of stained white fabric, each carefully labeled, lay in rows on the countertop, accompanied by bottles and funnels and scales.

“What’s all this?” Steve appeared at my elbow, eyeing my organized mess. “Mustard and chocolate syrup? Seriously?” He laughed and reached for his phone. “If only your customers could see this. I have to snag a few pictures.”

I grinned as I measured 100 grams of my natural enzymes into the mixture already in the bottle and topped it off with Lemon essential oil. “Yep. Take a good look. I have most of the stains I need to try this out—except for some blood,” I narrowed my eyes to hide the lurking mischief. “And that’s where you come in. This is a family business, and everyone must contribute.”

Months later, after lots of literal blood and sweat, I finally have a completed product to offer. When my friend challenged me to develop a non-toxic stain remover spray earlier this year, I had no idea it would be this difficult. But the laundry room counter in the basement—yep, I ran out of room in the kitchen— is filled with pails of stain remover ready to bottle and label. The most satisfying part of it all is the ingredients—there isn’t a single gram of chemicals or toxins included. All the ingredients are 100% natural, and they really work.

Thankfully I have friends who are willing to try my concoctions and give me honest feedback. After multiple reviews followed by additional tweaking, I was delighted to receive the following message: Our desk chair makes black marks on the wall if you rub against it, and nothing takes it off. I tried your stain remover this morning and I didn’t even have to scrub hard. The stain is gone, and the cleaner did nothing to the paint. Thank you!

I laid my phone on my desk, my smile stretching wide. I didn’t learn science in school, so I had no idea that I would enjoy it. But I’ve learned lots of scientific formulas and strategies in the past year, and I love it. C.S. Lewis once said, “You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” Well, I guess so. I’ve only begun to get my toes wet, but it is rewarding just the same.

Since the stain remover is completed, I’m trying my hand at other new products. We are working on perfecting our all-natural dish soap—the one I thought was perfect, until my distributor tried it in her water, and not a single bubble appeared. Hours of research and many flops later, I am almost ready to release Cloud Dish Soap II.

Thankfully none of my flops are wasted. I can always use imperfect soap, and Steve is willing to try anything on his own projects. The very first batch of dish soap did not pass my critical eye, but I bottled it and set it aside to explore with later. When Steve asked for soap seconds to wash the dog kennel, I handed him several bottles of the failed dish soap.

Several hours later Steve assured me that the soap wasn’t a flop. “It may not have enough suds to wash dishes, but I have never used any soap in the kennel that did such a good job. I had given up at ever getting that white vinyl clean, but Kalak’s pen is spotless.” Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket to show me before and after pictures.

Well, well. My goals for 2025 have intensified again; I can hardly wait to begin exploring new options.

We love the snow and these sub-zero temperatures. The cinnamon water simmering on top of the woodstove makes our kitchen smell homey, and the swirling snow outside the bay windows reminds me of a snow globe. It is the perfect weather for making soap, but it is also perfect for doubling up on schoolwork and reading lots of books. Homeschooling is not about checking boxes, but completing a bunch of lessons does feel like success. 

We’ve started another round of Laura Ingalls Wilder. The boys have all read the Little House books multiple times, but this is the first time for Grace (age 7). It’s fun to watch her expressions as she imagines those long-ago days. “You mean Laura only had a corncob for her doll?”

We bought a new set of Bible stories—one for older children, so we are also exploring new Bible lessons. I read the story of the creation to Grace last week, and she discovered sin’s beginning. “But Mom,” she said, her eyes wide as we came to the part of Eve tasting the fruit. “God said not to!” I took the time to explain how Adam and Eve were deceived by Satan, and how they had to pay for their sin, but I also reminded her of God’s plan to redeem His children.

Grace lingered over the pictures, and I sensed that my words had made an impact, but I was puzzled when she woke up in tears the next morning. I pulled her onto my lap, “What’s wrong, sweets?”

“Oh Mom,” Grace sobbed. “You’ll be forty on your next birthday—you are getting so old, and I dreamed that you’re going to die.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to understand her thoughts as I comforted her. What had made her think that? Suddenly it dawned on me. “Grace,” I tugged her teary face upward, “is this because of the Bible story last night?”

“Yes. God said Adam and Eve will die when they get old, and you’re getting so old too.” Grace lowered her face into my shoulder and wept.

Oh dear. I swallowed a giggle and hugged her close. After some explaining and reassuring, my daughter was ready to face the day. She did not, however, forget about that Bible story. Grace was helping her older brother (age 12) do the dishes that afternoon, when she came bursting into the office. “Mom, Lukas is listening to Satan! He’s being mean to me—he’s listening to Satan!

I stole a quick glance at the guilty brother, who stood by the kitchen sink rolling his eyes, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Homeschooling is a challenge some days, but it is an accomplishment when lessons sink in—even if the results are overdramatized. The new Bible storybooks are a definite hit.

One of our family friends, an elderly gentleman, taxied me around as I ran several errands last week. “I am so done with winter,” he said as he maneuvered his little Honda around the snowdrifts in our driveway. “We got lucky the past several years. But this—is something else.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that. I love it, but I can enjoy it from inside my house. I would much rather see snow than mud.”

It sounds like a heat wave is coming next week, so we will make soap, do school, read our books, and enjoy the snow as long as possible.

You can’t get too much winter in the winter. —Robert Frost